Chapter Text
Thomas had found himself thinking that, for Vincent’s first experience with papal Christmas celebrations, it was thankfully going rather smoothly, despite the expected presence of certain stress-inducing members of the curia.
Then he was reminded of what God apparently does when he, Thomas, thinks something will go a certain way (even if such thinking was sinfully self-centered).
They were in a briefing in the Casa Santa Marta with the bulk of the curia three days before Christmas, going over the order and requirements of the upcoming celebratory events and masses. Sister Agnes and two of her subordinate sisters were also present, to know how they would have to see to the needs of the Vatican during the proceedings.
Thomas could tell that Vincent – His Holiness – was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of ceremonies and their specific requirements, but he was masking it admirably. Additionally, the conservative factions were showing only the bare minimum of their resentfulness – likely, he thought, because the new Pontiff’s particular approach to leading the Church hadn’t yet been overtly revealed.
The meeting was progressing effectively, until the lights suddenly went out. The ceiling lights, the tiny lights on the phones and computers, and the light from the power-point presentation detailing the itinerary, all dark. It took them all a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the relative shadows, and over the murmurs of confusion and irritation, he could hear the peculiar absence of the electrical and mechanical humming that had become part of the background, from the lights, the heating system, and any nearby appliances.
“What happened?” Thomas asked, hardly hearing his own voice over the dull roar of dissonant voices.
Vincent stood from his seat, raised his hands in a gently steadying gesture. “Be calm. Remain here, please. Let’s open the doors for light. Thomas, Aldo, Ray, and Janusz, with me a moment.” He left the table as the assembled clergy and support personnel tentatively followed his direction, and the four quickly followed him into the wide marble atrium, illuminated by soft gray light of the overcast sky. Looking through the large windows, they saw that there were no dots of artificial light to be found in the surrounding complex.
“A power outage?” Thomas questioned. “But there’s no storm.”
“Seems a transformer went out in our system, Your Holiness, Eminences,” Ray supplied, looking at a message on his phone. “They’re going to start diagnosing the problem. The sudden loss of the first overloaded the others in a cascade.”
“We have backup generators,” Aldo replied skeptically.
“They’re being serviced, Eminence,” Janusz admitted quietly.
The others looked to him quickly, and he reluctantly continued. “The explosion from the bombings during the conclave knocked some internal connections loose; then the inspectors realized how old they were.”
“Is there any idea of how long the outage will last?” Thomas asked, hoping his English veneer of stoicism masked his quickly budding anxiety.
“Anywhere from six to twelve hours, possibly longer, Eminence,” Ray reported from the ongoing exchange with one of the electricians.
They were all determinedly too professional to groan in dismay.
“What about outside the Vatican? Was any of Rome affected?” Aldo asked.
“So far, it seems they’re unaffected. Our system is separate and contained,” Ray replied.
Vincent had been looking out at the darkened windows and chilled stone of the Vatican, until he pulled out his own phone. After opening the weather app, he stared at it, his lips pressing into a thin line.
“It’s expected to fall to -6.6 tonight,” he said quietly. “With a high chance of some snow before morning.”
The others inhaled sharply. What had just a moment ago been an uncomfortable inconvenience was about to become a very real threat to health and safety.
“And how many are meant to reside in the Casa Santa Marta and adjacent buildings tonight?” the Holy Father asked steadily, looking back out at the tiny sovereign city.
“Four hundred thirty-three in permanent residence, Your Holiness,” Janusz replied quietly.
“And two hundred fifteen visiting for the Christmas celebrations,” Thomas added, frowning in worried resignation.
“I don’t suppose the Apostolic Palace was spared, so that we might move as many as possible there for the night?” Aldo asked, clearly not holding much hope.
“The palace is also reporting no power,” Ray replied reluctantly. Aldo closed his eyes in consternation, letting out a heavy breath.
Vincent turned back to them, his face not giving anything away. “Then, we have a great deal of work to do before nightfall.”
*************
Vincent had turned to go back into the meeting room, and the four followed like ducklings. He secured the group’s attention with that quietly confident way of his – though the white cassock standing out in a sea of black certainly didn’t hurt.
“My brothers and sisters,” he included, looking to Agnes and her underlings, “our electricians are reporting a lack of power throughout most of the Vatican. They’re working on finding the cause of the problem, but in the meantime we must adapt. Cardinal Torres,” he addressed an Argentinian priest who served as the director of the Holy See Press Office, “do you have some power and data available on your mobile?” Cardinal Torres nodded, and Vincent continued. “Please release a brief statement that any mass we hold tonight will be private and not televised, but the status for the celebrations for the rest of the week are still undetermined.” Torres acknowledged the directive and turned to his phone, and the Holy Father switched back to addressing the whole group. “They anticipate it will be several hours until our power is returned, so we must secure other methods of light and heat for tonight.”
His announcement, of course, caused a minor uproar.
“Could we not move into hotels in the city for the night until power is returned?” one of the cardinals asked.
“Us and how many hundreds, likely thousands, of pilgrims visiting to celebrate the birth of our Savior?” Vincent replied. “If you wish to leave, of course you may check into a hotel individually, provided you’ve budgeted for it yourself. I do not wish to create an undue burden on the city.”
Of course, this prompted one of the assembled brothers to grumble, under his breath, which of course Vincent politely prompted them to repeat for the whole group to hear. Flushing, Cardinal Guttosso complied.
“What about the thousands of immigrants swarming into the city every year? They surely already bring a burden on Rome, and Your Holiness seems fine with them.”
Some of the assembled brothers groaned or murmured, but Vincent tilted his head to one side, looking steadily at Guttosso.
“I do not make policy for Rome beyond the Church. And those people – all who are able – work for their keep, Cardinal. More than some of us have ever understood personally,” he added with a slightly raised eyebrow, and a gaze sweeping coolly over a number of cardinals with just enough restraint for plausible deniability. “Also, the Vatican can spare the funds to provide for its own, if just in a more old-fashioned way than we are accustomed to. We should give of ourselves to each other, and others who are in need, before asking others to give to us.” Some members of the curia sat up straighter, as if invigorated by the reminder of their charge, while others were cowed somewhat, embarrassed and resentful of it. Thomas smiled softly, again confident that they had voted correctly.
“We must be efficient for the immediate future, to see to our shared safety. For the sake of conserving warmth, we shall have to change sleeping arrangements into groups rather than individual rooms, and make the most of the common spaces with large fireplaces. I recommend getting comfortable with bunking together for the night.”
There was a small wave of uneasy grumblings and awkward glances at each other, which the Holy Father ignored.
“Now, I am going to select some among us to organize efforts for seeing to our collective needs tonight. Firstly, heat. Someone will need to take the cargo van to obtain enough firewood to sustain us, as well as bulk boxes of handwarmers if possible.”
Knowing that at least the Vatican vehicles would still have heat, it was no surprise that many red-sleeved arms went into the air.
“Whoever sees to this task must be willing to assist Monsignor O’Malley and follow his logistical guidance, to make the most efficient use of the funds allotted.”
It was an indictment of the pride still found within the College that many hands went down. After a moment of apparent deep thought, now Archbishop Tremblay raised his hand. “I will do so,” he said stiffly.
Aldo raised an eyebrow, but Vincent nodded and gestured the former cardinal forward. “Thank you, Brother. Kindly join the good Monsignor.” The Canadian did so stiffly, not responding to the coolly-appraising look Ray gave him. “Now, the next task: light. One of you will likewise assist Archbishop Mandorf,” here he gestured to Willy, who stepped forward attentively, “to firstly get a quick inventory of what we have on hand, and then procure what we will need to navigate the darkness – candles, lanterns, flashlights.”
Cardinal Sá quickly raised his hand, and Vincent nodded him forward with a small smile. “Again, my thanks, Brother.” He addressed Sá and Willy together, once they were standing side by side. “The efficient flashlights that don’t require batteries, if you can find them, but if not regular ones will suffice. Pillar candles and lanterns for the common spaces and the most necessary halls, and flashlights foremost for the guards and security.” They nodded and began quietly consulting together as Vincent faced the assembly again.
“Third, we will need to move bedding and blankets to maximize efficiency for warmth, as I said. Archbishop Wozniak and Sister Agnes,” he said, gesturing the two to step forward, “will take the lead on organizing this, but I’m sure some assistance will be appreciated.” He waited a moment for volunteers, but there was uncertainty shifting through those gathered. It fell to Vincent to make an executive decision.
“Cardinal Adeyemi,” he said, and the former Confessor-in-Chief looked up, startled. “Why don’t you work with them?”
Agnes exchanged a brief but pointed look with Thomas, who was standing to her left, but they said nothing. Joshua, sensing it wasn’t exactly a request, stood after a moment, and moved uncertainly to stand beside Janusz, rather than on Agnes’ other side. It wasn’t clear whether he simply didn’t wish to be so near a Sister after the events of the conclave, or if he was concerned she might bring him minor harm on behalf of Shanumi. Given how her face seemed to be carved of ice at the idea of working directly with him, it wasn’t a completely irrational concern.
“Now, for the final concern: sustenance. We will need inventory that either can be cooked over fire or requires no cooking.” He took a moment to look over the gathered curia that had not yet been assigned a role, and then paused, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. “Cardinal Tedesco, I believe you could be of assistance, if you please.”
Geoffredo brows furrowed and his chest puffed up somewhat; Thomas couldn’t tell if he was smug to be selected for leadership or insulted to be assigned to oversee menial, if vital, work. He stepped forward with a huff that got covered with a cough, suspicious but uncharacteristically quiet.
Then Vincent revealed his faintly ruthless side.
“You and Cardinal Bellini will work together with Sister Julia on this.”
Both former papabiles blanched, expressions twisting in disdain.
“Your Holiness, is this really necessary?” Aldo asked as quietly as possible, looking sideways at him.
“Mi scusi, Santo Padre, but surely–” Tedesco protested, looking as if he’d bitten straight into a lemon. But Vincent was relentless.
“Put aside your differences for a day, gentlemen,” he said firmly. “I believe you both have knowledge that is invaluable for organizing this work. I don’t particularly mind the details, but find a way to get it done. The foremost goal of any leadership is to see to the people’s survival, not just spiritual but physical. So be leaders our brothers and sisters need.”
The both nodded begrudgingly, though still giving each other the stink-eye.
Satisfied, Vincent finally turned to Thomas. “Dean Lawrence, you and I will oversee the division of lodging our brothers and sisters, between here and the palace. Room capacity, blanket distribution, and insulating spaces as well as possible.” Thomas nodded in understanding, finding an odd comfort in a variation on his managerial role.
The Holy Father turned to the others selected, directing them to stop at the Prefect’s office of the Secretariat of Economy, to receive the financial resources to procure the needed supplies (thank goodness the administration kept paper backup records and assets for when the online management went down). He then addressed the entire group again.
“Keep heart, my brothers and sisters, and be patient with each other as we work to get through this trying circumstance. And even now, we are in more comfort than the Holy Family was for Christ’s birth. So let us be thankful, and kind to each other, and the Lord will still smile down on us.”
There was a current of nods throughout the assembly, and he gave them a brief blessing before dismissing everyone to either see to their tasks or report to others. Before letting him and the stress-vaping Tedesco go, Vincent pulled Aldo aside, saying something quietly to him that Thomas couldn’t hear. Aldo gave a brief nod, frowning in confusion, and Vincent said something else before patting him on the shoulder and gently dismissing him. Aldo, deep in thought, turned to Tedesco and gave him a begrudging nod to follow, pulling out his phone to organize their mission in his digital notes.
As they were leaving the meeting room, Thomas looked sideways at Vincent. “Your Holiness–”
The pope raised an eyebrow. “Thomas.” The Dean ducked his head, remembering the other’s private request for when they were alone.
“Vincent. May I just ask…?”
The shorter man nodded, and Thomas continued. “Pairing Aldo and Tedesco for this vital work?” His bafflement must have been apparent in his voice, for Vincent nodded in understanding.
“It will be uncomfortable for them, to be sure. But I know of Aldo’s experience with running charity food collections from his time in New York, so he knows pooling and redistributing resources, and the value of non-perishables. And what I’ve learned of the Patriarch’s background suggests he knows more of the matter than he’d normally let on. I believe they can do this, and learn from each other in the process.”
Thomas angled his head down toward his shoulder, half-way between a nod and a shrug. “Your voice to God’s ears, Vincent.”