Chapter Text
Giulia had long given up on feeling anything but numbness ever again.
Once, a very long time, she had been easily excited. When she was a child, her father had often scolded her for laughing too loud or crying too much. It had been many years of hard work to learn to keep her feelings inside.
Now, though, she doesn’t have to make that effort anymore. She doesn’t have to hide her feelings because she rarely felt - well, anything. Joy, despair, elation, fear, they had all melted into a grey sludge of nothingness.
It doesn’t upset or concern her. It’s just how things are now and, presumably, will be for the rest of her life. No one had noticed because she had played pretend for so long that they didn’t know any different.
Only Alma, ever the perceptive, had commented on it once. It had been a few years ago during a cold winter, when they had first noticed a decline in health in the Holy Father. They’d been sharing a smoke outside the Casa Santa Marta; that’s how Giulia had known that Alma was stressed.
“I think you’re depressed, Giu.” Alma had said in her careful tone.
Giulia had laughed. It was worse than the pot calling the kettle black, it was like her face in the mirror calling her out for the bags under her eyes.
“You’re one to talk, Alma.”
Alma had shrugged. “Maybe, but can’t I be concerned for my friend? You’ve been…different. I worry, you know I do.”
“I appreciate it.” Giulia had softened her voice. She’d known Alma well enough by then to know when to be gentle with her, though it happened rarely. “But I’m fine. As much as you are anyway.”
Alma had smiled wryly and passed the cigarette back to Giulia.
“That’s true enough.”
“I’ll tell you if you need to worry, if you tell me if I need to. Let’s not mention it otherwise. There’s no point.”
Alma had nodded and that had been it. They’d continued smoking and never mentioned it again.
So Giulia had assumed this was how the rest of her life would be: Comfortable in her numbness, watching Alma’s back like the loyal hound she is.
She hadn’t accounted for the Holy Father’s death to shake everything up so much. When she finds out about his death from Alma, she doesn’t feel grief. She knows it’s more important for her to support Alma, who had been close to the man, and to focus her efforts on the conclave.
She’s had her plans for years, no matter what happens, she needs to ensure Alma will play a part in the new pontificate. She takes care of her friend in the weeks leading up to the conclave. They don’t get a moment of rest: The Casa has to be prepared for the arrival of the cardinals.
Alma throws herself into the work. Giulia isn’t surprised, she knows her friend too well. Alma Bellini deals with difficult feelings and situations by working herself to the bone. Giulia can’t say she’s any different, only her work looks a little different.
It’s all going the way she’d expected it to until the eve of the conclave.
“Have you heard?” Rhiannon O’Malley asks as she plops herself down on Giulia’s bed. “There’s a new girl.”
“Of course I knew that.”
“ And a new cardinal.” Rhi grins. “Bet you didn’t know that.”
This gives Giulia pause. She’s had her suspicions that the late Holy Father had created a cardinal in pectore, but she hadn’t expected that the man would actually show up. Then again, as soon as she had seen the new nun at breakfast this morning, she’d started to worry.
It seems she’d been right to be.
“...He actually showed up?”
“Yep. Agnes told me and then I asked my brother who denied it, of course, but I know his tells.”
“It’s how you always beat him at cards.” Giulia agrees. Rhi’s brother, the secretary to the college of cardinals, was one of the few men in this place she didn’t actively despise. He was good-natured and shrew and, most importantly, an insatiable gossip who could never resist his sister.
“Well, fuck. Fuck. ”
“Oh, cheer up, Giu. It’s not like this is going to throw your delicate plans in disarray. He’s got not chance.”
“We don’t know that!” Giulia starts pacing. “We have no idea who this man is. Or the new sister, for that matter. We don’t know their motives or why they’re here.”
“To serve God , love.” Rhi rolls her eyes. “To serve God, like we all are.”
Giulia scoffs.
“You and Alma can be so miserable sometimes.”
“You hang out with Tamsin Lawrence every day.”
“Touché.” Rhi gets up from the bed. “Well, I’m going to sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna be an interesting day. Goodnight, Giu. Get some rest.”
“Goodnight.” Giulia replies absentmindedly.
Her mind is already spinning with possibilities. She’s wasn’t able to find out much about the man the Holy Father wanted to make cardinal. She suspects that he is based somewhere dangerous, a warzone or a place where Christians are persecuted.
That he did it at all speaks volumes: For whatever reason, he had wanted the man here at the conclave. It must have been done sometime in the last year. The reasons, though, Giulia can’t pinpoint. And she doesn’t know what kind of man he is.
She tells Alma about it that night. They’re sharing a room during the time of the conclave.
“He did mention this to me last year.” Alma says.
“It’s concerning, no? He had some kind of plan. I can’t figure out what it is though.”
Alma sighs. “It’s no use breaking our heads about it, Giulia. Just go to sleep.”
Giulia frowns. It’s unlike Alma to be so disinterested in the machinations of the Curia, especially when so much is at stake.
She has been different since Tamsin’s illness, but this is beyond that. The Holy Father’s death had hit her hard and Giulia wonders if it hadn’t broken something in her heart beyond repair.
“And the new sister?” She tries again.
“I only know what Agnes told me. Her name is Vicenta Benítez. She worked in Kabul, but she’s originally from Mexico. She’s also served in the Congo, Manila, and Baghdad. I think she’s a nurse.” Alma seems more interested in this topic.
“Doesn’t Tamsin know more?”
“I don’t know, Giu. She’s certainly…a surprise.”
Giulia nods thoughtfully. If the new sister has come from Kabul, then it’s likely where the new cardinal had served too. Perhaps Vicenta Benítez knows him. Giulia will have to learn more about her.
She can still turn this around in their favour. Giulia is good at improvising, even if she doesn’t like doing it. But she’s not going to let a surprise like this throw her off course.
Somehow, everything manages to fall apart the next day despite all her contingency plans. The votes pan out mostly how Giulia predicted, except the liberal votes have been split. Giulia thinks it’s a result of the Dean’s homily that morning. Most interestingly, though, the new cardinal received a few votes.
But Giulia doesn’t have time to dissect this. Alma is terse and short with everyone all day and it culminates in an argument between her and Tamsin in the evening. Giulia wasn’t there, but Rhi tells her about it. She suspects that it had something to do with the new sister.
Giulia wouldn’t care - she doesn’t like Lawrence much - but it’s a symptom of something more. She knows Alma and she can sense that her friend is tired. Not just physically, though Giulia doubts she has been getting much sleep, but the hard work of the last pontificate seems to finally have taken its toll.
That, and the constant emotional repression. Alma isn’t like Giulia: No matter how hard she has tried, her emotions often get the better of her. Her reputation as the cold, calculated intellectual couldn’t be any further from the truth.
For Alma to lash out at Lawrence like this, something must be very, very wrong. Giulia wants to ask her about it, but she knows it will only make Alma retreat more.
And if she’s honest, she’s tired too. She loves her friend more than she has ever loved anyone or anything else. She’s spent years in her shadows, working tirelessly to see her elevated to higher status in the Vatican.
It had worked, but sometimes she wonders if it had been the right thing. For the church, undoubtedly, but Giulia isn’t sure anymore if it was good for Alma. She has watched her friend diminish and wondered if she has pushed her into the arms of lions.
So she decides to wait and give Alma space. She’ll talk to her later when she’s had time to calm down.
Right now, she needs cold air on her face and a cigarette in her hands.
The street is quiet at this time of night. There’s a gentle rain falling, but Giulia knows the spot to take shelter from it.
“Do you have one for me?”
The voice makes Giulia jump. She didn’t expect anyone else to be out at this time, but when she looks up, Vicenta Benítez is there.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine.” Giulia stares at the ground.
Vicenta is wearing a pair of beat-up red converse. They’re an oddly cheerful sight. There are little doodles all over them, flowers and hearts and animals Giulia can’t quite make out. She wants to ask about them.
Instead, she offers her cigarette to Vicenta.
“I’m out, but we can share.”
“Thank you. It’s been a stressful few days. I’d really hoped things would calm down once I got here.” She laughs quietly and takes the offered cigarette. Her hands are smaller than Giulia’s, but much more calloused. She’s a woman who knows real work. Giulia can’t say the same of herself.
“I’d apologise for disappointing you, but that’s kind of on you for expecting the Holy See to be calm.”
“During a conclave, no less. No, you’re right, Sister…”
“Giulia.” She offers her hand.
“Vicenta.” Her handshake is firm, but gentle. It’s the perfect handshake. Giulia wonders if that’s just naturally how she is.
“I know.”
“Of course you do.” Vicenta laughs again. She seems to laugh a lot, as if the world is full of ease. “It appears everyone does.”
Giulia shrugs. “You showed up out of nowhere on the eve of the conclave. What did you expect?”
Vicenta hands the cigarette back to Giulia. Their fingers brush briefly and Giulia has to resist the impulse to flinch. She doesn’t know why she’s suddenly so nervous.
“I guess you’re right.” Vicenta says. “But I’m still surprised that I’m the centre of attention. I’d have thought with the conclave…”
“That there’s more important things for us to worry about?”
Vicenta nods.
Giulia laughs. It’s not quiet and smart like Vicenta’s, more resembling the bark of a scared dog. She takes a drag and hands the cigarette back.
“Trust me, your friend is experiencing the same thing in there and we’re no less curious about him.”
“My friend?” Vicenta raises one eyebrow. She looks mildly bemused.
“The cardinal. Don’t play naive.”
Vicenta is quiet for a moment. She smokes the same way she talks: Thoughtful, quiet. Giulia finds herself annoyed that she can make even this vice seem graceful.
“You don’t trust me, Sister Giulia.” She says eventually.
“Of course not.”
“You’re suspicious that he brought me along.” Vicenta leans against the wall and regards Giulia. “You think there’s some ulterior motive behind it.”
Giulia shrugs and tries not to shrink under Vicenta’s intense gaze.
“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to pry further.”
“How can I promise that if I don’t know what you’ll tell me?”
Vicenta smiles. “I promise it’s nothing untoward. No schemes, no deception. Neither he nor I have time for those games.”
“Fine.”
“When the Holy Father made him a cardinal, my friend , as you put it, made it clear to him that if ever he has to leave Kabul, I will be coming with him. The Holy Father agreed.” She pauses.
“Why?”
“They both knew that if I stayed behind on my own could have been very dangerous for me.”
“Surely it was dangerous for you both.”
Vicenta shrugs and takes another drag. She looks up at the sky as she blows out the smoke.
“It’s different. Even before he was a cardinal, he had authority. I have none of that which protected him.”
“Right.” Giulia nods. She’s familiar with this story. It’s one repeated over and over through her life, it’s the reason she fights so hard to elevate Alma into higher positions.
They’re quiet for a long time, passing the cigarette between each other. It dwindles to embers soon, but Vicenta stays.
She asks Giulia about the late Holy Father’s turtles. The idea of them seems to delight her, so Giulia promises to show them to her once the conclave is over. This earns her a beaming smile and suddenly she wants nothing more than to make Vicenta smile like that again.
She pushes the thought to a corner of her mind. Vicenta is merely interesting because she’s new. She’s beautiful, but so are many women. Giulia doesn’t have time for that now.
They head back inside when the rain starts getting heavier. When they arrive at Vicenta’s room - the one she’s sharing with Tamsin Lawrence - Giulia doesn’t know what to say. She hasn’t had to navigate the social intricacies of meeting a new person in a long time.
“If you need a smoke again at any point during the conclave, you know where to find me.” She settles on saying.
Vicenta smiles. “I might just take you up on that. Thank you, Giulia. I enjoyed talking to you.”
She disappears into her room.
Giulia stares at the closed door. No one ever says they enjoy talking to her. Alma does, but recently even she seems to have grown tired of Giulia. Or perhaps not of Giulia, but of the topics of their conversations.
No one compliments her on her conversational skills. Quite the opposite - most people frown at her bluntness or scold her for an insufficiently friendly tone of voice. She’s useful, yes, but enjoyable.
She shakes her head as she walks back to her room. Vicenta Benítez is a strange woman.
The next day is somehow even more stressful. Alma calms down through Giulia’s gentle coaxing, but only marginally. Giulia catches her fiddling with loose strands of hair that have escaped her veil throughout the day and resolves to offer to shave it that night.
It’s a kind of ritual between them: When Alma gets stressed, which is often, she finds it harder to resist her compulsions. Sometimes reassuring her is enough to help, but Giulia suspects this is not one of those times.
The first time Giulia had noticed the small bald patches on Alma’s head and the strands of hair she’d leave in her wake, she had consulted every book she could find (there were few) and put her mind to easing Alma’s anxiety.
It had taken them a while to realise that having shorter hair eases the intensity of Alma’s compulsions. It also helped that the first time they shaved her hair, Giulia caught Alma’s eye in the mirror and saw a pure, quiet joy that she knew went deeper than the ease of her struggle.
But it had been a while since they’ve done their little ritual, with Alma so busy during the last pontificate and then her grief. It’s no surprise that everything has made her anxiety heightened. Giulia wishes she had caught it earlier.
Vicenta finds her again in the afternoon, after the commotion with Sister Shanumi and the cardinal at lunch. They share a cigarette mostly in silence.
Giulia is silently stewing in anger. She’d suspected some sort of scheme when Shanumi had been transferred to them a few weeks ago, but the obvious upset on the woman’s face as she ran out of the dining room has set her teeth on edge.
Whatever it is - and Giulia knows she will find out - Shanumi should have been left out of it. Giulia isn’t surprised: For all his progressive ideas, the late Holy Father had still just been a man. Shanumi was a pawn to him, nothing more. Most of them were.
Vicenta doesn’t press her on her obvious bad mood. She seems to be diminished herself, Giulia wonders if it has anything to do with Shanumi. She’s seen Vicenta talk to her a couple of times.
It’s the other reason she’s so angry - at herself. The scene at lunch made her realise that she never exchanged more than a few words with Shanumi. Seeing Vicenta rush after her to console her was like a bucket of cold water over her head.
Here she was, judging the late pope for using Shanumi as a pawn, having been so wrapped up in her own machinations that she never bothered to get to know the woman on whose behalf she’s so angry.
And Vicenta, who has only been here for a few days herself, has managed to extend that kindness out of no reason other than the goodness of her heart. Because Giulia can see the sincerity in Vicenta’s actions, from her conversation the previous evening to her concern for Shanumi now.
“I wonder if we could go see the turtles now.” Vicenta finally breaks their silence as she stubs out their cigarette.
Giulia looks up at her in surprise. There’s the hint of a smile on her face. It gives her a mischievous air.
“Didn’t take you for a rebel.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Giulia.” Vicenta replies. “Besides, this is barely rebelling. We’re just taking a stroll through the gardens.”
She loops her arm through Giulia’s and starts walking.
The turtle pond isn’t far away and the walk ends up being quite nice. It has been a long time since Giulia has walked the gardens just for the pleasure of it. Usually a walk in the garden means a conversation with someone whose opinion she wants to sway, it means promises and deals and information traded.
But not with Vicenta. A walk with her means, apparently, a warm arm threaded through the crook of her own and information about turtles. It’s endearing, really, a charming kind of naivety.
Except Giulia knows Vicenta isn’t naive. Not with her history, the places she’s served, not with her shrewd perceptiveness. It’s surprising that she still shows such genuine kindness. Everyone else Giulia knows has been hardened by their experiences in the world.
Predictably, Vicenta is absolutely taken with the turtles. She crouches down by the pond and watches them in awe.
“I asked Tamsin about what kind they were, but she has no idea. All she said was that they get run over a lot…oh, they’re adorable!”
“They’re red-eared sliders.”
“Do you know a lot about them?”
“Not really.” Giulia shrugs. “I only know because the late Holy Father mentioned it. I think they’re considered an invasive species.”
Vicenta frowns. Giulia wishes she’d never said anything.
“Well, that’s not your fault.” Vicenta says. “They should really keep a better eye on you.”
Privately, Giulia agrees. She’s seen one too many cases of turtle guts.
“We should probably head back. Dinner prep is soon.”
Vicenta sighs, but she gets up. She loops her arm through Giulia’s again, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.
Dinner is a comparatively calm affair. Giulia spends her time in the shadows, eavesdropping, and gathers that the votes have almost stagnated. The Nigerian cardinal, the one who caused the scene during lunch, has lost most of his votes, but otherwise everything remains the same.
It’s not very promising, but all is not lost yet. Giulia makes notes when she’s back in her and Alma’s room that evening. Alma returns late. Giulia wonders what she’s been doing, but she doesn’t ask.
“You want me to do your hair?” She offers instead.
Alma hesitates, but she nods. “Yes, please.”
They don’t talk about the day or the one before that or why Alma has been acting the way she has. Giulia doesn’t ask because she doesn’t want her concerns confirmed - that Alma has grown tired of their work - and Alma doesn’t bring it up because she doesn’t want to disappoint Giulia.
The clippers buzz in silence as the short curls Alma has been growing over the past few months float to the bathroom floor.
It’s Giulia’s favourite time in the world, this ritual she has with her best friend. They rarely talk about work when they do it, at most trading gossip about this cardinal or that monsignor. If she focuses really hard, Giulia can pretend that she’s leading an entirely different life.
It’s usually this: Her and Alma sharing a New York apartment, small but comfortable. Alma teaches at college, Giulia writes opinionated articles. They have their friends over for dinner parties and board game nights and sometimes they still argue about politics or philosophy, but it’s never serious.
Alma is planning to propose to Tamsin who she’s been dating since college. Giulia has dated around most of their local queer scene and caused a string of drama in her younger years, but now she’s comfortable just having her friends in her life. Maybe, one day, someone will cross her path at the coffee shop or the farmers market. Maybe not.
It’s the only time she allows herself this fantasy. Outside of this ritual, outside of the closed bathroom door, she locks it away. It’s no good wasting her time running after impossible dreams.
Alma remains silent when Giulia is done. She looks at the small mountain of hair with a strange expression. Giulia can feel her heart starting to race. Alma is about to break the sacred silence of this ritual.
“I’ve been thinking,” Alma finally says after what feels like an eternity. “Of leaving after this conclave.”
Giulia can feel her blood rushing in her ears.
“What?”
“I’ve been thinking of leaving. Tamsin and I have been thinking of it.” Alma’s shoulders are tense under Giulia’s hands. She realises she’s been tightening her grip and forces herself to let go.
The thing is, this isn’t news to her - not the part about Tamsin Lawrence. She knows that Tamsin has been experiencing a crisis since her illness, she knows that she’s talked to the late Holy Father about leaving.
She also knows that Alma and Tamsin have been quietly in love with each other for as long as Giulia has known them. They’d never done anything about it and Giulia hadn’t pushed. It had hurt, once, to know that Alma loved someone who wasn’t her, but that was long ago.
“Together?” It’s not a question, but she asks it like one for Alma’s benefit.
“Yes. We’ve…talked.”
“You’ve talked.” Giulia can tell that Alma is trying to catch her eyes in the mirror, but she stares resolutely at the ground.
“Yes, Giulia, we’ve talked and we’ve decided that we have wasted too many years being dishonest and miserable.” Alma takes one of Giulia’s clenched fists in her hands. “I love you. I love what we have done together. But I’m tired.”
“You love me?” Giulia is distinctly aware of how small and pathetic her voice sounds. She doesn’t know what has been wrong with her recently, why her calmness keeps crumbling.
“Of course. And I know you love me. You are my closest friend, Giu, and you always will be.”
“Right.”
“I hope you’ll understand. I just…I can’t do this work anymore. I want to be happy. I know that’s selfish, but I think I have sacrificed myself long enough.” Alma reaches up to tilt Giulia’s face towards her and wipes away the tears she hadn’t realised she’d been crying. “It’ll be okay, Giu. I’m not leaving your life.”
She presses a light kiss to Giulia’s knuckles and leaves the room.
Giulia knows, objectively, that what Alma has said is true. Alma Bellini is a determined woman and she won’t let herself be shut out from Giulia’s life. But doubt still gnaws at her: What if Alma realises she doesn’t need Giulia once she’s gained some distance? What if she’s so happy with Tamsin that she forgets about Giulia? Or, worst of all, what if they drift apart because they don’t share a life anymore?
She gets ready for bed on autopilot and crawls under the covers. Alma is already asleep, but Giulia can’t find peace, so she does the one thing that has helped her sleep ever since she was a child: She prays the rosary.