He couldn’t help but wince. This was wrong; it was all so wrong. She was never supposed to see him like this.

It was all he could do not to hide his face in his hands from the embarrassment of being called out by his own niece. Malachi did set his elbows on the table, resting his forehead against the handkerchief in his hands.

He wanted to tell her that he was sorry, but the words felt hollow.

“I just…” Malachi pressed into his palms, a gentle pressure on his closed eyelids. What was he supposed to say? What could he possibly say that would make anything better?

“It-… they… they weren’t rumors. Not all of them,” he still couldn’t lift his head to look at her. “Not even most of them.”

Nettie didn't say anything or move for a moment. Slowly she reached out and took his hand in hers. "Alright. So some are true. Which ones, if I may ask?" She kept her voice soft and gentle.

"Drugs? I can see why you are so stressed and people expect so much. Is it the men? If... it makes you happy. That's such a foolish thing for them to judge you for. You deserve happiness too. And I can understand, I like men too." She tried to offer a weak smile.

"A priest should be just a job. No one should expect perfection, when imperfection is so human. And I've always thought you were perfectly human. I haven't believed in fairy tales in a long time. So I know you couldn't be as perfect as you always tried to appear. But you have genuinely been good and kind to me and others and that means so much. Good people aren't just good. They are people with lives and troubles like everyone else."

She sighed and stared down. "I will help you in any way I can. You don't have to hide from me any more. I mean what I said. I love you and support you."

She stared up at him. "What about the rumor that you held orgies in the forest to summon the devil and eat babies? Old lady Lucy at the last church said that one. It was one of my favorites." She smiled softly.

The touch of Nettie’s hand made him shiver, however slightly, but Malachi’s hand was warm.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. Why, wouldn’t it, he supposed, it sure was a long time coming – but it was so much worse when it was real, and this time there was no evading it. All the evidence bruised and broke his skin for the rest of the world to see him seeping through the cracks.

A calmer quiet settled over him as he listened to her speak, soothed by the sound of her familiar voice. She didn’t even know what she was promising, when she said that she would help. That she loved him.

Malachi had always flinched away from saying it back to her, as much as he would have meant it if he did.

Everything he loved ran away from him.

A soft, amused huff met her final question. He picked his head up from where it laid against the handkerchief in his hand, and let his eyes wander over the food she had prepared.

“That one wasn’t true,” he answered softly. “But the…”

He trailed off, clearly uncomfortable and unsure of himself.

“…The men,” Malachi frowned. “The money, the… wine.”

The drugs were new, he wanted to say. They were just to help him sleep. But she’d know as well as he did that that was just an excuse. His thumb rubbed gently against hers, shaking still from heavy use. Hesitant, he finally lifted his gaze to meet her stare.

“You said that I’ve been good to you, and to others, and – I have. I know I have. But what if I’m not a good person?”

He thought of the answer Tully had given when he’d posed a similar question: that only actions mattered, in the end. Malachi had always thought that it was true, but – what if it wasn’t? What if the good things he did didn’t matter, because of who was doing them?

“What if I’m just – a terrible person, Nettie, that just happens to sometimes do good things?”

His niece peered down at him and let him speak. Her patience seemed to know no end. When he touched her hand, she rest her other over it to sandwich it and she smiled.

"Alright. So you've enjoyed men, money, and wine. Some do. Maybe you aren't a good priest in private but that shouldn't matter." She said.

His question made her seem to think and she brushed her fingertips delicately over his hand, soothing his worries or at least attempting to in the soft motion.

"What makes a person good? And are good people always happy? Let me ask you a question and be honest with me and yourself. If we were switched. You were the priest you think a priest should be, and I wasn't the lady I appeared to be. I did all of the things you've done or wanted to do for the same reasons..." she was very careful not to say anything about good or bad, or right and wrong.

"Would you call me a bad person?"

It did matter. All the things a priest should not have, should not even want, were those that Malachi wanted most.

Whitby had been a fresh start. St. Hilda’s, a new a point of devotion for his life. He’d wanted so badly to stop, to change, and he had failed so soon, backsliding into bad habits and making new ones so much worse.

Malachi was grateful for the steady motion of her fingers on his hand; it gave hazy eyes a point of focus, and his mind a place to ground.

“I could never call you a bad person,” he answered weakly. “I- I would…”

He would love her all the same, no matter what she did, or who she was. It occurred to him a moment later that that was likely her point – and he shook his head, eyes closing once again.

“…But you would never do the things I’ve done. You wouldn’t. And I’m… I’m sorry that I’m not the person I wanted to be for you.”

Nettie continued the gentle motion and never once showed him disappointment or distress. "It wouldn't be called temptation if it wasn't tempting. But so what? The only one suffering here is you, the only person who is disappointed is you in yourself. I mean, sure people of the church wouldn't like it if they found out. But you are doing your job. "Well, cept for that moment when he should have been in church giving a sermon.

"You help people because it is in your heart to want to help them. You want to do these good things. And I believe that's what matters. These things you've done are not something unforgivable, despite what they say. And no one else has been around you as much as I have, and so if I say you're a good person believe me. You may have your bad moments, but the good you do spreads. You inspire others who want to do good. "

She knew her words couldn't change things so easily. It wasn't easy to go against something that came natural. "I have not done the things you've done. Honestly, it sounds exhausting." She gave him a small smile. "But I also never felt the urges, some people would call me boring and sheltered though."

Was he doing his job? By being a symbol of hypocrisy, was he not failing the church and everyone in it?

He wondered if this was how Judas must have felt, after kissing his Lord’s cheek. At least Judas had the courage to end it.

“You are not boring,” Malachi insisted, still watching her hands. “And you’re only sheltered because that’s how I raised you. You are… everything that I wish I could be.”

It was hard, but he forced himself to meet her eyes again. She was loved, and while her parents might not have always been around, she was taken care of, the way he wished someone would have cared for him. She was good.

“I don’t know what to do, Nettie. I’m an awful priest. I’m an awful man. But I’ve never been anything else, I don’t even know what I am without the church.”

Nettie had smiled when he spoke kindly to her and she had continued to delicately touch his hand. It ended though when he had called himself an awful man. She lowered her brow and frowned. She held his hand and leaned in just a touch.

"Don't you dare refer to yourself that way, Malachi. You are a wonderful man who just stumbles. And tomorrow is always a new day. You always have a chance to try harder, you don't have to be tethered by mistakes of the past. Think of yourself anew with the sunrise. If you don't want to keep being a priest because of your failings, than don't. You're a brilliant man, I believe you could do anything. I will not let you put yourself down because you have physical wants and struggle trying to overcome it. Many people face this sort of thing, and you're no different. But you punish yourself so much. I want this to change."

Was she being too harsh, was she hurting his feeling speaking such a way? She really hoped not, but she wanted him to love himself as much as she loved him.

She had always been so kind. More compassionate towards him than he could even stand, sometimes, for her unyielding faith made his every stumble feel so much more extreme.

There was always so much at stake.

And she was right, that he could still try to change. Every day brought another opportunity to do so, to try harder, to try again when he failed. Nettie was so much more than he deserved, because –

as desperately as he wished to be better than he was,

the wanting did not make him any better.

Malachi felt more alive that morning than he had felt in decades, looking like a corpse. He wanted to believe her, and to change for her sake, but a growing, selfish part of him wanted to get worse.

He pushed his face into his other hand again, holding the handkerchief against his forehead.

“Nettie,” he said softly, his voice barely a whisper in the quiet of the room.

“Do you remember very much of your grandfather?”

She had watched him and he'd grown so quiet. She wondered what he was thinking, not that she had answers. She was running out of words to help him, one couldn't change someone who didn't want to change.

"Yeah? A little. It was so long ago but why are you bringing him up?" She asked. She had no idea what he had to do with the current moment. Did he do or say something to Malachi so long ago that began all of this?