Shifting Perspectives

They enjoyed their breakfast in the small breakfast nook overlooking the gardens, covered in a dusting of snow as it was. Then it was off to the airport for a private jet flight to Glasgow and another super comfy limo ride with Aiko holding his hand.

It wasn't like he was nervous, but he held her hand to help her stay calm.

Okay, that was a complete lie.

Kyle faced the fact that he was meeting someone who claimed to know his father, and there seemed to be very few of them. He was nervous, and he was grateful for Aiko's presence and for the Dunsfields' support.

He suddenly thought he should let them know. He cleared his tight throat, and the two seniors smiled at him.

"I-I just wanted you both to know how grateful I am for all this. You've gone above and beyond, and it means so much to me," he said. "I may not get any useful information from him. He may not have even known my father, so I'm trying not to get my hopes up. Regardless of what happens, thank you!"

Reginald leaned forward. "We'll keep our fingers crossed for you, Kyle. We hope you get some answers to the questions you've been carrying all your life. That you turned out so well, even when faced with these struggles, is a testimony not only to the quality of your mother's parenting but to your own strength of character."

Kyle felt his throat tightening once more, so he nodded his thanks with a shaky smile and looked out the window to get control over his emotions once more. Aiko's hand in his continued to soothe his nerves.

Before he was really ready, the limo pulled into the parking lot of a large stone edifice. Kyle examined the building, thinking it looked rather cold and forbidding until he looked up. The upper levels were topped by a steep-sided roof with a steeple. It was a church! Or at least it once had been.

As they reached the front doors and stepped from the vehicle, Kyle looked down the length of the building and saw there'd been an extension added to the church. This part was more modern and likely housed the resident's quarters as there were nice-sized windows all down the side of the building.

Reginald led their group inside and stopped to speak with a nun sitting behind the reception desk. She smiled up at the old gentleman and nodded happily. She gestured for another nun to come closer and whispered into her ear. This nun was a little younger, but she nodded to the first and walked over to stand before Kyle.

"Hello, I'm Sister Agnes. You are Kyle MacDenny?" she asked politely.

He nodded, and she gave him a gentle smile. "Father O'Kean has been looking forward to speaking with you. Would you follow me, please?"

"What about my friends?" Kyle said.

"The Father has asked to have a private discussion with you. Your friends can wait here for you," she replied.

Kyle looked at Reginald and Francis, but they just smiled, and the older woman took Aiko's hand. "We'll be fine, Kyle. Go on," Reginald said.

He nodded, then turned to follow Sister Agnes.

"How-how is he?" Kyle asked as they walked down a long corridor towards the extension he'd seen earlier.

She smiled back at him. "He's got a strong will and a sharp mind, but his body weakens every day. He's not a young man anymore."

Kyle nodded to himself as they turned a corner and stopped at the third doorway on the right. "Let me just prepare him for you."

"Thank you," Kyle said and waited in the hall. He did his best to steady his breathing, but was startled when the nun popped back into the hallway.

"Apologies. You can go in now. Please try not to get him excited," she asked.

Kyle nodded, then pushed the door open as he stepped inside. The room was dominated by a hospital bed with knit blankets on it. Seated by the window, enjoying the sun on his face, was a man who looked more like a gargoyle than a man. His shock of white hair was a wild mane atop a face that was lined with deep wrinkles. He'd obviously been a much larger man, but age and disease had shrunk him down into a human scale.

What Kyle noticed most were his eyes. Deep-set and piercing, they gazed into his very soul.

"You're Duncan's boy." It wasn't a question. There was certainty in his words.

The man spoke with a wispy breath like he barely had the air to converse, but he forced himself to, just the same.

"I'm Kyle MacDenny. You're Father Cormag O'Kean?"

"I am," the man continued to look at him.

Kyle gestured to the other chair before the window, and the priest nodded, so Kyle sat. "My father never mentioned you, but he told us nothing of his past, so that means nothing."

"Do you hate him?"

The question caught Kyle by surprise, and his immediate response was an involuntary snarl. He forced it from his lips and took a breath.

"My father was in and out of my life, but mostly out. I don't understand how he could have done that to us, to my mother especially. He hurt her so much, and she deserved none of it."

The priest's eyes sharpened. "Hurt her? Physically?"

Kyle stared at the man. "What?"

"Did you see the monster in him? Did he turn it on you?" the man asked intensely.

Kyle's temper frayed. "Yes, we saw the monster. The cold, inhuman, emotionless drone pretending to be human. Not only have I seen it, he infected me with it!"

The priest frowned at Kyle in confusion.

"I can be equally cold and dispassionate. He taught me that!" Kyle snapped.

"Nay lad, that's not his monster," O'Kean sighed and relaxed.

"What do you mean?"

"To explain, I have to first tell you about your grandpa, Cawley MacDenny," the priest sighed, and Kyle saw an expression of pain cross his features. Guilt as well. Intense guilt. Curious.

"When I was a much younger man, I led a small congregation in a church in Dunderin, a small community north of Glasgow. Your grandmother attended services with her son, your father, when he was a small lad, but I rarely saw her husband. Cawley MacDenny was more bear than man. Huge and mean. He spent more time inside the pub than anyplace else. He'd been a miner until he was caught in a cave in and injured his foot. I heard it pained him every day.

When your grandmum stopped coming to services, I popped by her house and saw the bruises. Cawley left his mark on her... and your dad. By the time I discovered this, it had been going on for years, and she was too fearful to stand up to the man. She begged me not to interfere, but I'd given my promise to God to protect my flock, and there was a beast in our midst.

I went looking for Cawley, but the drunks in the pub said he'd gone hunting. So, I waited for him outside his home. I wasn't sure what I would do, but I was much more of an idealist back then. I believed I could get through to the man inside that monster, convince him to end his evil ways. I was too weak to remain vigilant and fell asleep. I woke when I heard the screams. He'd come home and was beating your grandmum once more. I was rushing to the front door when I heard a terrible boom.

When I entered the home, your dad stood over his father's body, a shotgun in his hand. He wasn't more than twelve years old and covered in bruises, cuts, and blood, but he'd taken Cawley's head clean off with the weapon. Your grandmum was lying on the floor, crying and nursing an arm bent in a way it wasn't meant to bend, but your dad's face was completely calm and lacked any emotion at all. I gently took the gun from his hand, and he collapsed."

Father O'Kean was watching Kyle's face and saw him twitch when he mentioned his dad's behavior. He frowned, but continued.

"I spoke with your grandmum, and she agreed I could speak for them. I got them to the hospital and told the police Cawley dropped his gun, and it accidentally went off, killing him. The police knew the man and readily accepted the story. They also didn't want to deal with a domestic abuse case as it wasn't an enlightened time." He saw Kyle's jaw muscles jumping, so he moved on with his story.

"Your grandmum and your dad never came back to the church. I went to see them until she asked me to stay away. The memories of that night tormented her, and she said I was too much of a reminder. She was still trapped by Cawley's spell, but I wouldn't give up on your dad. I spoke with him when I could, but he disappeared after his mum died when he turned sixteen. I learned he'd gone overseas, and I knew I'd never hear from him again." The priest sighed and saw Kyle was still paying attention.

"I was surprised to find him on my doorstep over a decade later. He'd grown up, and I saw a wedding band on his hand. He admitted to marrying a woman as loving as his mum but stronger, and he also had a son. He was terrified of becoming his father. He confessed to me he could feel the darkness within him, an unthinking violence. He controlled it the only way he knew how, by burying his emotions deep inside, as he'd done that night. He asked me if there was a way to exorcise this influence from him, and as much as I wanted to help him, I knew enough to say it was a therapist he needed, not a priest. He told me about you, only an infant at that time. I begged him to speak to a specialist, but he left making no promises." O'Kean shifted in his chair as he kept an eye on his audience. Kyle watched the man, his face twitching from time to time.

"It was a couple of years later that he showed up on my doorstep once more. He confessed he was still possessed by the darkness inside him and was taking contracts to be on the road to keep you and your mother safe. He hated what his father had done to his mother and him. He didn't understand what made him feel those violent urges, but he knew he would never allow himself to do to you what his father had done to him."

"WHY DIDN'T HE TELL US?" Kyle finally snapped.

Old eyes looked deeply into Kyle's. "Tell the ones he loved that something inside him wanted to do terrible violence to them? Or that he blew his own father's head off? Why do you think he'd be ashamed of that?" O'Kean snapped back. "The monster you spoke of earlier, that cold, emotionless state? That wasn't his monster! It was his way of protecting you from the real threat!"

Kyle was rocked back by that confession. He suddenly saw his childhood in a new light, and subtle hints surfaced with new meanings. Looks and gestures his father made shortly before announcing he was going back in the road in that cold, emotionless way, and it... fit.

"Why didn't he get help?" Kyle mumbled.

O'Kean sagged in his chair. "I don't know. I tried to convince him he needed to speak to a professional, but he just kept returning to me. The last time he did, he said he was going to Japan and let me know he wouldn't be back. He didn't tell me why. He thanked me for my help, but I just felt empty for how I failed him and his mother." The priest went silent for a moment as he recalled the sad woman's face.

"You didn't."

The old priest looked at Kyle in surprise. The younger man still looked angry, but there was compassion in his eyes.

Kyle flashed back to his confrontation with Dr. Hansey during the Christmas Party dinner. The doctor insisted there were always options, but Kyle knew the doctor's oath restricted his actions. Priests would be the same.

"Were you ready to kill my grandfather to protect them?" Kyle asked and saw the answer in the priest's eyes. "Of course not, but my father could and did. That was a terrible burden for a child, but as you said, domestic abuse cases went unsupported, and this was the only definitive way to deal with it. As for the aftermath, you did your best for them, but it was up to them to accept your help. That was on them."

A tear followed the wrinkles down the old man's cheek.

"My father was taking care of the child of a friend he made in Japan. Aiko was the daughter of this man, and she told me my dad never showed her any sign of this lack of emotions, nor was he violent with them. With her, he was the man I wish I could have known."

O'Kean wiped a shaky hand across his face to dry his tears. "Maybe... maybe there was enough of a difference to separate her from his memories."

"He was good to her." Kyle paused. "He did his best for her. Then he wrote a letter asking me to take care of her."

The old priest was watching Kyle. "And did you?"

Kyle nodded. "She's in the waiting room. She wanted to leave Japan as she's had a hard life there since my dad passed away."

"So, he is dead. I thought he might be," O'Kean said softly.

Kyle looked at him in surprise, but then realized he wouldn't have known. "Yes, he was in an accident on the job, and it poisoned him and killed Aiko's father. He came to say goodbye to us, to pay his debts. Then he went back to Japan for her, paying the debt he owed his friend who tried to save him in the accident. That's likely when he saw you. He died shortly after that. Aiko was basically alone for seven years."

"His last visit to me, he was paying what he thought was his debt to me, I suppose," the priest said softly.

Kyle's mind went back to racing through every conversation he had with his father. Every word and gesture was now filled with subtle meaning. He put his head in his hands and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Have you ever felt this need to be violent against the innocent?"

The question was so quiet, and his head was so noisy, he almost missed it. "What--NO! I've never felt that way!" Kyle growled as he pulled back to stare at him.

"So, it worked," O'Kean said softly.

Kyle frowned. "What did?"

Old eyes returned to his. "Your father believed your mother was the perfect parent for you. She would give you the guidance he couldn't, but he was afraid his darkness would infect you, so he tried to stay away when his control weakened. If you don't have these urges to be violent, then he was successful."

"I can be violent. I can be brutal, but I don't feel anything while I do it! That came from him! I witnessed him behave this way too," Kyle insisted.

"Have you ever felt the urge to use it cruelly? To attack the weak and innocent?" O'Kean asked.

Kyle was silent for a bit, then answered. "Never."

"Then it worked."

Kyle wanted to deny his father had done anything good with his abandonment. It still hurt so much! How he treated his mother... Kyle would never forgive him for that.

"I can see the hate in your eyes, boy."

Kyle glanced over at the old man. "He said in his letter to me that I should hate him, that it was easier."

"But it's not right."

Kyle's lips pulled back in a snarl, but it died immediately. He could hear his mother's voice telling him to grow up. He sucked in a breath to calm himself and shook his head. It still wasn't fair.

"She did a wonderful job raising you. I can see that."

Kyle glanced at the priest wearily and nodded. "She was the best." He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out the flask Reginald insisted he bring. He undid the cap and lifted it to his lips, taking a mouthful of that amazing scotch. He let it run over his tongue and swallowed it slowly, feeling the warmth spread through his chest. His nerves relaxed, and he took a deep breath.

When he opened his eyes, he could see the priest's eyes were on the flask. The man licked his lips.

Kyle leaned forward, holding the flask out to him. "I suppose they don't allow such things in here."

O'Kean grinned as he took the silver container in hand and lifted it to his nose. His bushy eyebrows rose as he caught the scent. With another glance at Kyle, he put it to his lips and took a small mouthful.

His eyes closed with pleasure as the smooth beverage glided down his throat into his stomach.

"I've been touched by angels. This is the Lord's work right here in this small flask. I've never tasted better, and I never thought I ever would. Thank you, Kyle," Father O'Kean said reverently. He went to hand it back, but Kyle just shook his head.

"Thank you for speaking to me about my father. I don't know if I'll ever accept what he did, but at least I now know his reason for it... and I think I can learn to live with that." He looked down at his hands. "I-I guess I don't need to be terrified that I'm going to become cold and emotionless like he was. The numb state I feel only comes over me when I'm in danger or protecting someone I care about. My father did this too, but I now know it isn't the darkness he faced. Knowing that makes it easier to accept."

Father O'Kean enjoyed the last swallow from the flask and handed it back to Kyle. His smile was peaceful and relaxed. "Thank you, Kyle, for letting me speak to you and relieve a burden that's been on my heart since that terrible night. It's been troubling me for years, but now I can see a future filled with hope for you... and Aiko." He grinned at Kyle's surprised look.

"Oh, please. I've been a priest for decades. I know love when I see it."

Kyle tucked the flask back into his pocket, then smiled gently at the man. "Perhaps that's the scotch speaking."

O'Kean laughed, and it was a happy, comfortable sound. "It was excellent scotch, but I think I'm right."

Kyle stood and shook the man's hand. Whatever disease he was dealing with was slowly consuming him, and there was almost nothing left. "I hope you aren't suffering."

The old man smiled at Kyle. "Not anymore. My soul feels free at last."

Kyle nodded and left the room as the priest turned to the sunlight with a look of serenity on his face.

He walked back to the lobby and saw his friends waiting for him. Aiko stood immediately and rushed to him. He took her face between his hands and kissed her softly. She sighed and smiled at him.

"You had a good talk with the priest?" she asked.

"Yes."

Reginald and Francis joined them with smiles on their faces, and Kyle nodded to them. "Father O'Kean was very helpful. I'm so glad I got to speak with him. He knew my father growing up and had some significant answers. There are still some unanswered questions that I'll just have to live with because only my father knew the answers, but... I'm good."

"We're so happy to hear that, Kyle!" Francis beamed.

Releasing Aiko, he placed a hand on their arms as he looked into their eyes with a serious expression. "This wouldn't have happened without your help. If there's anything I can do to repay your generosity and support, please let me know. I only wish my Mom could have met you two."

Francis had tears in her eyes when she pulled Kyle into a hug.

"Silly boy. Of course, we wanted to help you," she said against his collar.

Reginald patted Kyle on the arm. "Did you find out where your father lived? Would you like to see it?"

Kyle smiled at the man as Francis released him to stand back. "He mentioned it, but it sounded like my father wouldn't have had many fond memories of the place and left as soon as he could. I have no connection to it, so I don't feel compelled to see it now. If you don't mind, I'm feeling a little worn out. Can we just go home? I-I meant to your place?"

Reginald nodded. "We have no objections to you calling it home."

Kyle's emotions were too close to the surface as he felt a surge of love for this couple and blinked the tears from his eyes. He rubbed his face with his hands, wiping his eyes dry. "No fair... saying stuff like that when I'm this emotional." Francis and Reginald watched him fondly.

Aiko took his arm and leaned her head on his shoulder. They nodded to the nun at the reception desk as they walked from the building and climbed back into the limo.

They drove back to the airport, flew to the small airstrip outside London, then went back to the Dunsfield estate.

As they sank into the comfortable cushions on the sofas in Reginald's study, Kyle handed the empty flask to the man. "Thank you for this. Father O'Kean was very grateful as well. He said it was the best he'd had and mentioned something about being touched by angels."