Ego Te Absolvo (Chapter Story) *Exorcist, not graphic, no spoilers*

[lecricket]

Input appreciated



Ego Te Abosolvo
Chapter One-
Passing
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Damien Karras held tightly to the pale hand he had been holding for five or ten minutes, his heart beating faster than a drum during a drum roll, death was not an option, it couldn’t happen, not to this person, not yet. His brow furrowed with anxiety he gazed down at them, shaking his head in disapproval. At a technician’s insistence he released the hand and ran his hands through his thick black hair, pausing toward the back to grip the curling tresses. He had not known this person long at all, and yet he felt that if they died, he would have lost a reason to live.
But the ambulance technician’s didn’t hold much hope for Lankester Merrin, who silently lay on a gurney, bandages wrapped around his head where the blood had soaked through. He had flown from that window of that house on 36th and Prospect and has tumbled down the massive flight of stairs, being hauled to the hospital with massive blood loss, severe head injuries and unresponsive unconsciousness. IV’s were strew throughout his arms and they had been performing some CPR to maintain an average heartbeat, his was fading to the point where without a stethoscope it was I possible to find a pulse.
Karras watched, still shocked, as they opened the ambulance doors and on count lifted him out, he followed silently but once inside was told to go wait in a waiting room, after he gave his name and relation. He sat in that chair in the darkest corner with his head in his hand for three hours before his name was called and he went to the grim faced doctor, his front sprayed with blood, his eyes puffy and dark. Damien knew all too well what he was about to hear, but he stayed put and in no way revealed his worry and disappointment.
“You’re Father Karras?”
“I am.” He replied cooly, trying to control his breath.
“I’m sorry Father, we tried everything but there was nothing we could do. Is there anything we can do for you, though?”
Trying to remain calm, now visibly shaking with his anger he nodded slowly. “Yes, I . . . Is there a telephone I can use? I don’t have any money and I need to call someone . . .”
“Of course, you can use the one in my office.” The fat, middle aged doctor led him to his swank, yet small office and pointed to the phone on the desk. “Take as long as you need, I’m going to go shower.”
“Thank you.” He paused. “Is the area code here 202?”
“No, you’ll have to dial it in after 1.”
“Very well. Thank you.” Karras slowly strode to the desk, closed his eyes as he sat, then picked up the phone and looked at the numbers, spinning his finger through. 1-202-555-0978. Ringing, ringing and finally an answer.
“Haylo, Chris MacNeil’z hom.”
“Karl, it’s Father Karras, can Chris come to the phone?”
“Vwon moment pleaze.” There was a crackling noise as Karl set the phone down, then a few moments later Chris’ cracking voice came onto the other end. “Hello?”
“Chris, it’s Damien Karras.”
“Oh, Father, how is he?”
Karras had to take a deep breath and swallow a lump in his throat before he answered. “He’s, he’s dead. They did everything they could. Listen, I don’t want to take too much time, I’m about to walk home but I wanted you let you know. How’s Regan doing?”
Chris sighed with relief. “Much, much better. The doctor says she’ll be fine. She just went to sleep. Listen, Father, there’s no need for you to walk home when I can come get you, you just go to the main entrance and I’ll be there soon.”
“Oh, no, you really don’t have to . . . “
”Shut up! You’ve done so much for me and Rags, let me help you. It’s the least I can do. Give me fifteen minutes.”
Before he could protest any further Chris’s line was empty, and so he hung up the phone and left the office, turned through several corridors until the main entrance was before him, he pushed the door open and folded his jacket over his arm, pressing his back against the wall as he wait in deep thought. Merrin had given his life to save Regan MacNeil, it was surely something that the girl would never forget after Chris explained things, Damien certainly knew he would never forget.
The tension of the evening had wound him up profusely, and so he dipped his hand into his trouser pocket, found his pack of cigarettes. He tapped one out of the box, put it back and then took his lighter from the same pocket, placed the cigarette in between his lips, lit it, and returned the lighter to it’s place. He took a long drag from the butt, then reached up and removed it, letting out a wide stream of smoke.
“Damien!” He took a drag again before turning to look at Joe Dyer, racing toward him from coming out of the building, tear stains all over his cheeks, under his eyes dark. He raced over to Damien and hugged him, shaking his head. “Damn you! Someone said a priest fell down them steps and all’s they would tell me inside was that the priest was dead! What would I have done if that was you?”
Damien smiled wryly and pulled Dyer away, offered him a Kleenex from his pocket. “Well, as any good friend and priest you probably would have said a prayer for me and moved on with your life.”
Dyer almost looked ready to spit on him, but then he lightened up and smiled. “Oh, ha ha ha. Say, who you waiting for?”
“Chris MacNeil is going to be taking me home, you need a ride?”
“Naw, I’ve got Tom out in the car, had to see if you were okay. I’ll see you tomorrow though, do you want me to say Sunday Mass for you?” Dyer threw the tissue into a nearby trash can and looked sympathetically at his clearly shaken friend.
Damien smiled softly, taking a drag from his cigarette again, then exhaling and nodding to Dyer. “If it isn’t a problem, thanks a lot, Joe.”
Dyer shook his head. “That’s what friends are for. I’ll be seeing you, Dimmie.”
“Yeah, you too.”
It was back to the wall and his half burned out cigarette, once it was to the point where he would be burned holding it he flicked it to the ground and smashed it with his shoe. He gazed at the few cars pulling up, almost recognizing one but not positive, until it pulled up and the horn honked. He walked to it, opened the door and smiled dryly at Chris, sitting at the wheel, looking helpless but kind, and grateful. He was amazed that one frown could be seen so many ways. “You really didn’t have to.” He rasped, his voice tired from the evening’s activities.

She smiled softly and sent the car into motion, replying as they drove out of the hospital parking lot. “You didn’t have to help me and Regan, but you did. It’s the least I COULD do Damien. May I call you that?”
“Yes, yes of course. I think we know each other well enough.” He leaned back in the seat, his face toward the ceiling, his eyes closed. “I can’t believe he’s dead.”
He heard her choked sob as she drove, then she laughed softly, he never looked but the sound was unmistakable. “You know, I knew him for what, an hour, maybe two? And I do miss him, he was very kind, and funny. Christ, the way things work.”
They made a turn and he opened his eyes, gazed at her with concern. “And Regan? She’s still all right? Everything’s working?”
“Yes, yes. She’s fine. She’s confused, doesn’t remember much about it all, just the doctors visits and the party incident, and you and Merrin once the demon had left her. She’s pretty shaken about what happened to him, she’s sleeping in my room.”
“I don’t blame her. Besides, with the window out she’d freeze.” He gazed out the window, watching the business’s and street lamps go by, one after another. He became nearly entranced by the beauty of Washington D. C at night and her question caused him to jump.
“I’d hate to ask again, but do you have a cigarette Damien?”
“Oh, yes.” He took the cigarette’s out, taped one out, handed it to her, and once she had it in her mouth lit it, and put the lighter away. “Don’t be afraid to ask me, I usually do have one on me.”
“I know, but it makes me look bad.”
“How?”
“Well, more like unprepared. I always smoke at least one in the car, I should know better.” She shook her head, pulling into the driveway of the priests dormitories. She pulled up to the main building and parked, sighed softly as he stooped out of the car, and then he bent to look at her.
“Well, thanks for the ride.”
Her eyes met his and she smiled softly. “This isn’t the end is it? Now that Regan’s better I mean, we’re friends right?”
He turned his head in mock thought, then looked steadily at her. “Well we’d better be after the hell you put me through.”
She laughed softly and shifted gears. “Thanks a lot. I’ll be calling you.”
“Bye.” he shut the door and she waited until he’d gotten in safely to pull away. He watched from the window by the door, then turned down the hall to his dormitory.

Karras gazed at the possessed girl, who sat laughing on the floor. Merrin blindly sat up, the cut on his forehead gushing blood, and so Karras moved forward to help him, but the child tripped the older priest as he stood, and he wavered on balance a moment, before falling back, right out the window. Karras cried out as he watched, then turned to the still laughing demon.
He wasn’t completely sure how it happened, but he dumped the remaining Holy Water on her and began screaming payers and words to God. Suddenly Regan stiffened and convulsed, a moan went throughout the room and suddenly she was flung toward the window, screaming for help. Karras ran to her and took her legs, she was crying now, seeing Father Merrin lie bleeding below, and her own near death impacting her thoughts. But somehow Karras managed to pull her in, and made the sign of the cross on both to protect them.,
He found the old priest through the other people gathered there, and gave him his last rites, not believing it would be his death. He insisted on going to the hospital, and was allowed in the ambulance. An hour later, Lankester Merrin was dead.
Damien leapt, the disturbing dream completely true and all the more terrifying and painful. He gazed sadly at the Saint Joseph medal laying nearby on the desk, then closed his eyes and went into a restful, more relaxed sleep. He woke the next morning and did not feel like rising from bed, therefore he did not for some hours, until he had to use the bathroom. He left the dormitory, greeting the other priests who’d been up and at ‘em since dawn. All of them knew, so they smiled at him and went on with their days.
. . . He would never truly admit how often he had wanted to cry . . .
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Chapter Two
Regan
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To Damien’s surprise and partially to his delight Chris and Regan stayed on in Georgetown, and it was two months after the events that Chris called him for a reason other than casual. They had indeed kept up with each other, she was working on writing a film and Regan was finishing up seventh grade. But tonight was not about how Regan was healing, the previous night Chris had left a message, telling Damien she would tell Regan about the exorcism, and tonight she was calling back, for an update.
He was sitting in his chair, one hand supporting his drooping head, the other tapping a pencil against a notepad in front of him. The phone began to ring just as a break came to mind, and gladly he received it, pulled the phone closer and lifted the receiver from the cradle. “Yeah?”
“Damien,” Chris’ voice was urgent and broken. “It’s Chris.”
“I’d gathered that.” he said simply. “What’s going on? What happened with Regan?”
“Oh, it was terrible! She hates me, she’s so angry with me for not telling her sooner, she’s so afraid he’ll come for her again.” Chris’ voice seemed to raise in volume the more terrified and worked up she got. Damien ran a hand over his face in thought, then sighed slowly.
“Ok Chris, this is what I want you to do. I want you to bring Regan over here, I’ll be waiting out front, we all need to have a talk, you can’t just leave this situation hanging, all right? I don’t care fi you need to use her old sedatives, just get her here.”
“Ok, ok. I will. I will.” She hung up, the last thing he heard was her deep breath that she tried to calm herself with. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, then went to the drawer, drew out Regan’s file, then grabbed a notepad and some pencils, his case with the recorder and went into the conference room, set the recorder up in the corner, put the notepad and a pencil at one place, slid Regan’s file into the middle of the table, went back to his room, grabbed his cigarettes and lighter, then went out to the front steps, lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. It would be a while before they arrived.
As he exhaled some smoke Damien gazed up at the stars and shook his head, thinking of Merrin and his mother. His faith had definitely been restored, at least he knew for sure there was a God and He listened, Damien just wasn’t sure God knew how badly He had hurt him. He took a deep drag from the cigarette and didn’t release the smoke right away, then slowly did so, watching it flow around in front of him. His interest in the cigarette was forgotten as headlight’s lit the driveway and he frowned, there was no way Chris could have gotten here so quickly with Regan. He stood from his place on the steps and frowned even more deeply as Lieutenant Kinderman stepped from the car, he knew what this would be about.
“Father Karras,” he said, his rough, authoritative voice full of irony. “Just the man I was looking for.”
“By any chance,” Damien said smoothly, taking a quick drag from the cigarette, then gazing at him, smoke drifting from his mouth as he continued. “This conversation couldn’t possibly be put off a little longer?”
“Not a chance.” Kinderman withdrew his own cigarette and lit it, didn’t begin smoking it right away. “Listen Damien, I like you. But you seem very secretive.”
“Just as any priest that was involved in an exorcism would be. How often do the police believe such things?”
“I may not be religious Karras,” Kinderman said, taking a drag. “But I am a Catholic, I believe that Jesus rid Jews and Gentiles of spirits.”
Karras grinned slightly and threw the cigarette down, crushed it with his shoe. “Ah, but you don’t believe people get possessed now? Then tell me William, how is it a twelve year old girl that was malnourished be able to toss a hundred thirty pound man from a window?”
“I don’t know,” Kinderman lost interest in and tossed his cigarette. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Karras paused and leaned his back against the railing, glanced at Kinderman with slight disappointment. “You think I did it?”
“Now Damien, I never said that.”
“Then enlighten me, Bill. What’s your theory on the situation?”
Kinderman sighed and stepped around a little, running a foot over his died out cigarette. “I don’t have one for once, Damien. I don’t know what the hell to think about it.” His catfish like face was covered in a deep frown. “But I was assigned to this case and if I go back inconclusive I’ll be under-minded for the rest of my career. Maybe Regan MacNeil did toss him in a possessed state, but I need a damn good excuse to take back to headquarters.”
Damien shook his head and slid down the rail to sit on the step again. “I wish I had one off the top of my head. But I can’t frame an innocent man for murder, and I’m sure you wouldn’t do that either.” Damien looked at him with a suggestive expression but Kinderman ignored it wisely and crossed his arms.
“I suppose I could say that he lost his balance on the rug, yes and that he slipped backwards but you were too far across the room to reach him, so he fell back through the window and down the steps, I suppose . . .”
Damien shook his head. “No, no. There wouldn’t be enough force for him to have gone near the stairs from the window. Otherwise he would have just landed under the window. Perhaps you could make up a description of someone to have shoved him down the steps after he landed under the window.”
“Yes.” Kinderman said softly. “Yes, some random person that doesn’t exist. Well, I’m sorry to have bothered you Damien.” He moved to leave and then paused, turned back to the young priest. “Uh, I know I have nerve asking, but I’ve got passes to Capone, you wanna see it with me?”
“Who’s in it?” Damien asked, with a smug grin.
Nervously, Kinderman replied. “S-Sylvester Stallone.”
Damien choked back laughter. “Never seen it, let’s go.”
“I’ll pick you up, Saturday at three?”
“Sure thing,” Damien stood and shook his hand. “Hate to rush you but I’ve got a patient on the way, and you need to get some rest, you look like shit.”
Kinderman chuckled as he moved away. “You’re a fine one to talk. Saturday, Damien and until then,” he made a regal bow in front of his car. “Adieu.” He opened the door, got in and turned it around and drove away, leaving Karras laughing on the steps. Damien considered another cigarette but just as he began to reach for his pack the driveway was lit again and he recognized Chris’ car. He shoved the smokes in his pocket and stood, watched as Karl hustled out and opened Chris’ door, Regan slid out first, then Chris. When Chris tried to put her hands on Regan’s shoulders, the girl shook her off.

Damien smiled sympathetically at Chris and nodded to her. “Chris.”
She smiled brokenly. “Hi Damien.”
Damien smiled softly and moved from the steps, extended his hand to Regan. “Hello Regan.”
The little girl gazed at his hand nervously, then took it and shook it. (No pun intended). “Hello Father.”
“You remember me?”
She nodded softly as he released her hand. “A little bit.” Her face was slowly healing, the cuts now thin pink lines on her face, nearly closed. A few bruises remained on her arms and healing cuts were there too. Her hair was of course clean now, and the color of her skin was once again normal. He smiled, she was very pretty and so innocent looking, and now he had an idea of how the demon Pazuzu had picked her to make human’s look animal and ugly. He slid his hands into his pocket and looked at Chris. “Shall we go in?”
Chris nodded and looked down at Regan. “Yes, let’s go.”
He led them to the door and unlocked it, let them in and closed it behind himself, making sure it locked right away. He led them to the conference room, had Regan sit where the notepad was, then he went to the recorder and turned it on. “This is my first session with Regan T. MacNeil outside of her possession, it is Thursday evening at 100:0 . . 6. Regan is with her mother, Chris MacNeil and we are going to discuss their relationship tonight.” he moved away from it and sat at the head of the long mahogany table, and folded his hands in front of himself.
“Before we begin this, I want each of you to describe your relationship with each other, from your point of view. Please don’t interject while the other is speaking, you will both have numerous chances to voice your opinions. That’s why we’re here.”
Chris gazed over at Regan, her tired, pained eyes moved up and down the little girl’s face, as Regan remained still and silent. She sighed softly and nodded to herself, said. “I guess I’ll go first.” She looked over to Damien, he couldn’t tell if her expression was pained or pleading but he nodded and she continued. “I remember the day Regan was born, it was the happiest day of my life, as clichèd as that tends to sound. I remember thinking that she was . . . So beautiful and so sweet and perfect, and I was gonna protect her in any way I possibly could. And I love her. I love her so much, I always have. I can’t describe it, I can’t control it.” She accepted a tissue from Damien as she wept. “I just feel it all the time. I’ve only ever wanted her to be happy. To enjoy her life. And then she was possessed and I felt like I’d failed both of us and . . .”
“Stop there,” Damien said finishing his notes. “We’ll talk about the possession tomorrow or whenever is best for you two. Regan, why don’t you have a go?”
Regan looked sadly over to Damien and he smiled encouragingly and reached to gently take her hand. “It’s ok sweetie, just be as open and honest as you can.”
Regan faked a soft smile and shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.” She paused and her forehead became creased as she thought. “I mean, I don’t know how to say it.”
Karras bit his lip. “Well,” he began calmly. “That’s fine. I’ll help you out. Why don’t you tell me what it is you feel for your mother?”
Regan raised an eyebrow slightly, slowly bringing both her hands to the table, and Damien lowered his that had held one of hers. “What do you mean?”
“Do you like her, love her, hate her, think she’s ok, are you afraid of her, do you think she’s weird?”
“Oh.” Regan giggled slightly. “Well that’s a dumb question in that case, Father. I love my mother, I always will.”
“Ok,” he leaned forward to look more at business. “Why?”
“Well because . . . I don’t know. She’s like, my best friend. I can talk to her and she mostly understands and she trusts me and . . . Well don’t all daughter’s love their mothers? All sons and daughters? Isn’t it natural to love your mother?”
He smiled painfully and nodded. “Yes it is. What is your favorite thing about your mother?”
“Um,” Regan looked to the ceiling, then back to him with a mischievous smile. “She’s fun. She talks to me like I’m her favorite thing and she’s reasonable about getting me what I want or taking me where I want to go.”
“Do you think your mother loves you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think your mother knows what’s best for you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Do you think she kept the details about your possession from you because she didn’t think you’d care?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you know?”
“Huh?”
“Well, do you think it was to be mean?”
“No.”
“Chris, why didn’t you tell Regan?”
“Because she’d been through a lot and I wanted the load to go down before I piled that onto her.” Chris wiped some running mascara from her face and froze as she gazed at Regan. “Rags?”
Damien looked to Regan and frowned himself, the girl’s face was contorted with pain, her eyes closed tightly. He was about to move to her when her eyes snapped open and several tears ran from them as she gasped, repressing a sob, she turned to Chris and stood, ran to her. “Mother!” She fell into Chris’ arms and both began to weep. Damien sat back in his chair, thoroughly pleased by this, it was a start in Regan’s recovery, and he very much wanted to help her more. He stood and moved to the door, leaned against the frame his hands in his pockets, watching the pair as they calmed. Regan looked to where he had been sitting, then to him. She parted from her mother and ran to him, surprising him greatly as she flung herself against him, wrapping him up tightly in her arms. “Thank you, Father.”
He relaxed instantly and reached down, ran his fingers through her hair and then kneeled to hug her better. “Oh, you are most certainly welcome Regan. Most certainly.”
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