Chapter Text
The first time he saw him dance, it was entirely by accident.
It was the middle of the night, and the newly appointed Cardinal Gutierrez was wandering restlessly around the halls of the Vatican. It was just a few days before he was supposed to leave for New York to try and solve the Kurtwell case, and his mind was running wild, fueled by anxiety and doubt. Even though he felt very deeply and personally about the matter, he couldn't help but think he was the wrong person for the job: if just the thought of having to leave the Vatican, the very buildings and hallways that had held him in the safety of habit for what had become most of his life, was keeping him from sleeping, how could he survive in the outside world, let alone investigate on a man with no proof against him and a whole system defending him, having no previous experience on that sort of job? He trusted the Pope and thus he trusted his choice, but it would take a miracle to manage to succeed.
These and many other thoughts of the sort were going through his mind, keeping him awake; in a last attempt at tiring himself out, he started walking around the hallways, looking for calm and sleep he knew couldn’t come to him, when he stumbled across someone he definitely didn’t expect to see.
In the middle of the corridor stood, or rather danced, Cardinal Assente.
Bernardo didn’t have much of an issue recognizing him: after all, the former prefect for the congregation of the clergy was quite striking in his height and figure, always the tallest and leanest of the group of people he was talking to. Even as he was seeing him now, wearing simple striped pajamas (even though he was quite sure they were made out of comfortable and rather expensive material), with only the cross and ring he was still wearing reminders of his role, he was extremely recognizable in his unique physicality(which happened to be extremely attractive to him, though that thought had to be swifty repressed, as it was unbecoming of a priest, and especially of a cardinal - despite what everyone seemed to be doing in the spare time, as the gossip never ceased to tell; he briefly wondered, and then denied to himself that he did, which of the rumors he heard about Assente were true).
He was quickly brought away from his wandering thoughts by the inexplicable magnetism of presence in front of him; he found himself unable to move in fear of interrupting the delicate grace of the dancing man, who moved his thin and agile limbs in the air, prompted by music only he could hear, or perhaps silence itself.
He didn’t seem to be following any sort of rhythm or tune discernible from the quiet around them, but he moved with purpose and elegance, stretching and then bringing back his graceful limbs, then rolling his torso and hips in hypnotizing movements, or making almost imperceptible movements with his fingers. He danced like he’d never seen anyone else do, almost as if telling stories or recounting some mystery, one moment royal and the next beggar, or miraculous being.
Gutierrez stood there for moments that felt like hours, stuck in place by the wonderful performance he was privy to, before coming back to his senses, turning around and going back on his steps, so as not to get caught staring and as not to disrupt the quiet peace the other man was in, one that he knew was hard to find when you had secrets to hide in the Vatican, probably already known by the likes of Voiello but still ones that could ruin one’s career.
When returned to his rooms, he found himself more relaxed even if still unable to sleep, and lost himself in the fleeting memory of the almost miraculous appearance he had seen, of the enchanting feelings of freedom those moves transmitted, which managed to somewhat soothe his anxieties.
During the long plane ride the following day, as he was trying to calm his nerves, which couldn’t overwhelm him so easily if he wanted to succeed in his mission, he distracted himself by contemplating if he could ever feel the freedom Cardinal Assente seemed to feel or at least expressed; if he could find that clarity outside of the walls that had kept him safe yet caged for years. Maybe dance wasn’t what was going to do it for him, but it had sparked something, a desire to truly find himself, to not be afraid anymore.