Us Again (Weiss Kruz song/fan story)

The doors of the private cathedral opened with a crash, and a golden-eyed man walked up the center Aisle. He held something delicately between his cupped palms as he made his way to the large statue of Jesus between the front pews. When the man reached the base of the statue, he let the small head of a bird poke between his fingers before he crushed it, dropping the mangled body at the feet of the statue. He waited for God to cry, but there was no result. Screaming he pulled his daggers out, but before he could do anything, a bright light engulfed him.

A little boy, about 5 years old sat in the front pew of the church. He was trying to behave because momma was in the front row of the choir and she would get angry if he fidgeted. There was a really bad itch on his ankle and he tried to keep from scratching, but when momma turned her head, he couldn't help but to itch it. Unfortunately, she looked at him just as he reached down. Blushing brightly he itched really fast then sat back up, looking down at his hands before he could see momma laugh quietly. The man writhed at the memory, his cold heart defrosting some, even as his soul tried to free itself from his body.

Let's be us again

 He could feel God talking to him, trying to make him right again, to make him not hate anymore. A ten-year-old boy came home from school, proudly showing his mom the diploma he had gotten for learning all of his scriptures in order. She smiled proudly at him and hung it in the front hall where everybody could see it. Both went to the kitchen and celebrated, baking cookies and eating them when they were still gooey from the oven. That night he slept, and he heard God promise that He would never leave the boy, that he would always be happy. Only if he was bad would anything ever go wrong. At the memories of his mother, the man continued to struggle, not wanting to let go of his hatred, the memories..

Let's be us again

 He shook his head violently, refusing to believe God's apologies, the promise he made to him in his dreams. A fifteen-year-old boy dances modestly with a girl he was mildly crushing on, the nuns watching every couple with the eyes of hawks. Tonight was the Easter school dance, and everybody was dancing. Tonight, his parental unit would be at home, no doubt watching the clock until he returned, ready to hug him and ask him how things went. The man struggled harder, twisting and turning in the light, trying to ignore His words.

Won't you open up your heart and let me come back in? Let's be us again

 He shook his head violently, refusing to be swayed. The final memory. An Eighteen your old boy is on the way home from his date with the girl of the month. Usually, his mother looks at him with disapproval, treating girls like they were nothing. He prepares himself for the scolding he will get. When he turns onto his road, he sees around 20 emergency vehicles and his house is demolished. Scrambling out of the car he shoves by the emergency units and goes inside, zeroing in on his mother's room. She lay serenely on her bed, and her silver cross plunged in her chest from the vibrations. Her hands were around where the cross entered her body and she had a sad smile on her face. The boy screamed, and his heart turned cold.' At this memory, the man screamed, the old pain resurfacing, God's soothing words trying to sway him to no effect.

That says we're us again

 Tears streamed down the man's face. He wanted to believe God, but he couldn't trust him. A Twenty-year-old man with golden eyes is contacted by assassins and asked to join an elite team. He accepts, having nothing left in his soul to protect. The first target is the seven-year-old daughter of a prominent political figure. The man got the killing shot. Moments later, a huge storm brewed and drenched the city for days on end. The man's defenses were falling. He knew now that God cried every time he had hurt an innocent creature, every time his heart grew colder. The man's struggles slowed and his heart started to thaw even more.

Let's be us again

 This time the words reached a little deeper into his heart and managed to stay with him, reminding him that he was loved. He still refused to sway,but not as adamantly as before. A 30-year-old man lay on his pallet, blood seeping from almost every square inch of his body. Rain leaked through the roof and dropped on him, salty droplets sliding into his eyes and mouth. Angrily he brushed them away and began to dress the wounds. He saw his mother watching him from heaven, tears streaming down her face every time he got hurt or he killed something. His mother had given him tears when he could not cry. A tight fist clenched at his chest.

Won't you open up your heart and let me come back in? Let's be us again.

 Yes, he would let God back inside him. He wanted to find his mother again.

All the pain he caused had exhausted him. The man's struggles ceased

entirely, and he whispered along with God: 

Oh let's be us again!

A red-haired German was in search of his teammate. They had a mission and the Irish man's techniques would be useful. For some reason, he could not sense the other's mind so he had to check each room personally. Finally, he was at the point where the last place left was the cathedral. Growling, the man lit a cigarette then made his way there and slammed open the doors. A startled bird fluttered from the feet of the large Jesus statue and startled the man into dropping the cigarette and brought his eyes up the height of the statue. In the arms of the statue lay the Irish man, his daggers through his heart, hos own hands holding them there. What truly disturbed the German though was the smile of absolute peace and happiness on the pale face of his teammate. Turning swiftly he ran out, a smoldering cigarette butt lay forgotten on the floor. Moments after the German had gone, a warm breeze carrying cherry blossoms swept into the cathedral and swirled around the statue, sweeping the butt out of the room and then it stopped. Soft pink petals covered the statue and the man in its arms. As the three members of the team raced to the cathedral, a gentle boom of thunder cracked outside and a warm spring drizzle began to fall. 

Finally, the Irishman had made God cry; in joy.

* I own neither the characters nor the song. The idea and story are my own. I do not write much in the way of fan-fiction, but I found this little piece while I was digging in my portfolio. I hope you enjoy. *