A/N: This story came totally out of the blue. It’s a long one-shot from the Camerlengo’s point of view when the truth finally sinks in to him, but…unlike before, there’s a real AU twist in the end.

If there’ll ever be a separate fandom for A&D stories, I will move this story there, but for now it will have to stay here among ‘Code’ stories.

Disclaimer: Only the AU part is fully mine…and even then I can’t claim ownership of the Camerlengo. That honor is Dan Brown’s.

Redemption

Branded Cardinals, secret brotherhood, deadly weapon on countdown in Vatican City…poisoned Holy Father…and the entire world watching.

All this went through Camerlengo Carlo Ventresca’s head as he fell on his knees on the altar of the Sistine Chapel. With his world crashing down on him, the defeated Camerlengo let out a scream of anguish and guilt…but not regret.

When you are doing His work, there is never regret.

But, how had it come to this?

A month ago none of this had even seemed possible. His life had been simple…even joyous. There had been nothing but gratitude and modesty during his time in service in God’s House. Never mind all the credits he had earned with his services as Chamberlain…the glory of doing His work was payment enough.

He had even refused to qualify for becoming Bishop, even Cardinal…and all because of a simple reason. His love and faith came from the heart, not the mind. Then came that night – that horrible night. The revelation…the betrayal.

Suddenly Carlo’s life had come to a dead end with nowhere to go – nowhere to escape…and then He had opened a window. He had showed him the way. But why? Why had He showed him the way just to abandon him when Carlo needed Him most?

Now there was just the simple truth.

Carlo had killed his own father. The Pope had broken no vow, but he had killed him – poisoned him quite literally with his own medicine.

Still, Carlo didn’t regret it. His father had lied to him…his son…for almost thirty years. And that’s why Ventresca was bitter now. Why? Why had he lied?

The Camerlengo felt the madness rip at him again and he wanted to claw at his flesh – feel the satisfactory pain. When he had confronted the Cardinals and Ms. Vetra he had been convinced about the righteousness of his deeds. But, now he wasn’t.

“I’m certain he will pay for his sins,” He heard one of the Cardinals answer Ms. Vetra’s cold statement about his murderous deeds.

Ventresca closed his eyes. He could still feel Mortati’s both sad and angry gaze…and realized that there was no pity in it anymore.

Didn’t he see the glory of tonight’s events? Couldn’t he hear the people singing in St. Peter’s Square?

A sudden thought crossed Ventresca’s exhausted mind. What would happen to him now? He had confessed…shouldn’t there be an escape? Why wasn’t He showing him the way?

-0-0-0-

The Cardinals had all gathered around Mr. Langdon and Ms. Vetra, and even Mortati had left the Camerlengo’s side on the altar, believing that the broken man was no threat anymore. That’s when he made his decision. He would not suffer the consequences at their hands.

God has great plans for you, Carlo. His mother’s voice echoed in his head. Oh, how he missed her now.

The Swiss Guard looked surprised after him as he exited through the side door…alone, but none of them made a move to stop him. They had no idea…

However, the Camerlengo had not expected Lieutenant Chartrand to appear out of nowhere as he rounded one of the great pillars in the Basilica.

The young Guard halted in front of his Camerlengo. “Father? Where…?”

“Not now, son. I need a moment of solitude. I’m…exhausted and this is far from over.” He moved past the stunned Guard, but froze as Mortati’s voice echoed through the walls of the Basilica and its Chapel.

“Find the Camerlengo. Now.” Ventresca’s face paled. “Don’t let him get away…”

To his relief, Chartrand had headed towards the commotion on the other side of the wall and Ventresca dashed towards the Niche of Palliums. They would never find him…not before it was too late.

He could still hear the people singing on the swarmed Piazza. This night had brought faith back into the hearts of millions – united them before the presence of evil.

Camerlengo Carlo Ventresca had asked for His guidance, but now he saw his purpose and wondered why he hadn’t seen it before. Jesus had died for the people. He had sacrificed his body to save the people from damnation.

Carlo was laughing now. He quickly descended the stairs to the Niche…but hesitated at the sight of the Necropolis. Was this how His work would end? In silence?

Ventresca grabbed one of the oil lamps and looked at his own fearsome shadow on the wall.. No, Jesus had died for the whole world to see.

Vivid now, he left the Niche of Palliums with new determination and purpose. He had poured the burning oil over his hair and body, and was now gritting his teeth as the oil burned its way through his skin. He stumbled at the first steps of the royal stairway, but stopped as he heard a voice behind him.

Bewildered he looked around, but saw nothing. The Camerlengo continued to ascend the stairs, but the voice followed –whispering words of deceit, betrayal and murder into his ears. He was panicking now.

The Camerlengo stumbled, the oil lamp falling from his hand and come to a stop by the balustrade. Too exhausted to get up, Carlo looked around again, this time terrified. Was the Devil trying to lure him towards his own fall?

Murderer…traitor.

Now he could hear his mother’s voice as well…angry and accusing.

No, no. Was he going mad?

He was clawing at his flesh now, covering his ears – screaming. “No, no…leave me. Let me go…”

He tried to ascend the stairs, but an invisible force was holding him back. He sunk down on the stairs, his breaths coming in shallow inhales now.

Oh, my Jesus…save us from the fires of hell…take all souls to heaven, especially those most in need of thy mercy…

He remembered hurried footsteps…hushed voices…someone touching him…and then darkness.

Six months later, a pen was writing furiously over a number of empty pages. The hand holding it was thin and bruised…barely strong enough to hold the pen, but determined to keep on going. The hand had been writing for weeks – the only thing that brought its owner peace.

Six months…only the beginning of his hell on earth…but who was he to complain? He was a murderer…a priest who had fallen at the hands of his own faith. The world might forget him…maybe even forgive him…but those who shared the great walls of Vatican City with him would never forget.

He never spoke, except for in his dreams when he always repeated the same words. “Perdonare, Padre. Perdonare. Non ho connosciuto…non ho connosciuto.”

Forgive me, Father. Forgive me. I didn’t know…I didn’t know.

Everything else was on paper – tear and blood spotted paper. By midnight, when he finally would stop writing, the last thing they would see before the candle was blown out, was two radiant green eyes staring out through the window…praying. Praying for forgiveness…

“Perché, Dio? Perché a me non hadetto la veritá? Perché?”

Why, oh God? Why wasn’t I given the truth? Why?

When a year had passed, all pages were almost filled…and on Christmas eve the former Camerlengo Carlo Ventresca finally took his life. No one knew how. There was no blood, no proof.

Some said that Satan had put him to sleep, while others said that God had finally released his broken soul from its mortal shell. But, there was one who knew the truth.

His Holiness Saverio Mortati had seen. The man had simply closed his eyes…and never opened them again. His shocked body and broken mind had finally given in.

When no one was there to see, Mortati took the urn with Ventresca’s ashes to the sacred papal grottoes and placed it beside his late Holiness’s tomb. He didn’t know why, but somehow he felt that it was appropriate.

A chance for forgiveness…

-0-0-0-

A month later Ventreca’s texts were published and the world finally learned the entire truth. The truth about the love and hatred that had corrupted the young priest – the truth about his heritage and final act.

The world is faithless. I will save them.

God asked me, if not you, then who? If not now, then when? If not like this, then how?

For my sins, only I can be held accountable, but know this…there is no greater sin than that of a father’s lies to his son. No greater sin than watching in silence as His work is being mocked.

I will probably forever seek forgiveness without receiving it, but in my heart I know that He has forgiven me. His mercy will be my salvation, for even we sinners are given a choice. Confession and regret…

…The redemption.