Entry tags:

fic, lds original fic, mature fic

Original Fic Post: And It Came To Pass [7/7]
Title: And It Came To Pass
Author: Stoney
Summary: Two guys on an LDS mission come out of the closet and put their houses in order. About as blasphemous (to Mormons) as it gets, so leave your religious piety at the door, or move along.
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Meta on the LDS church within, but nice and buried so it doesn't (hopefully) read like an encyclopedia. This all started from the MormonsExposed.com calendar featuring these two guys (last names made up by me so I won't get sued) AUSTIN YOUNG and BRANDON CHRISTENSEN. This is a made up story, anything resembling reality is coincidental. A huge thank you to both ely_jan for being my first beta and helping me organize my thoughts and to germaine_pet for making me a better writer and this story what it should be. <3

Previous chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

* * * *
CHAPTER SEVEN
* * * *




"What a precious thing is a good [missionary] companion. He becomes your protector in times of trouble or temptation." (Gordon B. Hinckley, LDS Church News, July 4, 1998)

“Thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women.” (2 Sam 1:26)

“Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee” (Jer 31:3)





Austin knew he’d showered because he was holding a damp towel in his hands. He knew that his father had come back to grab all of Brandon’s things, because the closet was opened and his clothing was on the floor, accidentally gathered up in the rush. He knew he wasn’t alone because he heard whispered voices coming from the living room.

He just didn’t remember any of it while it happened. His mind was foggy, voices muffled and unclear. He wasn’t ready to face his father, to face what happened to Brandon.

“Yes, Christensen. Brandon. I know, I know, you just can’t tell sometimes, can you?”

At the sound of Brandon’s name he snapped out of his stupor. They were talking about him and all he knew was that he had to know where he was, try to explain why he just stood there, motionless.

His father was standing in his shirtsleeves, his tie loosened and his hair astray listening to another member of the priesthood make travel plans. Brandon was being sent home immediately.

The man on the phone looked over at Austin, his face barely hiding his distaste for the repugnant act he witnessed. Austin didn’t care about that, or the red blotches forming on his father’s face.

“Where’s Brandon?”

“Elder Christensen, Austin, although not for much longer. Why didn’t you tell anyone that… that your companion was a queer?”

Austin ignored that line of questioning. “What’s going to happen to him?”

The man on the phone covered the mouthpiece and said, “He invited Satan into his body. He cannot stay a member of this church because of that. I wish they still did electro-shock therapy up at BYU…”

Austin’s ears began to thrum. His father tentatively laid a hand on Austin’s shoulder, he clearly didn’t want to touch his son.

“Did he overpower you, son? Is that what happened? You never were a strong one, were you?”

Austin looked into his father’s face and saw nothing but hostility and revulsion.

“No, that’s not what happened. Dad, he loves me.”

“That’s not possible. Queers don’t love, they only want to give in to their selfish needs. That young man has rejected Christ. Selfishness never brought happiness.”

Reality came screaming back, almost knocking Austin off his feet. He couldn’t help himself; he laughed. “You’re… you’re so stupid. You don’t know anything!” He closed his eyes to get the ugly picture of his father’s face out of his mind. He knew what happiness was.

The hard slap across his face snapped him out of it. “Don’t you ever speak to me like that again,” his father hissed.

His dad’s shoulders were heaving, his nostrils flaring. Brother Young looked over his shoulder and saw that the other man wasn’t paying attention, he was writing down flight schedules in the kitchen.

He began to beat his son over the head, shoving him back into the bedroom, kicking the door shut with his heel. Austin threw his hands up to defend himself.

“I oughtta knock your head off your shoulders, you ungrateful, disobedient, disrespectful little faggot!”

Austin shoved his father off him. His father went careening into the door, breathing heavily. Austin’s eyes were wild, they scanned the room looking for a weapon. His father saw.

“Now, listen. You know that was disrespectful to me. Let’s not let things get out of control. Get dressed, get your things for the night. You’re going to stay at Brother Jensen’s tonight with his family.”

That must be the man on the phone.

“Tomorrow we’ll get this sorted out. Dammit, we’ll have to hold a court. My own son!” He punched the door behind him with a large, meaty fist. He opened it and looked over his shoulder. “Don’t open your mouth until I tell you. Understood?”

Austin didn’t nod. He stood there, staring at the open door until he heard his father leave. Then he got dressed and threw some toiletries and his few clothes into his bag. Brother Jensen waited at the door.

“Let’s not talk about what happened, shall we? The missus is a bit sensitive; she doesn’t need to be exposed to all this sordidness.”

Austin followed behind him, the wind catching the door to the apartment and swinging it shut with a loud bang.

*****

Two weeks. It took two weeks for everything to be sorted out, and Austin was trapped in the spare room in a house he’d never been to before. Sister Jensen brought him his food on a tray in his room. Austin didn’t mind not sitting at the table with the rest of their family. He wanted to be alone.

No one would tell him what was going on. No one dared mention his former companion’s name within earshot. He had no idea what his father was saying about the situation, how the mission’s “best and brightest” just up and left without any one knowing what happened, or where Austin was and for what reason. Austin figured his dad was claiming he was sick, or something to that effect. It would be one of the only ways to keep him from immediately reporting for his actions.

Finally, his father came. He refused to make eye contact with Austin.

“Your court is in a few hours.”

A thrill of fear raced through him. He would have to stand before his leaders in the priesthood and explain in detail what happened so they could determine the severity of the sin. To tell those people anything about the experiences he and Brandon shared felt horrible. That would be the sin.

“You’ll come back to your mother’s and my home. It will be held there. Now, listen. I don’t want you going into too much detail, no one wants to hear that sick stuff, you got it? Let’s just have you explain how Christensen hypnotized you and you were overpowered. They’ll let you off with a warning, but you’ll have to stay supervised for the remainder of your mission….”

His father’s voice trailed off. Stay? Stay and act like nothing had happened? His father would be in the room with them, however. How could he tell that group of men what had really happened?

“… absolutely shamed your family. Your mother knows nothing about this, so keep your trap shut. She thinks you’re sick, contracted some weird virus or something and your comp knocked you around.” His father gave him an appraising look. “That’s not that hard to believe.”

Austin balled his fists at his sides.

“Get your things. I’ll be waiting in the car.”

****

Austin was told to wait in the hallway while his father made some phone calls in his office. He sat on an uncomfortable straight-backed chair and awaited his fate. A glossy magazine on a console table caught his eye. A stack of letters sat in a messy pile next to it. Austin absentmindedly flipped through the stack and stopped at a thin postcard with a picture of the ocean on it. He tried to turn it over to see who it was from; a bit of the stamp had curled over and as a result, the card was stuck to another letter.

He ripped the letter away and read the back, his eyes watering as he progressed. He read it several times. His father’s door opened and Austin quickly shoved the postcard into his pocket.

“Well. They’re ready to talk to you.”

Austin smoothed his hair and checked his tie. His father took an exaggerated step away from him as he approached the French doors. “Remember what I told you. You were weak, and he overpowered you, got it?”

Austin looked up at him. His father backed further away, worry lines creasing his forehead.

****

“No, sir, he did not overpower me.”

“It’s alright, son, this is a court of love. God doesn’t want you to lie to us.”

“I know, that’s why I’m not lying.”

“Now, look-” Brother Young choked back his temper with a cough, “Everyone here understands how you can come to idolize your companion. We were all missionaries, all of us were green at one point, right?” The men all nodded, their faces with varying degrees of pity and shock.

“We understand that he was someone all you fellas admired, but something went wrong. You know you’re supposed to be obedient to your leaders, but he was wrong. You don’t have to cover for him any more. You can tell us how he used force and no one here will judge you.”

Austin scanned the group and knew that they most certainly would judge him.

“He didn’t force me to love him.”

A few of the men’s jaws dropped open. Brother Young looked ready to explode. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Austin felt the corner of the postcard poke his hip. “I do. I love him. We love each other. I willingly let him make l-”

“That’s enough. That is enough! I will not have that sort of language in my house. Get out of this room. We’ll call you in when we’ve decided.” Brother Young pointed at the door.

Austin gladly left. He paced in the kitchen waiting for the deliberations to end. His father’s Franklin day planner was lying on the counter. His throat tightening, he flipped back to the day after he and Brandon had been caught. A note was scribbled in the margin, “Home. Ex’d. No contact with A.” An address was written underneath that; Austin recognized it as Brandon’s home address.

“Elder Young?”

One of the men from the council poked his head out the office doors. “We’re ready for you, son.”

Austin’s head was in a haze. He drifted back into the room, the fog in his brain a buffer to their consternation and piety. The man that called him back in cleared his throat and began speaking in a monotonous tone; Austin recognized it as how all the leaders in the church gave talks. It further lulled him into a detached state.

“A disciplinary court is a court of love. One of the most loving things the Church can do for a person is to relieve them of the burdens of their covenants through excommunication and disfellowship. It is not done to punish, but to help them. This council has, through thoughtful prayer, decided that you are to be disfellowshipped. You are still a member. You may not keep your temple recommend. You may not use any facet of your priesthood…”

Austin’s gaze drifted out of the window. His father’s house had a view of the ocean.

“…reinstated as a full and righteous member of the Church so long as you never engage in any form of communication with Mr. Christensen so long as he remains a sinner.”

The man sighed and straightened a stack of papers on his desk. “Gentlemen? Would someone care to offer a prayer?”

Austin interrupted, “I’m sorry, you said I can’t ever talk to Brandon again? My eternal salvation depends on this?”

The man looked affronted at the meeting not running smoothly. “Yes, that is correct. You are never to interact with that young man again. Those are the conditions that God has outlined.”

“Then I refuse to accept them.”

Silence fell over the room.

“What did you say?” his father hoarsely whispered.

“I refuse. You can’t tell me to never speak to someone, that’s not anywhere in the scriptures. I’m going to see him as soon as I get home.”

“Not while you live under my roof you won’t!”

Austin smiled, then, the first genuine smile he’d been able to produce since this whole nightmare began. “That won’t be a problem.”

The man that gave him his verdict stood then, his hands flat against the table. His face was filled with rage, “Then you reject this priesthood council’s decision! And by doing so, reject Christ! Excommunication is the only way to solve this matter.”

The other men in the room murmured agreement.

“Fine. I’ll wait outside. Tell me when I’m leaving.”

He turned his back on his father, now shaking with pent up rage, and closed the door behind him.

****

Nine hours later he was sitting on a plane, his suit and tie jammed into his bag along with his G‘s. He was comfortable in jeans and a tee shirt, even though he felt odd not wearing the familiar garments. One of his brothers had been notified back in Utah that he would be picking Austin up from the airport and putting him under house arrest.

Austin, however, had no intention of meeting his brother in the airport. His heart light, a huge grin on his face, he pulled out the postcard that had been re-directed to his father’s house from his old apartment in Barcelona.

A:
2 Sam 1:26, Jer 31:3
Call me when you land. I’ll be there.

Come home.
B

He held the postcard in his hand, smiling as he looked out the window at the ocean miles below.





End.

(For Laura B. and Travis. One down, one to go.)