Sister Jude was late for the Monday afternoon staff meeting. She hustled up the Stairway to Heaven, habit rustling around her sore feet. Briskly, she slipped into the meeting room, frowning apology. "I'm sorry," she told the faces at the table. "I was caught up with the lock company."

"Understandable, Sister." Timothy Howard smiled at her, gesturing to her chair beside him. "Busy day."

"Quite." She sat, catching her breath as she opened up her planner. "First order of business? The new locking system is officially installed."

"Finally." Frank grumbled at her other side.

"No more slippery locks?" Carl asked.

"Thankfully, no." Jude assured. "The new system is completely automated. Controlled from three secure stations."

Frank picked up seamlessly, showing diagrams printed on thick paper. "One mechanism is in the security office. That's the main switch. It can control all doors, or go floor by floor. A second similar device is in Sister Jude's office. In the kitchen is a backup device that only controls patient rooms. In the event of an emergency, these three switches will lock down all of Briarcliff."

"Remarkable." The Monsignor approved. "Technology is progressing at an impressive rate."

"Scary." Carl offered, nodding.

"Not at all." Dr. Arden - new to the staff meetings - offered his first opinion. "I think if it lends itself to protecting the patients and staff of our institution, it should progress even faster."

"Agreed." Timothy agreed.

"Well. All progressives present will be pleased to know you each have a small key now." Jude produced her key ring. "This one. It fits each box. There are no backups to these keys so guard them closely. If you lose one, all the locks will have to be changed. So...don't lose them."

"Easy enough." Frank tapped the table. "What's next?"

"I have something, actually." Timothy spoke again. It was rare he brought anything to the table. Typically, he was only involved in Briarcliff from an administrative perspective, and typically through his right hand - Sister Jude. So every face turned to him expectantly. "I propose we move these weekly staff meetings. To Tuesday."

Blinks around the table. It was Mary Eunice who spoke. "I like that idea."

Jude hesitantly agreed. "I see no objections to moving the staff meetings. Is there any particular reasoning behind the idea?"

The priest shrugged. "Nothing happens on Tuesday."

"Ain't that the damn truth?" Carl snorted. "It's just Monday's bastard baby."

"Language, Carl." Jude reminded.

"It's a boring day." Eunice shook her head, clearly sympathizing with Tuesday.

Timothy winced. "It's more about strategy." He explained, elegant fingers growing animated. He reached for Jude's planner. "Example. Last Monday. Deliveries. Medications. Linens. Dry foodstuffs. Wednesday. Pickups. Laundry. Bakery goods. Bollocks. Wait." He squinted at the paper. Snickers traveled the table. Jude bit her lips. "That can't be right. What's this word, Sister?"

Jude looked, head close to his. "Oh. Ballasts." She whispered. "The broken light fixtures."

"Yes. Ballasts. Much better." A side smirk at Jude. "Dodgy handwriting, Sister."

"Eunice wrote that."

"I wrote that," Eunice confessed quietly. "I was in a hurry."

"Well." Timothy continued. "Thursday. Deep clean. Kitchen. Hydrotherapy. Friday. Security checks all wards." He slid the planner back to Jude. "Tuesday is the only clear day on the docket. Makes sense."

"Perfect sense." Jude put said to it. "Any objections to moving our staff meetings to Tuesday?" There were no objections. "Good. Next staff meeting." She jotted in her planner. "Next Tuesday at...2 pm?" Nods. "Excellent. Anything else?"

Eunice clapped a little. "Yay! Tuesday is going to be happy to have something."

Jude rubbed her face. "Absolutely. Dr. Arden? I believe you mentioned something about spores yesterday. I'd like you ta expound."

"Ah, yes." The physician leaned forward. "I've lately seen an influx of patients with breathing issues coming from C-wing. I was curious, so I investigated briefly. I believe several of the cells on that ward are infested with mold spores. It would be in our best interests to have them cleaned post haste and find the source of the excess moisture. There may be a leak in a wall or ceiling."

"Yeah, C-ward's a shitshow."

"Carl!" Jude snapped now. "Language!"

"A good observation, Doctor." Timothy considered. "I'd like a tour of C-ward. If you would show me and Sister Jude your findings so that we may proceed appropriately." The doctor nodded.

"I believe Frank has planned some trainings on the new locking mechanisms, Fathah." Jude announced.

"Wonderful." Timothy's lips tightened, but he tried a smile.

"I'll take Carl and Sister Mary Eunice here, first." Frank informed Jude. "While you and the Monsignor go watch spores together."

"Thanks, Frank."

"I'm a little jealous." The guard grinned. "Sounds fun."

Jude avoided looking at him. "We'll meet you aftah. In the security office?"

"Nah we'll be in the kitchens by then. Taking in the drygoods delivery."

"Fine." Jude cleared her throat. "The locking service is finishing up the last of their work. They should be checking out of the facility soon, as well. I assume you'll handle that?"

"You got it, boss lady."

Jude didn't miss the Monsignor's slight cringe at Frank's casual address. She hoped, however, that the Monsignor missed her bright blush. The last time Frank had called her 'boss lady,' she'd been demanding that he fuck her harder. And he'd delivered his usual positive results. "Well, then." She slapped her planner closed. "If there's nothing more..."

"Until next Tuesday!" Eunice enthused.

"Yay, Tuesday!" Carl laughed. "Finally worth a fuck!"

"Carl!" Jude managed to swat the orderly across the table with her planner. "Language!"

The meeting dispersed with the group splitting clean in two. Carl and Eunice chattered amiably as they wandered into the hall before Frank. The security guard discreetly rubbed Jude's shoulder, thumb stroking bare skin just above her collar. "See ya soon, Sister." He spoke lowly in her ear.

She shivered. "Mmhm."

The thumb and the hand were gone by the time the Monsignor and Arden turned to Jude. "Ready, Sister?"

"Coming!" She stepped aside so Frank could brush past in the doorway, and set off toward C-ward with her unlikely companions.

Arden chuckled as they passed various locked and opened doors. "This reminds me of a joke I heard once."

"Oh?" Jude smirked. "How's it go?"

"A priest, a nun, and a doctor were..." But he trailed off. Cleared his throat. "Actually, that joke may not be appropriate."

"Uh-huh." Jude chuckled. "Probably not."

"I always secretly liked those jokes," Timothy whispered to Arden.

"I heard that." Jude hissed.

They stopped at cell 12. "This one. Patient..." Arden flipped open a small notepad. "A -14795. Asthma."

"Marley Knox." Jude stepped into the empty cell. Knox was no doubt in the common room at the moment with the others. "He's fairly quiet."

Timothy glanced about. "Perhaps because he can't breathe." The priest's nose wrinkled. "It does smell quite damp."

Jude bent to look beneath the cot nearby. "Yep. That's mold."

Timothy bent beside her, also looking. "Yuck."

Jude sighed. "Definitely an issue. Do you think we should move the patients while we sort this out, Doctah?"

"Definitely." Arden lingered in the hallway, still studying his notebook. "There are two other cells. This way."

The nun and the priest made to follow, but were stopped in their tracks when the cell door swung closed swiftly. "Oh!" Timothy reached for the handle just in time to hear and feel the new steel lock slam into place. "Um..."

Jude produced her keys. "Got it." She located the master key with a quickness. They heard other doors slamming, other locks locking. "Fathah?"

"What?"

"My key isn't working."

"What do you mean it isn't working?"

Jude jiggled the key with increasing force. "I think the automatic lock is on override."

"What does that mean?"

"It will have to be triggered from a locking station." She bit her lip. "Maybe Frank and the othahs accidentally tripped it while training."

"Mary Eunice does seem a bit trigger happy." The Monsignor looked up through the grating. "Dr. Arden?" When he got no response, he shouted. "Dr. Arden!"

"I'm in cell 16!" Arden shouted up the hall. He could barely be heard. "I believe I'm locked in!"

"So are we!" Timothy yelled back. "Hold on!" He looked at Jude. Their hands brushed when he tried the key to no avail. "Do you suppose Mr. McCann is aware of this situation?"

"Frank is aware of every situation." Jude answered. She peeked through the grating, too. "The lights aren't flashing, and there's no alarm. It's probably a glitch. Mr. Briggs said we might have a few kinks to work out with the wiring."

"Kinks?"

"With the wiring."

"Kinks are not good in mental institutions, Jude."

"Well, we got a lotta kinky people in here, Timothy."

"That doesn't exactly increase my positivity at the moment."

"Sorry." She shrugged, giving up on the key and stepping away. Hands on her hips. She rolled her head on her neck, pacing the tiny cell.

"What do we do?" Timothy asked.

"I guess we wait."

"Wait. Right." He looked out the grating again. "Is anyone out there?" He called.

"I'm out here!" Arden shouted back meekly.

Jude rolled her eyes. "They're all in the common room. It's recreation time." She sighed. "The ward's main door will be locked, too." She flipped the mattress on Marley's cot before sitting primly. The true awkwardness of the moment settled when Timothy sat beside her, fingers fidgety. "I'm sorry about this, Fathah."

"Hardly your fault."

"I'm sure the lock people will get this sorted. I doubt they've left yet."

"Or they have. And we'll be locked in here for hours."

"That doesn't increase my positivity at the moment."

"Sorry." Jude chuckled. "Well. I'm certain your Mr. McCann will get the situation under control."

"My Mr. McCann." Jude repeated absently. Chuffed softly. A slight worry creased her forehead. He couldn't know - the Monsignor - that her Mr. McCann had recently become her secret lover. That three times now (only three times? It seemed like more...) they'd made increasingly passionate love in her tiny Briarcliff bed, had held each other in cooling baths, had sneaked a few promising kisses beneath stairwells and behind cell doors... He couldn't know that. No one knew that.

"Forgive my phrasing."

"Phrasing means something." She pressed the issue quietly.

"You trust him."

"Implicitly. Like I trust you."

"You trust me?" As if it was a revelation, the priest looked askance at her.

"Of course I trust you, Fathah. As much as I trust Frank. As much as I've evah trusted anyone." Suddenly, Timothy was laughing. "What?" Jude asked. "What's so funny?"

"Jude." He looked at the floor. "I've always felt a sort of...barrier with you. I suppose I took it as mistrust."

"A barrier."

"To our friendship."

Jude swallowed. She looked at the floor, too. "I nevah realized you wanted...to be friends."

"You are more than a professional colleague to me." He sniffed. "We are united by a singular cause, Sister. In a family of Christ. I suppose I thought we might be...closer."

"Closer." She thought. He couldn't know that, either. About the red slip. About the forbidden fantasies. How she often imagined his fingers on her skin, even if the fingers belonged to another man. He could never know that. No one could.

"Jude."

"What?" They spoke quietly now. No need to speak above any din. All was silent in the lockdown.

"Do you know what struck me, the first time I met you?"

"Mothah Superior told me that you said I seemed strong. And firm."

"You did. You are those things. No doubt in my mind." He paused, gathering thoughts. "But I couldn't tell Mother Claudia that...it was your smile that made my mind. You'd been so professional in our meeting. Really rather..." A grin. "You were really quite intimidating, Jude. And I was relatively certain you were the sister to run Briarcliff based on that, yes. But as I was leaving that day, you were in the rectory. Do you remember?" She closed her eyes, thinking. Yes, she remembered that day. Would never forget it. "A bird had flown in through an open window. And you and Mary Eunice had a net -"

"It was a laundry sack. On a yardstick." She was smiling even now, recalling the incident.

Timothy laughed. "I believe Eunice managed to capture the bird. Right? She was leaping over pews?"

"She's very agile, Mary Eunice." Jude assured.

"Oh, quite! I agree. But when she went to put hands on the bird, I think it -"

"Bit her."

"Yes! It pecked at her finger! She screamed, I believe -"

"Bloody murdah."

"And you had to get hold of the bird. But you were laughing quite hard -"

"I was dying!" She was dying again. Tears welling with the laughter she tried to hold in. "Eunice was scared it had rabies!"

Timothy sobered. "I saw you - watched you turn. There was this light coming through one of the stained glass windows. The one with St. Anthony, I believe. It lit your face so perfectly and your smile was radiant. It...mutated somehow. From this toothy, laughing grin to the..." He searched again for words. "The prettiest, softest, kindest turn of the lips. And in that light - when you walked by me - there were these golden specks in your brown eyes."

She was breathless. Her heart raced. He felt very close to her. "I didn't know you were there." It was true. Honestly, she would have been mortified to know the Monsignor had seen her in such undignified circumstances.

"I know." His hand was warm on her shoulder. The same shoulder Frank had stroked earlier. "I knew in that moment that I wanted you."

She felt dreadfully vulnerable. Horribly guilty. She could have melted into the filthy mattress they sat upon. "Fathah..." She rubbed at her arms, feeling a chill.

"I can't recall the last time I saw you smile since then, Jude." There was a rustling. She stared at the floor still. Startled when his woolen cassock settled over her shoulders. "When do you smile?"

"Eunice still makes me smile." It was true.

"Mr. McCann makes you smile." Also true.

"I see," she said. She took a deep breath. "Frank is...funny." Timothy nodded. "Eunice is...simply a light." A quick glare. "Don't evah tell her I said that."

"Of course not." He chuckled. "I would like to make you smile, Jude."

"So tell me something." She met his gaze finally, needing a change of subject, anyway. Needing to get a hold on her rampant emotions. "Tell me something to make me smile."

He thought. HIs handsome face was even handsome screwed up like that. "When I was a boy, one of my chores was to get coal for the furnace. We lived in a flat in North London, so I had a flight of stairs to climb with the coal scuttle. And sometimes, my bully of an older brother would lie in wait on the landing for me, and slap the scuttle from my hands. So I had to collect coal all the way down the stairs and then sweep it up."

"That's not funny!" Jude cried, laughing despite herself. "That's cruel! What a horrible thing to do to yar brother!"

"Oh, my brother was a terror. Absolutely. But we pranked each other. It was hardly one-sided."

"What's his name?"

"Andrew."

"Andrew and Timothy." Jude murmured. "Good, solid British names."

"Indeed. Do you have siblings, Jude?"

"No. Fortunately far my mothah, I was an only child."

"Fortunately for you." Timothy added.

"Apparently so! I nevah had to scuttle coal up the steps!"

"I imagine you were a very quiet, well-behaved girl."

She burst out laughing this time. If he'd really wanted a smile, he got one full force. "You'd be dead wrong." Warmer now, she grew animated. "So. Far instance. I always had really long hair. I liked putting it in ponytails and pigtails and being able to flip it around. Right?" He nodded, fascinated by this side of Jude. "Well, my mothah was adamant that I was gonna cut my hair. I was almost 13 and it was a mess. Rat beds all down my back. Tangles," she explained at his odd expression. "It was really just...awful. But I refused to cut it. Wouldn't let my mothah near it. It was a solid issue far her. And one day, I was sitting on the top step of our porch, eating an ice cream sandwich. There was probably ice cream sandwich in a pigtail. And all of a sudden, my mothah sneaks up behind me with a pair of her sewin' shears and -" She mimed the cutting motion, a slicing sound. "She sheared that right pigtail clean off."

"You were angry."

"I was furious! Pitched a ripe fit! And of course, now I've got a head full of half long half short hair. What was I ta do?"

"What did you do?"

Jude sighed heavily. "I gave in. I let her cut the othah one off. Even it out."

"Did you resent her?"

"Far a few days, yeah. But..." An eyeroll. "It was so much bettah after that. Easier ta wash. Easier ta brush. Lighter. Really improved my quality of life."

"Did you tell your mother that?"

"Oh, hell no!" They laughed together. "I wanted her ta take that guilt ta the grave!" She wiped at the laugh tears on her cheeks. "What about you? You and your brother evah get along?"

"Never."

"Oh." He didn't seem willing to say more about that, so Jude let it be. "What about your mother? Was she strict?"

"Not at all. She doted on me." Timothy recalled. "I have very fond memories of my mother."

Jude leaned against the wall behind them, settling into this rapport. "Like what?"

"She loved music."

This piqued the nun's interest. "Yeah? What kind?"

"I doubt you would know any of it." He settled against the wall, too.

She nudged his elbow with her own. "Try me."

"Let's see...Jo Stafford?"

"Oh, Jo Stafford."

"Didn't think you'd know her."

Jude closed her eyes. It had been a long time since she'd sang Jo Stafford. But... "See the pyramids along the Nile. Watch the sun rise on a tropic isle. Just remember, darling, all the while...You belong to me..." She trailed off on a sultry hum. It felt good to sing. And Timothy's gape made her grin. "What?"

"That was - that was quite good, Sister!" He laughed. "Sing another."

"Well, who else did she like?"

"Billie Holiday."

"Your mothah and I would have gotten along. Let's see." She thought. "I'm a fool to want you. I'm a fool to want you. To want a love that can't be true, a love that's there for others too..."

"I can't understand why you never sang in the choir."

She was blushing hotly. "I gave up singing when I took my vows. It was part of the past I wanted to leave behind."

"Ah. I'm sorry I brought it up, then."

"Not at all." She patted his hand on his knee. "I enjoyed it."

"Your hands are freezing!"

"It's cold in here!" Timothy held her hand, rubbed it between his own. Jude tried to ignore how uncomfortably warming it was. "I um...I think I'll see to installing extra heating. I think the air would help with the moisture." (Not her moisture. That couldn't be helped at the moment.) "And I feel awful imagining our patients sleeping in this chill. I nevah knew it was this bad."

The Monsignor was examining one of her fingers curiously. "I couldn't knowingly put a person in these conditions." He admitted. "Nor could you, Jude. Perhaps this was God's way of showing us that attention was needed to their comfort."

"He works in mysterious ways." She smiled.

"Quite."

Jude yawned. Couldn't help it. She was typically moving about too much to notice her exhaustion, but the silence, the comfort, and the warmth of Timothy's cassock made her gently sleepy.

"You're tired," he observed.

"Mmhm."

"Well. I don't suppose a rest could hurt." He looked around the dim cell. "Looks as though we have time." Jude's hand relaxed in his own. He looked at the strong fingers again. "Jude. I've enjoyed our talk. I think it has...strengthened our relationship. I feel I know you better. And I hope you feel the same of me. I've been remiss in recognizing your trust. I apologize. But opening up to you here, despite the less than savory circumstances, has given me great inspiration and hope for what we can accomplish together. And...I look forward to knowing you even better. To further deepening our bond. I really think we shall be quite dynamic. In fact, with God's will and our combined efforts, I suspect the Church may find even greater uses for our strengths. What do you think, Jude? Will you be my right hand?" She didn't answer. He looked at her. "Jude? Oh..."

The sister was asleep. Head against cement wall, she was completely unguarded. Her typically worried expression was smooth. A tiny smile tugged at the edges of her lips. Timothy smirked. Carefully, he adjusted his cassock a little more tightly around her. The hand still in his own had warmed. He held it still, and let his own head fall against the wall. The quiet ward spurred quiet thoughts. He closed his own eyes, willing to let the thoughts come. When Jude's temple came to rest against his shoulder, his smirk turned to smile.

Meanwhile, In the Kitchens of Briarcliff...

"Do you think there's an actual emergency?"

"No, little Sistah." Frank was wrestling with the little key in the lockbox. It hadn't worked, and was now firmly lodged, preventing his compatriots from trying their keys. "If there was a real emergency, there'd be an alarm. I think this is just a glitch somewhere in the new system."

"Can we override it?" Carl asked.

"I probably could. If I could get the goddamn box open. Sorry, Sistah." Frank winced at his own curse.

Eunice smiled. She was a forgiving soul. "It's okay, Mr. McCann. I know you're frustrated."

"I'm going to have to break into it. Carl, find me a hammer or...something heavy."

"Sure thing, Frank." The orderly wandered off.

"Do you think everything is alright?" Eunice asked. "That the patients are okay? Our other sisters?"

"I imagine they're mostly locked down in the common room. So hopefully there are enough sisters and orderlies in there to mind the loonies." Truthfully, he worried about Jude. He wasn't certain what part of the asylum she might be locked into, or with whom. And he didn't trust Arden one bit. Or the Monsignor, really. Not that they would hurt Judy, per se... But one never knew. "I'm sure it will be fine, Mary Eunice." He smiled reassuringly at the young nun. "We'll get it sorted out."

"Couldn't find a hammer, but this should work." Carl brandished a mean looking meat mallet.

"Oh, yeah, that's great!" Frank hefted it. "Stand back." Carl and Eunice stepped away, the little nun raising a baking sheet over her face. She peeked past it at Frank.

He was as precise as possible with the clever, banging at the hinge on the lockbox. After a few firm smacks, his key loosened in the lock and he turned it successfully. "Ah! Gotcha." Carl and Eunice closed in, smiling. "Let's see here..." He flipped the main switch. A zap was heard. A spark flared behind the box. "Woah! Maybe not." He flipped the main switch back. "Damn."

"Didn't work, huh?" Carl looked at the still-bolted kitchen entrance.

"Nope. It's the fucking wiring. The should have replaced all the old copper behind these things." Frank tapped at his pockets. "I thought I had that business card. Must be in Jude's office." Or on the floor beneath her bed. With his badge and her torn panties. But he couldn't focus on that now. "Sistah?"

"Yes?" Eunice was eager to help.

"Get on that phone over there. Call the operator and get connected to Briggs Locking Systems Incorporated. Find out if they're still here. I haven't checked them out yet, so hopefully they're aware and working on this issue."

"Yes, sir!" Eunice scampered to the kitchen phone by the freezer.

"Carl?"

"Yeah?"

Frank stepped away from the lock box, removing his cap. "Fix us up some sandwiches, will ya? I'm starvin'."

"Hell yeah."

Listening to Mary Eunice's conversation assured Frank that the lock company was still on Briarcliff's premises. He called down to the main gates, had a guard secure the entrance and another try to get in and get word to Mr. Briggs. Hopefully, they would be released soon and life could return to abnormal. He also called Jude's office directly, wondering if she might have popped in for something, but no answer. Also no answer in Arden's mad scientist lab. He suspected they were trapped in C-ward the whole time. There were a few patients and nuns in the library, but they reported they were fine. He had no way of contacting the common room. Had to simply hope for the best there...

They made themselves comfortable around the butcher's block. Carl had thrown together a pleasant roast beef, and they sliced it up, dipping into spicy mustard and creamy mayo. "This is pretty good, Carl." Eunice said.

"Thanks. I used ta work in a deli downtown."

"Really?" Frank asked. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah. Bobbi's Deli. Best fuckin' pastrami around."

"I love a good pastrami."

"Mmmm. And honey roasted turkey." Eunice moaned.

"A thick slice of ham on fresh, warm rye." Frank nodded to the nun, winking. "That's where it's at."

"Flavor Town!" Carl yelled, fist bumping Frank. "Why don't we get these nuts baking up some hot rye down here, little sistah?"

Eunice shrugged. "I'll ask Sister Jude."

"Sister Jude." Carl chuckled.

"What about her?" Frank side eyed the orderly.

"She's somethin' else."

"How you mean?" Perfectly casual questioning, Frank thought. Not defensive at all.

"Scariest woman I've ever met. She's a tough one fer sure."

"She's not that scary." Eunice mused. "I mean, only if I do something really stupid. Or ya know... if Shelley's involved."

"I'll tell ya this." Carl leveled his sandwich at his dinner companions. "That day in the garden? In all that mud?" He low whistled. "You coulda knocked me ovah with a feathah. Forgive me bein' crass, little sistah, but yar boss is built like a brick shithouse."

"Ay!" Frank stabbed finger at Carl. "Shut that shit down right now. There's a nun here!"

"What's a brick shithouse?" Eunice asked.

Frank shut her down, too. "Don't worry about it."

"Sorry!" Carl held up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, little sistah. Just sayin' yer boss is... a tough lady."

"Mmhm." Eunice nodded emphatically, speaking around a mouth full of sandwich. "You should have seen her the night of defensive training! She was super scary then!"

"Handed me my ass fer sure." Frank chuckled, then quieted. "But...Jude's a great lady. She deserves respect. Carl." He stressed. Carl looked sheepish. "And I know she doesn't show it much, but...she's awful crazy about you, little sistah."

Eunice froze, chewing. "Do you...do you think so?"

"I know so." Frank judged her chin. "But I am, too. So it's okay, huh?" Her bright smile - complete with mayonnaise dollop - made the guard laugh.

Carl slid off his stool. "I gotta visit the little boy's room, you two."

They watched him slip around the corner into a tiled corridor. Eunice spoke quietly. "Mr. McCann?"

"What?"

"Jude is very lucky to have you."

Frank avoided her gaze. "How you mean that, Eunice?"

Eunice stared at her lap, plucking crumbs there. "Just...that you care about her." She would never reveal her secret. That she'd heard them that night in this very kitchen. Talking. Kissing. Or that she recognized the sounds of Jude's door closing and Frank's keys rattling lightly in the hallways, early, so very early in the mornings and how after - Sister Jude was different. Softer. Gentler. Quicker to laugh and easier to smile.

She didn't know a lot of things, Mary Eunice. But she had a tremendous instinct for human nature. And whatever happened between her boss and boss' head of security...it was fine. In the eyes of God, love was not a sin. And Eunice believed that with all her heart.

Frank regarded the young nun seriously for a moment. "Well." He cleared his throat. "It's my job ta care."

Eunice patted his shoulder. "You're very good at your job, Mr. McCann."

"Will you ever call me Frank, little sistah?"

Her eyes sparkled. "The day you stop calling me little sister, I'll call you Frank."

A rich deep laugh. "I gotcha." He nodded. "But I'll tell ya the truth...that might be a while. Cuz I think of you like my little sistah every day."

It was so sudden he couldn't have predicted it at all. In fact, he was completely thrown when she hurled herself off her stool and wrapped him tightly. "Oh, Mr. McCann! I always wanted a big brother!"

After catching his balance against the butcher block, Frank managed to awkwardly return the hug, patting her black-clad back. He was grinning. "I'll try ta watch out for ya, then. Like a big brother ought to. Always. Yeah?"

"We gonna sing Kumbayah, or what?" Carl slipped back onto his seat, not particularly surprised by the hug being exchanged.

Frank was ready with a sharp comeback, but a sudden, chunking sound hushed him. "The locks!" They rushed to the kitchen door. It opened at the turn of the handle. "Alright!" Frank enthused. "Let's get this place checked out! Eunice, take first floor and the common room with Carl, huh? I'm gonna find Jude for ward checks."

"On it." Eunice practically skipped alongside Carl.

Frank rushed up the Stairway to Heaven, two steps at a time. Orderlies, volunteers and nuns were beginning to spring from various unlocked rooms. Patients seemed relatively calm. Good signs. He skidded into C-ward just in time to see a flustered Arden emerging down the hall. "Doc!"

"Ah, Mr. McCann! Ever vigilant." Arden dusted at his white lab coat. "I believe Sister Jude and the Monsignor were in cell 12 there." He pointed, rushing by. "If you'll excuse me, I've an experiment in my lab that has no doubt spoiled by now."

"Sure thing, Doc." Weirdo. Cell 12 was quiet and dark. Franks forehead creased. He opened the door. "Jude? Monsignor?"

The light from the hallway fell upon the cot inside and Frank froze just inside the cell. Jude was blinking slowly, obviously waking from a deep sleep.

On the Monsignor whose head rested atop hers.

She snapped to attention when she met the light. Frank watched her hand leave the priest's and felt his throat constrict a bit. Her stirring stirred Father Howard. "Frank!" She smiled. "Thank God!" Her hands were on his shoulders. One was cold. Not the one that had been in the Monsignor's hand, obviously. She even smelled like the priest. His long black robe swayed around her.

Timothy stood slowly, back stiff. Frank cleared his throat. "Doors are open." He slipped out of Jude's grateful grip. "I'm gonna check the premises."

Jude stepped into the hallway after him. "Frank? Wait. I'll come with ya."

The guard turned quickly. "I got this." He made a gesture for her to stay.

"Frank?" She blinked. Felt Timothy emerge behind her. Frank disappeared down the hall, a briskly retreating shadow. Jude sighed.

Mr. Briggs was very apologetic. Apparently, the locks had tripped when they attempted to replace some wiring behind the box in Jude's office. They'd fixed the situation as soon as possible, but as soon as possible had taken nearly four hours. And now they had to replace the rest of the wiring. Jude insisted that the locks be taken offline until the task was completed. She would have no repeat performances.

Timothy had been stern with the locksmith and his team. It was almost laughable, the soft priest hardening his eyes and tone. But Jude admired the attempt. When Briggs walked away from them - head down in shame - the pair humphed justifiably at his back. "Well." Father Howard smiled at her. "I feel we've had a most enlightening day together."

She nodded, distracted. "Absolutely, father. I feel I should take a tour. Check the natives."

"Of course." He still smiled. "I'm going to contact the Archbishop and the state board. Just to give them an update. And to request funds for a better heating unit for C-Ward."

"Just in case." Jude smirked.

"Just in case."

They parted ways amiably, but as soon as she was out of sight, Jude rushed about. Frank was not in the common room. She didn't see him on any ward. He wasn't in the security office. Had he left? Surely not. He would never abandon a shift. She finally caught Carl outside hydrotherapy, mop in hand. "Where's Frank?"

"He said he was headed to the gym." Carl shrugged. "Guess he needed a break from the four hour break we had. Not that I blame him. I need one now. The loonies locked in hydro turned the whole place into a fucking wading pool."

"Language, Carl." She whisked away, habit hem wet.

No one used the gym at Briarcliff. Well, staff did. But only in the spring and fall. Months when it wasn't blistering hot or desperately cold. Now, the October winds were already putting a chill in the air. The gym was a meat locker when she walked in, door slamming shut behind her.

It was the wall of windows that made the building so difficult to warm. It also shined a harsh light on the true abandonment of the place; dust motes swirled around weight benches, jump ropes dry rotted on the walls, and a volleyball net threatened to snap at any moment.

The only activity came from the most shadowed corner. A fast, staccato tempo. Punches. She bit her lips as she approached, worried. Frank was shirtless and sweating despite the frigid temp. He was giving the heavy punching bag there a pretty good pounding, hands wrapped securely in short gloves.

He glimpsed her from the corner of his eye. Not exactly ignoring her, but not acknowledging, either. She watched him for a moment, hand nervous behind her back, reminded just how masculine Frank really was. Her hands had memorized every taut, thick inch of this man, but rarely did she see him in this much light. His arms were fit. Strong. Chest flat and stomach hard. She felt a thrill just beneath her worry.

Best to be forward with him. She refused to condescend or play dumb. She knew why he was upset - or at least she was fairly certain she knew. "You punchin' me? Or the Monsignor?"

"I'd nevah hit a woman." He was still hitting. "Specially not you, Jude."

"Yar angry."

"Yeah. I am." He finally turned away from the bag, swiped an arm across his forehead. "I'll get over it."

"D'you wanna talk?"

"Nothin' ta say."

"Say what you feel, Frank."

"Fuck, Jude." He was taking the gloves off, dropping them onto the pad beneath them. "What am I supposed ta say? Huh? What do I have the right ta say? I'm jealous cuz the nun I'm fucking was cuddled up with the priest I hate? Do I have the right ta be pissed about that?"

"I'm sure it looked odd."

"Odd?" Frank laughed, still catching his breath.

"Frank. He's my superior. And...he is a priest. A far better holy person than I am."

"I know how you feel about him."

Jude raised her arms, frustrated. "I wish you'd stop saying that! Frank, I don't feel -"

"Don't fuckin' lie ta me!" He stabbed a finger at her. "Lie ta him all ya want. Lie ta yerself. But don't try that shit with me, Sister."

"I'm not lying!" She shouted. "And don't yell at me!"

"Gonna pull rank?"

"Hell, Frank. This isn't about rank or...anything like that. This is about us."

"There is no us, Judy."

And that hurt. Stung a bit. She winced. "Frank, we -"

"You think about him." He paced away from her, leaned against a rack of weights. "When I'm touching you. When I'm inside you. Tasting you." She flushed brightly. Couldn't control it. "Dontcha?"

How could he know that? She closed her eyes, rubbed at her temples and stepped toward him. "Frank. Why would you say these things?"

"I love you, Judy." The quiet statement echoed n this chamber of solace. "I would take you away from all this hell. I would worship you the way you worship him. I would -"

"Stop!" She whirled away.

"No! You need ta hear all this." He grabbed her arm. "Because you are so convinced that yer so fucking damaged that you think you don't deserve love. You think you deserve what he has to offer you: seritude, Jude. And some...fucked up forbidden lust shit that I can't figure out."

"Yar bein' ridiculous!" She spat.

"I'm bein' honest, Judy."

"We talked!" She shoved at his chest, now as angry as he was. "We talked about our families and I fell asleep, Frank! He nevah touched me!"

"He was holdin' yer hand, Jude!"

"Oh, what a scandal!"

"You don't even hold my hand."

"Frank, you asshole!" Tears crept in. She hated that she cried when she was angry. "You are my lovah! We're a little beyond holding fucking hands here! Friends hold hands. And believe it or not, Timothy wants ta be my friend. He told me. And he said -"

"Jesus Christ, Jude! He's manipulating you! He's a manipulator! He wants ta use you! He knows yer smart and that scares the hell outta him. You think he's not gonna tell you all the pretty things you wanna hear?"

"This is jealousy talking, Frank." She pulled her arm from his grip. Made to leave. "I refuse ta have this argument. It's stupid."

"How many skeletons d'you think you can clean outta his closet?" He grabbed her again, this time by her shoulders. Turned her. "How far will you let him take you? He's not just a substitution like me, is he? Will ya look him in the eyes when he fucks you?"

She didn't even think. She simply acted. Her hand connected sharply with the side of his face. She slapped him - hard. "How dare you?" Her voice lacked the strength to shout, so she whispered. She wanted to sob. Wanted to curl on the floor and lament what felt like it was being lost. "You say you love me, then say these things to me?" She sounded like a weak woman to her own ears. Resented it strongly. But she was crumbling. "I told him I trusted you..." She hit him again - on the arm this time. "I trusted you!"

"Goddamn you, Jude!" He snatched her around her waist. She struggled, but only until his mouth arced over hers.

He was sticky with dried sweat. His mouth tasted like the blood she'd drawn with her slap. He was essential. From pushing to clutching, her fingers worked at his shoulders and they dropped to the thick mat. Pawed at each other's clothes until habit was pushed up just enough and pants were pushed down just enough.

It burned when he pushed inside her. She wasn't exactly ready. Hadn't planned or expected this turn of events. He caught her yelp of pain in his mouth, shoved her wimple from her head and took her curls in his hands. "Look at me, Jude," he growled, beginning to fuck her slowly. "Open your eyes and look at me."

"God, Frank," she moaned.

"Please, Jude..." His thumbs stroked the corners of her eyes. "Please open your eyes."

She did, struggling to do so, knowing tears would escape. His gaze bore into hers and she had to look away. There was more than desire burning in that look and she couldn't handle it. But as quickly as it had begun was as quickly as it ended. Frank pulled out of her. Pushed up and away from her so fast he left her breathless. She floundered for a moment, burning and pushing her habit down to protect her modesty.

She sat up slowly, uncertainty stifling. He was dressing, rough and brisk in his motions. "Frank," she whispered, drawing her knees to her chin.

"Sister Jude." He addressed her without looking at her, adjusting his cap. "I think...we may be looking for two different things in this life. Or two different people."

"Frank." But she didn't really know what to say, or why the tears were thickening.

"I can't do this anymore."

"Please."

"Please what. Please keep being your convenience? Your distraction? Your substitution? I can't do that."

"Frank, I'm not in love with that man!" Am I?

"Jude, even you don't believe yourself right now." He was tucking his shirt. Straightening his tie. "I'm sorry. I can't make this worse for myself."

"What are you saying?" She was fairly certain she knew. Fairly certain her heart was breaking.

"I shouldn't have even started this."

"We both started this."

"So we both should walk away from it."

"Frank, don't leave me."

He was already walking to the door. He paused, but didn't look back. "Judy...I'll never leave ya. But don't wanna touch you again until you're ready ta let me love ya." And he left her.

She sat on the dusty mat in the empty gym. Her habit smelled of his sweat. Her mouth tasted of his mouth. She put her head on her knees. No one was looking, so she cried.