Shit. Crane really was pitiful.

Malachi might have tried to temper his reaction, but his... what was it, surprise? Confusion? Whatever it was, the constable's honest explanation was too much for him to hide it all completely.

So... he hadn't ever found anyone else because he hadn't looked, and because it was wrong, and because of the scarring he kept covered up. Malachi wanted to see the extent of it -- he couldn't believe it could be enough to ward someone off completely. But if he told him not to be ashamed, that anyone that truly wanted him would not be bothered by the scars, he would have been trying to convince himself as much as Crane.

"Forgive my asking, constable, I was simply surprised. I mean no judgement."

That didn't mean he didn't feel it. But he could understand where he was coming from, he supposed. He had not exactly been allowed to consider such a celibate life (ironically) himself, and it did not often occur to him that many others had not had such a relationship with sex, even in the Catholic church. Malachi cleared his throat, and then looked down to his stew.

"There are more men that share your preferences than you know," he informed. "And you are not undesirable. You are kind, you have a job, you have a home, you know how to cook..."

What were a few scars against all of that?

"It is not wrong to want to be loved. That is as natural as breathing, Crane."

Elijah had been glancing up after speaking and saw the reaction. There was surprise, and he felt more shameful. He glanced down as he hate some stew and then listened to the other speak. It was surprising, of course a priest would know the sins of other Catholics. He was still surprised to hear it, he always felt so alone and like the only black sheep in the flock.

"It's alright. I would never judge you for your surprise, father. Besides, you are still sitting here and eating with me. I feel unworthy of your kindness in treating me like a person despite my... sins." He said simply though it was more than sins, it was his frustrations, and self esteem issues.

He certainly never expected to hear the priest tell him he wasn't undesirable. It was true, the two men who'd seen his scars hadn't been turned off by them. Every time he looked at them he saw the past, the pain, the failure. Maybe they weren't as bad, but then none of them had heard the taunting of his peers when he was a child and they were fresh. His eyes moved to his hands and he finished the mouthful of food. Elijah stared at Brennan trying to seek if it was truly just words to ease his troubled heart. He couldn't tell so he looked down and decided to believe him.

"You're very kind, thank you. I guess I never know if what I've accomplished and have is enough but I guess I fear failure with people so much. I've certainly tasted it before."

He chuckled sadly, "That is so true. I.."He covered his face in shame. "I even told the man I liked that we could simply love each other and not be physical, I was so desperate to be close to him. He said it wouldn't work, he wouldn't be able to control himself, and it's true. The slightest hint and I could feel my barriers wish to fall. I am an animal.." He took a deep breath and sipped some tea. "It is the emotional love I crave, but I suppose I am as physically weak as anyone when I truly want something."

For just a moment, the constable finally met his gaze. Malachi stared back at him, his features devoid of judgement but of anything else as well. The moment passed, Crane looked back to his bowl of stew, and Malachi took a deeper breath as he continued to listen.

There was so much shame in him that the priest could practically feel it seep out of his skin and reach its inky tendrils towards him too. Shame had a way of doing that. It was infectious, and he sipped at his water to clear his throat of it.

Unworthy, wrong, sinful, desperate, weak, animal, monster.

Did Crane have a single positive thing to say about himself?

"The man you love," started Malachi. "Is he a monster in human skin? Unworthy of kindness? Is he an animal?"

His head tilted slightly to the side as he studied what he could see of the constable's face.

"If it is so shameful to love the way you do, to be the way you are. Is he?"

Elijah stopped eating immediately and put down the spoon to look at Malachi. He glanced away and shook his head immediately.

"Of course not! He's wonderful and far better than I. He is more in control of himself. He's the one who has put the distance between us to protect us both. " He rubbed at his face a little, feeling the shame burn and tried to ignore him. "He went away first to try to save himself and get over this, and me. And I made it all worse following him. Then I come back and want to continue where we left off even though I knew how he felt. I respected his decision, which is why I'm here now."

He stared away and didn't touch the food again. "He knows this isn't right, and has lifted himself above it. I'm the one who still wallows in it because I can't help myself. I am weak and want to feel these things still even though I know I shouldn't. I should be stronger like him."

Immediately, the priest shook his head.

"No," came his quick correction. Malachi set down his glass and stood, only to kneel when he reached the constable's chair.

He took gloved hands into his own, holding firmly.

"You are not weak, Elijah. You are in love."

If Father Richards had been a woman, if he had not been a priest, if, if, if, what did it matter? Why did it have to be different?

Why did it have to be if only, why could it not be even if?

"He is the same as you. I am the same as you," Malachi confessed. "And it is painful and it is wrong that we have to hide. But it is not wrong to be in love."

Elijah was confused when the priest moved to kneel before him and took his hand. He was shocked but his words hit deep. He knew all of his life he was sensitive, Ben reminded him of it often as did others when he couldn't hold it in. This moment, he felt tears warm his cheeks and he closed his eyes.

He didn't know a thing about Father Brennan other than he was the new priest in town and he had a niece who seemed very kind. He could see now why she loved him so. He was an angel in human form the way he understood and spoke to him. He was the same, and he told the constable whom he barely knew. Though certainly Elijah had revealed so much to him without thought. He hung his head and would have covered his face still feeling that reflex of shame, but they were being held.

"You're too kind, Father Brennan. It never felt wrong, feeling this way was the happiest I've ever been but .."His voice faded and he frowned sharply from thinking on the pain he'd felt too. "I wish I didn't have to hide, and that he could love me back. It isn't fair..." He managed though his voice cracked in the middle of his words.

Even now, he could tell that Crane wanted to hide himself away. It was all the more reason for Malachi to hold steady where he was, to hold firm the covered hands that sought to cover ever more.

"No, it isn't fair," he agreed. He let his head fall to the side slightly when Crane lowered his own, to keep sight of the constable's frown.

"But it isn't fair to spend your life like this, drowning yourself in shame and self-hatred, either. The man you love -- it is not your fault that he can't allow himself to love you. Someone will. And I can't imagine you would want them to feel this same kind of hatred you feel for yourself."

Elijah listened and the priest kept going. He was really being kind, but it was hard to believe. As much as he wanted to soak in the words and keep them in heart, he had thirty years of being told the opposite and feeling it. He slowly shook his head and sniffed a bit wanting to wipe his tears but his hands were still held gently by the other man most kindly.

"He was special. I've only had one other man who seemed to like me, and.. I never knew who was until they basically told me." He frowned as he realized he had been the one to tell them first. Even now he'd revealed himself to this priest who told him in return to ease his tormented heart. "I truly am not much. I am a terribly awkward man who barely can keep my own worries and anxiety in my skin, and I'm as clueless as someone stuck in a corner with a bag on their head." He rubbed his face against his shoulder as he couldn't wipe his tears with his hands.

"I do not know if I will ever meet another, and I certainly don't know if I will know how to talk to them. I'm more eloquent on paper." He certainly didn't have the confidence to try to flirt with someone. It was still shocking he somehow had charmed Father Richards in the first place, that would always remain a mystery to him.

"Your awkwardness," Malachi gave his hands a gentle squeeze, "is endearing. You are awkward because you care about the people around you."

Unlike the awkwardness that stemmed from somewhere else, like the kind that clung to the long limbs and spindly fingers of a man that had not been raised with others. Unlike the awkwardness that served only to disturb, to show how little he knew about being a person just like them; Crane's unveiled his need to please, to not disrupt. As if he would rather let his voice fade into nothing at all than risk bothering someone else with it.

Malachi released one of his hands, and raised his own to gently wipe away the constable's tears. What could have been an affectionate gesture, perhaps, had Malachi not already firmly cemented Crane in his mind as yet another child for him to take care of.

It was the honesty that endeared him. Even with all of his doubts and counter-points, Crane was letting himself be truly seen, and that meant more to Malachi than whatever he could use against him.

"Don't concern yourself with that now. When you meet them--" because he was sure that he would, "--it will come to you. And it will not matter that you are awkward, or clueless, because love is not about being perfect."

He kept one of his hands holding Crane's, but let the other fall to rest upon his own knee. Didn't want to overwhelm the poor thing any more than he likely already had.

"It's about being..." his eyes strayed for a moment as he thought it through. "Perfect for them. Do you understand?"

What was going on? In all his life, he never thought he'd be able to spill so much of his soul and truth to someone but lately things were full of surprises. Brennan was the most surprising at all. He was being gentle to the man's fragile spirit and seemed to know the right words. Had he met many like Elijah? He didn't think it was possible, but he seemed to be very wrong with what he thought had been true.

He gratefully accepted the help to wipe his tears, as bare hands were far more comfortable than gloves. He sniffed and kept his head down. Then he heard that he would meet someone, like he could see the future. He wanted to laugh, but it was said with such sincerity that it felt cruel to treat it as a joke. This man not only told him it as alright to be this way, but was encouraging him to let it happen. He opened his eyes and stared down where the one hand was still held. He didn't know how to feel other than purely grateful. The question though, had him perplexed. His head rose just enough to barely see his face so that his uncertainty was clear.

"That.. if they like me for.. what I already am. Then I am what they want and I should just be honest and true to myself?" He asked.

He looked down uncertainly but placed his other hand on the one being held and raised it to his forehead. "Father Brennan.. I hope you never leave Whitby, even though I don't think this place deserves a man as kind as you." He said with pure sincerity and honesty straight from his heart.