Through A Glass Darkly

Nothing
to be scared of
my dreams, they keep a hold of me
my guides when I can't see...

"There was a prophecy," Morgan said, cradling Cassandra's head in her lap, smoothing back her crimson curls, "and it spoke of a Chosen One" -

- "Before you go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer on us," Clara cut across her, ignoring their blank faces, "I'm not interested. The point is, I remember now. Dulaque cut history to start again, to go back to the beginning, before Camelot fell" -

- "Lancelot is a fool," Morgan said bitterly, "he cut the thread of fate without re-weaving it - now the fabric of history is frayed."

"So we're skipping from thread to thread," Flynn said, flinging his hands up in the air, "oh joy."

"Each one is a possible path history could have taken," Morgan explained, looking at Clara strangely, "history will continue to unravel until all of time is undone."

"It's already undone though," Clara snapped, remembering all the lives she never lived. "There's nothing we can do. The Library's no more - and as for Librarians, don't get me started. Flynn quit at the starting line, Jake's dead, Ezekiel's lost his touch, and Cassandra - well, Cassandra's not even Cassandra anymore" -

- "She's you," Morgan said brokenly, "and you're her."

Cassandra sat up, her brow furrowing. "Morgan, are you well?" she asked, discreetly summoning Lamia to bring Morgan's tincture forth. "Is the fever returning?"

"I am quite well," Morgan said, getting to her feet, pushing the hair out of her eyes. "Pay no heed to my words."

"Maybe we should pay heed to your words," Clara said slowly, studying Morgan, sensing another secret.

"You talk of everyone but yourself," Morgan said impatiently, pacing the floor now, the hem of her cloak trailing behind her, "but what about you, Clara Hartley?"

"I don't fit in anywhere," Clara said, looking at Morgan like she was mad. "Then or now."

"The odd one out," Flynn said, startling her, "like me."

"You... you made your choice, Flynn," Clara said, unwillingly allowing herself to be sidetracked. "You know what you wanted, and you made your decision based on that."

"But maybe I should have chosen differently," Flynn said, taking his spectacles off, "at least it would have been a life of choice, not a life of safety, spent alone, on the sidelines" -

- "Being a Librarian can be lonely too" -

"Now I know what I could have had," Flynn snapped, his voice cracking, "if I could go back, I would choose that life - I would choose you." He stared at her, his lips trembling, tears filling his eyes, Clara staring back at him, unable to move, shocked into immobility. "When I look at you, I see a life half remembered, through a glass darkly, caught between a dream and reality," he said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, "but I can't remember, I can't see, I can't wake up - I can't have you" –

- "You always had me," Clara said, clutching his sleeve desperately, "right from the second you said ninjas."

"Ninjas?" Flynn said in disbelief, clutching her sleeve in turn.

Clara nodded. "It was the first thing you ever said to me," she gabbled, trying to make him see, "just after you skipped me in the queue at Starbucks."

"Starbucks?" Flynn said, confused now.

"Where I'm from, we have Starbucks," Clara explained, only to freeze as Morgan advanced on her, shaking her head. "What is it?" Clara demanded, glancing wildly around her. "Are we fading again?"

"He never had you," Morgan said, shaking off Cassandra's restraining hand, "you never even had yourself."

"What are you talking about?" Clara said, backing away from her, letting go of Flynn and her future.

"You are Guinevere, Clara," Morgan said tiredly, "not Cassandra, but you."