This is the third story in the "First Knight" series. It follows "Whatever the Fates Allow". A warning for those of you not interested in heavy religious material in your fanfic, this story revolves around Nick's first Mass after his conversion.

My unending gratitude goes to Terri W. for her description of a typical Mass, and for her beta of this story to keep me on track. Also to Nancy K., whose comments from a posting to another list led me to make some changes. :)

DISCLAIMER: The Forever Knight characters in this story do not belong to me. They were created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen and are owned by Sony/TriStar. No profit is being made from the posting of this piece of fan fiction. It is purely to share for the enjoyment of the fans of the show.

They stood outside the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, looking up at the massive structure.

"Are you sure you want to do this so soon?" Natalie asked.

Dropping his gaze, Nick turned her. "It's something I need to do."

"I'll wait for you, if you like."

"It might be better if you went on home. This could take a while." A rueful smile turned the corners of his lips. Opening the driver's side door, he waited while she slipped behind the wheel.

"In that case, take care ... and get home before dawn!" Looking in the rearview mirror, she watched as he walked up the stairs to the church.

Striding purposefully across the floor, Nick entered the confessional. Closing the door, he sat down and crossed himself. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been 772 years since my last confession."

Father Rochefort's eyes flew open, and he sat a little straighter....

The following Saturday, at evening Mass:

"Are you ready for this?"

"After going to confession, I think I'm ready for just about anything!" Nick chuckled softly.

Sliding her arm through his, Natalie allowed him to lead her through the doors and into the church. Just inside were small fonts. He hesitated, watching other congregation members dipping their fingers in the water before crossing themselves.

"Is that...?"

"Holy water. Yes. It shouldn't hurt you," she said when he hesitated. "It's an individual thing. You don't have to if you don't want."

"We never did that when I was ... when I went to church."

"There are going to be a lot of new things for you to get used to."

Walking up the aisle, Natalie chose a pew, genuflecting briefly before entering and sitting down. Nick followed suit, crossing himself before sitting next to her.

He looked around the magnificent old church. He had been here before, back when he had helped Magda, a St. John's parishioner, escape a serial killer. It didn't look the same--perhaps because now he was seeing it through the eyes of faith. He watched the people enter and sit.

The informal dress and quiet chattering of the congregation prior to the Mass surprised him. While he had lived through the era of Vatican II, the changes were more than he had been prepared to accept. He watched an elderly woman pray the Rosary, while in the next pew young children squirmed in their seats.

An usher approached them, leaning in to whisper. "It's our custom to ask a couple to carry the gifts* to the altar. Would you help us during the offertory?"

Nick looked stunned. He began to shake his head, declining the invitation.

"Yes, of course." The words, spoken in Natalie's voice, seemed distant and surreal. He turned to look at her, surprise reflecting in his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't worry," she answered, patting his arm. "This will be a good experience for you." With a soft groan, he sat back and watched as the music began.

The congregation stood and began singing a hymn. Nick's eyes were only marginally on the hymnal. His gaze was drawn to the procession entering from the rear of the sanctuary.

An altar server led the way, bearing a golden cross on a tall staff. Following him was the lector and a small number of other altar servers, both boys and girls. Trailing the procession was the priest.

He shook his head. Old-fashioned values made it difficult for him to accept girls and women serving in the church. Just one more thing he would have to learn to accept.

Father Rochefort reached the front of the sanctuary. Turning to the congregation, he welcomed them to the service. The Mass began with a prayer of confession.

Natalie's attention was drawn away from the priest by a soft mumbling beside her. "Confiteor Deo omnipotenti, beatae Mariae semper Virgini, beato Michaeli Archangelo, beato Joanni Baptistae, sanctis Apostolis Petro et Paulo, omnibus Sanctis, et tibi, Pater: quia peccavi nimis cogitatione, verbo, et opere mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa."*

"Nick?"

"I miss the Latin," he admitted. "It's the only way I've ever heard a Mass."

Her eyes met his, and she understood. "You speak Latin, don't you? It's more than just reciting ... you understand."

Dropping his head, he studied his hands briefly before looking up at her and smiling. She had her answer.

The priest led the congregation in the saying of the Gloria. The beautiful prayer immediately hushed Nick's comments. He listened raptly, joining in the last few lines. They concluded with another prayer, then sat once more.

The Old Testament reading began. Nick eyed the lector, his discomfort apparent. "I know they're allowing lay ministers in the modern church, but it doesn't feel right. Leading the Mass is the job of the priest."

"Shhh.... Can't you just sit back and enjoy the service?"

"But, Nat...."

"Shhh!" Patting his knee, she turned her attention to the reading.

At the conclusion of the Old Testament lesson, the choir led the congregation in a responsive singing of Psalm 130. A movement in her peripheral vision caught Natalie's attention. Turning, she watched as Nick dabbed a tear from the corner of his eye with his handkerchief. Her voice caught in her throat as she remembered him telling her this had been his prayer for redemption. Lacing her fingers through his, she squeezed his hand in support.

The Psalm was followed by the reading of the Epistle*. Father Rochefort finally took his place in the pulpit as the lector finished. The congregation rose as he began the reading of the Gospel*.

After the people were seated again, the priest began his sermon. His message of forgiveness and redemption held Nick's undivided attention.

When the sermon ended and the offertory music began, an usher appeared to escort the couple to the back of the church where they received the gifts to take to the altar. Natalie took the silver dish filled with communion wafers. After a brief hesitation, Nick picked up the tray with the cruets of wine and water.

"It's okay. You're doing fine."

"I don't know, Nat. Should I be doing this?"

"Why not? You're a creature of God, just like everyone else in this church. If anyone deserves this honor, it would be you."

He turned to her, eyes wide at her choice of words. "A creature of God.... Yes, I guess maybe I am." He reflected on a time past, when he had used those very words to calm the fears of his Puritan friend, Matthew.

Their hushed conversation was ended abruptly as the ushers brought back the offering plates. With trepidation, Nick made his way up the aisle beside Natalie. They approached the altar and handed the gifts to the priest. Inclining their heads, they bowed before returning to their seats.

Father Rochefort prepared himself to consecrate the gifts. As the prayers began, a shiver traced its way down Nick's spine. He listened intently as the sacrament continued. He watched in awe as the host* and chalice were raised while the congregation responded to the priest's prayer.

As the consecration ended, the priest led the congregation in reciting the Lord's Prayer, after which there was a general greeting among the parishioners.

Natalie took Nick's hand and squeezed it, before turning to greet other church members.

A young women grabbed his hand and shook it gently. "Peace be with you." She smiled shyly.

"And also with you," he responded, surprising himself. He turned to see Natalie smiling at him. A blush rose in his pale cheeks, and he shrugged.

The people began to file out of the pews and stream up to the altar to receive communion. A look of panic once again reflected in Nick's eyes. "I don't know if I'm ready for this," he whispered.

"It's up to you. No one will fault you if you choose not to go up."

Her words did little to calm his nerves. He watched the people file past the priest and lay ministers, taking the communion wafer in cupped hands before reverently placing it on the tongue and following with a sip from the chalice. The lay minister dutifully wiped the edge of the cup with a cloth before the next celebrant sipped.

"I'm not worthy," he whispered.

"None of us are. That's the point." She smiled at the slightly panicked look on his face. "It's God's grace. His gift to us. I thought you understood that."

"Part of me does. Part doesn't." The people in the pew just in front of theirs began to file out.

"You'll do what's right for you." She turned and slipped out of the pew.

With only a slight hesitation, he followed. As he approached Father Rochefort, he dutifully cupped his hands to receive the gift of the Body of Christ. Trembling fingers lifted the wafer of bread to his lips. He swallowed quickly, preparing himself to receive the wine. The minister raised the chalice to Nick's lips. He sipped. The reaction was instantaneous.

Choking, he struggled to swallow the small amount of wine. He stumbled. A hand from behind steadied him.

"Are you all right?" the woman asked.

He nodded, reaching for Natalie's shoulder. Squeezing his eyes shut, he let her guide him out.

Turning to him as she walked back down the aisle to their pew, she gasped as he looked at her through hooded golden eyes. "Are you all right?"

"It was blood, Nat! BLOOD!"

As they slid into their seats, she grasped his hand. "It wasn't really blood, Nick. It was consecrated wine. That's all."

"No. It was blood! Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought for control. "It was blood."

Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, Natalie comforted him. "I believe you. I do." One finger against his cheek turned him to face her. "It's a miracle, Nick, and you're a part of it. You took communion.... Bet you never thought that would ever happen again, huh?" She chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. He smiled back.

As the choir sang a hymn of meditation, he bowed his head and offered up a prayer of thanksgiving. Peace filled his heart. He knew that while his feet still walked in darkness, his soul walked in the light.

Facing the congregation, the priest blessed them all with the sign of the cross. The organ picked up the notes of the recessional hymn while he made his way down the aisle, out of the sanctuary. As the hymn ended, the congregation began to file out.

Father Rochefort was greeting parishioners as they exited. When Nick and Natalie approached, his eyes lit up.

"Nick! So good to see you at Mass today!" the Father welcomed him. "I do hope we'll see you here on a regular basis."

"I hope so, too." He smiled, feeling genuine warmth from the priest.

Turning, Father Rochefort smiled at Natalie. "Thanks for bringing him. See to it that he comes regularly. All right?"

"You can bet on it!"

Taking the priest's hand, Nick shook it. "Thank you, Father ... for everything. Things are going to be different now."

"Go in peace, my son." He smiled knowingly at the 800-year-old vampire. "Serve the Lord."

Wrapping an arm around Natalie's waist, Nick led her out into the night.

THE END

EXPLANATORY NOTES:

Nick's prayer translation:
"I confess to Almighty God, to blessed Mary, ever virgin, to blessed Michael the Archangel, to blessed John the Baptist, to the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul, and to all the saints, and to you, Father, that I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word, and deed, through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault."

A few helpful definitions:
gifts -- the communion bread and wine, the body and blood of Christ.
host -- the communion wafers, the body of Christ.
Epistle -- A reading from any of the Apostle's letters in the new testament.
Gospel -- A reading from one of the first four books of the new testament (Matthew, Mark, Luke and John), telling of Christ's life and teachings.