Here Comes The Son (Ghost Band / Papa Emeritus fic)

I Ain't Talking About Forgiveness

It was three weeks later and Copia had been discharged from the infirmary only hours before. He had requested a meeting with Nihil and Imperator and that time was approaching. He had made some notes for the meeting but he didn't really need them. He knew what he wanted to discuss with them; the notes were only there as a back up should something slip his mind once inside the meeting. He knew that immediately prior to his meeting, Nihil and Imperator had another with Saltarian and Cazrobal. He smiled faintly, he wanted more than anything to be a fly on the wall of that meeting.

Swiss had told him he would get all the details from one of Nihil's ghouls who he knew would also be in the room. He had wondered if he should tell Swiss not to bother; if anyone found out that the ghoul had passed on details of a private meeting, he would find himself back in Hell so fast, he wouldn't even have time to feel the flames on the way down to the Pits. But, Swiss was discreet and he certainly wasn't going to divulge anything. In the end, he decided he would leave it to the conscience of Nihil's ghoul but told Swiss not to press him if he were reluctant. Swiss had promised, and he was content with trusting his ghouls beyond any question.

He checked his watch again - another 15 minutes; enough time to check himself over. It had been weeks since he had worn his full regalia and papal paint. Certainly, the night of the last concert had been the last time he had worn his paint. He closed his eyes as he thought about that night and unwillingly, tears welled in his eyes. When was he going to be free of it? He was safe at home in the abbey, he was physically healed but his mind still... he was going to say 'let him down from time to time', but he was blaming himself for something he couldn't control. He had a doctor to heal him physically, but he was left alone to heal mentally and deep down, he knew it wasn't something that was simply going to go away on its own. He needed help.

He wondered what the procedure might be for a satanic pope to seek therapy. The concept alone made him laugh. To his knowledge, there was no one qualified at the Ministry and could he really share with an outsider his experience with Belial? Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed a pen and wrote down therapy at the end of his list of notes.

*

A mere few minutes walk away from Copia's chambers, the meeting with Nihil, Imperator, Saltarian and Cazrobal was in full swing. An interpreter standing behind Cazrobal's seat, was there for speed and accuracy rather than anything else. All attendees understood the smoke demon's colour and shape language, but in order that there was no doubt for the taking of minutes, the interpreter had been drafted in.

"His Dark Excellency thanks you, Papa Nihil, for performing the Summoning to return him to the Ministry."
"Quite all right, Cazrobal," Nihil replied with a nod. "I'm just sorry we had no idea you had even been banished."

A slight pause followed as a flurry of colours and shapes emerged at such a speed that all present were grateful for the interpreter.

"His Dark Excellency wonders how Papa Quarto is faring after his ordeal?"

To the side, Saltarian could be heard to sigh.

"We will be having our first official meeting following his discharge from the infirmary immediately after this one." Nihil explained. "But I can tell you he is quite well and has recovered quickly, all things considered."

"His Dark Excellency..." the interpreter paused, unwilling to say the words, only to have Cazrobal emit a flash of bright red light as prompt for him. "His Dark Excellency wishes to know what Councillor Saltarian's problem is."

"How dare you!" Saltarian glared at the interpreter, apparently forgetting that they weren't his own words.
"Don't shoot the messenger, Saltarian," Nihil laughed. "But, I'll admit, I'm also curious why you sighed at the mention of Papa Quarto's ordeal."