The Parable of the Sower.

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"You know, I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that," Matthew states, sending a smirk your way.

You shut the car off, riffling through your pocket, "C'mon, you said you've broken the law."

"Never stolen someone else's belongings, that's for sure," he answers, his voice confident and teasing.

"Fine, I guess I'll take my investigation elsewhere," you tell him, flattening the pamphlet on your knee.

"Oh, come on," he whines, leaning towards you from his seat in the passenger side, "I'm too far into this to quit now."

"Good," you glance at his wide grin, "because I may have just found something important."

"What is it?" Matthew can smell the candle wax on the paper and the old ink printed onto the thin paper.

"Some kind of pamphlet," you feel it between your fingers, flipping it over and taking a closer look, "this was made from scripture, it's thin like the papers from a bible."

"And you're not bursting into flames just by touching it?" He gives you a concerned look.

You stare at him for a moment, plain-faced, "You ever thought about being a comedian?"

"Yeah, sometimes," he seems to answer truthfully, "why?"

You ignore his subtle laugh, looking down at the writing, "Behold, the Lord came with many thousands of His holy ones, to execute judgment upon all, and to convict all the ungodly of all their ungodly deeds which they have done in an ungodly way, and of all the harsh things which ungodly sinners have spoken against Him."

"Jude chapter one," Matthew states, his eyebrows furrowing, "verses 5-16. Right?"

You give him a look, "Yeah. Says it right here, Father Murdock."

He scoffs gently, "I have an incredibly good memory."

"Right."

"Keep reading."

"East from the Dark Bridge, 25 minutes," you squint your eyes, scratching off a piece of white wax, "the first hour of the First Friday Devotions."

"The first Friday devotions," Matthew mumbles, "As in..."

"Reparations?" You suggest, looking at Matthew when he nods, "Okay, Richard Senior's a church-goer, overtly faithful. He thinks killing is justified, he even praises it. He raises his son that way too, part of a group of religious 'fanatics'. I don't see how Deacons innocent - I mean, the timelines, yes but... but he's part of this Church, any one of them could have helped him kill these people. And- and if they really thought they were doing God's work, they'd happily be one another's alibi's. 'To execute judgement', 'to convict all', Jesus, Matt, I think - I think they're killing in the name of God. You think his dad started it?"

"It's possible," he states, voice low and pensive.

"Not only that but - the passage - it's about false teachers, false words being spread about faith! They think they're enacting God's true desires..." When you look at him, he looks totally blank. Pressing a hand to his arm, you frown, "Matthew?"

"I..." his hand covers yours, "yeah?"

"What's going through your head?"

Matthew melts at how softly you ask the question. He can't explain everything going on in his head - but he tries, and he begins with the most important thing. "I don't..." he sucks in a breath, "I don't know how far you should dig into this."

"What?"

"If the Deacons have been raised into this church for generations, what kind of power does this place have? How many of them are there?" Matthew turns to you, his eyebrows furrowed deeply. His voice is serious now, with no hints of a joke, "Why haven't they been stopped so far?"

"Their secrecy gives them their power," you note to him, "they're working in the shadows, that's why."

"I don't think it's... you shouldn't continue with this, I-"

You pull your hand away from him, "Matt, come on! We have a solid case here, you have to admit that."

"I know we do, I know."

"What happened to 'too far into this to quit'?" You watch him, seeing how he chews his bottom lip as he thinks, "Matthew, we barely even have to dig anymore. We know who they are, we know where and when they meet. We have a religious motive, we have a connection between Deacon and this overzealous group. Surely it's enough to at least put his innocence into question, right? Even his father's statements can-"

"I know how the law works," he cuts you off, silencing you completely, "I'm sorry, I just... I don't think it's safe for you. They're dangerous, that much is clear. And I don't... I just don't want you getting hurt."

A frown grows on your face. "No one else is going to do this," you admit to him.

"Y/N-"

You shake your head, "No, I'm... I owe it to them. You can't really think that I'd back out now."

"Yeah," he lets out a deep sigh, "yeah, I know you won't. Listen, I don't mean to be mean, I just - I want you to be safe."

"I will be."

"Y/N."

"How can I prove it to you?" You ask genuinely, searching his expression for any semblance of trust.

Matthew just shakes his head, his face falling slightly, "You can't."

"Matty-"

"Just... just wait, okay?" He begs, reaching for your arm.

"Wait?"

"Don't jump into this too quickly, let me... let me think for a second, please," he tells you, the urge within him to unlock the box hidden beneath the stairs building within him, "a lawyer and a writer can't defend themselves against murderers. I think we need to take this to the police."

The police? Right. You're both just a lawyer and a writer. You need someone else, someone who upholds the law as no one else does. You nod at Matthew, clarity filling your thoughts. The last thing you'd want to do is put him in danger by getting attention from an organisation like this.

"Yeah, yeah you're right," you squeeze his hand, nodding, "Sorry, I-I have this tendency to just- jump into things."

"Yeah, you really see a burning fire and run directly at it, don't you?" A lighthearted smile makes its way to his lips and you feel yourself blushing.

"Maybe that's why I ran straight into you," you fold the piece of paper, stuffing it into the glove department of your car.

"Yeah?" He speaks up, "I can happily set a fire at my place tonight at 6 pm." He says. You stare. Is he... "I mean," he continues, not letting your silence deter him, "unless you'd like to go out for dinner instead?"

You stare at him for a moment, a dazed expression on your face before you let out a shallow giggle, "Why? You wanna recite scripture to me? Pray together?"

"No," he grins, licking his bottom lip, "I want to get to know you more. And I think you could use a break, your driving was really bad so you must be stressed out."

"My driving was bad?" You gawk at him, knowing he's teasing, "I'd like to see you behind a wheel."

"That's illegal," he notes seriously, "have dinner with me instead."

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