{Pete}

Pete was in his office, packing up his notes and laptop, when he heard someone hurrying up to his door.

"Pastor Pete?" It was a young woman's voice, high and shaky. "Are you in there?"

He opened his door, his smile puzzled to see Mr. Yoshenko's daughter, pink with exertion, barefoot, and obviously upset. "Yes?"

"We need you—it's Cary—there's a fight."

A second ago he'd been heavy and tired—but adrenaline snapped everything into focus. "Where is he?"

As they came out the back door of the church, it was obvious where he was—a crowd of teenagers milled under the basketball net. They weren't the first adults to the scene, either: Rob Klassen was making a beeline from a side entrance, stripping off his suit jacket and tossing it over the hood of a parked car as he drew closer.

Pete started to run.

Rob waded into the group, dropping to his knees. "Todd." His voice sounded strange and strangled. He lifted his head, glaring at the teenagers looking on. "What happened here?"

His son Curtis hurried to answer. "Cary beat him up again, Dad." Pete's stomach sank, and he scanned the group to find Cary's dark head.

Curtis went on. "He just went nuts—"

"That's not true!" Kadee's voice cracked with outrage. "Your brother hit him with a bat—"

"Where is it now?" One of Todd's friends sneered, spreading his hands like he was doing a magic trick. "Your boyfriend is a psycho."

Pete hurried to Rob's side. Todd was slumped on the asphalt beside a parked car, groaning. "Does he have a concussion? Maybe we shouldn't move him."

But Rob was already pulling his boy to his feet, supporting him with his shoulder under his arm. "That delinquent you took in is out of control," he snarled. "I can't believe this church has tolerated you as long as it has. You're a disgrace."

Pete backed up as the other man advanced, trying to check the damages on Todd. The boy's head was hanging—he looked groggy, and his eyes were half closed in pain. "Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

"We don't want your help!" Rob's face was almost purple with rage. "Look at you! Look at your boys—a criminal and a drug addict! You have nothing to offer, and it's a joke that we pay you a salary. A joke." His nostrils whitened and his jaw hardened. "You'll be hearing from the Elders' board. Today."

Pete stepped to the side and watched him go, his stomach churning as he noted all the people who had heard that and were watching him now. There was nothing helpful he knew to say—no way to rescue this moment.

He turned to the handful of teens lingering under the basketball net, and his eyes fell on Cary, who was pulling himself out from under one of the parked cars and getting to his feet. His shirt was askew and had come untucked from his waistband. Pete tried to shut out his awareness of the people exiting the church, darting glances his way as they hurried their own children into their cars to leave. His body felt stiff with the effort as he approached Cary. "What happened here?" He asked in a low voice.

Cary ducked his head to the side, taking a minute to knock grit off his clothes. "I hit him 'til he went down." He stole a sideways look under his tangle of hair, one dark eye touching Pete and, a little distance away, the Yoshenkos' daughter. "He okay?"

For a second, Pete couldn't answer. His heart was still hammering from his sprint across the parking lot and his fear that he wouldn't be able to stop Cary from doing real damage to a couple of church kids right under the eyes of their parents. Cary turned his head to look Pete full in his face, and Pete winced at the bruise swelling beside his left eye. A cut split his eyebrow and painted that side of his face crimson. It hadn't occurred to him that maybe those kids would damage Cary instead. "Are you all right?"

Cary shrugged stiffly, stuffing his fists into his pockets and avoiding his eyes.

"If you can walk to the car, I'm taking you home."

Cary went past him, ducking his head like the sky was falling.

The walk across the church parking lot under the eyes of a whole crowd of folks in their Sunday best had never taken so long. Pete felt like his armour had been dismantled and spread wide—just moments before, he had been on the stage with his mouth full of words about love and grace, and he had longed for those words to sink into these people like a softening rain. Cary stumbled once, and Pete caught him under his arm and held him up. He scanned the faces of the people watching from the steps of the church, his face tight, looking for a sympathetic expression. People squinted in the light, their brows furrowing, and their mouths opening and closing. He didn't want to know what they were saying—he had no idea how he was going to answer for this. His stomach tied itself in an aching knot.

His fingers were clumsy as he unlocked the door and held it open for Cary. He jerked his own door closed and pulled out of the parking lot, his knuckles white on the wheel. As he glanced in the rear-view mirror, he imagined the ground opening up and swallowing the church building whole, cars tumbling into the abyss and disappearing as the hole closed again, leaving nothing but the manicured lawns on either side and a pockmark in the ground in the middle of this neighbourhood. He let out a strained sigh.

Cary was silent, hunched over, pressing the cuff of his shirt to the cut above his eye. There was a tear in the knee of his dress pants, which they couldn't afford to replace.

"Tell me what happened," Pete said.

"I hit him first." Cary's voice was thin and dry.

"One of the boys had a bat?" His question was rough with anger.

Cary took a short breath, silent.

"Was it Todd Klassen? Did he hit you with it?"

After a moment, Cary lifted his shoulders. "Last time I had a knife," he said in a low voice. "Guess it made sense to him."

It was an effort to keep his voice even. "Use your words, Cary, and tell me what happened—start to finish. I am going to be hauled up to answer for you as soon as the Elders finish their lunches."

Cary pulled himself up straight, keeping his eyes on the road coming at them. "They were talking shit about you." Pete heard him swallow. "Lying about you. About you being a fake, because of Jon." His eyebrows were drawn down low. He was still for a moment, fists clenched on his knees and feet pressed on the floor of the car. "I told them to shut it. And Kadee..." His voice roughened. "Got in the middle. And--I took a swing. At that Todd asshole. And he came back at me with a fucking...sorry. With a bat. And I hit him 'til he dropped it and went down."

He stopped, like that was the end of the story.

"What happened to your face?" Pete asked, hearing the cracks of strain in his own voice.

"His brother," Cary said shortly.

"Did you hit him too?"

"No."

"The other kids there?"

A flush crept up Cary's neck and into his ears, and he clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles creaked. "I didn't wanna fight," he finally said, in a soft growl. "I didn't swing at none of them."

Pete glanced sideways at him, struck by how remarkable this was for Cary even in the midst of his own stress and concern. "It looks like they hit you."

Cary made a stiff motion with his shoulders, up and down. "A couple of his friends. I stayed down. Got under a car. Was going to run for it when I heard you."

Pete let out his breath, putting a hand across the car and laying it on Cary's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt, that tender layer of tissue that held so many sensations and kept Cary's blood on the inside where it was needed. He felt the tension vibrating in Cary's body release, like his touch had grounded it safely. "I'm glad you weren't more seriously hurt," he said quietly.

Cary let out a long, unsteady breath and bowed his head, closing his eyes. "I fucked up your job, didn't I?"

Pete hiccupped a laugh. "A little bit." There was more than just Cary dividing him and his board of Elders, but an incident like this one would go off like a landmine in the middle of their already messy discussions, fragmenting the little unity they had. He felt oddly detached from that, almost relieved now that he knew what had happened today. His professional life was falling to pieces, but Cary had not laid waste to half the youth group. That was something.

He put his hand back on the wheel. "Who told them about Jon?"

"I don't know." The edge roughened off Cary's voice and he turned his cheek toward Pete. "Jon, maybe. He called a couple people from the addictions place yesterday."

Pete dropped a swear under his breath, gripping the wheel tight then releasing. He guessed if Rob Klassen and his boys knew Jon was in treatment for drug addiction, the whole church would know it before the end of the day. He had wanted to protect Jon from that.

They pulled up in front of the house. The silence when he turned the key was abrupt.

Cary didn't move to get out, eyes fixed on his hands clenched in his lap. "What's my punishment?" he asked, soft and flat.

Pete sagged, the weight of what had just happened sinking in. Even if Cary's version of the story was true, Rob Klassen wouldn't believe him over his own children. It's a joke that we pay you a salary. There was more than a little sting in those words, and Pete felt raw and exposed. Out of ideas, out of energy to fix this.

"I don't know, Cary." He felt Cary's eyes on him, and he couldn't gather himself to put up a strong front. "This might be the end of the line." He exhaled, rubbing the side of his beard. What were they going to do without this job? "I need to speak with Mel and then I'll try to reach Mr. Yoshenko. Just head inside for now. I'm sorry."

Cary ducked his head. "Yes sir," he said in a low voice.

*Oh wow, it feels like that was bound to happen eventually. Was Cary justified in his response to Todd? Does this look like progress to you, or just back to the thoughtless, violent behaviour he used to use?

Thanks for your reads and votes! I check every comment and love to hear from you <3*