The Changing Of The Guardian

Clara flicked her feather duster over Flynn's broad shoulders, silently wondering at how they were always dusty, rather like the bookshelves he so frequently haunted. Then he was off again, flashing his foil for all it was worth, Excalibur going full pelt as well. Clara watched the mock sword-fight until the mis-matched pair disappeared out of sight behind some display cases, before resuming her dusting, jaw tightening. She worked her way down the length of the aisle, her thoughts unpleasantly elsewhere, only to stop short at the sight of Insular Romance: Politics, Faith, and Culture in Anglo-Norman and Middle English Literature.

For a long time Clara stared at it, remembering the weight of it in her hands as she smashed it across Lamia's face. She had forgotten all about the book, assuming it lost in the ensuing chaos. Yet here it was, almost as if it was waiting for her. And the longer she looked at it, the more the uncomfortable feeling grew there was a message somewhere in its sudden reappearance.

She set down her feather duster and picked up the book instead, flicking thoughtfully through its pages. On that day, she'd been scared but still in control. She'd fought back instead of clinging to Flynn's leg. Was this what the Library was trying to tell her? That there was a spark of potential in her after all? She put the book back down, carefully closing it. She wasn't that Clara anymore, the one who mocked the idea of magic, who only imagined the impossible.

Clara had acted like a petulant child that day, throwing hissy fit after hissy fit at Flynn as though everything was his fault. But he'd tried to help her in his own heartless fashion, and she'd just flung it back in his face, along with the cream puff. So it was no wonder the Library had acted the way it had towards her. But now things were different. Clara had changed and so had the Library's attitude towards her, letting her in instead of shutting her out.

Picking up her feather duster again, she set off once more, brandishing it at the bookshelves, following the sound of Flynn's voice and the clanging of metal. As she rounded a corner, she suddenly froze. To her disbelief, the blonde woman from Berlin was in the Library, standing beside Charlene in front of a lift entrance Clara had never seen before. Just at that point, Flynn pirouetted into view, waving his foil like a fairy wand, Excalibur echoing his moves.

"You're getting sloppy, Cal!" Flynn taunted, doing another twirl.

The blonde woman took a tentative step forwards, making Clara curse, stashing her feather duster behind an urn as she moved, knowing what was going to happen next. But she wasn't fast enough, Excalibur suddenly aiming right for the blonde's jugular, stopping short of slicing her head off.

"Don't move!" Clara cried, holding her hands out in front of her. "Don't do anything! Don't even breathe!"

"She's here to help, you stupid sword!" Charlene shouted, dashing down the steps, clutching a manila folder to her chest.

But the blonde woman didn't listen. Instead, she tried to grab the handle of the sword, Clara crying out in alarm, Flynn barging past her as he rushed towards them, his face filled with rage.

"Don't touch him!" Flynn bellowed, making the blonde woman freeze. "He doesn't like being touched!"

The blonde woman just stared at him in disbelief, the sword quivering dangerously, its blade almost drawing blood now.

"When Excalibur gets angry, he gets really angry," Flynn said coldly, "and wounds caused by Excalibur never heal. They're magic."

"Flynn," Clara said, coming up the side of him, "Cal's going to cut her head off, so maybe you should do something other than nag, hmmm?"

"I don't nag," Flynn protested.

"Just do something, please!?" Clara said, hopping from one foot to the next in agitation.

"Cal, go on patrol," Flynn ordered, "I'll meet you in Ancient Egypt."

The sword flew off, the blonde woman slumping against a shelf in relief, only to leap back as it cursed her in Bavarian. Flynn just stared at her, his brow furrowing, Clara stepping inbetween them, sensing a storm starting.

"Umm, what are you doing here?" Clara asked the blonde.

But the blonde just ignored her, still staring at the shelf in shock.

Flynn rolled his eyes. "What is she doing here?" he asked Charlene abruptly, ripping the cravat off his head as he did so.

"Colonel Eve Baird, meet Flynn Carsen, the Librarian," Charlene said, looking smug. "Oh, and this is Clara," she added as an afterthought, "she's our... cleaner."

Eve just cast Clara an almost contemptuous look, all her attention focusing on Flynn instead, her eyes narrowing as they met his. "We've... we've met," she said, stuttering slightly despite herself. "That's... that's Excalibur, yeah?"

But nobody answered her, an awkward silence falling instead. Clara shifted uncomfortably on the spot, her eye becoming caught by a crisp white envelope Eve was holding by her side. Following the path of Clara's stare, Flynn glanced at the envelope, before doing a double-take. Clara was about to ask him what it was, but he mimed zipping his lips, shaking his head for good measure. Clara clamped her mouth shut, slightly put out. Without any warning, he suddenly snatched it from Eve's fingers, making her leap backwards like a scalded cat.

"What the hell!?" Eve exclaimed.

"Shhh," Flynn reiterated, ripping the letter open and sniffing its paper like a bloodhound, making Charlene roll her eyes.

To Clara's surprise, Eve surprisingly allowed this, becoming distracted instead by the Library, her face curious, eyes wide with almost wonder. Clara bit her lip, shifting uncomfortably on the spot again. She didn't know if it was Eve's good looks or commanding air, but there was something about her that was setting Clara on edge, making her feel inferior and helpless in comparison. Back in Berlin, Clara had done nothing but hinder, whilst Eve had all but saved the day. Now she was here, making Clara want to go and hide in a cupboard somewhere.

"You'd end up in Narnia," Flynn said, startling Clara out of her reverie.

"How" -

- "Only when you think about cupboards, Hartley," Flynn said, unperturbed.

"Never mind that," Eve said almost imperiously, stepping in front of Clara, "you call Excalibur... Cal?"

"We're friends, best friends, besties, really," Flynn said, almost squeeing like a fangirl.

Eve just looked at him like he was something nasty her shoe had just stood on. But again, Flynn just ignored her, barging past her as he crossed the floor to Charlene, brandishing the letter at her.

"Why would you send this to her?" he demanded, Clara flinching slightly at the force of his voice.

"I don't send the invitations, the Library does," Charlene said pettishly. "The Library sends the invitations" -

- "Alright, the Library sends the invitations!" Clara snapped, flinging her hands up in the air. "We get the point!"

"You're just jealous you never got one," Charlene retorted. "You're not part of the party."

"What party?" Eve asked, bewildered now.

"There is no party," Flynn said, tying his cravat, "but there's been a mistake, and I think you should go, so good-bye, and don't come back." Without another word, he grabbed Clara's hand and dragged her off between the bookshelves, leaving Eve standing on the steps, looking like an idiot.

"Don't tell me what to do, Carsen!" Eve hollered, setting off after them.

"Oh, you are perfect!" Charlene said, almost weeping with joy.

~*~

"Why is she here?" Clara gasped as Flynn hauled her along.

"She's been chosen as my new Guardian," he said, not even out of breath.

"Your what?"

"Does exactly what it says on the tin," Flynn spat. "She guards me."

"From what though?"

"From the bad guys, Hartley, the bogey men, the monsters that hide under your bed," Flynn snapped, "but I don't need a Guardian. Do you hear that?" he shouted up at the ceiling. "I don't need her! I'm fine!"

"Well, I need an answer," Eve said, stepping in front of them, halting them in their tracks.

"This is my answer," Flynn said smartly, letting go of Clara's hand before taking off again.

"Walking away quickly is not an answer!" Eve protested, following him, Clara trailing after her, feeling like a third wheel.

"How about this?" Flynn said, before slamming the doors to the library wing on her face.

"For God's sake!" Eve exploded, making to kick the doors open, only for Clara to grab her arm, halting her.

"Don't do that," Clara said nervously. "You'll damage them."

"I'll damage him for talking to me like that," Eve said dangerously.

"No, you won't," Clara said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You'll have to get through me first."

"What, are you his Guardian now?"

"No, but violence isn't the answer."

"It's always the answer."

Clara just shook her head, before turning and going into the library wing, Eve hard on her heels, only to stop, stunned by the sheer vastness of the library wing, the sweeping staircase and soaring Grecian columns. Clara perched on the edge of Flynn's desk, ignoring its complaints, half wishing Eve would just leave. But the blonde strode forwards, shaking her head as though to clear it, before going over to where Flynn was checking his cravat in the mirror.

"If you won't deal with me, direct me to one of the other Librarians," Eve demanded, coming to a halt in front of a blank canvas propped against a pillar.

"There are no other Librarians," Clara said quietly.

"I'm not talking to you, you're just a cleaner," Eve said, flapping a hand at her.

"She's not just a cleaner," Flynn snapped, whirling around, "she's Hartley."

"I don't care what she is! Just direct me to someone who isn't you or her!"

"There are no other Librarians," Flynn reiterated, "there's only ever one Librarian and that's me. When I die, someone else will take my place. So good-day and good-bye."

Eve stared at him, confused. To Clara's own confusion, the blank canvas that stood behind Eve, suddenly became a portrait of Judson."Was Judson the Librarian before you?" Clara suddenly asked him, gesturing to the painting.

Flynn looked at her, and then he looked at the painting, before looking at Clara again. "What, you can see it, the portrait I mean?" he said, sounding nervous all of a sudden.

Clara nodded, confused.

"Why shouldn't she see it?" Eve asked, stepping forwards. "It's just a picture of an old man."

"What, you can see it too?" Flynn said, turning to her.

Eve nodded as well, looking at him as though he was mad, which he was.

"Was Judson a Librarian too?" Clara repeated, sliding off the edge of the desk.

"Judson, no," Flynn said, shaking his head, "he was more than that, he was... He found me. He... he trained me. He was there for me when... when my mother... when my mother..." Clara started towards him, only for Flynn to turn away from her. "He died five years ago," he said abruptly, making Clara retreat behind the desk again. "That's all you need to know."

"I'm sorry," Clara said quietly, wishing she hadn't said anything.

"You should be," Flynn said cruelly. "I said no more questions, no more noseying. And what do you do at the slightest encouragement? You start sticking that snubby hooter of yours into my business!"

"Hey, don't talk to the girl like that," Eve interrupted, striding forwards. "She was just asking about your goddamn painting."

"It's Judson, not a goddamn painting!"

"I'm sorry for your loss," Eve said smartly, "but it doesn't give you the right to talk to her or me like we're pieces of crap, alright?"

"He's with us in spirit," Flynn said, changing the subject.

"That's nice," Eve said, sounding like she thought the opposite.

"No, I literally am here in spirit," Judson said from the depths of the mirror, making Eve whirl around, pulling out her gun as she did so.

"Hey!" Clara protested, rushing forwards. "Drop the gun!"

"It's alright, Clara," Judson reassured her. "The most she can do is break the mirror." He turned to Eve again. "Nice reflexes though," he said appreciatively, "you'll make a good Guardian."

"You're dead!?" Eve said in disbelief.

"It's easier than it looks," Judson said.

"Judson, what exactly is a Guardian?" Clara said curiously, stepping in front of the shellshocked Eve.

"It's like Flynn said," Judson said not a little impatiently, "a Guardian protects the Librarian. A bit like a bodyguard. You see a life of fighting evil cults and monsters" -

- "Librarians tend to die - often," Flynn said, cutting across him. "Sometimes even more than once."

"Flynn's survived for ten years," Judson said, "longer than anyone. And most of it without a Guardian."

Clara stood there, Judson's words suddenly making several things fall into place. She turned to face Flynn, her brow furrowing. "Why didn't you tell me all this before?" she said. "Did you think I wouldn't understand?"

Flynn just turned away from her, his shoulders hunching. Eve lowered her gun, taking a step back from the mirror, still staring at it in disbelief.

"Like Charlene said, the flood-gates are opening," Judson said, "things are changing."

"Nothing's changed or changing," Flynn snapped as he whirled around.

"Being alone," Judson said pointedly to Clara, "has changed him."

"Everything's changed," Clara said slowly, "and it's still changing. Even me."

So little time
Try to understand that I'm
Trying to make a move just to stay in the game
I try to stay awake and remember my name
But everybody's changing
And I don't feel the same...