A/N: A quick note. The location of the beginning of this fanfiction has been changed from Paris to London, in order to stay true to the events of theoriginal novel. Thank you.


"The only ghost I ever saw

Was dressed in mechlin,--so;

He wore no sandal on his foot,

And stepped like flakes of snow.

His gait was soundless, like the bird,

But rapid, like the roe;

His fashions quaint, mosaic,

Or, haply, mistletoe.

His conversation seldom,

His laughter like the breeze

That dies away in dimples

Among the pensive trees.

Our interview was transient,--

Of me, himself was shy;

And God forbid I look behind

Since that appalling day!"

The silence in the hotel room was maddening. When he had first arrived that morning, every little creak of the floorboards or faint clips of conversation caused his muscles to tense in anticipation. However, Silas had been inside the room the better part of the day, and his guarded excitement had ebbed into tired impatience. Now, it was almost ten o'clock at night, and the phone had yet to ring.

Silas gazed across the room, eyeing the hotel bed. It was inviting; he had barely gotten any time to sleep. Most of the night and morning had been spent awake, driving through city after city and being informed on what had happened while he had been in the hospital. Though still trying to process everything, he had grasped the most essential sections of the news, and went over it again in his mind.

He had been found in the gardens of London, bleeding to death from his injury after he had brought Bishop Aringarosa into the hospital. Unconcious, he had been taken back to St.Mary's and stabilized. When he had awoken, a doctor... and member of Opus Dei... informed Silas of his location, and that the Teacher had been arrested. It was a shock to Silas that such a powerful man could be arrested. It was an even bigger shock when he was told that a new man had been appointed Teacher, long before the first ever fell to the police... as a safeguard in case that had ever happened. But the shock was replaced by loss when Silas has asked of the Bishop, only to have his worst fears confirmed.

Bishop Aringarosa was dead.

Feeling his eyes sting, Silas blinked furiously. It had been his fault, all of it. Then came that girl, with that flame-kissed hair and warm, emerald eyes...He had thought, mistakenly, that he had seen compassion in those eyes. Until she began to ask about Opus Dei, and he realized that all she wanted was to suck information out of him. He knew he shouldn't have cared, and yet...

"It would have been Bishop Aringarosa's wish for you to finish the quest you have begun, Silas," the new Teacher had said. "We are so very close to the end."

"You need me as your weapon, then?" Silas asked.

The man smiled from under his hooded robes. "Of course, Silas... one last time."

He bowed his head. "What is my duty...?"

"The cancer that is our enemy must be cut out..."

And eliminated.

Silas turned his gaze from the bed to the window, staring out into the city of Marseille. The Teacher had chosen the location well. It had been long ago, but Silas knew the streets of Marseille from years of living upon them. As soon as his mission was complete, he could drive the back streets to the new Teacher, and have a one way ticket out of the miserable country for good. All he had to do was eliminate the Disease before it spread.

Sophie...

Her image danced in his mind again as he stepped away from the windows and towards the deepening shadows of the room. The gun felt heavy in his hand. He had killed the guardians of the keystone, and her Grandfather. He had nearly killed her companion, Langdon. And now...

The phone suddenly rang, and Silas cast a baleful look in its direction. After the third ring, he picked it up. "Hello?"

"Miss Neveu arrived and is on her way up," the blond clerk whispered on the other end. He could hear the tremble of fear in her voice, and it made him smile.

"Good," he replied, and hung the phone back on its reciever. Glancing down at the gun, his finger flicked off the safety. The girl had taken the bait, and had finally arrived, as he had expected.

The new Teacher's instructions echoed inside his thoughts, clear and to the point. By the time he muttered them to himself, Silas could hear the sound of a key in the room's lock, and slipped back into the shadows of the room near the door. A cold pit formed in his chest, and as he saw the slender form of his prey walk right past him, it only grew colder. Without making a noise, he slid behind Sophie to block her only escape.

Setting her purse upon the bed, Sophie brushed her hair out of her face. The room was quiet, and the hairs on the back of her neck began to rise. She was not alone. Sweeping her eyes around the room to look for a potential weapon she could use, she felt a coil of worry rise in her throat. There was nothing but an angel statue to her right, and even if she grabbed it, she would be dead before she had a chance to use it in any way.

"We meet again," the cool voice said from over her shoulder.

"So we do, Silas."

Raising his weapon, the albino began walking towards her. "I deeply regret cutting your visit so short, but I am a busy man, and this bullethole in my side is getting rather fiesty."

Sophie looked over her shoulder, and he could almost make out a glint of humor crossing her face. "Room 305. Quite the sign."

He cocked the gun. "I thought you would appriciate the irony between a room of healing and one of death. Too bad you won't have very long to do so..."

Her heart skipped a beat at the weapon's click. Gods, he really was going to shoot her. Sophie couldn't take her eyes off the monk, her mind reeling as she wished she could figure out the strings that were moving the living puppet... or cut them. There was only one way...

She turned slowly, facing him with a strange calm that seemed to well up from inside. "May I ask one question, then, since I came all this way?"

Silas pointed the muzzle of the gun towards her head. "Just one, Miss Neveu."

"Why?"

The question, identical to the one he had asked her in the hospital, caused Silas to pause. "Why...?"

Shrugging, Sophie tried to appear casual. "Why did you kill my Grandfather? Why are you working for Opus Dei? Why are you letting them use you like this?"

"They're not using me," he snarled, anger surging through his veins. "You Grandfather was trying to destroy the Church and turn both God and Christ into nothing but lies! This false Grail must be eliminated before it ruins everything. I am only protecting the divine greatness that is our Almighty Lord!"

"But if you serve God," she pressed, "does He not teach that one is to forgive friend and enemy alike? Does He not speak against killing? Is it truly God's will that this be done, or the will of a man that is imperfect and hungry for power?"

Silas' trigger finger seemed to go lax, the look on his face impossible to read. The passion and conviction behind her words was moving, he could give her that. His soul struggled, trying to recall the moments before and after he was shot; something in her words was trying to call forth memories from beyond a mental fog. But what?

Sophie bit her lip. "Silas, if Opus Dei is trying to hide this big of a secret from the entire world, what are they willing to hide from you?"

"Goddess or demon," he finally responded, tightening his hold on the trigger once more and aiming at her head. "I know not what you are. I'll make your death painless for your efforts, either way."

Damn it, she cursed, closing her eyes. It had been hopeless, after all. He believed their deciet, and with no where to run or hide, all she could do was await for the end...

The sound of an electronic version of the Adam's Family theme song caught them both offguard. Silas blinked, staring at her purse with a mixture of irritation and amusement, then glanced back to Sophie. Her heart was pounding so wildly she could hardly breathe; that ringtone! Oh, gods, if only should could answer the call!

"Silas," she pleaded, opening her eyes and raising her hands a bit to show they were empty. "Please. I need to answer that phone."

He regarded her with an even expression. "So you can scream for help? I'm not completely stupid, Miss Neveu."

"You don't understand!" Sophie yelled. "You ARE stupid if you don't listen!"

Blinking, Silas was taken aback at her sudden flare of rage. Though his mind snarled at him to shoot and be done with it, something else tugged in his chest, and he lowered the gun. The minute the weapon was pointed at the floor, Sophie dashed to her purse and ripped it open to grab the phone.

"Hold it up," he said quietly. "Any wrong words, and you're dead."

Sophie felt a flash of hope as she flicked the phone open, turning the volume to its max as she held it up for him to hear. "Sophie Neveu speaking," she said, fighting the quiver in her voice.

"Miss Neveu, this is the secretary for Captain Fache," the phone blared. "We have gotten a trace on the whereabouts of Bishop Aringarosa."

The gun nearly dropped from Silas' hand as he heard the speaker's words. She could see his eyes widen, body suddenly trembling, and she felt a wave of sympathy for him. Silas held his breath, waiting for the speaker to continue.

"And?"

The secretary sighed. "Yes, he is alive, and in the intensive care unit of the St.Mary's hospital in London. The Captain himself spoke to the Bishop privately last night, informing him on the death of his student, Silas. Would you like me to conta-"

"Thank you, madame," Sophie interrupted, shutting the phone when Silas grasped the nearest chair to steady himself, his entire body shaking violently. She heard his gasps for breath, and after a moment she wondered if he was hyperventilating. "Monseuir?"

"He...he's..."

Moving quickly, she grabbed and slid a wastebasket into his reach as he sank to his knees, looking sick. Sophie wandered into the bathroom while he retched, coming back with a cool towel and kneeling at his side. When he finally quieted, she placed her hand lightly on his back.

"May I?" Sophie asked softly.

Avoiding her eyes, his face became etched with defeat. Taking that as answer enough, Sophie gently ran the damp cloth across his face. "My mother used to take care of me, when I was ill," she murmured, stroking between his shoulderblades as she dabbed his forehead and mouth. "Before she..."

"Was murdered," Silas finished, his growing dark.

Eyeing him, she tossed the cloth next to the wastebasket. "Yes. Before she was murdered."

The silence that followed lasted almost ten minutes. His shivering began to fade, and his breathing became more even. Even so, she kept her hand upon his back, whispering words of comfort. After a time, he raised his crimson eyes to her emerald ones, and her words faded into the stillness of the room. Sophie could almost see memories in his gaze... memories from those days not too long ago when he had been tossed into the backseat of a car and the cargo hold of a plane, of the day when he had seized her and held her in his arms...as hostage.

And now he stood, and she rose with him, transfixed upon those glittering, garnet hues. Silas found himself similarly ensnared, and hesitated before reaching out to touch her cheek. The two remained quiet a heartbeat more, before he broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, Sophie," he whispered.

Terror seized her as he raised his gun and fired.