Entry tags:

jo harvelle-shurley, ruby

Who: Jo Harvelle-Shurley and Ruby
Where: A church (the same one she hid out in with Mary and others during the War plot!)
When: Friday morning, 1/7/11
What: Jo tries to talk to God
Rating: Low
Status: Complete

She’d left him a note while he slept off the previous night’s drinking:

Heading to the grocery store. Text me if you think of anything else.
Love you.
J


The note was true, of course, but the grocery store wasn’t the only place she was going to be going to. She wasn’t really sure where she intended on going, didn’t realize where she was driving to until she stopped the truck and looked out the window. She was sitting outside the church she’d taken over months ago, when War had been controlling her, and she’d tortured Sam and Chuck. It still hurt to think about those weeks, and she knew that Chuck still had nightmares about it, which she hated.

In the months since, someone had fixed up the place. It had fresh paint on the outside, and the doors and windows had been replaced. Jo cut the engine, then pushed open the door and stepped out. The priest hadn’t been there before, so there was no way she would be recognized if she went in now. With any luck, she wouldn’t run into anyone at all. She walked slowly up the stairs and stepped inside, dark eyes glancing around. The lighting was a little dim, mainly just sunlight filtered by stained glass windows. She didn’t see anyone else – Friday mornings must be a slow time for the church, she figured.

Slowly, the Hunter walked towards the front where the altar sat, along with a large cross with Jesus on it. Staring up at it, she stepped to the left and sank into a pew. A sigh escaped her, before she leaned forward a little, palms pressed together as she leaned her arms across the back of the pew in front of her. Because she was alone at the moment, she went ahead for the cliché’d out-loud prayer.

“So we both know I suck at things like this, especially since I haven’t exactly done this since I was a kid. But we can get past that, right? Anyway, I don’t know if you’re out there or not – some of the angels say yes, some say no, but I guess it doesn’t really matter. I’m here to talk about Chuck.” Jo hesitated, glancing around the rectory once again, then slowly continued, “God . . . these visions you’re sending him . . . something’s getting lost in the translation. He’s not seeing them the way I figure you intended – and I don’t know if that’s because of someone else or not, but . . . I want you to take them away. Give them to someone else – hell, even give them to me, if you want. But take them from him, please. They’re killing him, and making him drink, and . . . I’m going to need him to be the best he can be, from now on. See, I’m pregnant – which you probably already know – and this kid is going to need his or her dad. So I’d appreciate it if you’d do . . . something. At least make it easier on him. Please.” A deep breath was taken, before she finished. “Amen.”

Sitting back in the pew with her arms crossed over herself, Jo stared up at the Jesus figure, not expecting a response, but not really ready to leave just yet.