Mikael Pacioli
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
17
Views:
19,571
Reviews:
109
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
2
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
17
Views:
19,571
Reviews:
109
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
2
Disclaimer:
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
June 23: Saint John Fisher
June 23: Saint John Fisher
Demen was the name of the doctor who examined him upon his exit from the weeklong Intensive Behavioral Therapy Session. Mikael recalled this because for a stupid, sick, brief moment, when his leader-officer had said ‘Demen is here,’ Mikael had heard ‘Damon’ and had a foolish moment of hope - that Brother Damon was here, that he had come from Saint Xavier’s, and at last Mikael would be going home. Of course, it was no such thing.
The doctor had been efficient, but distant, had asked Mikael a multitude of questions, and had checked all of the boxes on the 4 pages of doublesided forms he’d been given to fill out. Mikael had sat quietly, out of the reach of his leader-officer, and done his best to appear compliant.
Compliance, after all, was what the whole game was about. Mikael had been at the Wiltshire CEC for two months and twenty days, and it had taken him almost as long to figure that out. It had been thirty days since he’d had visitors; that had been the first privilege he’d lost. Twenty-two days since he’d been allowed full-campus freedom. Nineteen since he’d had free afternoons. Fifteen since he’d been allowed anywhere near a telephone. Fourteen since the inspectors had arrived at 6 o’clock in the morning and taken away all of his books. And then, ten days ago, they had come and waited outside of his classroom to take him away, too.
The week had been uncomfortable, but not hellish - he had been given scrubs to wear, assigned a 10’ x 12’ room, and subjected to an alternating schedule of invasive questions and oppressive demands. Mikael had been through worse, and said as much. Even 15 years of comfort at Saint Xavier’s didn’t erase the pain of his earliest days, and as ever, Mikael knew he had within him a tremendous capacity to survive.
Survive, but not comply.
Mikael did nothing at another’s behest. When he had first arrived at the abbey, it had taken Father Pacioli three days to get the boy to come to him; it was six weeks before he would eat at a table with the rest of the brothers.
“Consistency,” he had overheard Father Pacioli telling a frustrated Brother Simon one evening when Mikael had stolen bread from the kitchen again and left crumbs under the large desk in the library, “Is the greatest teacher. Mikael is afraid that his life is impermanent; he is afraid that all we give him will be taken back when he least expects it. He doesn’t understand that we love him, and that he has a home now. But these things cannot simply be told to the boy; he would not believe you. They must be taught. And love can only be taught with patience and consistency. So forgive the bread; in time, he will learn.”
And Father Pacioli had been so consistent in his love for Mikael, and so consistent with his faith in God’s plan and his belief in the miracles that he felt certain would befall his small charge, that Mikael had learned, and he, too, had believed.
But what did he have to believe in now?
~:~
Demen was the name of the doctor who examined him upon his exit from the weeklong Intensive Behavioral Therapy Session. Mikael recalled this because for a stupid, sick, brief moment, when his leader-officer had said ‘Demen is here,’ Mikael had heard ‘Damon’ and had a foolish moment of hope - that Brother Damon was here, that he had come from Saint Xavier’s, and at last Mikael would be going home. Of course, it was no such thing.
The doctor had been efficient, but distant, had asked Mikael a multitude of questions, and had checked all of the boxes on the 4 pages of doublesided forms he’d been given to fill out. Mikael had sat quietly, out of the reach of his leader-officer, and done his best to appear compliant.
Compliance, after all, was what the whole game was about. Mikael had been at the Wiltshire CEC for two months and twenty days, and it had taken him almost as long to figure that out. It had been thirty days since he’d had visitors; that had been the first privilege he’d lost. Twenty-two days since he’d been allowed full-campus freedom. Nineteen since he’d had free afternoons. Fifteen since he’d been allowed anywhere near a telephone. Fourteen since the inspectors had arrived at 6 o’clock in the morning and taken away all of his books. And then, ten days ago, they had come and waited outside of his classroom to take him away, too.
The week had been uncomfortable, but not hellish - he had been given scrubs to wear, assigned a 10’ x 12’ room, and subjected to an alternating schedule of invasive questions and oppressive demands. Mikael had been through worse, and said as much. Even 15 years of comfort at Saint Xavier’s didn’t erase the pain of his earliest days, and as ever, Mikael knew he had within him a tremendous capacity to survive.
Survive, but not comply.
Mikael did nothing at another’s behest. When he had first arrived at the abbey, it had taken Father Pacioli three days to get the boy to come to him; it was six weeks before he would eat at a table with the rest of the brothers.
“Consistency,” he had overheard Father Pacioli telling a frustrated Brother Simon one evening when Mikael had stolen bread from the kitchen again and left crumbs under the large desk in the library, “Is the greatest teacher. Mikael is afraid that his life is impermanent; he is afraid that all we give him will be taken back when he least expects it. He doesn’t understand that we love him, and that he has a home now. But these things cannot simply be told to the boy; he would not believe you. They must be taught. And love can only be taught with patience and consistency. So forgive the bread; in time, he will learn.”
And Father Pacioli had been so consistent in his love for Mikael, and so consistent with his faith in God’s plan and his belief in the miracles that he felt certain would befall his small charge, that Mikael had learned, and he, too, had believed.
But what did he have to believe in now?
~:~