Smut ahead. Lots of smut. Big Fat Smut. Be warned. Playlist is mostly implied: Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley (Although the Rufus Wainwright version works beautifully as well); Take Me to Church - Hozier; Whore - In This Moment; Voices of Light: Noster - Richard Einhorn; Canon in D Major - Pachelbel.

Epiphany

Pepper had annoyed her. There'd been some answers, yes, but not what she truly wanted. Jude was ever a pragmatic woman of solids and immediacy; she found it difficult to decipher vagaries delivered as equations. It just meant more mysteries to solve.

But sex. That was a solid. Familiar territory - if it had been a while. She chuffed a rueful laugh as she walked down the hall, checking for shadows and finding none. "Completion." Whatever the hell that meant.

Not that completion didn't sound...simply phenomenal. She'd always been a sucker for a good, proper orgasm, rare as they were. But when she thought of the pull between them, that agonizingly delicious deep desire that seemed so shared... She admitted to herself that putting a rush on things wasn't terribly bothersome.

She knocked at his chamber door, but he didn't answer. His light burned underneath, so she simply entered. She heard noises in the adjoining bathroom. Water. He was showering.

Timothy had changed things...just a bit. There was a bookcase now. She scanned it. Classics. Milton. Dante. Chaucer. Poetry. Interesting...His bed was a little bigger, with a fluffier pillow and a dark duvet. A rather ornate couch with taut brocade. Sconces. It was much dimmer with just the candles lit. "Dracula's castle," she murmured.

Turning to the bed, she tisked. That would never do. Blinked. Better. Ignoring anticipation, ignoring the tight demand between her legs, she stripped briskly and climbed into the grand four-poster, gathering white sheet over her bare chest and waiting in the lush bedding. She heard the shower turn off and bit her lip.

He was whistling when the bathroom door opened, a towel cinched around his hips, another one vigorously drying his hair. He froze when he saw the bed - when he saw her. She swallowed. Flickering candlelight reflected off the stray water droplets on his chest. She could practically taste them.

"Jude."

"Timothy."

His eyes screamed fight or flight. "You're..."

"Indecent?" She asked.

"That's not what I was going to say."

She shrugged. "Come to bed?"

"With you."

"Unless you intend ta kick me out."

"No, no, no!" He practically lurched toward her. "I just...didn't expect..."

"There's some urgency."

"Urgency?"

"Yeah. Far me." He was close enough for her to reach him. One hand holding her modesty sheet, she reached for his towel and tugged. Her brows rose. "And far you, it seems."

"Jude."

She scooted over in the bed. "That's my name."

Awkwardly, slightly frightened, he climbed into the bed beside her. "I'm a bit wet," he apologized.

"Me, too." She did not apologize.

"Ah." He colored charmingly, settling into pillows. "Um...will you be...sleeping...here this evening?"

"I hope not." She propped on her elbow, staring at him. "You said you wanted to touch me earlier, Timothy. Did ya change yar mind?"

"No." Decision achieved, he reached for the hand holding her sheet, and she let him tug it. He kissed her knuckles before pulling, wrapping her arm across him. Jude took the hint and stretched against him. The frisson of energy was a roaring tide in their ears. "Jude."

"Yes?"

"I've never even kissed a woman before."

She stroked his cheek. "Poor thing." Her lips met his. This kiss was a chapel, a first communion. And he worshiped.

Every touch, tingle, vibration, every pulsating pull that had come before could not have prepared them for this true fire. For the surge of something godly or ungodly that hid in his first kiss. The very lights of Briarcliff flickered and his arms wrapped her like angel's wings. They forgot to breathe, drowning in strange sensations and a thing deeper than desire. His lips opened hers and they tasted each others' emptinesses and more - salt. Tears. The sea filling the gaps, the tide rolling in as he rolled her beneath him.

Her fingers sought and stroked and scratched and she finally gasped air when his mouth found her neck. "Oh, god!" They were starving. This was praying. These were hymns; her moans, groans and whines. A lustful choir of angels singing.

"You feel so good," he muttered, mindless. "My rare bird..." A hand pawed breast, pushed it to his mouth. "I want to know every part of you, Jude."

"Every part of me is yours." She hissed in his ear. "It always was." She slid her legs up his hips as his hand slid between them. "Christ, Timothy just -" Exploring fingers caught her breath.

"So soft," he murmured, fingers slipping over her mons and inside the mysterious folds. His fingers were baptized with her sticky, sopping eagerness. The devil's own emollient promising pleasure. It nearly burned him. "You're hot like hell."

"This doesn't feel like hell," she wept. Her own fingers found him hard, maneuvered him. He groaned. "I promise you can explore me all ya want later, Timothy. I'll be yar whore. You'll want me for everything ya hated me far. I'll be filthy for ya, but right now I need ya inside me."

"Yesss," he hissed. She was slicker than holy water and he slid inside the altar of her cunt. He was driven to join with her, driven, guided by an unexplainable. Her calling was greater than God's. She enveloped his cock and his soul and he feared losing himself as much as he feared paining her. Her neck nearly split itself and her cry pierced his control. He clutched her head in one hand. "Does this hurt?"

She barely heard him over the rich, operatic song in her body. "Nooo," she moaned. He could never understand. "Move, Timothy. Please." Her pelvis urged him.

"I can't!" He choked. And yet he did move. He thrust in her, pumped fast, more violently than he could realize. Moving inside her, the Holy Ghost settled above his back. Her head pressed into pillows and an arm buttressed her against the massive headboard. "I can't -"

"We have all night," she reminded, thready, nipping his ear. "Even longer. Just - ah!" But all night was not necessary, it seemed. Her body not her own, it responded to him as if he'd created her. And perhaps he had. His creature came apart at the seams - chest opening to reveal the burning Milagro within as his seed encapsulating his very essence spilled into her.

Something sealed up. Some fissure. Something strengthened like stone. Their skin - slick with sweat or saliva - stuck together, securing them tightly. Jude's legs shook as she lowered them along his sides.

"Jude, Jude, Jude," he sobbed. His patron saint. He was her lost cause. Home was inside her. Peace was in the cradle of her thighs. Weak for the woman, he wept. Wondered if Christ had ever had this pleasure in His Magdalene's thighs...

Jude soothed. Stymied by her own surprising response to him. Wanting for more. "Shhhh, Timothy." She urged him to look at her, to meet her eyes. Kissed him softly. "Just be with me, now. Yeah?" She wrapped him in her arms and he wrapped her back, rolling them again until she rested draped across his side.

"I cannot be without you, Jude." He rubbed his face. Stunned at what he once would have called a transgression. He pressed his lips to hers, holier now to him than the pope's ring. He should have worshiped her sooner. "I wish that you had been the one," he confessed quietly, fingers tracing pagan promises on her shoulder. "The one who took my virtue."

"You remember what I told Mary Eunice about virtue." Jude kissed his chest - just over his still-slowing heart. "So maybe I was the one." She propped on her elbow again. "Timothy. I have to tell ya something..."

"What?"

"That -" She gestured amorphously, flicking tousled curls. "That has never been so...wonderful. Far me, at least."

"I believe it was perfect love."

"Is that what it was?"

"It was...epiphany."

"Timothy."

"Yes?"

She closed her eyes. "If there's perfect love...there's forgiveness."

He gripped her chin. "You forgive me, Jude?"

The closed eyes slipped tears. "Yar rare bird can...let go of the past. I have to. If I can't not love you, and I fucking can't not love you, then yes. I forgive you."

Peace wiped tears from cheeks. Peace pressed lips together. Peace prevailed in pale sheets, purifying. Perfecting love.

Perhaps they dozed. Or simply lazed in the glow of laxity, of pleasure's profits. They were quiet for a time. Happy. Genuinely happy. Jude almost didn't want to interrupt the moment, but duty called. "Timothy."

"What?"

"Tell me about pink roses."

His forehead creased. "I don't understand."

"Mary Eunice said you gave her a book once. On flowers and symbolism. Tell me about pink roses."

"Well. They would symbolize compassion. Purity."

"Innocence?"

"Yes, I suppose. Why?"

She sat up, stretching. He traced the curve of her spine. "I had a visitor earlier."

"Who?" He was entirely distracted by her body. She didn't mind so much.

"Pepper." She jerked when his fingers found ribs. "Ticklish!"

"I see that." He tried to focus, sitting up beside her. "Pepper?"

"Yes. She came to...help me? I think. Far what it was worth. I needed answers."

"About Arden."

"Exactly."

"And what did she say?"

Jude sighed. Hugged her knees. "That Mary Eunice can lure him out. That she is chosen for some greater purpose."

"That sounds dangerous for Mary Eunice."

"I know." She groaned. "I hate it. I don't know if I can ask it of her."

"It seems unfair." He considered. "Can we protect her?"

"Pepper said we - all of us - don't even grasp the scope of our powers. Maybe that's what she meant. That we can somehow...bolster Mary Eunice."

"You already do that, Jude. Mary Eunice finds great strength in you. Imagine if we all supported her together."

"True." She looked at him. "Yar pretty smart, ya know."

"Only with you at my side. As always." He tucked hair behind her ear. "If you like, I shall speak to Mary Eunice with you tomorrow. What else did Pepper say?"

Jude rolled her eyes. "Mostly vagaries. She did say she's found a family. I guess sort of like we have here. Apparently, they're...performers?"

"Interesting."

"Yep. And she said something interesting about us."

"About you and I?"

"Mm-hm." She lay back again, carnal temptation incarnate against his pristine bedding. "That...this...between us was some kind of completion."

He accepted this easily. "I feel...complete."

She smiled. "I do, too."

"Jude."

"Yes?"

"You said I could explore later?"

A laugh. "You actually remember what I said?"

"Quite vividly, trust me."

"Well. I did say that. So...what do you want to explore, Father?"

His face darkened in a most sensual way. "Everything, Sister."

She stretched her arms above her head, pressed fingers to the dark wood behind the pillows. "I'm at yar disposal."

He needed no further permissions. His hand was already flat against her belly, stroking upwards, finger dipping for a second into navel. "You're so soft. Like velvet." If she didn't know any better, she would have called him a breast man for all the attention he gave hers. "You're beautiful, Jude." He laved a nipple, fascinated by its hardening. "Does that feel good?"

"Very." She sighed. "Every time you touch me feels good."

He spoke around her other nipple. "Can I touch you here?" His hand traveled down, down, back over her lurching belly to the seat of her feminine.

"Yes!" She cried, biting her lip.

"Show me how." She covered his fingers with her own, shaking slightly, and dipped them into sin. Timothy watched her face, watched her eyes slit like a cat's when his fingertip encountered her firmed clit. She bit her lip on a moan, encouraging him to flick. He watched their fingers. "You enjoy that particularly."

"That's god's gift to women," she whispered. She left his hand to its remarkable work to take hold of his face. "Kiss me."

Lewdly, he complied, biting at her lips, sucking her tongue. Her belly undulated against his forearm as he continued flicking. He dipped a finger, interrupting the rhythm. "That makes you very wet," he observed almost matter of factly.

"Mm-hm." She chased his mouth again with her own. "Fuck! Don't stop!"

"It also turns your vernacular to the purely profane." But his fascination had shifted. "It is my understanding, Jude..." He rose above her, slithering down her torso like a snake, speaking suggestively against her quivering abdomen. "That women are pleasured by their lovers' mouths, am I correct?"

"Oh, Christ, Timothy. Stop interrogating and eat me out, already."

Her desperation was entrancing. And his curiosity was addictive. But his mouth on her was pure, curated wickedness. Gentler than fingers, more questioning, more decadent. He moaned at first taste and she clutched sheets, whimpering at the pleasure. "I taste us together," he said.

"I know." She could barely formulate words.

He rested his elbow on her thigh, holding her still and spreading her with that hand to observe his work. He was a man of thorough study. Very thorough. He'd discovered his other hand could work in tandem with his criminal mouth, stroking her slit until she frothed. Her skin was covered in a fine shimmer of sweat. He wondered what she felt like inside, sent fingers to find out and was surprised when she arched sharply. "Yes!"

A positive response, so he increased the pressures of tongue and fingers until a glorious litany of blasphemy poured from her pouty lips and the part of her that acted like an animal unto itself gripped him strongly. She coated his hand in her body's molten spendings. She curled up to grasp his hair, pulling him away weakly. "Stop, stop, stop!" She gasped. "Yar killing me." Her mouth took his. Awkwardly she rose to her knees, bringing him along and pushing him backward.

His back hit the bed, head near the foot, and she straddled his thighs. She was the most diabolical thing he'd ever seen; above him victorious, flushed skin, bright cheeks, eyes black with desire, hair a lion's mane of curl. "I told ya I'd be yar whore, Father."

"You did!" He gasped, reaching for her.

She stopped his hands, holding them in her own. "That I'd be filthy for ya."

"Yes, Sister."

"I'm about to blow yar mind...and other things." She bent over him, kissing his chest, his belly, all the way down to -

"Jude!" He grabbed her head when her mouth closed around his tumescence. "You - ugh..." But it was all so deliciously illicit any protest he may have even considered was lost in garbled, guttural groans. His hand fisted her hair, following the up and down motion of her head. His other fell upon her shoulder, squeezing. "Jude. My god. Oh, heavenly host..."

Her cheeks hollowed. She looked up at his helpless face from beneath lashes and a fall of messy gold ringlets. He was devastatingly shattered. Eyes rolling into their sockets. She cupped his balls gently, stroking with her thumb, put her other hand to work twisting the length of cock she couldn't fit down her throat. Her tongue worked the swollen tip of him, knowing it was sensitive. She kept to the edges and underneath.

Soon his grip on her shoulder became more urgent. "Jude!" He panted. "I'm -"

She released him with a loud pop. "Do ya wanna come in my mouth, Timothy? Or do ya wanna fuck me again?"

"Guhhh..." He couldn't even think and she asked that? It only seemed to worsen his tenuous grasp on control.

"Hm?" She asked, casually stroking him now. "Or I could just jack you off. I'd love for ya to come in my mouth, though." Her lips dipped again, teasing the tip of him. "I'll swallow like a good girl. Won't spill a drop."

And while that sounded simply celestial, he rather had other ideas to fulfill. "Jude," he growled her name, taking her neck in hand he guided her up against him. "C'mere." On their knees, he turned her.

She needed no further prompting. This was a position familiar to her. One that men loved. She set to brace on her elbows when he gripped her waist. "Here."

"Oh?" He maneuvered her to one of the bed's massive posts. "Oh!" Well that was unexpected. She gripped the post, felt him press against her from behind. Her knees already shook.

"Jude." His breath was hot in her ear. Heavy.

"Yes?" She caught a kiss.

"We are penitent this way." But before she could reply he was inside her. Hard this time. Fast. She nearly lost her balance, and had to grip the bottom bedrail with her other hand. She burned with the way he hammered her. Didn't hold back her cries of passion and neither did he. At times, he sounded like a predatory beast, great paws gripping and ranging over every part of her.

"Join me again, Sister," he grunted. "In prayer."

"I - I can't." She gasped. She couldn't come again. Surprised it had even happened twice now.

"You will." His fingers found out her swollen clit again, and pinched. His mouth wrecked her neck. The wide expanse of his hand at her hip pressed a finger against the pucker of her ass - a threat or a promise.

And despite her self, her sense, her body thrilled to the remote possibility of being conquered in such a way. Invaded. She yelped when the sensation caught up a third time, bent further forward. His hand left her hip to grab her hair, pulling, preventing her from tumbling over the bed but unknowingly setting off a chain of such kinky appreciation and body-wracking convulsions she simply had to scream. "Father!"

For there was forgiveness to be asked. If not from God above, from the ancient gods of lust. Because surely this Promethean fire was never meant to belong to them.

And Timothy was (predictably) the first to beg forgiveness. "Jude. Jude." He whispered against her neck, her shoulders. "I'm so sorry..." His sweat left a shining trail across her supple skin. He licked it. Loved the way it tasted mingled with her own salty secretions.

Jude rested her head against her elbow, still bastioned by bedpost. "I don't know what the hell yar apologizing for, Timothy." She was hoarse. Shot out.

"I've treated you worse than an animal."

"Oh, you would feel guilty about the best sex that ever occurred in metaphysical history." She chuckled, turning to hold him. Her knees gave out and they collapsed into rumpled sheets. "I woulda told ya if ya did anything I didn't like. I promise."

"I never knew it could be so..."

"Phenomenal?" She stroked his hair. "Me, either."

"Rather...primitive," he allowed.

"Maybe next time we can be more docile."

"Never." He growled against her breast. She laughed. "I am...exhausted." He breathed.

"I could hibernate for a few days, myself."

"You'll sleep with me then?"

She smiled. "Yar stuck with me now, I'm afraid." In fact, their amalgamated fluids were congealing on his thigh at that very moment, fusing them like a biological glue. "Not to mention I don't think I could walk right now if I wanted to."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing!" Playfully, she smacked his bare ass. He hissed something like pleasure and she grinned against his lips. "Oh, we are gonna have such a good time, Timothy."

They were settling into sheets when a sharp rap sounded against his door. They froze, eyes wide at each other. "Who?" Jude mouthed. He shook his head.

"Father! It's Frank! You alright in there?"

"Oh, shit," Jude whispered. "Something's happened."

He held a hand for her to wait. She nodded. He blinked into a lengthy dark robe and cracked his door. "Frank. Is everything alright? Mary Eunice? Shelley?"

Jude slipped from the bed, blinked into her own attire. A rather plain black dress. Something that didn't look like she'd just been carnal in.

"Eunice came and got us, Father." Frank continued, still not reconciled to Timothy's being just Timothy. "The lights went out a few times and she said she heard something like animals in ya room here."

"Ah." Timothy floundered.

"And Sister Jude is missing!" Eunice's voice. "She wasn't in her chambers. I checked! And those noises here! I thought the worst for both of you. What if she's been attacked somewhere again? We should look for her all together and -"

Timothy held up a calming hand. "Sister. I assure you -"

"I'm here, Eunice." Jude stepped from behind him, hoping she was presentable.

"Oh, thank God, Sister!" Eunice flung her arms around Jude, who returned the gesture awkwardly. She was fairly certain she reeked of sex, and hoped Eunice wouldn't recognize it. "I was so worried. I was truly -"

"Ho-lee shit." Shelley slipped past Frank into Timothy's doorway. She chuckled lowly, put a hand on Eunice's shoulder. "You're tainting yourself right now, Eunice. Trust me."

"Shelley!" Jude warned, raising a finger. Of all people...

Shelley simply pushed Jude's hand down. "Get that judgey finger outta my face, Judy. I don't want to know where it's been recently." She turned to Timothy. "Right, Saint Casanova?" Timothy looked away guiltily. Shelley looked past him to his bed. "Christ almighty, Judy, you really know how to wreck shop, don't ya?" Jude's lips thinned.

"I think um...I think everything is fine here," Frank assured. He was blushing brightly himself, pulling Shelley into the hallway. "We can all uh...get back to bed. Sleep tight, am I right?"

"Nice and tight." Shelley hissed. She leaned in close to Jude's face. "Interesting. Looks like ghosts can get hickeys." She turned away before Jude could slap her. "I assume we've all gotten on our knees and said our prayers? Swallowed our little...communion wine?"

"Shelley, I'm so pleased you're saying your prayers!" Eunice smiled brightly at her. "But communion wine is -"

"Frank, would you and Shelley make sure Eunice gets back to her chambers safely?" Jude interrupted, closing Timothy's door.

"Sure thing, Judy. Come on now, girls. Everything's fine."

Jude slammed the door and leaned against it. Could hear Shelley singing tunelessly down the hall: "That's the night that the lights went out in Briarcliff!" Her tinny laughter grated.

"Fucking Shelley," Jude muttered.

Timothy leaned against his door just beside her. She was surprised to see him smiling softly. "Were we truly that loud?" He asked.

"I'm sorry!" She hissed. "I didn't design the acoustics in this place."

He kissed her. Hands stroked her sides, gentling her. "Let's...have a nice soak. There's something questionable dried to every inch of me. And then, I think, sleep."

Jude couldn't remember the last time she'd bathed with a man. Had she ever? Maybe drunkenly, she supposed. It was lovely to have someone wash her back, though. Lovely to feel clean again. To feel cherished.

A low hum resided in their bodies now. A satisfied purr. They spoke lowly in the echoing bathroom, aware that these walls were not as sound-proofed as they'd once imagined. "You said you'd talk to Eunice with me, tomorrow?"

"Yes. I'd like to reassure her that she will be supported through whatever awaits her."

"I think...we should address everyone. No secrets. Let us all be on the same page together."

"Sound reasoning." He piled her hair atop her head, released it. It was pretty tumbling down her back. "Breakfast, I suppose?"

She sighed. Let her head fall back against his shoulder. "Yes. Get Shelley's ribbing over with."

She felt rather than heard him laugh. "It's not funny."

"I don't know." He said. "She has a way with words. And...tea towels."

At that, Jude could laugh, too.

They slept well. Like the dead. Coiled together like snakes. She woke him before first light. In the dusky part of morning alien to many. Quietly this time, they made love. Slowed by familiarity and euphoria, still slightly drowsy.

Jude rode him this time, grasping the headboard, pushing against his chest. Her pace increased with his awed hands. "I love your breasts," he murmured, cupping them as they bounced.

"I've noticed. Mmmm." She shifted, needing more contact with his pelvis. He sat up, Indian style, pulled her flush to him. "Oh, yes." There it was. Her face nuzzled his shoulder as he nuzzled her chest. "Tell me to come," she whispered, a whine trying to creep in.

He pressed his lips to her ear. "Come for me, rara avis. Let me feel your sweetness seize me again. Ista est mea creatura." She obeyed, the latin working its magic. He clamped a hand tight over her mouth, stifling her loud moans. "Ista est mea divinatatem." She quaked beautifully, tragically, milked him mercilessly and he bit her shoulder to muffle his own growls. They caught their breath in solemn kisses.

They briefly considered going down to breakfast separately, but that seemed highly unnecessary now, considering everyone in the building was aware they were...involved. Except maybe Eunice. Jude wasn't sure Eunice really got the gist of Shelley's innuendos, and that was fine by her. So they hoped that the early morning would be on their side and headed down to the kitchen.

Jude opted for a high collar this morning. It seemed hickeys couldn't be blinked away. Timothy's arm brushed hers as they descended the stairs. The temptation to take his hand was strong, but she resisted it, unwilling to add any further fuel to Shelley's doubtless festering fire.

Unfortunately, their plan for early morning kitchen dominance failed.

Frank and Eunice were on juice duty, as usual. And it seemed Shelley was simply...waiting. By the stove. Smoking. She grinned when the lovers entered sheepishly. "Well, well, well. Had to have one more round this morning, huh?"

"Shelley -" Jude started.

"Judy!" Shelley interrupted. "I have to say you look particularly fabulous this morning. And Tim - nice to have a little color in your cheeks, I bet. And your face is pink, too."

"Shelley, start the scones!" Frank snapped.

"I've started already! I thought Judy might want to help with the sausages since she's back in practice and all."

"Shelley, I'm gonna finish what ya started the first day I got here." Jude stepped toward the stove, fists clenched at her sides.

"Jude, don't." Timothy caught her arm. "Let's just -"

"Yeah, obey thy Father, Judy. I bet ya did last night!"

"Oh, that's it!" Jude jerked free. "Eunice. Go to my office and get me a cane."

Eunice was already on the steps. "Which one, sister?"

"My favorite," Jude growled.

"Yes, sister!"

"No, no, no, Eunice." Now Timothy grabbed Eunice.

"Oooh, Judy, that one was my favorite, too." Shelley was bending over the breakfast table.

"Shelley, get up!" Frank grabbed Shelley.

"Nevermind, Eunice. Get the big one," Jude changed her mind.

"But, sister, the Monsignor says -"

"Get the big one, Eunice!" Laughed Shelley.

"There is no Monsignor anymore!" Jude reminded. "And I'm in charge here!"

Timothy was maneuvering Eunice back into the kitchen. "There will be no canings today, Sister."

"Or was Judy in charge last night, too, Father?" Shelley asked.

Timothy released Eunice. "Go get the cane," he snapped.

Shelley screamed playfully, jolting around the table when Jude came at her with another wooden spoon, determined to give her a taste of her own medicine. Frank spread his arms between the women. "Eunice," he said. "Get over here and wrangle yar boss lady before she stripes Shelley's ass!"

"Move, Frank!" Jude was swatting at Shelley from behind the security guard when Eunice took her arm.

"Sister, let's have a peace in our hearts this morning."

Jude started to calm. Timothy sighed relief. But Shelley would not be stopped. "Judy's already had a piece this morning, Mary Eunice."

"Murder thoughts!" Jude shouted, lunging over the table. She got hold of Shelley's flowy blouse, pulling her into a jar of jam.

"Ow!" Shelley shouted. Rising awkwardly, she flicked jam into Jude's face.

"You bitch!" Jude had crawled onto the table now, managing to wrap Shelley into an awkward choke hold.

"Not the first sticky face you've had, Judy!" Shelley gasped. "And I doubt the last. Lick it off her, Tim!"

Timothy was pulling Jude off the table, Frank trying to pry Shelley out of her grip. Jam was everywhere, making the situation all the more difficult.

"I SAID LET'S HAVE A PEACE IN OUR HEARTS!" Eunice cried suddenly. She clenched her eyes closed, refusing the scene before her, and a humming flash of light froze everyone, momentarily blinding them.

When lighting restored to normal, the group was seated calmly at the table. Sausage and eggs steamed before them. Butter melted on scones. Jam was righted on a pristine white table cloth. A vase of pink roses bobbed delicately, and they all wore Victorian attire. Stared gobsmacked at each other.

Eunice primly sliced open her scone. "Please pass the jam, Shelley." With a slightly shaky hand, Shelley complied. "Thank you." She slathered her scone with the thick strawberry sweetness. "Now. I don't care what...fornications took place last night between whom." But she looked pointedly at Jude and Timothy who blushed. "And I imagine it does provide ample entertainment to the less...sophisticated mind." A pointed look at Shelley. "But there are far more important and even pleasant issues to be discussed over a civilized breakfast amongst adults." She blinked. Pachelbel's Canon in D Major played calmly in the background. "So. We're going to enjoy this delicious repast with no more filth and no more fighting." Her knife dropped loudly onto her plate and her lovely face hardened. "Or I swear I will personally practice my own caning skills on every ass present at this table. And I assure you - I learned from the best. Right, Sister?" She looked at Jude.

Jude stared openly at her once protege, naked admiration on her features, high lace collar tickling her chin. "Thank you, Mary Eunice."

Frank tugged uncomfortably at his own stiff collar.

"Well." Timothy clapped his hands together once. Straightened his cravat. He smiled broadly. "I think this is the start to a successful and productive day."

Shelley moped a little. A grudging smirk. "Look at little sister over here gettin' all big in the britches." She patted Eunice's hand. "I like it."

They'd eaten contentedly for some time when Timothy decided to brooch the subject at hand. "Sister. I find it encouraging to see your display of...refined power this morning. As a matter of fact, Jude and I were discussing it just last evening."

"My power?" Eunice asked. "Is it any different from any of yours?"

"I was...given some information indicating that it is, yes." Jude offered. "And what we actually discussed last night was how we may be able to use it against Dr. Arden. Against the shadows."

"Did you reach any conclusions?"

"We did." Timothy said.

"Multiple conclusions?" Shelley asked, brows raised.

"Conclusions that involve all of us." Jude ignored Shelley's innuendo. "Working together to support Mary Eunice."

Frank, ever a man of action, was quick to volunteer his service. "Little sistah, you know I got ya back no mattah what. What's the plan, exactly?"

"We shall devise that plan together." Timothy answered. "As a team. As each of us has an indelible and unique strength to offer."

"Me?" Shelley gestured to herself and scoffed. "I'd bring everybody down. Never been much of a brain when it comes to plans and stuff like that."

Eunice had been thinking quietly. "No, Shelley. You're very valuable. You're the righteousness. The vengeance. The warrior."

Shelley's eyes widened with each word. "Yeah, Sister?" She grinned. "I like the sound of all that!"

"Frank!" Eunice pointed to the guard. "You're like...Honor. The guardian! The planner. The backbone. The protector."

Frank's chest swelled with pride. "Damn right," he said.

"Sister!" She continued, turning to Jude. "You're..." Jude waited expectantly, excited at the prospect of joining ranks. "Wait." Eunice shook her head. "No. It's...both of you." She cocked her head quizzically at Timothy. "Together."

Timothy leaned forward. "What is it, Sister? What can we offer you? What are we together?"

"It's the most important part," Eunice smiled. She took their hands, placed them atop one another. "You're...the love."

"Perfect love?" Timothy asked. Jude stared at him.

"Oh, Father." Eunice smiled so brightly. "Don't you understand? All love is God's love. All love is perfect."

"And powerful." Jude murmured. "It makes so much sense now."

"All of these things." Eunice stood, pacing. "Honor. Justice. Love. These things are the weapons against evil."

"I get it." Shelley nodded. "The opposites of darkness! So what does that make you, little sister big britches?"

"She's the ultimate weapon against darkness." Jude stated, eyes on Eunice; the young nun's glow was evident in her epiphany. "She's the Light."