Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood. Here's my favorite quote from Esther about Abel from the manga, ""He's a big glutton! Even though he's poor! He makes a lot of dangerous mistakes! And he's a real pervert! Frankly speaking, he's not a decent person!"

Nuovi Amici
By: James Austin Valiant

The infirmary beds were full, and Sister Martha had been busy scrambling back and forth between the three major victims of the last round of Brother Desmond's exorcism. The first victim of concern was Pommodori, but after a thorough set of throat cultures and breathing tests, it was revealed that the old priest was in pretty good shape, considering his age. He had lost a good amount of blood in his hacking, and was being replenished by a bag dangling near his bed. He remained awake, reading one of his books.

Hugue was still unconscious. Tres had done well to apply pressure to the gash in the blonde's chest, but Hugue had lost a lot more blood than Pommodori, and was almost on the edge of death when he was brought in. Sister Martha took special care to assist the doctors in sewing up the massive gash, and completely cleaned it and changed bandages at least every hour or so. She sighed, glancing over at the curly locks of the mysterious priest. How she wished he would just wake up, take her by the arm and lead her away to someplace…

She was getting ahead of herself. The last man who needed emergency treatment from the Vatican infirmary was Brother Desmond. The man who had caused the injuries and near deaths of His Holiness and several members of the AX had, in turn, needed the Vatican's own medical services himself. Desmond had been immediately placed on an IV drip for his malnutrition, and several broad spectrum antibiotics were pumped in to fight the infections he had picked up through his open wounds.

Lastly, a CT scan had been ordered to examine his brain more closely. Desmond had a slight abnormal growth in the left temporal lobe, very close to a region neurologists had dubbed 'the prayer center'. The prayer center was the only part of the brain that registered activity while the subject happened to be in deep prayer. Part of the reason Desmond had been so attuned to Andras was because he was able to sense the demon through his understanding of prayer and the supernatural.

Sister Martha leaned over Brother Desmond, and the monk stirred. He had been asleep for about twelve hours since the exorcism itself had finished. Martha felt as though anyone who had been through what this poor man had just been through deserved as much sleep as they could afford. The monk's vital signs were normal, and all indications were that he would make a full recovery.

A loud crash sounded down the hallway from the infirmary, accompanied by yelling and scuffling. The footsteps grew in volume in mere seconds, and the door to the infirmary was flung open.

"Brother Desmond!" The rich accent of Brother Hidalgo thundered through the room, and the Spanish monk rushed to Desmond's side. "I knew they were mistreating you - tell me what they have done!"

At Hidalgo's deafening urging, the bearded man awoke sharply. He blinked at the sight of Hidalgo, and glanced around the room.

"Brother?" Desmond cleared his throat. "Where am I?"

"The Vatican infirmary. You've been-"

"You've been trapped, you've been injured and worst all, you have been deceived!" Hidalgo cut Martha off, accentuating with shorts bursts of repetition. "Look at you, your shoulder has been injured, and you look as sick and weak as a ghost! They have turned you into a helpless dog!"

"Are you sure you're-"

Brother Desmond's objection to Brother Hidalgo's insinuations were interrupted by a familiar, proud voice. Brother Petros stood directly behind the Spanish monk, eyes narrowed and hand firmly on Hidalgo's upper arm. His voice was hard and unforgiving, ready to dish out the necessary reprimand to the trespassing man.

"You were told explicitly to halt, to wait for proper clearance before proceeding! Since you refused to comply, you are hereby under arrest, Brother and I will personally guarantee you will be prosecuted more than the fullest extent of the law allows!"

"That will be enough, Brother Petros." Alessandro had silently sauntered in behind his head of security, having been en route to visit Desmond.

"Your Holiness!" Petros genuflected like lightning. "I apologize in earnest, but I was just handling the situation with this trespasser, and I…"

"We forgive those who trespass against us. Leave this man to me, Brother Petros, he'll be under my personal escort from here." insisted the young pontiff.

"Yes, Your Holiness!" Petros once again genuflected and kissed the Pope's Fisherman's Ring. "You are truly the most wise and inspirational Pope in decades!"

As the Inquisition head left the room, Alessandro turned to the overly zealous Hidalgo. "Pleased to meet you, Brother. I'm Pope Alessandro."

Hidalgo squinted. "Of course you are, Your Holiness. I spoke to Cardinal Sforza on the phone and she refused to let me talk to Brother Desmond. Now, I come here and find him laid up in a hospital bed! What is the meaning of this?"

The Pope stared straight ahead for a moment, wondering how exactly he was going to explain all of this to Brother Hidalgo without revealing that the demonic Grand Marquis of Hell had been possessing Brother Desmond for the past week and a half. Alessandro smiled nervously in frustration.

"It's not anyone's fault but my own, Brother Hidalgo," Desmond piped up. "You know how sometimes I forget to eat when I'm immersed in my prayers and this cut on my shoulder is nothing more than a scratch from when I got a little too adventurous on a tour of the Catacombs. The Pope himself took me personally."

"Oh." Hidalgo mustered. "But then, why wouldn't Cardinal Sforza allow me to talk to you?"

"Brother Desmond and I were in very complicated negotiations, Brother Hidalgo, and we needed complete isolation in order to ensure that everything was carried out completely and carefully." Alessandro answered.

"Huh. What conclusions have you come to?"

"That, with reasonable accommodations and allowances, the Order of Saint Sebastian will be in full communion with Holy Mother Church following a consecration ceremony at the next Papal High Mass. The Order is more than welcome to reassume control of their former chapel in the south of Vatican City, and any member may apply for formation in our seminary." The Pope explained, outlining the terms he and Caterina had laid out together.

Hidalgo shot an angry glare at Desmond. "You accepted these terms? What about our bishops? What about our cardinal? What about our funding and cathedral in Rome? And the fact that this, this child is barely qualified to lead the Church!"

"Dear Brother Hidalgo, those were greedy and selfish terms...in time, when we regain our prominence and acceptance in the Church, those wonderful attributes will return." Desmond stated simply. Not to mention, he thought, that those wants were the demands of Andras, not myself.

"I am not a child." Alessandro announced strongly. "I am the Pope, the Leader of the Universal Church and the Vicar of Jesus Christ. The Order of Saint Sebastian's teaching of sede vacante is heresy and will be denounced as such. Both I and my father, Gregorio XXX, were legitimate Popes, as were the Popes before us. The Order has agreed to accept this into their doctrine."

"He is qualified," Desmond agreed, "I have witnessed to it personally."

The monk and the pontiff shared a silent exchange, as not to lead Hidalgo on to how exactly Desmond knew Alessandro was a true Pope.

The increased volume of Hidalgo's ranting had attracted more than one person's attention, and Father Pommodori glanced over at the bed where, up until a few hours ago, one of his more difficult adversaries had rested. The exorcist was intrigued by Desmond's mood; he was internally calm and serene. The bearded exorcee possessed a certain grace that he hadn't beforehand. Pommodori had seen this before: sometimes, a spiritually sensitive individual would attain a state of sanctification, a sense of grace that only those who had tangled with the forces of the evil one were able to achieve.

"How soon will Brother Desmond be ready to go?" Hidalgo turned to Sister Martha, who had gone off to tend to a patient's chart.

"I don't know, maybe tomorrow. You'd have to ask a doctor." She explained, double checking the chart she had for Desmond.

"Tomorrow? Why not today! What sort of second rate infirmary are you running here, Your Holiness?" The Spanish monk, once again upset, turned back to the young Pope, who stood close to Brother Desmond's bedside.

"I just want to let you know," He began, looking at both Desmond and Hidalgo, "that I forgive you and the Order." Alessandro made the Sign of the Cross on Desmond's forehead, and the bearded Albionian turned to his spiritual brother.

"I am not going back to the Order just yet, Brother Hidalgo. With your and the Order's blessing, I would like to stay here and formally enter the seminary." Desmond calmly explained.

"You, you what? This is...well, this is just…" The Spanish monk remembered how he had so carefully convinced and argued with Desmond to stay in the Order, and how determined he had been for the monk's success as leader of the Sebastianians. He was proud of Desmond as only a teacher can be of a student, and knew that, in the long run, the more priests that resided in the Order, the more chances they had at having one elevated as their own bishop.

"That sounds just fine to me, Brother Desmond." Brother Hidalgo's stomach rumbled, and Sister Martha stifled a giggle.

"Are you hungry, Brother? I can show you to the cafeteria if you'd like?" The young nun in pink scrubs offered, and Hidalgo nodded, following her out of the infirmary.

"You've really decided to enter the seminary?" Alessandro asked Desmond.

"Yes," Desmond answered. "When I was asleep, I had a wonderful conversation with Saint Sebastian. He indicated there are bigger plans for me than to just remain a simple monk. I debated with him, but he would have none of it. I am to be a priest, plain and simple. Oh, Your Holiness it's so wonderful…"

Pommodori got up from his bed and edged closer to the conversation.

"...to finally be free of the Gra-" Desmond stopped, about to refer to the demon with his proper regnal title. "To be free of Andras. Every decision I make, every word that I utter...I no longer wonder if it's from his will or my own. From here on, every little decision and action is my own. This is just the most wonderful and sacred feeling."

"That's good, I suppose," Being confronted with this large amount of personal information made the Pope uncomfortable, and he needed to say what he had to say before he began a retreat into timidness.

"...I wanted to say, Brother, that I forgive you…" Alessandro stammered, wondering how best to phrase his thoughts, "...I forgive you for being a part of that attack on me."

Tears begin to sting at Desmond's eyes.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry I let him get so close to you...it's my fault…"

"No, it's not," Pommodori felt this was more than an opportune time to make his way into the conversation. "Desmond, many honorable people have done and said unspeakable things while under the influence of demons. There are moderate cases of demonic oppression, where the demon is influencing from afar, but in your case, it was almost a perfect possession. Had you consented to Andras, there would have been no separation, not even in death."

Desmond nodded, understanding if only slightly.

"What is interesting to consider is that there is always a point of...introduction to the evil that surrounds us," Pommodori spoke, and Alessandro and Desmond listened intently. "Once there is an introduction, a small voice or an influence that's felt but not always identified. As time goes by, that presence begins to gain prominence and then, as you know, control. Do you remember anything about the first time you spoke to Andras?"

"I do. I used to sit alone in my cell, just meditating. Not on prayers or Scripture, just in general," Desmond recalled. "I used to just imagine nothingness around me, and every once in a while, a voice would reach out to me from the void. I thought nothing of it, until the angel told me to explore it further."

"The angel?" asked Alessandro.

"Oh, yes, the angel," The monk's voice warmed immensely. "He only appeared to me once...he was quite beautiful. He had long, flowing blonde hair, and six white wings, with golden armor and a sort of odd smile on his face for an angel. He told me to accept the voice in my head, that it was the will of God. You know, it's awfully funny, because this angel looked so much like Father Nightroad…"

"Hmm, well, you're very lucky to be alive after all that," Pommodori said simply, "I'm grateful to the Lord you survived."

"I wish I could remember exactly how it all happened, but so much of my memory is gone. Andras must have taken it as a parting gift."

"I wanted to ask you something, Ian."

Desmond shot a odd glare at the old priest who had so casually used his first name, despite the fact that they had barely just met.

"If you're going to enter the seminary, why don't you come stay with me at my apartment? I would be more than happy to have the company, and I used to teach seminary, so I'd be happy to offer any tutoring I can." He smiled warmly.

"Well, that sounds like a hell of a deal, Father," He laughed nervously, "if you'll pardon the irony in that."

"Truth of the matter is, Brother Desmond," Pommodori's gaze narrowed as he glanced back between the Pope and his newfound roommate, "there aren't too many of us around who have direct experiences with demons like we have. I think it is time I passed on what I know to an up-and-coming priest who might have some experience in the matter."

Desmond bowed his head graciously. "I look forward to learning from you, Father Pommodori."

Father Guiseppe Pommodori smiled again, and reached for a tin he been hiding in his pocket. Now might be a good time for a little bit of Spanish tuna…

Abel Nightroad had been staring at the mural on this wall for quite some time. The Catholic churches in the area of Rome and most of Italy were renowned for their murals and frescos of different Biblical scenes and holy images. Over the years, the paint chipped away and the works themselves would become faded, neglected. There was move in some of the faithful to find the necessary money to restore these works, but as long as the Vatican had to keep itself armed, there was a slim chance those plans would completely follow through.

The scene in front of him was large one, of the people of Carthago being rescued from invading armies by two heroic, female saints. Abel traced the lines on their faces with left hands, while pounding the armies with his right. He hit them harder and harder, until his knuckles felt like they might shatter. But Abel had the right to reprimand them; they, at one time, were his armies, his warriors looting and plundering and ravaging. Back when he had been young and stupid, ready for war and extinguishing all life on earth.

"You can forgive me?" Abel spoke to the image of Lilith. It was easier to talk to this mural than it was to see her lying in the catacombs. The mural didn't bring him as heavy a sense of guilt as the body of his much loved Lilith.

"You can forgive me." Abel spoke again, as though the words weren't real. "I don't think I have earned your forgiveness, Lilith, and I don't think I'll ever be worth it. Despite what Seth might try to tell me...I'll never do half the good you did for these people. I'm happy you can forgive me, but I can never forgive myself."

"Who are you talking to, Abel?"

Abel froze. She was behind him, using his name again. That sweet, wonderful name he swore he'd never heard before she said it.

"Ah, my stomach, Miss Esther," He turned around, a goofy look on his face. "There's nothing like hand-to-hand combat with a Prince of Hell to really raise the old appetite."

"Fatherrr," Esther drew out her Rs, in a mock annoyed tone. She locked eyes with him, and was impressed by once again being able to see the same kindness and compassion she'd seen all those years ago in Istavan. Esther remembered the saint's words from earlier...some woman from Abel's past had forgiven him. But who could it be? Was it Lilith, the same woman Desmond spoke as? Who is she?

"Come now, Esther, I bet if we take a walk to the fountain, we can hit the gelateria, hm? Oh, and it's the most marvelous thing, I found a twenty dinar note I had completely forgot about, so the gelato is on me and I-"

"Abel?"

He absentmindedly pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Yes?"

"I just want- I just wanted to say that I am really happy-" Her words were coming out haltingly, "I'm really happy you're okay. I was worried that Andras would- that he would-"

Before the priest could fully understand what was happening, the red haired nun had wrapped her arms around him tightly, pulling her head close to his chest. Father Nightroad could feel Esther's heartbeat on his stomach, and returned the hug by slowly wrapping his arms around her. He bent over slightly and planted a soft kiss on the top of her head, right before her wimple.

"I'm glad you're okay too, Esther," He squeezed her as tight as he felt he could without hurting her. "I'm really very glad you're okay. Sometimes it takes an ordeal like that to realize how much you care about someone, and I think I should-"

Esther drew back a bit, throwing Abel off slightly. "You think you should...what?"

"I think I should tell you that when it comes to you and I, I just-"

A pattering of footsteps on the pavement caused Esther and Abel to break their embrace, and they spied a blue wimple about fifteen yards in front of them. The nun, whoever she was, was running at a pace that most sprinters would envy, and as she got closer, Esther recognized her as one of Cardinal Sforza's aides, and she and Abel began moving quickly to meet the girl.

"Father...Nightroad….Sister...Esther…." The novice spoke, clearly out of breath. She bent over, trying to get her wind back. "I'm...sorry...I just can't...catch my…"

"Cat? Dog? Train?" Father Nightroad guessed.

"Abel!" Esther smacked him lightly. "Sorry about him, Sister Emily, he thinks it's funny to make jokes at odd times. What's going on? Are you okay? Is everything all right?"

Sister Emily shook her head emphatically "No."

"What's wrong, then?" Abel asked.

"It's...the Professor." Emily finally blurted out. "He's been...kidnapped."

FIN

Final Author's Notes: You know, I don't really know if I need to do author's notes, but here goes anyways. First of all, I'd like to thank myself, because without me, none of this awesome great junk would've been added to this tremendous pile of unlicensed use of other people's creations we call fanfiction. Secondly, I'd like to thank the muse that bit me on this one. I must've been inspired on my trip to Martha's Vineyard this past July, because that's where I first tried (and failed) to make sketches of Father Pommodori.

So yeah. I'd like to thank the following sources for help and inspiration: the Trinity Blood anime and manga, and of course Kiyo Kujo and Sunao Yoshida. There's some fun characters to play around with here, and read some of my others fics (especially Ah! Ah! Ah!) to see the liberties I've tended to take with them. Fathers Malachi Martin and Gabriele Amorth have written extensive, wonderful books on exorcism that I highly recommend for anyone looking to do some reading on the subject. I'd also like to thank this picture on my wall of that famous scene from The Exorcist, where Father Merrin first arrives to purify Regan. I'm not going to lie; Father Pommodori is heavily based on both Malachi Martin and Lancaster Merrin, so if I've come too close to the source material, I do apologize.

It's necessary to use the old cliche that behind every good man is a good woman, and behind this one is two. First of all is my dearest Martha, whose wonderful knowledge of the kind of anime I'd watch got me drawn into this Trinity Blood world in the first place, as was her insistence that I sit down and watch every single episode of the anime, which in turn got me hooked on every single book of the manga. She helped me research and come up with using the demon Andras, who is listed in the Ars Goetia as a legitimate demonic presence. Secondly, I'd like to thank someone who, in a few short months, has become a wonderful resource and a newfound friend. Ms. Emily, you are both a joy and pleasure to work with and I shall hope we collaborate on many more projects in the future. Not only did she beta and fix my writing to make it that much more awesome, but she also produced two FANTASTIC pieces of TB:HE artwork that pretty much wowed me into a marriage proposal...that now Martha's going to know about and I have to explain. Ah, well, so is life. You'll notice that Sister Martha and Sister Emily are both named after them - just a little tribute to my girl and my good friend.

There is a lot of planning that went into different aspects of Habeas Everto. For example, the overall title of the series translates into Latin as "We Have A Demon." Pretty neat, huh? Not only that, but Father Giuseppe Pommodori is named after not only my father, who passed in spring 2009, but also, technically, tomatoes. Yes indeed, pomodori is the Italian plural for tomatoes, while the singular is pomodoro. I added another M in Pommodori's name just to differentiate a bit.

Brother Ian Desmond, if you'll notice, has an interesting twist to his name. Change the N in Ian to M and drop the S and the last D from Desmond, and you get I Am Demon. Pretty tricky, huh? All things done on purpose, I assure you. The victim of Pommodori and Hugue's failed exorcism in Stockholm, Olof Palme, is named after a legitimate historical figure who was the prime minister of Sweden in the sixties and seventies.

The chapter titles, as you've probably noticed, are either in Italian or Latin, and I think it's about time I decode them for you, seeing as how my college level knowledge of Italian is what helped me name these damn things in the first place. Chapter one is Clutch of the Citrus, two is Devotion and Deliverance, three is Innocence Lost, four is Infernal Affairs, five is Nasty Welcome, six is Eccentric Encounter, seven is Vatican Requests, eight is Weak Pope, nine is State of Arrest, ten is The Interrogation of the Professor, eleven is Who Art In Heaven, twelve is The Demon's Exercise (play on words :D), thirteen is Strawberries Are Not Temptation, fourteen is Mystery Priest, fifteen is Safe Awakening, sixteen is Crepes of Wrath, seventeen is Intercession of the Saint and this one is New Friends.

Well, that's that folks. Stick around, because that cliffhanger I just left you at? There's a sequel coming, and you best bet if there's not something up here in two weeks time, Ms. Emily will have old JAV's head on a platter, feeding it to a hungry dingo. Take care all, thanks for reading, and read on!

- James Austin Valiant, January 11, 2011 at 3:34 AM