7:01

Clara folded her arms across her chest as she followed Flynn across the crowded courtyard, Flynn rushing ahead, holding aloft his cup of coffee, nearly knocking down several strangers in the process. In the end, she had bailed on the plan to seek out the back door, reluctantly returning back to Flynn's house instead, Flynn keeping his distance, the Library dividing them then and now. Whatever way she put it, Clara had lied to him, and Flynn was now struggling to have faith in her, the little he'd had now lost.

Flynn had told Margie of his new job, coldly keeping to the fact he was now a librarian, hiding the truth in plain sight. Margie had taken him and Clara to a new restaurant that had just opened in town, splashing out on champagne to celebrate, Margie alarming Clara with her alacrity in accepting Clara as almost a Carsen. The evening had been uncomfortable, Flynn surprisingly making a botched effort at being Clara's supposed boyfriend, awkwardly holding her hand and kissing her cheek at random intervals with the air of attending his execution. But Margie had been almost in tears at his displays of affection, wending her way through daydreams of winter weddings; of having a grandchild by the end of next year.

"7.01," Flynn yelled at Charlene, who was unlocking the elaborately ornamental metal entrance to the Metropolitan Library with one hand, whilst clutching a coffee with the other, "you're late!"

Charlene started violently, nearly spilling her coffee all over herself. "What fresh hell is this!?" she exclaimed, eyes filled with fury.

"You'll have to dock your own pay," Flynn pointed out as Clara drew level with them.

Charlene just gave him a withering look, Flynn withering on cue, almost shrinking into himself.

"Uh... coffee?" he offered awkwardly, proffering his paper cup with the protective sleeve.

"Don't mind if I do," Clara said smartly, taking the coffee, making Flynn glare at her.

"Oh, look, it's the Librarian who isn't the Librarian," Charlene said, sneering at Clara's new red floral dress and navy blazer combination bought courtesy of Flynn's coffers, "and her kiss-ass side-kick."

"Menopausal, are we?" Clara said sweetly. "Or are you just being your usual charming self?"

Charlene just flushed hotly, before storming inside, Flynn following, Clara seconding him.

"That was worth the price of your outfit alone," Flynn said in a low voice to Clara. "Thank you for defending me so succinctly."

"Money can buy you almost everything," Clara said sarcastically, "loyalty if not love."

Flynn threw her a funny look at that, but Clara deflected it by demurely sipping her coffee, wishing herself a world away.

~*~

"The Spear of Destiny has been stolen?" Clara said stupidly.

Judson glanced at her, sporting the latest look in black eyes, giving him the rakish air of a one-eyed raccoon.

"Some things never change," Clara muttered, turning away from the tableau of Judson's makeshift sickbed on the leather sofa, avoiding Flynn's frantic glances.

"You boy," Charlene snapped at Flynn, almost startling him out of his skin, "spill the beans on the Spear of Destiny."

"Me?" Flynn said, clutching his chest dramatically.

"No, Norma Jean in the corner," Charlene spat. "Yes, you!"

Flynn swallowed hard. "Uh, the Spear was supposedly meant to have pierced the side of Jesus when he was on the Cross," he said in a rush, "making it an ancient talisman reported to have mystical powers – that anybody who wields the Spear also wields the fate of the world" -

- "Somebody pass me my sleeping bag," Charlene said, pretending to suppress a yawn. "All I wanted was an abridged version, boy, not the bloody Bible," she suddenly barked, nearly startling Flynn out of his skin once more.

"Leave him alone," Clara flared up, "he can't help being a know-all."

"What, and you can?" Flynn said, incensed.

"There's a time and a place," Clara said coldly.

"None more so than now," Judson interjected, patting Flynn's shoulder paternally, silencing both Charlene and Clara. "For thousands of years," he then said, standing up with some difficulty, "those who possessed the Spear, from Charlemagne to Napoleon, became the greatest conqueror of their time" -

- "Wait," Flynn said suddenly, before sprinting over to Judson's desk. "I'm experiencing an epiphany!"

"I await it with great expectation," Judson said, sitting back down, looking faintly amused.

"The Spear only exists in fragments," Flynn reeled off, stooping down in front of the screen, "it's been dismantled and divided" -

- "Well observed," Judson said, folding his hands in his lap.

"Why?" Clara asked curiously. "Why was it taken apart?"

"The Spear was too powerful to remain intact," Judson said gently, as though explaining the universe to a child, "so since you can never completely destroy the Spear, the first Librarian, hundreds of years ago, broke it into three pieces and scattered the Spear in secret places across the sphere."

"Well," Flynn exhaled sharply, straightening up, "with the Spear all broken up, it still can't be a threat, can it?"

"Don't be so damn naïve," Charlene spat. "Hitler only had one piece. Only a fool can fail to imagine how powerful one person could be with the Spear pieced together once more!"

"That was the whole point of stealing that fragment of the Spear, Flynn," Clara said, rolling her eyes as she turned to him, "to unite it once more with the other fragments."

"We all have our off days," Flynn sniffed as Clara came over to him. "Even the elite, Hartley."

"You didn't understand why the Spear had to be dismantled," Charlene aimed at Clara, "when a two year old could have figured it out. So don't slam the boy for his slip-ups when you're making plenty of your own."

"We all learn from our mistakes," Judson said, something in his voice making Charlene fall silent, "from chaos comes knowledge."

But Clara wasn't listening, only staring at the frozen screen, her brow furrowing.

"What is it, Clara?" Judson asked, concerned.

"Nothing," Clara said, shaking her head, "nothing at all."

~*~

"Why did you look so weird in there earlier?" Flynn asked Clara, before cramming the rest of the croissant into his mouth, spraying crumbs everywhere.

Clara picked at her own croissant, avoiding his eyes. They'd spent two hours with Charlene clearing up the mess made during the break-in, only for Flynn to make an even bigger mess by somehow unleashing an ancient curse, leading to Charlene to dismiss them for an early lunch-break, ignoring Flynn's idea of using magic to clean everything up. And now here they were, Clara caught between a rock and a hard place. She was meant to make sure Flynn became the Librarian, but the theft of the Spear of Destiny was turning her task into something else entirely, Clara becoming convinced Charlene and Judson were going to throw Flynn to the lions in a suicidal attempt to get the Spear back.

"Clara," Flynn whined, flapping his large hand in her face, "why did you look so weird? I want to know."

"I know who stole the Spear of Destiny."

"What?" Flynn said, doing a doubletake.

"I know who stole it, alright!?"

"Who – w-w-who then?"

"The Serpent Brotherhood."

"Are – are you sure?" Flynn stuttered, not knowing what she was talking about, only that it sounded terrifying.

"Yes, I'm sure!"

"How do you know this for a fact though!?"

"The surveillence tape," Clara explained impatiently, "I seen the tattoo on one of their arms. It's very distinctive – you can't mistake it."

"Okay," Flynn then said slowly, "does Judson know about this Serpent Brotherhood?"

"Probably, I don't know."

"Aside from that, then, what have they got to do with you?"

Clara raised her head, lips trembling slightly. "I... I have history with the Serpent Brotherhood," she said, voice cracking, "history I'd rather not repeat." Even though the Serpent Brotherhood had nothing to do with resurrecting Guinevere, Clara had learned too late of her mother's involvement with the organization, not knowing how far it reached, only knowing she had ran up huge debts, being forced to sell the family home and its contents to Dulaque, Chamberlain House becoming the Brotherhood's base.

"What do you mean history?" Flynn asked, sitting up, spine suddenly ram-rod straight.

"They hurt me," Clara said through gritted teeth, "they hurt the people I care about." They'll hurt you, she silently added, the thought making her fists clench. All that pain was yet to come, Clara putting herself between blade and bone, her sacrifice scarring Flynn more than a sword could.

"Does Judson know?"

"I don't know," Clara said, shrugging her shoulders, "he might, he might not. Judson likes to talk in riddles. I'm never quite sure what he knows."

"Or you're afraid of what he does know," Flynn said sarcastically, "I noticed you don't like your little acts of evasion being uncovered."

"I didn't lie to you, Flynn," Clara snapped, sick of sounding like a broken record, "I was... I was just trying to protect you."

"What, by being economical with the truth?" Flynn snapped back. "By employing silences to suit yourself? Working your womanly wiles on me - making out you showing up in my life just before that damn letter was sheer coincidence?"

"I may have implied but I never outright lied" -

- "You weren't trying to protect me," Flynn said, shaking his head, "you were protecting yourself. You had a job to do, to involve me in this frankly insane undertaking, and if you had told me a magic library wanted to put me on their books, I obviously wouldn't have believed you, mystical glowing letter or not. So you schemed and plotted and manipulated to get me here, playing on my better nature might I add. You pushed me into this position" -

- "Because you needed pushing," Clara flared up, "because you forced me to push you. But don't play the part of the naïve country boy, Flynn. You knew full well something was in the wind, and that it wasn't entirely... normal. You said so yourself, that you didn't know what was happening – you said I wasn't to tell you, to leave it in the lap of the gods" -

- "Whatever," Flynn said coldly, "I don't care what you say, I don't trust you, Clara Hartley, you and your snaky connections to this Serpent Brotherhood."

"You trust me enough around your mother" -

- "Don't you dare bring my mother into this" -

- "You trust me enough to let me sleep under your roof," Clara said in a wild rush, "to feed and clothe me; to come with me on what you classed as a fool's errand – you trusted me enough to agree to all this!" She waved her arm wildly, just missing Flynn's nose, making him reel back. "You chose this, Flynn!" she bellowed, scattering croissant crumbs to the wind. "It was your choice, not mine."

"No, you chose for me," Flynn said, getting to his feet, "nobody else, just you." And with that, he turned and stalked into the crowd, leaving Clara on her own again.

Why aren't you shaking

Step back in time

Graciously taken

Oh you're too kind...