Plura Ater NoxPlura Ater Nox
Epilogue
Another mother's breakin'
Heart is taking over
When the violence causes silence
We must be mistaken
It's the same old theme since 1916
Reaching over, Chelsea turned down the radio as she wandered into the room, her husband, Brennan, regaling their granddaughter with the tale of his contribution to the events of World War Two. She sighed softly.
In your head,
In your head they're still fightin'
With their tanks
In your head they are dyin'
In your head, in your head
The lyrics of the song on the radio spoke volumes of truth and seemed to be fitting to the theme of Brennan's story. She stood in silence, as she waited for her husband to finish telling the tragic ending of the tale.
She watched as her granddaughter's attention was transfixed to Brennan, as the man ran his fingers through his grey hair pensively. She listened as well, enjoying her husband's version of the tale. How it was different from Séamus'. The pair has their own way of telling the story.
"Who took this picture?"
"One of Andreas' men, while we was on break before we delegated graveyard duty to make sure none of 'em bloody Nazis came on back lookin' for more trouble."
The young girl paused, taking the picture in her hands, the image of a younger version of her grandfather engraved in her mind. He had been a handsome man, much like her father was. She could also see parts of herself in him as well.
Gazing up, she handed it back to her grandfather.
After a moment of repose and silence, she queried, "Granddad, how many of the people in the picture are still alive?"
"Séamus is. His twin, Jeremiah went mad from the war n' took his life. I remember that day too well. We'd finished our fightin' and after roundin' up the bloody Nazis, we secured the area n' set up the patrol duty list. Jeremiah was to have been on shift with me and Séamus, but, the day's events turned him mad and he turned his pistol on himself and took his life that night."
Brennan had been the first to enter the room where Jeremiah had taken his life. He had been intending to alert his friend that it was time for the shift, however, when he had entered; he had been met with a sight that would haunt him for the rest of his life, more than the mindless killing that took place on the battle field.
The dead lifeless body of his friend, the eyes open, glassy, the expression stunned and the puddle of blood around the head, staining the hair… The pungent aroma, the drying blood, the splattered blood on the wall… the dead hand that clutched the gun, the glass of whiskey, the broken bottle, the shards of glass littering the floor… everything. The image had been forever engraved in his mind. It was something he would never forget and bring to the grave with him.
"Captain Andreas and Aimée took their own lives. Lover's suicide... She was overcome with grief, guilt and regret; self-hate. She considered herself unworthy of Andreas and took her own life. He didn't wanna lose her 'gain, so he also took his life." He shrugged. "Though, I didn't consider it to be a loss…"
His amber eyes perused the photograph. "Lieutenant Faulkner remained in the army and is still there, but he is likely going to die any day now, he's real old n' he ain't what he was before. He is in the hospital now. He wouldn't let me fight, made me return home to Chelsea. He wanted me to make sure Séamus was also safe. He said his life didn't matter, long as me n' Chelsea was safe.
"General Marshall almost died in the heat of battle. He was a good friend to us all." Tears brimmed at Chelsea's eyes as she recalled the distant memory, her heart filling with remorse, as she recalled his death, as she did a thousand times a day. "He would have died trying to protect me…"
"We fer a while believed that he had died, but by some miracle, he lived, God bless him. We was so happy to find that he only went into a coma. At least God spared 'im, which was good." Brennan said, his voice soft, as he sat back, reflecting on the past.
"What happened to General Marshall? How is he? Is he still alive?"
"No, my child, he's quite old, and it's a miracle that Marcus has lived this long." Chelsea explained. "Both men died of very old age. Ike died about two years ago in his sleep, his heart just stopped. Marcus is the oldest one left, and he's almost a hundred and four years old…"
In the background, the phone rang.
"Good afternoon?" Chelsea answered the phone. Her features collapsed into sadness. "Yes, thank you for calling, I'll tell him immediately, Father."
She swallowed. "Yes, we shall be there shortly."
She turned to her husband. "Brennan, dear? We must get to the hospital now, there is an emergency. Marcus wanted a chance to say goodbye. That was the Father calling to tell us of Marcus's request."
"Damnit." Brennan growled. "Ah well. Let's git." He turned to their granddaughter. "Well, get on; get home before your mama comes here ready to give me the fifth degree 'cause I kept you."
"Yes. Thanks, granddad. But, you're going to tell me the rest one day."
"I've told you everything."
~~~~
Chelsea had donned her good Sunday church clothes with the matching hat and handbag. She walked, her arm linked through Brennan's, as they looked for the man who had called them to the hospital. She wanted a chance to say goodbye to Marcus. She hadn't got the chance to say goodbye to many of the others. This would be painful, but at least she knew her friend was going to heaven for his work for the good Lord.
Her eyes brightened as she looked over, catching sight of the man that had been present with Marcus and made the call for her and Brennan to come down to the hospital, long enough to say their final farewells to Marcus.
"Mrs. Mackenzie, I'm sorry to have brought you here on a tragic note. But, alas, we must hurry; I'm giving him his rites." Father Kennedy replied, as he took her hands. He smiled reassuringly at her.
That was another change. Brennan remembered this all too well. His friend had been absolutely devastated when his twin had willingly took his own life without warning and put a bullet through his temple, taking his life. The consequences had greatly affected Séamus deeply. As a result, when he had returned home, he was too delusional to think clearly, for the loss of his twin brother for the second time was far too great.
The loss had been too much for the young man, that instead of following or even acknowledging his twin's suicide, he had instead joined the Catholic Church as a brother, a monk. He rose through the ranks, finding a peace in the solace of guiding others through the ecstasy of happiness and the valleys of melancholy.
He felt a remorseful happiness for his friend's relief from the tragedy. That was twice; in both lives he had lost his twin. He did take it much better than he had last time. Brennan of course, had a similar reaction, what with watching Jeremiah drown himself again and all. That brought back memories of the failed summoning when Chiriko had turned out to be Seiryuu Seishi, Amiboshi. He, along with Tamahome, had pursued the boy through the streets of Eiyou, the capital of Konan, eventually cornering him at a swelled river, driving him to drastic measures, taking his own life… Incurring the proceeding events that turned their lives upside down.
"How is Marcus?" Chelsea queried softly.
"He's hanging on. He said he doesn't want to be taken to the gates of heaven before St, Peter until he was able to say goodbye to you two." Father Kennedy replied solemnly.
Leading the way up, he rapped gently on the door. Entering, he picked up his bible where he left it and approached the bed. "My son, your friends have arrived to watch over you as the angels take you to heaven."
Marcus gazed up at Father Kennedy, his eyelids barely open. He spoke weakly. "Thanks for bringing my friends, Father." Sadly, he gazed at his remaining friends, the ones who hadn't been cursed to an early grave. "My friends…I pray, one day, we shall again meet…"
It seemed strange to him, even after all these years, that he was a military man and had left his religious roots and the boy who had once been part of the feared IRA was now a respected priest, whom was looked for, for guidance.
He brushed his hand over the face of the retired lieutenant, sprinkling holy water on the forehead of the dying man. He turned his eyes to the friends. "I have received his confession already. Now, let us pray for him."
LORD HAVE MERCY ON US.
CHRIST, HAVE MERCY ON US.
LORD, HAVE MERCY ON US.
HOLY MARY, PRAY FOR HIM.
ALL YE HOLY ANGELS AND ARCHANGELS,
HOLY ABEL,
ALL YE CHOIRS OF THE JUST,
HOLY ABRAHAM,
ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST,
ST. JOSEPH,
ALL YE PATRIARCHS AND PROPHETS,
ST. PETER,
ST. PAUL,
ST. ANDREW,
ST. JOHN,
ALL YE HOLY APOSTLES AND EVANGELISTS,
ALL YE HOLY DISCIPLES OF THE LORD,
ALL YE HOLY INNOCENTS,
ST. STEPHEN,
ST. LAWRENCE,
ALL YE HOLY MARTYRS,
ST. SYLVESTER,
ST. GREGORY,
ST. AUGUSTINE,
ALL YE HOLY BISHOPS AND CONFESSORS,
ST. BENEDICT,
ST. DOMINIC,
ST. FRANCIS,
ALL YE HOLY MONKS AND HERMITS,
ST. MARY MAGDALENE,
ST. LUCY,
ALL YE HOLY VIRGINS AND WIDOWS,
ALL YE SAINTS OF GOD, MAKE INTERCESSION FOR HIM.
BE MERCIFUL, SPARE HIM, O LORD.
BE MERCIFUL, DELIVER HIM, O LORD.
AND FROM THY ANGER,
FROM AN UNHAPPY DEATH,
FROM THE PAINS OF HELL,
FROM THE POWER OF THE DEVIL,
FROM ALL EVIL,
BY THY NATIVITY,
BY THY CROSS AND PASSION,
BY THY DEATH AND BURIAL,
BY THY GLORIOUS RESURRECTION,
BY THY ADMIRABLE ASCENSION,
BY THE GRACE OF THE HOLY GHOST THE COMFORTER,
IN THE DAY OF JUDGMENT,
WE SINNERS BESEECH THEE TO HEAR US.
THAT THOU SPARE HIM, WE BESEECH THEE TO HEAR US.
LORD, HAVE MERCY ON US.
CHRIST, HAVE MERCY ON US.
LORD, HAVE MERCY ON US.
Again, Father Kennedy sprinkled holy water on the departing son. He pulled back, gazing down. His hands clasped together, as another prayer crossed his lips. He crossed himself, as he clutched his rosary.
He offered another prayer, as Marcus sighed softly, the heart monitor beeping ominously, an indication of imminent death.
TO THEE, O LORD, DO WE COMMEND THE SOUL OF THY SERVANT, N., THAT BEING DEAD TO THE WORLD HE MAY LIVE UNTO THEE; AND WHATSOEVER SINS HE HAS COMMITTED THROUGH THE FRAILTY OF HIS MORTAL NATURE, DO THOU, IN THY MOST MERCIFUL GOODNESS, FORGIVE AND WASH AWAY.
He crossed himself, as the two others, Chelsea and Brennan did the same, an utterance of "amen." Crossing their lips as they watched their friend close his eyes and slip into that eternal good night.
Reaching down, Father Kennedy brought the blanket up over Marcus and again crossed himself. He looked to the other two, who nodded, each crossing them selves before they left the room. As they did, the Father pressed the call button for the on duty nurse to come and summon for the doctor.
The three now stood in silence amongst each other in the hall facing each other. They were now the only ones left.
"Father, it's now only us." Chelsea whispered.
"Yes. How much has changed since the days of the war. So many of us came and went; many of us lost our lives. We lost friends… I can't believe that it's only us now, out of all the Seishi. All the rest have died; and mostly during the heat of the Second World War. Such a tragic loss." Father Kennedy replied softly.
Sighing he smiled softly, changing topics. "I'm going to prepare for his burial. Perhaps, Brennan, you would like to say a few words about Marcus. You were one of his dearest friends."
"I could. Yeah, I'd like to." Brennan replied. He felt closeness to all his friends and the Father. He had only positive things to say of them, nothing condemning or negative.
"I shall talk to you soon." Father Kennedy said, as he shook his friend's hand and nodded, giving a pleasant smile, which was contradictory of the sadness perpetually dancing in his now dull blue eyes.
~~~~
Now alone in the small apartment above the Cathedral, Father Kennedy found a moment of solace to himself, as he removed his robes. He wore only the black shirt with the white collar and the matching black pants, as he sat in the plaintive solitude, his mind wondering.
In hand, he clutched his rosary beads. Sighing, he leaned to the side, seeking what he believed to be a brief nap, but didn't realise that when he closed his eyes, he would only feel five more minutes of life before he too slipped away into that finality.
Inhaling slowly, he exhaled, his breath drawn out…
And then… The rosary beads fell from his hand, no more air going in, nor any coming out, as he lay. He looked like he was sleeping peacefully, but, in truth; his peaceful rest was a deceiving cover for the death that claimed him.
*~*~*~* THE END *~*~*~*
Epilogue
Another mother's breakin'
Heart is taking over
When the violence causes silence
We must be mistaken
It's the same old theme since 1916
Reaching over, Chelsea turned down the radio as she wandered into the room, her husband, Brennan, regaling their granddaughter with the tale of his contribution to the events of World War Two. She sighed softly.
In your head,
In your head they're still fightin'
With their tanks
In your head they are dyin'
In your head, in your head
The lyrics of the song on the radio spoke volumes of truth and seemed to be fitting to the theme of Brennan's story. She stood in silence, as she waited for her husband to finish telling the tragic ending of the tale.
She watched as her granddaughter's attention was transfixed to Brennan, as the man ran his fingers through his grey hair pensively. She listened as well, enjoying her husband's version of the tale. How it was different from Séamus'. The pair has their own way of telling the story.
"Who took this picture?"
"One of Andreas' men, while we was on break before we delegated graveyard duty to make sure none of 'em bloody Nazis came on back lookin' for more trouble."
The young girl paused, taking the picture in her hands, the image of a younger version of her grandfather engraved in her mind. He had been a handsome man, much like her father was. She could also see parts of herself in him as well.
Gazing up, she handed it back to her grandfather.
After a moment of repose and silence, she queried, "Granddad, how many of the people in the picture are still alive?"
"Séamus is. His twin, Jeremiah went mad from the war n' took his life. I remember that day too well. We'd finished our fightin' and after roundin' up the bloody Nazis, we secured the area n' set up the patrol duty list. Jeremiah was to have been on shift with me and Séamus, but, the day's events turned him mad and he turned his pistol on himself and took his life that night."
Brennan had been the first to enter the room where Jeremiah had taken his life. He had been intending to alert his friend that it was time for the shift, however, when he had entered; he had been met with a sight that would haunt him for the rest of his life, more than the mindless killing that took place on the battle field.
The dead lifeless body of his friend, the eyes open, glassy, the expression stunned and the puddle of blood around the head, staining the hair… The pungent aroma, the drying blood, the splattered blood on the wall… the dead hand that clutched the gun, the glass of whiskey, the broken bottle, the shards of glass littering the floor… everything. The image had been forever engraved in his mind. It was something he would never forget and bring to the grave with him.
"Captain Andreas and Aimée took their own lives. Lover's suicide... She was overcome with grief, guilt and regret; self-hate. She considered herself unworthy of Andreas and took her own life. He didn't wanna lose her 'gain, so he also took his life." He shrugged. "Though, I didn't consider it to be a loss…"
His amber eyes perused the photograph. "Lieutenant Faulkner remained in the army and is still there, but he is likely going to die any day now, he's real old n' he ain't what he was before. He is in the hospital now. He wouldn't let me fight, made me return home to Chelsea. He wanted me to make sure Séamus was also safe. He said his life didn't matter, long as me n' Chelsea was safe.
"General Marshall almost died in the heat of battle. He was a good friend to us all." Tears brimmed at Chelsea's eyes as she recalled the distant memory, her heart filling with remorse, as she recalled his death, as she did a thousand times a day. "He would have died trying to protect me…"
"We fer a while believed that he had died, but by some miracle, he lived, God bless him. We was so happy to find that he only went into a coma. At least God spared 'im, which was good." Brennan said, his voice soft, as he sat back, reflecting on the past.
"What happened to General Marshall? How is he? Is he still alive?"
"No, my child, he's quite old, and it's a miracle that Marcus has lived this long." Chelsea explained. "Both men died of very old age. Ike died about two years ago in his sleep, his heart just stopped. Marcus is the oldest one left, and he's almost a hundred and four years old…"
In the background, the phone rang.
"Good afternoon?" Chelsea answered the phone. Her features collapsed into sadness. "Yes, thank you for calling, I'll tell him immediately, Father."
She swallowed. "Yes, we shall be there shortly."
She turned to her husband. "Brennan, dear? We must get to the hospital now, there is an emergency. Marcus wanted a chance to say goodbye. That was the Father calling to tell us of Marcus's request."
"Damnit." Brennan growled. "Ah well. Let's git." He turned to their granddaughter. "Well, get on; get home before your mama comes here ready to give me the fifth degree 'cause I kept you."
"Yes. Thanks, granddad. But, you're going to tell me the rest one day."
"I've told you everything."
~~~~
Chelsea had donned her good Sunday church clothes with the matching hat and handbag. She walked, her arm linked through Brennan's, as they looked for the man who had called them to the hospital. She wanted a chance to say goodbye to Marcus. She hadn't got the chance to say goodbye to many of the others. This would be painful, but at least she knew her friend was going to heaven for his work for the good Lord.
Her eyes brightened as she looked over, catching sight of the man that had been present with Marcus and made the call for her and Brennan to come down to the hospital, long enough to say their final farewells to Marcus.
"Mrs. Mackenzie, I'm sorry to have brought you here on a tragic note. But, alas, we must hurry; I'm giving him his rites." Father Kennedy replied, as he took her hands. He smiled reassuringly at her.
That was another change. Brennan remembered this all too well. His friend had been absolutely devastated when his twin had willingly took his own life without warning and put a bullet through his temple, taking his life. The consequences had greatly affected Séamus deeply. As a result, when he had returned home, he was too delusional to think clearly, for the loss of his twin brother for the second time was far too great.
The loss had been too much for the young man, that instead of following or even acknowledging his twin's suicide, he had instead joined the Catholic Church as a brother, a monk. He rose through the ranks, finding a peace in the solace of guiding others through the ecstasy of happiness and the valleys of melancholy.
He felt a remorseful happiness for his friend's relief from the tragedy. That was twice; in both lives he had lost his twin. He did take it much better than he had last time. Brennan of course, had a similar reaction, what with watching Jeremiah drown himself again and all. That brought back memories of the failed summoning when Chiriko had turned out to be Seiryuu Seishi, Amiboshi. He, along with Tamahome, had pursued the boy through the streets of Eiyou, the capital of Konan, eventually cornering him at a swelled river, driving him to drastic measures, taking his own life… Incurring the proceeding events that turned their lives upside down.
"How is Marcus?" Chelsea queried softly.
"He's hanging on. He said he doesn't want to be taken to the gates of heaven before St, Peter until he was able to say goodbye to you two." Father Kennedy replied solemnly.
Leading the way up, he rapped gently on the door. Entering, he picked up his bible where he left it and approached the bed. "My son, your friends have arrived to watch over you as the angels take you to heaven."
Marcus gazed up at Father Kennedy, his eyelids barely open. He spoke weakly. "Thanks for bringing my friends, Father." Sadly, he gazed at his remaining friends, the ones who hadn't been cursed to an early grave. "My friends…I pray, one day, we shall again meet…"
It seemed strange to him, even after all these years, that he was a military man and had left his religious roots and the boy who had once been part of the feared IRA was now a respected priest, whom was looked for, for guidance.
He brushed his hand over the face of the retired lieutenant, sprinkling holy water on the forehead of the dying man. He turned his eyes to the friends. "I have received his confession already. Now, let us pray for him."
LORD HAVE MERCY ON US.
CHRIST, HAVE MERCY ON US.
LORD, HAVE MERCY ON US.
HOLY MARY, PRAY FOR HIM.
ALL YE HOLY ANGELS AND ARCHANGELS,
HOLY ABEL,
ALL YE CHOIRS OF THE JUST,
HOLY ABRAHAM,
ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST,
ST. JOSEPH,
ALL YE PATRIARCHS AND PROPHETS,
ST. PETER,
ST. PAUL,
ST. ANDREW,
ST. JOHN,
ALL YE HOLY APOSTLES AND EVANGELISTS,
ALL YE HOLY DISCIPLES OF THE LORD,
ALL YE HOLY INNOCENTS,
ST. STEPHEN,
ST. LAWRENCE,
ALL YE HOLY MARTYRS,
ST. SYLVESTER,
ST. GREGORY,
ST. AUGUSTINE,
ALL YE HOLY BISHOPS AND CONFESSORS,
ST. BENEDICT,
ST. DOMINIC,
ST. FRANCIS,
ALL YE HOLY MONKS AND HERMITS,
ST. MARY MAGDALENE,
ST. LUCY,
ALL YE HOLY VIRGINS AND WIDOWS,
ALL YE SAINTS OF GOD, MAKE INTERCESSION FOR HIM.
BE MERCIFUL, SPARE HIM, O LORD.
BE MERCIFUL, DELIVER HIM, O LORD.
AND FROM THY ANGER,
FROM AN UNHAPPY DEATH,
FROM THE PAINS OF HELL,
FROM THE POWER OF THE DEVIL,
FROM ALL EVIL,
BY THY NATIVITY,
BY THY CROSS AND PASSION,
BY THY DEATH AND BURIAL,
BY THY GLORIOUS RESURRECTION,
BY THY ADMIRABLE ASCENSION,
BY THE GRACE OF THE HOLY GHOST THE COMFORTER,
IN THE DAY OF JUDGMENT,
WE SINNERS BESEECH THEE TO HEAR US.
THAT THOU SPARE HIM, WE BESEECH THEE TO HEAR US.
LORD, HAVE MERCY ON US.
CHRIST, HAVE MERCY ON US.
LORD, HAVE MERCY ON US.
Again, Father Kennedy sprinkled holy water on the departing son. He pulled back, gazing down. His hands clasped together, as another prayer crossed his lips. He crossed himself, as he clutched his rosary.
He offered another prayer, as Marcus sighed softly, the heart monitor beeping ominously, an indication of imminent death.
TO THEE, O LORD, DO WE COMMEND THE SOUL OF THY SERVANT, N., THAT BEING DEAD TO THE WORLD HE MAY LIVE UNTO THEE; AND WHATSOEVER SINS HE HAS COMMITTED THROUGH THE FRAILTY OF HIS MORTAL NATURE, DO THOU, IN THY MOST MERCIFUL GOODNESS, FORGIVE AND WASH AWAY.
He crossed himself, as the two others, Chelsea and Brennan did the same, an utterance of "amen." Crossing their lips as they watched their friend close his eyes and slip into that eternal good night.
Reaching down, Father Kennedy brought the blanket up over Marcus and again crossed himself. He looked to the other two, who nodded, each crossing them selves before they left the room. As they did, the Father pressed the call button for the on duty nurse to come and summon for the doctor.
The three now stood in silence amongst each other in the hall facing each other. They were now the only ones left.
"Father, it's now only us." Chelsea whispered.
"Yes. How much has changed since the days of the war. So many of us came and went; many of us lost our lives. We lost friends… I can't believe that it's only us now, out of all the Seishi. All the rest have died; and mostly during the heat of the Second World War. Such a tragic loss." Father Kennedy replied softly.
Sighing he smiled softly, changing topics. "I'm going to prepare for his burial. Perhaps, Brennan, you would like to say a few words about Marcus. You were one of his dearest friends."
"I could. Yeah, I'd like to." Brennan replied. He felt closeness to all his friends and the Father. He had only positive things to say of them, nothing condemning or negative.
"I shall talk to you soon." Father Kennedy said, as he shook his friend's hand and nodded, giving a pleasant smile, which was contradictory of the sadness perpetually dancing in his now dull blue eyes.
~~~~
Now alone in the small apartment above the Cathedral, Father Kennedy found a moment of solace to himself, as he removed his robes. He wore only the black shirt with the white collar and the matching black pants, as he sat in the plaintive solitude, his mind wondering.
In hand, he clutched his rosary beads. Sighing, he leaned to the side, seeking what he believed to be a brief nap, but didn't realise that when he closed his eyes, he would only feel five more minutes of life before he too slipped away into that finality.
Inhaling slowly, he exhaled, his breath drawn out…
And then… The rosary beads fell from his hand, no more air going in, nor any coming out, as he lay. He looked like he was sleeping peacefully, but, in truth; his peaceful rest was a deceiving cover for the death that claimed him.
*~*~*~* THE END *~*~*~*