None of them ever knew where exactly it was that he went. None of them were really all that interested though, either. The bookstore? Probably. It was the only thing they could think of. Where else would he be off to for almost two hours, other than somewhere where he could read?

Still, none of them cared enough to find out. Only after the first five months he and Alice had been living with them, every Sunday morning, he'd walk out the door, and always come back about an hour and a half later. Never once did that routine change. Every single town they went to, every single barrier that got in the way, he'd always leave and come back.

None of them knew where he went.

None of them cared.

Except one.

Alice skipped down the stairs, smiling brightly at him as his hand grabbed the handle. "May I join you?"

He raised a perfect blond eyebrow towards her. This was new.

All she did was grin a bit bigger, the slyness almost there, and it almost hurt to feel the excitement bouncing off her. That was normal though.

Shrugging, he held the door open for her. "Of course."

He easily sped down the slippery roads, barely concentrating on the traffic, but instead on the joy radiating through the car in waves. He should've been used to it by now, he knew, but her emotions never once failed to completely grab and hold in his attention.

In a time that seemed much too short, they pulled up to the old stone building, and the moment they were out of the car she grabbed his hand, towing him along with her through the huge wooden doors at the front, acting as if she was the one who did this all the time and he was the guest.

He didn't care.

He never did.

A few heads turned as they made their entrance, though they tried to blend in with the crowd that walked in alongside them.

Most headed to the front.

The stayed in the back corner.

She cuddled up close to him, their hands still gripped together, listening to the soft music of the organist that sat in the balcony above them. Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring. He had heard the song a thousand times, but still welcomed the warm melody; welcomed the soothing affects it had on everyone around them.

Narcotics.

The emotions here were always like a drug.

Peaceful.

Hopeful.

Quiet.

Good.

Maybe that's why he never once failed to come here. It all was so comforting after so long of being tortured by everyone around him. It was a break.

Or maybe it was just the fact that he wanted—needed—the belief that there was something greater than the shame and punishment of this world. The faith that there was someone out there willing to forgive even a killer like him if he tried hard enough.

Either way, whatever the reason, it didn't matter.

Because the service always began.

1. For the past fifty years, he'd never once missed a church service.