"Licentia unus quod consilio dum vos procul is," Gerard read, making the sign of the cross over Frank's head. He placed his palm against the top of Frank's head and read, "Servo eis tutus.."

Gerard closed the book, then hesitated for a second before hanging his rosary around Frank's neck. He glanced back at Mikey with an unreadable expression, then laid his palm on Frank's chest. He said, "You were right."

"About what?" Frank frowned.

"I can't do it," Gerard said, and then he punched Frank in the face.

It happened so fast there was no time for Mikey to get to him, to stop him, to even really understand what was happening. Frank stumbled when Gerard hit him and fell, skidding backwards across the stage, landing in a crumpled heap by the amps. Mikey had time to see Bob running towards him, to hear Brian shouting, "Father, no," but it was too late, Gerard had already thrown himself into the light.

He was still for a long moment, suspended as Pete had been, and then the horrible roaring sound started up again and Gerard's body started twisting violently, thrashing as the energy coursed through him. Mikey could see Frank trying to get back on the stage, Bob holding him back, and he didn't even realize he was moving himself until he felt Ray's arms around him, holding him still.

"It's too late," Ray shouted over the roaring. "It's too late, Mikey, you'll get yourself killed."

The light around Gerard grew brighter and brighter, and the noise grew louder and louder, until it reached a crescendo and the light exploded, filling the room and Mikey had to close his eyes so they wouldn't be burned out of his skull.

When he opened them again, the noise had stopped. The light had faded. Gerard was lying on the ground.

"Gee!" Mikey ran to him; he could hear the others behind him but he got there first, falling to his knees and gathering Gerard up into his arms, pushing his hair off his face. "Are you okay? Gerard. Gerard!"

Gerard didn't respond. His face was slack and he was limp in Mikey's arms.

"He's unconscious," Mikey told Brian, who'd just skidded to his knees next to him. "Gerard!" he called, shaking Gerard slightly. "Gerard, come on, it's okay, it's over. It's – Gerard?"

Gerard still didn't say anything He still didn't wake up. His eyes were open.

"His eyes are open," Mikey told Brian, who was doing something Mikey didn't understand, pressing his fingers into the side of Gerard's neck.

Brian shook his head, frowning. He kept his fingers pressed under Gerard's ear for a long time. Then he took one of Gerard's wrists in his hands, and then the other. He looked up at Mikey. He said in a strange voice, "I don't think he's unconscious."

Mikey looked down at Gerard. "But he's not moving. He can't hear me."

"Mikey," said Brian. He was holding Gerard's hand. "Mikey, he's dead."

It wasn't true. Obviously it wasn't true. Mikey told Brian that, he told him again and again, screamed at him to stop touching Gerard if he was going to say that, to get away from him, to leave them alone. He held Gerard tighter to him and touched his face; he called his name, again and again.

Gerard didn't say anything. His eyes were open.

A long time later, someone touched Mikey's shoulder. It was one of the suits. Howard. He was wearing sunglasses. His lips moved.

"What?" Mikey said.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Howard said, kneeling down on the floor. "I understand that this is a difficult time for you, but we need to get Father Way's body back to the Vatican."