Maybe Tonight

Flynn crashed into a black ornate lamp-post, before clinging onto it for dear life, trying to stop the string from dragging him to his doom. The others slowed to a stop behind him, their faces reverential as they beheld Buckingham Palace in all its pale glory, even Clara who'd cycled past it countless times in her heady youth. Ezekiel let out a low whistle as he imagined himself ransacking its riches, the notion making the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.

"Wouldn't I like to get my grubby paws on that," Ezekiel said, his eyes widening with lust.

"No wonder you're single, Zeke," Clara said, sitting down on an obliging bench, "unless the object of your affection is inside a glass case, you're just not interested."

"If they're behind bars, I'm even more interested," Ezekiel said, smoothing his black hair back.

"Somebody find me a cage, then," Clara said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Not even then," Ezekiel said, winking at her.

Eve pulled a face. "Is what we need in there?" she then asked Flynn, gesturing to Buckingham Palace.

Flynn nodded, unable to form full sentences.

Eve stared at him. "So you want us to rob the Queen now?" she said incredulously.

"We already did," Ezekiel said, flipping open his phone. "Tower, anyone?"

"I'm not going back in that wheelchair," Jacob said, holding his hands up.

"Put me down for it instead," Clara said, clutching her side again.

"Won't be necessary," Ezekiel said, holding up his phone, "there's a charity event tonight."

"So?" Eve said.

"So I should be able to forge us some sweet invites," Ezekiel grinned. "No wheelchair required."

"Breaking and entering, Ezekiel, tut-tut," Clara said, shaking her head.

"It's more fraud," Jacob pointed out.

"So what's next, then? The Vatican? The White House?" Eve exclaimed, looking like she was about to explode.

"Don't worry, they're on my bucket list," Ezekiel said, stowing his phone away.

"Right, if we're breaking and entering, we're going to do it in style," Eve snapped, grabbing Clara's wrist and hauling her to her feet, ignoring Clara's cry of protest.

"Whoa, take it easy, Baird," Jacob said, exchanging a glance with Ezekiel, "the girl's not exactly in tip-top condition."

Eve stared at him for a long moment, before letting Clara go. "I'm - I'm sorry," Eve apologized, startling them all, "it's - it's - it's just this is all feeling like a constant kick in the head, and she's dying, and I can't stop it" - Eve startled them all again by suddenly burying her face in her hands, the others hesitating before tentatively patting her shoulder and arm, whatever was closest.

"It's going to be alright," Clara said quietly, belying the lie.

"What about me!?" Flynn complained, still clinging to the lamp-post. "This piece of string is dragging me to the deepest depths of hell!"

"I wish it would," Clara muttered, "then we wouldn't have to listen to your whinging."

"You love me really," Flynn said mournfully.

"Yes we do," Ezekiel said, his gaze firmly fixed on the emerald.

~*~

Clara came out of the changing room, the stiff black satin fabric creaking as she moved, Eve eying her critically. "This isn't working," Eve said, shaking her head. "You're just too short."

"Well, I'm sorry we can't all be statuesque blonde goddesses like you," Clara snapped, clutching her side again.

Eve just stared at her before burying her face in her hands again, a sob suddenly escaping her.

"Hey," Clara said, limping over to her, "what's with the waterworks?"

"You're dying, Clara," Eve hissed, raising her head from her hands, her eyes filled with tears, "and it's all my fault."

Clara stared at her, confused. "I'm not following," she said bluntly.

"I'm your Guardian," Eve said angrily. "I'm meant to protect you!"

Clara looked down at the exorbitantly expensive heels she had on, before glancing up, her brow furrowing. "You can't be in two places at once, Eve," she said slowly, still struggling to understand, "especially when there are five of us for you to flank."

"Four," Eve corrected her.

Clara went quiet, remembering Cassandra's betrayal, the memory hurting like a whip-lash.

"Look, let's just get this over and done with," Eve said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, "since you're so short, the only option is to go shorter."

"I'm still not following," Clara said, brow furrowing further.

"You don't need to," Eve said standing up, "just let what's left of the hem do all the talking."

~*~

"Are you feeling alright?" Eve asked Clara as they tottered down the corridor, Clara navigating her high heels with less ease than Eve.

"I'll live," Clara said, avoiding the admiring eye of a passing steward.

Eve's jaw tightened at Clara's words, but she held her tongue, tucking the manila folder more tightly under her arm, before taking Clara's elbow, steering her towards the sweeping staircase, gracefully inclining her head at the flurry of murmured compliments that followed them in their wake. She was dressed in a sea green gown that clung to her every curve, her golden hair elegantly loose instead of scraped off her face, Clara clad in a strapless crimson dress that was too short and too low-cut for her taste, her dark hair piled artlessly on top of her head. They each acted as a foil to the other, the sight of them descending the stairs side by side catching the attention of the throng below, heads turning in their direction.

]"And we're just in time," Clara observed, watching three burly stewards surround Flynn, Jacob and Ezekiel, the trio looking ready to run, their forged invites obviously failing to convince.

"They're with me," Eve called, her voice carrying over the sound of high society, making Flynn and the others glance up, before doing a double-take, Flynn looking comically speechless at the sight of Clara so skimpily dressed. Her style was as conservative as his, if less bizarre, and he couldn't reconcile the Clara he remembered with the Clara before him.

"Close your mouth before you catch a fly in it," Clara hissed at him, annoyed by their shocked stares, before becoming even more annoyed as Flynn's gaze drifted over Eve, his face taking on an even more dazed expression, Jacob dropping his gaze to the ground, fighting the automatic urge to admire the female form, or forms in this case, knowing Eve would kick his ass to kingdom come if he did. Ezekiel looked similarly shellshocked, but it was more to do with the jewels they were dripping with than anything else.

"And who are you?" the head steward demanded, adjusting his ear-piece as he did.

"Orders from the Director of Counter-Terrorism," Eve said smartly, handing the manila folder to him.

The head steward opened it, perusing the documents within with a suspicious eye, before glancing up at Eve, studying her for a long moment. "Alright, gentlemen," he said to Flynn and the others, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from Eve, "welcome to Buckingham Palace."

I foresaw you like an old ghost story
From a family tree that was handed down to me
I've known you like a siren song that warns
I've been informed you could be the death of me...

Flynn couldn't tear his gaze away from Clara, still unable to believe his eyes. "You're all... woman," he said stupidly as Eve led them into the ballroom.

"No, I'm all man," Clara retorted, leaning on Ezekiel's arm.

"Keep it together, Clara," Jacob murmured, his practiced gaze scanning the crowd for a pretty face.

"You try that when your insides have been skewered like a kebab," Clara hissed, treading on a man's toe, ignoring the way he stared at her like he'd just seen a ghost.

"Thank you for that mental image," Ezekiel said sarcastically, casting her diamond choker yet another longing look.

"Don't thank me, thank Excalibur," Clara said. "He's the one that carved me up like a Sunday dinner."

"Would you stop the food analogies?" Jacob asked, glaring at her. "You're putting me off the banquet."

"You're not here to stuff your face," Eve reminded him. "You're here to find the Stone, Stone."

"Over here," Flynn said, dragging his eyes away from Clara's indecent neckline before dragging them all into a corner instead, barging several waltzing couples aside as he did so. "Right," he said, forcing Eve and the others into a rugby huddle, "the Royal Family have access to the Stone - look for a secret passageway, something out of the ordinary."

"Is the Stone underground?" Clara said suspiciously, glancing over her shoulder, uncomfortably sensing somebody was watching her.

"Um, yes, probably," Flynn said vaguely.

"Oh great," Jacob said, rolling his eyes.

"I like dungeons," Ezekiel said airily.

"Good," Flynn said abruptly, "you and Clint here can go and find one."

Ezekiel stared at him, startled.

"Go forth!" Flynn bellowed, flapping his hands at him. "Multiply!"

"Not with me," Jacob said hastily, heading for the doorway.

"Don't flatter yourself," Ezekiel retorted before taking off after him.

"What about me?" Eve said, her brow furrowing.

"Make sure the Serpent Brotherhood isn't sniffing around," Flynn said swiftly.

"Done and dusted," Eve said, sashaying off, several jaws - including Flynn's - dropping in her wake.

"What did I say about flies, big boy?" Clara snapped.

"What do you say about a dance?" Flynn parried, pulling himself together.

"How can I?"

"How about I hold you up?"

"Like a bank?"

"No, like this," Flynn said, taking her in his arms.

"We're meant to be finding Arthurian artefacts," Clara reminded him as they started to slowly circle on the spot, their uncertain sway matching that of the music, their feet carrying them further and further into the web of waltzing couples.

"Pretend this is our first date," Flynn said, "that our eyes met across a crowded room, and that we have the whole night ahead of us."

"I don't even have tonight."

"You do now - I'm giving it to you."

Clara looked up at Flynn, studying him for a long moment. "I'm a waitress," she said suddenly.

"I'm a librarian," Flynn replied, catching Clara's cue, his dark eyes twinkling in response.

"I work at Hurricane Anne's Breezy Bistro," Clara continued, the corners of her crimson lips tilting upwards, "it used to be Hurricane Anne's Breezy Bistro & Bookshop but nobody bothers with the books but me, so they dropped the bookshop part."

"You should tell your boss to ease up on the alliteration."

"I did," Clara said, smiling now, "but he didn't listen."

Flynn looked at her, wrongfooted. "Oh, we're talking about me now?" he said, the penny dropping.

Clara nodded.

"I am your boss, amn't I?" Flynn said, the realization just dawning on him. "Wow, I didn't know that."

"Well, enjoy it while you can," Clara said darkly.

"I'm like Christian Grey," Flynn said, ignoring her, his eyes widening with wonder. "Executive extraordinaire."

"More like Fifty Shades of Geek," Clara said, rolling her eyes.

"Why are you so cruel to me?" Flynn asked, pretending to be put out.

"Let's just say I learned from the best," Clara said flippantly, making his face darken.

"Don't ruin this, Clara," he said quietly.

"I prefer it when you call me Hartley."

"If this is what you call flirting, I'd rather stay single."

"It's better that than me making you a widower."

"I'd like to be widowed by you."

"You are a complete fruitcake, Flynn Carsen," Clara said, shaking her head at him.

"And you are extraordinarily beautiful," Flynn parried, trying to turn the conversation back to its original course.

"Some would say you had a serpent tongue," Clara replied tartly, only to blink as a stranger cut in, forcing Flynn to a stop.

"May I?" the stranger asked, throwing Flynn an apologetic smile.

Flynn couldn't speak, something about the stranger's snake-like gaze suddenly silencing him. Before Clara could react, she was being waltzed away from Flynn, his face disappearing from sight amongst the crowd of dancers, Clara absolutely powerless to protest. She glanced up at the stranger, unable to do anything but stare at him, failing to recognize him as the man whose toe she'd stood on. He was tall and lean, his features possessing a strange skull-like quality that emphasised the darkness of his eyes, making them resemble almost empty eye sockets.

"Your friend is right, you really are extraordinarily beautiful," he said, smiling down at her. "The most beautiful woman in Buckingham Palace tonight if I may be so bold to say so."

Clara just continued to stare at him, feeling as though she was in a trance, his onyx gaze holding her captive, and all the while, it felt like something was tugging at the edge of her memory, forcing her to remember what she wanted to forget -

"You don't remember me, do you?" the stranger said, his smile fading.

Clara shook her head, the effort making her dizzy.

"He's even taken you away from me," the stranger said, his gaze suddenly scorching her soul. For a moment it felt like she being consumed by flame, and then the stranger was gone, leaving her alone in the middle of the dance floor.