Chapter Text
Thomas had been prepared for any number of outcomes during the conclave. With each scratched out session of the casting of the ballots, he was prepared for a liberal papacy by Bellini following in the footsteps of the late pontiff. An extreme, traditionalist one at the hands of Tedesco. Even a moderate one, if corrupt, under Tremblay. Even the possibility of his own papacy, as each papabile was brought down by some scandal or other at his very own hands, not for a chance of winning but because he couldn't bear the thought of such people grasping at the keys of St. Peter.
That fateful ballot that had brought Vincent to the forefront of the race had made Thomas’s heart feel as though it was trying to beat itself out of his chest, his pulse drumming a death march in his ears as he carried his own name in a clammy grip to the ceremonial urn. It had taken everything in him to keep his hand from trembling as he spoke the words that he knew were a lie, “Testificor meum suffragium dare pro eo quem, Deo adiuvante, crediderim eligendum esse”.
My vote is given to the one who, before God, I think should be elected.
The silence of God in the room was more deafening than the explosion by which He struck Thomas down for the very hubris he had previously condemned. In that silence, the pounding turned louder still, this time in judgment for daring to imagine even for a second that God might have chosen him.
But nothing could have prepared him for Vincent Benitez, now Pope Innocentius XIV, who carried out his papacy with a seriousness that belied the lightness that seemed tied to his very being. Where meetings with the late pontiff had members sitting straighter in their chairs, strained attention to the point of pain, Vincent's entrance was received with warm smiles. An ease in conversation that Thomas had always felt escaped him despite years in a position of power as Dean of the College of Cardinals. His shoulders had grown taut from his slow rise in position, these days it was an ache that never left him, yet Vincent still walked the Vatican's halls unburdened and so it was disarming, this ease.
For centuries the Vatican had been a place of solemnity, the very gravity around which the Church revolved, yet Vincent's insistence on wearing red converse only softened the weight of it all. For all his lightness, the matters of office were taken no less seriously, as though the canvas of his shoes lent him the strength to uphold it all.
Perhaps it was his youth, but the pope carried on with his work with a charming enthusiasm for someone who had never been deeply involved in the administrative side of clerical work. He had cascades of questions for Aldo (who he had kept on as Secretary of State), Ray who was stolen away from under Thomas to be his personal secretary (a sacrifice happily made by Thomas to see his friend promoted), and to Thomas himself. He was certain sister Agnes was not spared the interrogations on the workings of the nuns in the Vatican considering his interest in their wellbeing. It was refreshing and worrying in equal measure. His drive was inspirational for those of more liberal leanings but Thomas knew better than most how the machinations of the Vatican could grind down even the most spirited members. There were days he feared he himself numbered among them.
Despite this, the first months following Vincent's November election had allowed little work to be done outside of the liturgical rituals expected. Aside from being on the younger side and handsome, the public gathered little on Vincent's politics beyond what could easily be assumed given his ministries in the Congo, Baghdad, and Kabul.
Inside the Vatican however was a different story, homilies and encyclicals were drafted preaching love and unity, yes, but also acceptance of the other. Radical thoughts of women in the curia and blessing of gay marriages were under heated discussion. In these, Vincent had shown himself to be fearlessly merciful towards not only their believers, but those who would be turned away and scorned as well. The more traditionalist factions of the Church were of course up in arms, but in this also Vincent proved his mettle.
On more than one occasion, Thomas had had the pleasure of witnessing Vincent turn the arguments for traditions in the church on their heads and citing Bible passages that contradicted and recontextualized what was being spewed at him. Women in the church was a particular sore spot that one Cardinal Cattaneo brought up once with great apprehension. Vincent had taken one look at him and said, “I believe you may recall that it was Mary Magdalene who was trusted by Christ himself to proclaim His resurrection to his apostles. Go to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am ascending to my father and your Father.’”Thomas often found himself leading dazed cardinals out of the pope's office, shutting the door behind them, and turning around to offer Vincent his congratulations. In this case, Cardinal Cattaneo was no different.
Vincent's vision of the church brought Thomas a renewed sense of joy and drive to his position in the curia. So intense was Vincent's passion, Thomas felt invigorated by it, able to work through the days sustained by little more than a bitter cup of coffee. The thoughts of resigning lingered but only as the ghost of an idea that had once brought him to his knees in front of the late pope, begging for relief from his heightened position without the prayer to back it up.
Prayer had not returned, but under Vincent's ministry, Thomas felt some semblance of hope.