Tides of Longing (Bendy and the Ink Machine)

5- Contradictions

"For God is not unjust so as to overlook your work and the love that you have shown for his name in serving the saints, as you still do." - Hebrews 6:10

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"Did you..." Sammy had to swallow back the words he wanted to say instead. "...find what you were looking for?"

Francine's bag sat on the floor of the music hall's entryway, a quiet, knowing eavesdropper upon the awkward silence and conversation between two people with more to hide than they had ever asked for. And certainly, what each now possessed was more than they had ever wanted to know.

But they themselves had begged for this; the disciples wanted answers to their prayers and sought for them in impatience, and separate but parallel journeys had instead provided more doubts to ponder as they awaited salvation.

Sammy didn't want to know what Francine found- if she found anything at all. The time he spent alone was making his mind dizzy with revelation, his stomach churn with the frustration of puzzle pieces that wouldn't snap together and make themselves clear to hopeful, hungry eyes.

He let the back of his head tilt until it touched the wall they both sat beside, spines resting at the bottom of a sign bearing his own profession and name in a hall scarred black with the lurking of searchers. The way dread gripped his heart and seemed to try to twist it out of him made him guess that yet another additional piece would lead to yet more agony. But he had to ask. If she was to care for him in mortality once all of this was done, he was to return the favor in the immortality that preceded it now. And to care?

Sometimes to care means to do things that you would rather not do.

And as much as questioning the ink demon scared him, he didn't want her to feel alone in doing so.

...As if he wasn't questioning, himself.

And the ball was passed to a woman who was just as unwilling to share as Sammy was to discover. Yet she too welcomed this great discomfort; they both did so out of politeness, compassion, and fear. But while Francine opened the door to the home of her heart, she would- could not- not let Sammy in.

"...I..."

How was she to say this? How would she put everything she had experienced, everything she now understood and yet couldn't grasp at all? And in the back of her mind, a tortured man's plea had reached forward to remind her of a promise:

"I need you to keep this...me...from everyone."

She didn't like secrets. Never did. They made their heart heavy and made it hard to look people in the eye. Francine only ever kept them if someone else told her to, and if it was for a good reason.

Reluctantly, she convinced herself that this was a pretty damn good reason.

Joey seemed to recognize his evils and didn't fight back the curse of eternal loneliness- and perhaps, never tried. It almost seemed...noble to her. It didn't sit right somehow, but again- she was a soul that could only find peace in connectivity. And so the fact that the father of their hell locked himself maybe even deeper away into it than everyone else just to prevent any more damage than what was already done?

That was something beyond her fathoming, and so she reconciled the idea of such a horrid fate by assuming it to be a kindness. A kindness that was her duty to maintain- the least she could do to help hurt beings lost to time hate it just a little less.

And so, she swallowed her pride.

"No," she muttered quietly. And as she said it, she justified her lie by remembering this wasn't entirely untrue. Certainly it was an omission, yes, but she...-