Chapter Text
The Pope dies on Easter Monday the following year, and before Vincent has really had time to process what’s happening, he’s standing on the balcony of St Peter’s Basilica three weeks later, being presented to the world as the new pope. Never in a million years could he have predicted this when he came to the conclave.
He has to tell the Dean of the College of Cardinals about his situation in the Room of Tears very shortly after being elected. Apparently, the Dean’s assistant has uncovered some of the paperwork related to Vincent’s cancelled trip to Switzerland, put two and two together at least to an extent, and so the Dean comes to confront Vincent about it.
Appearing as calm as ever, Vincent tells him the bare bones of the situation. Tells him about what the doctors had discovered, tells him he’d had no idea about his condition until then, and tells him about going to Rome to talk to the late Holy Father about it. Vincent also circles back to the Dean’s own homily at the beginning of the conclave, and its message of embracing doubt and uncertainty; it had all sounded so very similar to Vincent’s own thoughts surrounding his condition and his faith.
Perhaps it is my difference that will make me more useful, he tells the older man gently. I know what it is to exist between the world’s certainties.
Not everyone is going to be as accepting as the Dean is. Vincent knows that this kind of thing will be seen as very divisive, and as he steps out onto the balcony and looks out across St Peter’s Square, waving to the faithful in his first appearance as Pope Innocent XIV, his polite smile is hiding a deep pit of anxiety inside him. In this day and age, it’s almost inevitable that the truth will leak somehow, and then what? He’s not just worried about himself in that regard, but how will it affect the Church as an institution? He is, after all, ever a servant of the Lord, and he has no desire to deliberately provoke a schism or further sully the Church’s already fraught reputation.
But for now, he manages to push away those thoughts, delivering an opening address that primarily focuses on the terror attacks that took place only hours ago. He also includes a brief comment about how it’s important that young men be taught a more positive and healthy masculinity as opposed to the toxic kind that breeds violence. It’s a comment pulled from the countless reflections he’s made around gender and manhood in the months since discovering his condition, and it’s one of the things he wants his papacy to focus on.
Perhaps especially because of that, he knows deep down that he will have to address the elephant in the room at some point. It can’t stay a secret forever, and he’ll be better off staying in control of when and how it’s released.
*****
Slowly settling into his new role as one of, if not the most influential religious and political figure in the world, Vincent’s insecurities begin returning, quietly at first and then in full force. He once again feels like an impostor; feels like there’s an invisible barrier between him and the people around him. And not just because he’s the Pope now. If they knew, he wonders, would I still be welcome? Would they stand up for me against my opponents? Or would they throw me under the bus as soon as possible?
The thought pops up unbidden at unpredictable moments, just like his memories of the trauma he’s seen and experienced throughout his ministry. He can sit there having a good enough time with his closest advisors, or helping the nuns do the dishes in the kitchen despite head nun Sister Agnes’ protests, and then all of a sudden, he’ll become acutely aware of just how significant his secret is. How he’s only conditionally welcome here as long as he keeps his secret to himself. The secret that has been so instrumental in shattering and re-forming his entire identity and worldview.
Meeting his new medical team for the first time as part of his ascension to the papacy, Vincent’s understanding of his body and his condition are once again challenged, as he finally feels ready to confront the reality of his condition and learn more about it. He can’t share his condition with the world, but he does need his medical team to know.
He goes through several routine examinations he’s had no idea would be necessary, including an ultrasound scan of his reproductive system, which ends up being uncomfortably and unexpectedly invasive when it turns out that his uterus is too small and atrophied to be positively identified by scanning the abdomen. They end up having to do the scan internally instead. It is easily the most embarrassing medical procedure he’s ever had in his 67 years, and he finds himself incredibly grateful for the gynaecologist’s professional demeanour during the exam. And for the fact that he will never need a prostate exam.
After a batch of scans and blood tests, and appointments to discuss the results, he feels like he’s beginning to get a better understanding of his own body. He discovers that his condition does not simply affect sexual development, but that it is in fact a medical condition he should have been followed up for. Everything from his heart to his hearing to his endocrine function is examined to establish what his overall health is like. He learns new terms such as intersex and mosaicism and isochromosome and idiopathic hyperandrogenism. One of his doctors takes the time to show him two previous cases of Turner syndrome patients who were raised as male and only discovered the truth by chance in late adulthood, and Vincent begins to understand more about how his body has developed the way it has.
It takes a little while to process all the medical information he gets, but that’s easier to handle now than when he was originally diagnosed almost three years ago.
For the first time since that original diagnosis, Vincent begins to marvel at the complex creation that is the human body. Each individual human is lovingly formed by God in His image, yes, and yet there are so many complex biological processes involved, and so many ways things can… not go wrong, as such, but diverge from what’s normal. Everyone’s created in the same mold, and yet each individual is completely unique. It’s something he’s reflected on before, when he’s helped deliver babies or baptised them, and now for the first time he can see how it applies to his own situation as well.
And that just makes it all the more painful to see all the hatred that is being thrown at transgender and intersex individuals these days.
He doesn’t believe it’s right for people to play God and alter their bodies to better fit their gender identity – rather, he prays for them to find the same peace he has, and to realise that their bodies do not have to define them – but neither does he believe in making life harder for those who do choose to change their body, or for those people who, like himself, have done nothing more than to simply exist in bodies that don’t fit the typical definitions of male and female. He can’t condone this sort of targeted political assault on a group of people who just want to live their lives in peace.
It breaks his heart every time.
All he can do is to use his position to hopefully influence people; to speak out against this violence, and hope that people listen. It’s an incredibly difficult task to accomplish when he cannot share his own personal connection to the issue, as he has to be very careful about how to argue his case without revealing too much, but with the help of his closest advisors who have been informed of his condition, he tries his best.
There is no way to separate his theological and political views on gender from his own experiences in that regard. There’s barely any way to separate his understanding of theology and faith from the journey he’s had to undertake to reconcile his faith with the biological facts of his body, and yet now he’s expected to do just that. Separate them. Because he cannot let anyone know his secret. And that realisation, in turn, makes him once again question whether he is truly welcome in the church, or if he’s only conditionally welcome.
Perhaps it seems like a ridiculous concern for the Pope himself to deal with. He’s the Pope; of course he’s welcome in the church. And yet here he is. It’s an incredibly lonely place to be, but not an entirely unfamiliar one anymore.
If there is one thing he wants to accomplish as pope, one thing he wants his papacy to be remembered for once he’s gone, it’s creating a church where nobody else ever has to feel the same way. A church where everyone is not just tolerated but welcome, no matter who they are or what baggage is in their past, so long as they come in good faith.
He has a long road ahead of him.
A very long road.