Saint Patrick ☘ (shamrocked_) wrote in nevermore_au, @ 2012-07-19 16:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | saint agatha, saint patrick |
WHO: Agatha & Ebil!Patrick
WHERE: Agatha's apartment
WHAT: Agatha gets to meet the evil Patrick!
WARNINGS: rape
Agatha had spent the last few months completely out of contact with all of her fellow Saints while she tried to reconnect with the God she felt she was slipping from. So her time had been spent in a rented cabin in Colorado, deep in prayer and living a spartan existence to find herself. She wasn't sure if she had succeeded but it was time to finish there. She knew that much.
Agatha returned now to New York City without knowledge of all that had passed without her. But it wouldn't be long until she'd find out.
Her apartment was dark when she came inside and she crossed the living room and dropped her bag before turning on the light.
It illuminated Patrick who must have just been sitting there in the dark of her apartment and she gasped as she looked at him. "Patrick! What-" he was wearing an eyepatch and she walked across to him. "Is this... pirate day?"
Patrick stood and he shook his head, the expression on his face horrified. "Agatha...you you've been gone for months. The things that have happened since you've been gone..." He moved to hug her as if the weight of the world rested on his weary shoulders. "I'm so glad you're back, Aggie."
Not a costume. Not a joke. Agatha's heart thundered and she pulled Patrick into a tight hug. "What's happened?" she whispered in horror. "Oh... graces, what's been going on??"
a1
"A saint renounced his faith and he's been teaming up with Satan and Lucifer to come after us," Patrick explained, sounding for all the world like he was terrified. "He went after Sebastian and George, and Lucifer took my eye..."
Agatha pulled back only because while holding him she couldn't quite show the shock she felt. "What?" she whispered, reaching out to grab for the counter so she wouldn't fall down at the revelation. "Oh, Patrick!" Her blood felt cold inside her when she started to ask her question. "Patrick, Sebastian..." she couldn't even get it out. She needed to know if he was alive.
"He's alright," Patrick reassured her, just managing to keep the disappointment and anger out of his voice. "He saved Georgie, thank God. And I will never forget it."
Patrick reached out to her, since she seemed oh so weak and he could help her to a seat. "Come on, Aggie, let me help you sit down."
"Thank the Lord," Agatha whispered, almost ready to cry at the thought of it all. She took Patrick's hands and looked at him in sad and scared confusion. "Patrick, who was it? Who betrayed us?"
Patrick looked away, trying to appear like it hurt him to say. He dropped her hands, covering his face with one of them while he quickly reached behind her for the lamp on that stood on a table with the other hand. When he had it in his grip, he looked up and smiled at her.
"Me," he said calmly, and then he brought the lamp crashing into her head hard enough to, if not knock her out, then to stun her.
Agatha felt the lamp hit here and she fell to the floor in a heap, moaning in pain and fighting the sudden wave of dizziness and confusion. There was blood dripping into her eye from somewhere and she tried to say his name but instead fell unconscious.
When she came around it wasn't much later at all and she blinked, groggy and nauseated, before realising she was tied down to her bed. She yanked at the ties and looked around her. "Patrick!"
Patrick grinned at her from the side of her bed and then he sat beside her body, patting her stomach. "I hope you ate recently. We might be here a while. I kept George and Sebastian for two days."
"No," Agatha murmured with a shake of her head, her eyes filling with tears. "No, Patrick, not you, please, not you." How could this have happened? How much had Agatha missed that Patrick had betrayed them all and given his soul to Hell?
"Oh, shhh," Patrick said, reaching up to touch her cheek gently. "I don't have to hurt you at all, Agatha. To be honest, I'd rather not. It's all quite tiresome. All you have to do is come with me. It feels so much better when you are finally rid of that outdated faith. Trust me, Agatha. You always have."
Had she not been so shocked and horrified Agatha might have laughed at the idea of Patrick trying to make her fall. "Never," she told him with a fierce shake of her head. "I would never betray my faith!"
"Oh, Aggie," Patrick said as if he was actually sorry to hear her say that. "Why do you Saints always make it so difficult. I went the easy way and I've never looked back."
"I can't believe you sold your soul," Agatha said. Her sweet Patrick now in league with the Devil. "I thought- Oh Patrick, I always loved you so much."
Patrick watched her intently for a moment and then he patted her stomach again. "Do you want to know what Patrick actually thought of you but was always too guilty and mired by his pointless conscience to say? He desired you, Agatha." It was a lie. Patrick had never had feelings like that for Agatha. But that hardly mattered now.
"The entire time you believed he was just a friend, he was imagining the both of you fucking. That's all a soul is. It just means no one is honest with anyone else about how they really feel."
Agatha's muscles tightened in fear. "You're a liar," she whispered to him, but she didn't sound so sure. She yanked at the ropes as hard as she could because she realised, very suddenly, what a terrible position she was in.
"No, I'm not," Patrick said simply, lying without a care in the world. "I'm being completely honest for the first time in almost two thousand years. Did you know I was a slave? You probably did. It's common knowledge for people who know my past. But they didn't know how often I used to think about it. Every day. Every hour. Every minute, Agatha." More lies, even if there was some truth to them.
"Do you know how liberating it is not to hide any more? I used to hide everything. I was ashamed about things that I couldn't help, and how is that fair? Like humans being ashamed of sexual urges which are natural. Like poor, little Patrick being ashamed to be attracted to someone as beautiful as you."
And Patrick trailed his hand down her side.
Agatha felt like she was going to be sick and she shook her head at him, over and over. "Please," she whispered. "I know that somewhere inside you don't want to do this. You love me, Patrick, I know that you do. There must be some part of you that remembers that!"
He had his hands on her. He was touching her like- No, this wouldn't happen. God had protected her for thirty days in a brothel and let no man lay a hand on her. He'd saved her from being defiled over and over and she knew that he would never let this happen. Not a Saint, not someone who had once been her friend. All she could cling to was that safety.
"I know how much your precious virginity means to you, Agatha. You can keep it...intact. Though I would love to take what I have wanted for years. But I'm not a monster. You choose, Aggie."
Patrick grinned down at her, heady on the power trip he gained by causing her fear.
No, no, no, this wouldn't happen, it wouldn't, it wasn't happening. She blinked back tears and squeezed her eyes shut.
No.
"You'll never touch my soul," she said, staring at the roof above her angrily, "nor will you ever take my purity."
And then she prayed for God to intercede, knowing that it was only His hand now that would protect her. She had faith that he wouldn't allow this.
"Your faith is so cute," Patrick told her, wrinkling his nose at her. "Do you think if God was paying any attention at all, he'd have let me go? Me? I Christianised an entire country. What the fuck did you do other than have self-healing breasts? If he let me go, he isn't going to care about you one little bit. Think rationally, Aggie." Patrick moved over her, his hand caressing her cheek. "It's been a while, Love. I might not be all that gentle."
Agatha shuddered and looked up at him, her eyes pleading. "Please, Patrick," she begged with a shuddering voice. "Please don't."
The Lord is my Shepherd and though darkness and fear surround, He shall not let me fall, nor shall He let me fear, nor shall He- please, Lord, protect me in my time of need.
"Agathaaaaaa," Patrick said, amping up the creepy voice because he could tell she was praying. "No one is listening, Agatha. I gave you a choice because you're my friend. I still can't help but be glad you made this one." Patrick reached out and he let his fingers brush against her breast. "If He was listening, could I do these things to you? He's abandoned you. You can stop me before I go any farther. Renounce your faith in the God who isn't listening."
Agatha bucked her body at that touch and she yanked herself away as well as she could while in those bounds. "Don't you touch me!" she snapped, trying to bite the hand that had touched her but missing.
The Lord would protect her. The Lord would protect her. He'd protect her!
"Why do you all try to bite me!" Patrick snapped, showing anger for the first time. He slapped her hard across the face and then he glared at her from above, all rage and superiority. "Fucking bitey Saints. That's something they don't tell you."
Patrick struck her and she groaned and then, realizing that she should have done it from the moment he'd tied her up, Agatha took a deep breath and screamed at the top of her lungs. Anything to get the attention of the neighbours.
Patrick reached over and he switched on her CD-player beside her bed, turning up the music so it covered her screams completely. "Scream all you want Agatha," he yelled into her ear, but not too close because he didn't want to lose more of his own ear.
Then he went to her kitchen and when he returned, he had a knife in his hands. He used the knife to remove her clothes so when he appeared beside her again, she was naked. And he was grinning.
"Last chance!" he yelled at her.
Agatha couldn't cry - she was too stunned and terrified. Where was her Saviour? Patrick was- no, Patrick couldn't be going to do this but he'd cut the clothes from her body and Agatha took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. All she could do was pray. She had to pray and God wouldn't let Patrick harm her nor take from her what she had kept safe all these centuries.
She didn't refuse him, and Patrick was glad.
He was about to taste the flesh of a Saint. He turned the music down so he would be able to hear her, and then he placed one hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, while he used the other hand for balance.
And then taste her, he did. He was neither careful nor gentle with her, and though he took his time at first, the end was fast and rough. He savoured every single noise she made; every whimper and every cry.
And when it was over, he had taken from her what she had protected for centuries.
And he was proud.
The physical pain of it could never match the mental anguish.
Agatha's entire existence had been centered around the steadfast and pious dedication of her virginity to God and now, with one cruel and violent act, Patrick had taken that away from her and he'd enjoyed it.
God had not stopped it. God had not stopped one of his own Saints from falling to Hell and not stopped that Saint from destroying Agatha in her own bedroom.
Still tied up, Agatha just cried. Everything was lost.
The discussion about letting Patrick out of Hell had been a spirited one, to say the least. Because on one hand, it was so fun to have a saint of their very own down in the Pit. They just didn't get that kind of quality entertainment every day.
Satan had taken to keeping Patrick's eye near his throne, right next to the little jar that contained Patrick's soul. (It was all for show, of course. Satan's will kept Patrick's soul bound, not some little Mason jar, but Satan was fond of drawing smiley faces on the glass anyway.)
But in the end, Patrick was more useful when they loosened his leash and let him roam around on the surface. Agatha was an excellent example of that. Satan had been trailing Patrick since been sent topside, and was all too happy to stroll into Agatha's apartment in the aftermath.
"You really do work very well as a blunt instrument, Patty," Satan said, leaning against the doorway. "Now go in the other room and amuse yourself."
Once Patrick was gone, Satan sat at the foot of the bed, looking over Agatha with a sympathetic noise. "Well. You've had better days."
"Why?" Agatha begged of him as she wept, ashamed and worthless. But perhaps it wasn't really Satan she was asking. He didn't need a reason to be evil and cruel. But why had her God allowed this? Hadn't she only even been loyal and strong for him? Was this some sort of test? How could he give her a test she knew he couldn't survive. "Why did you do this?"
"Dear, I don't do anything that He doesn't let me do," Satan said, raising an eyebrow. "That's something that always seems to get lost when your preachers scream about the temptations of Satan. He set me loose on Lucifer and the angels, on Adam and Eve, on Job and all of humanity."
He picked up the edge of one of the blankets that had been kicked off the bed and draped it over her, taking care not to touch any of her skin. This was a delicate matter, after all.
"Speaking of Job, I think you and him might have a lot in common. Do you know why I was allowed to take everything he cared about from him? Because he loved God and had lived an easy life, and all I did was point out that he'd had it very good. That was all it took to get the go-ahead to ruin his life."
He covered her naked body with the blanket and at this low point it felt to Agatha liked the greatest kindness in the world. That Satan would hide her shame when God would not prevent it. "I did everything He asked," she whispered, weeping up at the ceiling. "Why- I didn't everything He asked!" Her voice finished in a scream, her hands balled into fists where they were tied as she felt that agony of betrayal in every fiber of her body
"It's all a test, Agatha," Satan said, straightening his cufflinks calmly. "And if you pass, there will only be more. If you fail, then obviously you never really loved Him to begin with. There is no winning against God, no convincing Him of your sincerity." He spread his arms amicably. "I've been trying for millenia, and I'm still in Hell."
"I can't," Agatha sobbed. "I can't."
She had gone away to reaffirm her connection to God only to return to this. Agatha didn't feel like it had been a test, but a punishment for doubting. She had never wanted to doubt, had never wanted to miss His voice, but she had and He had punished her in the more horrible way He could.
She had nothing. She was nothing. For her God she had died and He had seen her defiled by monsters.
With eyes closed and tears falling down the side of her face she whispered, "make it stop."
"That, I can do," Satan said, standing up. He let his nails sharpen a little, closer to claws than fingernails, and sliced through the ties binding Agatha to the bed. He wasn't worried she'd run; she wasn't in a state to do much of anything.
"I can take away the pain and the worry and the betrayal. All of it, gone in a flash."
He cut her binds but Agatha didn't sit up. She did curl into a ball on her side though - in the direction of Satan, even if her eyes were closed. Everything in her ached, and she was broken and filthy and defiled.
She understood what Satan was doing. He was tempting her just like he always had, just as he'd done forever and would continue doing until the end of the world. But what was the use of fighting it? She had never felt so alone in her entire life. She had been tortured on a rack for hours, she'd been cut and burned and bruised but never once had she doubted that God was watching and telling her how much He loved her.
Agatha didn't feel that now. There was no love. There was nothing but an empty yawning chasm inside her.
And if God would not give her any peace, then let Satan.
"Please," she whispered, opening her eyes to look at him with the tiniest of nods. "Please just take everything." There was nothing left she wanted anyway.
After that, it was all very easy. The contract appeared in his hands like it had always been there, a pen sitting on the bed next to her. The words written on it didn't matter, not really. They were different for everyone, and it was all the same to Satan. But on Agatha's particular contract, all it said was 'My soul.'
"All you have to do is sign," Satan said, voice gentle in a way it rarely was. He spoken to Eve the same way.
It took a long time for Agatha to move. She lay there on the bed looking at the contact with exhausted eyes and then, finally, she began to shift, sitting up on the bed with the blanket wrapped around herself.
She looked up at him, knowing that he'd won and she had lost. But it didn't seem to matter anymore. Agatha took the pen in her hand and signed away her soul to the Devil.
There was, in Satan's mind anyway, a feeling like something small and bright being dragged away very quickly. A smile spread across his face, all sharp edges and satisfaction, and another soul-filled Mason jar appeared next to Patrick's in Hell.
"Well, dear, how do you feel?"
Agatha felt something being torn out of her body and there was a moment of sheer agony that passed almost so fast that she wondered if she'd imagined it. And then...
Agatha took a deep breath slowly into her lungs and blinked, trying to understand what she was feeling. The guilt, the shame, the hurt, all of it was gone. The blanket dropped from her body because she didn't care about hiding it any more. Why should she feel a sense of shame over the body she had been born with?
There were other parts of Agatha missing, but she didn't realise it and likely never would, not until she was burning in the fires of Hell. But for now she felt better than she had for a very long time. There was no more doubt or longing, simply a strange sense of peace.
Her smile was slow and she looked up to meet Satan's eyes, letting that expression be her only answer. She was free. There was no more bullshit tying her to that bastard God who'd never cared for her, never cared for any of them. Satan had been right all along.