The knock on the door, heavy to make it through the thick wood, echoed in the austere office. Sister Mary Eunice took one last swig of sacramental wine, straight from the bottle, before placing it under the desk. She swung her legs off the desk, moving them to where they would be if she were a good little nun, next to the wine bottle before straightening out the front of her habit.

"Come in," she called out sweetly.

The door opened a crack. One of Briarcliff's guards, Frank's replacement, poked his head in. "The police just got here. They're bringing in Dr. Thredson now. I mean-"

"That's alright, Felix. Slip of the tongue." Mary Eunice smiled thinly. "I'm sure our newest guest will be stripped of his license soon, if he hasn't already."

The guard nodded. "Would you like to supervise the transfer?" he asked.

"No," Mary Eunice, waving to dismiss Felix. "Just throw him in the hole."

"The hole? Already?"

"He's a former staff member. We can't release him into the general population. Some of our other patients might be holding a grudge." Mary Eunice leaned forward. "It's for his protection."

The guard nodded again and left, closing the door softly behind him. Sighing in frustration, Mary Eunice grabbed the carafe and took another pull of the wine. Thredson had turned out to not just be a disappointment, but an embarrassment. Personally hiring a serial killer was going to call Mary Eunice's ability to run Briarcliff into question, but she wasn't about to give up control easily.

As for Thredson, he was going to rot in the bowels of the asylum. Unless, of course, Mary Eunice found some other use for him.

Jude's hand, clenched and gnarled, flashed out, clawing for Arden's face. Before she could try again, Monsignor Howard had wrapped his arms around her, holding her still.

"She recognizes you," he said, straining to keep Jude in place. "That's probably a good sign."

"And why, exactly, are you testing that?" Arden asked, glaring at the woman practically spitting at him from the Monsignor's embrace.

"I'm not-" The Monsignor grunted as Jude elbowed him. With a screech, she darted forward, reaching for Arden's face again. Her hand whipped across his cheek, snapping Arden's head to the side and leaving four angry, red lines.

Arden reared back, his hand raised to strike Jude, when the Monsignor stepped in the way, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "I know you and Sister Jude have had your disagreements."

"Is that your reason for bringing a madwoman to my office?" Arden demanded. "So we can deal with our… differences?"

"She's not herself right now. But I need her to help me regain control of Briarcliff. And I need you to help her regain control of herself."

"What makes you think I'd want to help?"

"You can't trust him," Jude hissed. "He's working for her."

"Do you care about Sister Mary Eunice?" the Monsignor asked.

"Of course I care," Arden replied. "Why?"

"Because there's not much left of her. Whatever has taken control of her has almost entirely consumed her. If we don't end this now…" The Monsignor trailed off. The church didn't have any teachings that dealt with this exact situation. "This may be her last chance at eternal salvation."

Arden stared at the Monsignor intently for a moment, before turning around and taking a deep breath, lost in thought. "Do you honestly believe that?" he asked slowly.

"Yes."

"Then I'll help." Facing the Monsignor again, Arden studied Jude. "I'm not sure how much I can do."

"All I ask is you try your best."

The entire day had proved utterly fruitless. Lana had been forced to spend most of it fighting tooth and nail to prevent her story from going to another, obviously male, reporter, despite the fact that she had lived it. Now her editor was trying to limit its scope.

"I've been inside, I know there's more to say," she insisted.

"More than the fact that you were kidnapped by Bloody Face?" snorted Fred Samson, the small paper's editor.

"There's the story I set out to write. All the people inside Briarcliff deserve their justice."

"Look, I get it," Samson held his hands up in placation. "My heart bleeds for those people," he said sarcastically, "but don't you think you should take it easy? With all you've been through…"

"What I've been through has shown me just how much people can suffer," Lana stated emphatically, "and if I might be able to stop that suffering, I have to try."

Shaking his head, Samson continued outlining his disapproval. "This is the story of a lifetime. I'm already doing you a huge favour letting you write it, God knows I should give it to someone who can be objective." Lana gritted her teeth, but let his words slide. "Speaking of which, in your state, I'm not sure you want to overcomplicate the story. People might be less willing to believe-"

Lana stood, cutting him off. "This story needs to be heard, every bit of it," she told him. "And if you don't have the balls to publish it, someone else will."

As she stormed out of Samson's office, she mulled over his words. He was right about how incredulous the reaction could be. She'd need proof, the word of someone whose testimony would be unquestionable.

"So?" Monsignor Howard started without a word of greeting, gently closing the door to Dr. Arden's office behind him. "How is she doing?"

"Her mental state is due to electroshock, not drugs," Arden replied. "The only treatment is time."

"Which we don't have."

"I can't do anything in the meantime except make sure she isn't subjected to electroshock therapy again," Arden shrugged.

"Where is she now?" the Monsignor asked.

"In the common room." At the Monsignor's reproachful look, Arden continued. "I kept her hidden for the night, but I couldn't keep hiding her. Mary Eunice would notice that pretty quickly, don't you think?"

Without another word, Monsignor Howard turned and strode out of the office. Minutes later he was, despite his distaste, in the midst of the asylum's residents, in the chaotic din of the common room. After a quick glance around the room, he picked out Jude, sitting alone, curled up as far into her chair as she could be, shrinking back from her situation.

"Hello, Jude," the Monsignor greeted her, and was rewarded with the briefest of glances upward. "How are we feeling today?"

Jude shook her head sadly, but awareness of the misery of the circumstances was a better sign than her barely-coherent words yesterday. At least now she appeared to be fighting her confusion.

Monsignor Howard kneeled, bringing himself to Jude's eye level. "You know we need to do something about Mary Eunice," he whispered.

Jude shook her head again. "We can't save her."

"We can, Jude. It's never too late."

"You've been corrupted by her," Jude stated matter-of-factly. "And I'm not strong enough. Look at us." She laughed harshly. "A madwoman and a fallen priest."

"We have to do something. Mary Eunice's innocence – her soul – is almost destroyed."

Looking away, Jude's brow furrowed. "That doesn't change the fact that we can't cast the devil out. But we could weaken its hold on her." Eyes wide, she looked back at the Monsignor. "And then we can send Mary Eunice to safety."

"You mean…" Monsignor Howard trailed off and Jude nodded gravely in response. "I tried. It didn't work."

"Then we need to try harder."

The Monsignor stood, considering. "Is it really the only way?" he finally asked. "I suppose we don't have time for anything else," he said, answering his own question. Holding his hand out to Jude, he continued. "Come with me. I'll hide you until we're ready."

Lana tapped her foot as the orderly bullshitted her, telling her the Monsignor was out. She'd practically been stalking him since the night before, and she knew he was currently somewhere in Briarcliff.

"If you really need to speak to someone," the orderly said, edging away, "Sister Mary Eunice should be in her office."

"I already told you, it has to be Monsignor Howard," she repeated for what felt like the millionth time. There was no way she was dealing with Mary Eunice. Lana wasn't sure what was wrong with her, but the previously sweet nun had grown steadily more sadistic during Lana's imprisonment, finally culminating in the hiring of Thredson as a full-time staff member.

The orderly shrugged. "Then I can only tell you to come back some other time," he replied, but Lana's eyes had already wandered away, to the winding staircase that dominated Briarcliff's lobby, or more specifically to the man descending the stairs, Monsignor Howard.

"That's alright," she said, not even giving the orderly another glance. "Found him."

As the Monsignor continued towards the main entrance of the asylum, Lana caught up with him, trotting quickly alongside him to keep pace with his long strides. "Monsignor Howard," she addressed him, "I need to speak with Sister Jude."

"Judy's not in any shape to speak with anyone right now," he responded, giving her less consideration than she had given the orderly.

As the Monsignor reached the door, Lana stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "And when will she be able to have visitors?"

"It's hard to say."

Lana crossed her arms. "You can't keep Briarcliff's secrets forever, Monsignor."

"This isn't about secrets."

"If that's true, then why hasn't Kit Walker been released yet," Lana demanded.

Monsignor Howard frowned. "Kit Walker hasn't been a patient here since he was transferred to prison. As far as I know, he's still at large. Now, if you'll excuse me." He pushed past Lana, walking into the orange light of sunset.

After a moment, Lana followed him, heading towards her car. Halfway there she stopped and turned around. If the Monsignor didn't know Kit was still in Briarcliff, who knows how long he could end up being held there while the asylum covered up their mistakes? Lana didn't have time to wait to be allowed to see Jude. Something had to be done immediately.

Five stories above the lobby, exactly where she'd been flung to the ground a few nights ago, a scowling Sister Mary Eunice's nails tapped a staccato taboo on the banister. A reporter was the last thing she needed poking around Briarcliff right now.

She had thought Lana would be busy with writing her own story. Why did she need to drag the asylum into it? As if Mary Eunice didn't have enough problems, dealing with the embarrassment of having hired a serial killer.

With that thought, a slow smile spread across the nun's face. Maybe Thredson did have a use after all.

Hey everyone, thanks for reading! Sorry for the boring chapter this time, but I needed to set-up the madness that's soon to follow. I promise, the next chapter is where shit starts to get real :P.

Anyways, as always, please review if you're reading and have an opinion!