Where You Belong

"What's happening!?" Flynn yelled over the racket, wrapping his arms around his head, Clara clinging to the back of his jacket.

"The worlds are beginning to re-align," Morgan yelled back, clasping Cassandra's hand, Lamia watching from the edge with bitter eyes, "but it's not enough to re-thread the Loom, to fix the fabric of history. Clara is only one strand of the story, Guinevere another, but there are others, those mentioned in the prophecy" -

- "Flynn wasn't part of the prophecy," Clara shouted, "but he's how this story began. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be here."

"He is the one who denied your gift," Morgan shouted, "in a way, he led you here, to what might have been, as if you never existed. He didn't want this life for you, living in the Library's shadow, but you cannot fight fate."

"So what do we do!?" Flynn bellowed.

"We go to the Library," Clara said suddenly, "that's were we all are, or we were" -

- "But wait!" Flynn bellowed again. "How does Clara knowing she is Guinevere bring the world back!?"

"Can that not wait!?" Clara exclaimed in disbelief. "We're rather busy right now!"

"If we're going to do this, I want to know what we're doing!" Flynn retorted.

"The thread Dulaque cut was Guinevere's," Morgan explained, the wind nearly drowning out her voice, "but it was also Clara's because the two threads were intertwined, bound together. Everything connected to it began to unspool, history unravelling, splitting lives into separate strands, before separating them in turn – Clara finally remembering who she really is reweaves that original thread; those two fates are in alignment once more, and from there, we can continue to reweave the world back together, but only" -

- "But only if we have the others," Clara said, glancing at Cassandra, "because it's not just my story, it's theirs as well – my life is woven through theirs, Flynn, Eve, Jacob, Cassandra, Ezekiel; it wasn't just my timelines we were skipping through, but theirs as well."

"You're in alignment with each other," Flynn said brokenly, "but not with me – I'm not your Flynn, not the one in the prophecy anyways."

"You are!" Clara cried, grabbing his face between his hands. "That's why you're here, because it was meant to be. We were meant to be, Flynn, in this world or the next, as always and ever."

As she said this, a door suddenly appeared before them, cut out of empty air, Clara staring at its bright blue paint and highly polished letterbox, the tears welling up in her eyes as she remembered the first footstep she took through it, changing her life forever. "You took your time," she whispered, circling it, "I was coming home the long way round."

~*~

"What was that?" Flynn squeaked, pulling out his inhaler as he revolved on the spot, eying the Library nervously. "A magic portal or something?"

"The back door," Lamia said abruptly, making Clara glance up, brow furrowing.

"A shortcut," Cassandra said smartly, taking Morgan's hand, earning a fond smile from her.

"This was your desk," Clara said quietly to Flynn, before picking up her now cobweb covered Insular Romance: Politics, Faith, and Culture in Anglo-Norman and Middle English Literature, turning it over in her hands, remembering it from almost another life.

"Thief," the desk croaked, making Flynn jump like a flea, nearly dropping his inhaler in shock.

"Bah humbug," Clara retorted, slamming the book back down, making the desk curse her in rasped Russian.

"This is where you died, Librarian," Lamia said from by a bookshelf, holding Excalibur aloft, her words making Clara whirl around, the sight of the sword in Lamia's hand causing the ghost of Guinevere to stir within her.

"Cal," Clara whispered, unconsciously reaching for him, only for Flynn to step between them, eyes anxious.

"Concentrate, Lamia," Cassandra snapped, making Lamia flinch, "we have much work to do."

"You need to join hands," Morgan said quickly, letting go of Cassandra's, "to form the circle of fate, and then we can begin to restore the world to its original state" -

- "But that will end our existence," Lamia said, stepping forwards, lowering Excalibur to her side.

"It is a necessary sacrifice," Morgan said tersely, her lips trembling as she joined Clara and Cassandra's hands together, Flynn hanging back, hesitating.

Lamia just stared at her, her gaze then travelling to Cassandra, who just raised her chin, looking scornful, seeing not her equal, but her inferior, disregarding Lamia and her love, trampling it beneath her feet. But love cloaked many sins, and Lamia loved Cassandra, and what Lamia loved, she would not lose.

Without warning, she suddenly threw Excalibur like a spear in Clara's direction, the sword spinning through the air, flashing in the dim light, her aim deadly, hallmarked by the hand of a self-confessed killer. But for once, she never found her target, finding Flynn instead, Clara's scream renting reality apart all over again.

Morgan whirled on Lamia, her cloak whipping round her like wind. "What have you done!?" she screeched, her face suddenly inhuman, eyes coloured crimson, fingers curling into claws.

Lamia just stood there, defeat finally defeating her. "I had to try," she whispered, her shaking voice oddly ringing round the Library. "I will not fade into the shadows this time, awaiting my next order, the obedient servant - I will take fate into my own hands, even as I fail. I will not lose what I love" -

- "And neither will I," Morgan spat, raising her hand, Lamia's neck snapping, her body crumbling to the ground. Stepping over Lamia, she swept over to where Clara was on her knees, cradling Flynn in her arms, Cassandra just standing there, helpless for the first time in her life.

"Save him, please," Clara wept, but Morgan just shook her head, reaching for Cassandra.

"I cannot fight fate," she said quietly, the crimson fire fading from her eyes, "this is what Lancelot did not understand, that history repeats itself" -

- "You can take life," Clara cried, jerking her head at Lamia's body, "so give it! Save him!"

"Clara," Flynn whispered, turning his head so he could see her one last time, "it's okay, I chose this, it was my choice." Clara just stared at him, Flynn smiling brokenly at her, the life leaving his eyes as he faded from the world, until Clara's arms were empty, finally losing all she had left.

~*~

"Get up," Morgan said quietly to Clara.

But Clara just remained rooted to the spot, shaking from head to foot, the tears silently rolling down her face.

"Get up!" Morgan screamed, finally letting the strain show, making Clara flinch violently. But still she remained on her knees, her grief a display of defiance, making Morgan haul her upwards, her fingers biting into her flesh. "Take her hand," Morgan ordered Cassandra again, "we shall begin."

"But will it work?" Cassandra asked, obeying, albeit with some distaste. She had killed Clara in that corner, yet here she stood, hand in hand with her enemy, sacrificing herself and her heart for her sake.

"I do not know," Morgan said impatiently, "I can only try. He was the beginning of her story, now he is her end – maybe all our ends" -

- "Try," Cassandra said gently, taking Morgan's other hand, "just try."

Morgan's lips trembled again, but she smiled through her tears, before letting go of all she had loved for so long, raising both hands, her eyes flashing red fire again, the floor shaking beneath their feet like it had in the old world, foreshadowing the arrival of the new.

Then Ezekiel was there, clasping Cassandra's hand, face shellshocked, then an equally startled Jacob, his hand in Clara's, as if he had never let go, the sight of him making Clara slump forwards in shock, both he and Cassandra hauling her upright.

"You're dead," Clara whispered, looking at Jacob like she could never look at him enough.

"So are you," Ezekiel pointed out, remembering his Clara with the candyfloss curls, "kind of."

"It was just a lil illusion to confuse the enemy," Jacob said guiltily to Clara, "to buy me some time to escape."

"Bastard!" Clara screamed, trying and failing to kick him.

"Your legs are too short," Ezekiel pointed out again, making Jacob roll his eyes.

As the Library span around them, Eve was suddenly there, then Flynn, the former in a wedding dress, the latter in a black velvet suit. "You!" Eve bellowed upon catching sight of Clara still in her diner waitress uniform.

"You!" Flynn echoed, doing a double-take at Clara.

"I told you to try!" Cassandra yelled, making Morgan laugh, the sound soaring around the Library like music.

Clara just stared at Flynn, her chin trembling, unable to take anymore. But she held on all the same, the others holding onto her and each other, reweaving the fabric of fate, the Library returning to life, the dust disappearing, the cobwebs fading, furniture rearranging itself into its original positions, drawers opening and shutting, books flying from the shelves.

Time was going backwards as they went forwards, and then there was a flash of golden light, sending Clara sprawling to the floor, to where Flynn had faded from her. For a moment, she lay there, and then after what seemed like eternity, she finally raised her head, her gaze crashing into Morgan's, everybody else gone, leaving Clara to finish the story on her own, a story about a life of mystery and misery, of loneliness but adventure, a chance to make a difference, a chance to save the world every week - twice before Friday.

Morgan raised her hand, the back door opening at her last command, her flesh beginning to fade from this world still yet to be won. "The doors to the Loom are open," she said tiredly, "existing beyond space and time. Go forth and fight for your fate, Clara Hartley." And with that, she was gone, as if she had never been.

Make your way up to the stars
It's there where you belong...