Somewhere In The Pages We Forgot

Crooked wheels keep turning

Children, are you learning

Acclimatize but don't you lose the plot...

As Flynn explored the book-shelves, looking like a little boy on the loose in a candy-shop, recovering a modicum of his usual insanity, Clara found herself in a room she'd never encountered within the confines of the Library during her own tenure, the oak-pannelled walls lined with imposing portraits, immortalizing all the Librarians that had came before, an immemorial memorial. The time-scale ranged from the Tudor era onwards, Clara studying each painting in turn, noticing with some annoyance there were no women amongst their number.

"It's curious," Judson said, suddenly appearing out of the ether beside her, "the tendency to turn gender stereotypes upside down."

"Come again?"

"All through history, most of the Guardians were female, the Librarians, male," Judson explained, studying the last Librarian, an Edward Wilde, his painted eyes alarmingly knowing, "but you'd think it would be the other way around, wouldn't you? But not here. Here our women served the Library as protectors – defenders of knowledge" -

- "I'm not here for a history lesson," Clara cut across Judson, "I'm only here to make sure Smart-Arse over there arrived for his interview. Now he has the job, I'm done. So if you just tell me where you put the back door, I'll get out of your hair."

Judson looked at her almost sadly. "You really didn't think it would be as easy as that, do you?" he said, folding his hands behind his back. "Even after all you've experienced, all you've learned" -

- "I don't care how much you know," Clara hissed, rounding on him, "or what you think you know, but I am done with babysitting the Brainiac. I escorted him here – practically chauffeuring him to the gig. That was all I had to do. He made a choice not to come to the interview – I changed his mind. Doom avoided, done and dusted."

"You haven't caught the catch, have you?"

Clara stared at Judson, feeling a cold chill spreading down her spine, as if the trap had finally closed around her.

"Flynn is not the Librarian," Judson said simply, dropping his hands to his sides, "not yet."

Clara took a step back, knowing it to be in vain, that there was no escape to be found.

"He has to earn that title," Judson continued, "to become the Librarian requires more than intellectualism. Flynn..." He hesitated, trying to find the words to describe Flynn, only for Flynn to suddenly fly past the doorway, attached to an out of control jet pack, screaming at the top of his lungs. "I think Flynn just illustrated my point perfectly," Judson said delicately. "But to further elaborate, Flynn is the kind of man who can't tie his shoelace without having a near death experience. Do you understand where I'm going with this?"

Clara did a dramatic double-take, before backing away, shaking her head. "Whoa, hold your horses," she said, holding her hands up, "I have tried being a Guardian and let me tell you, I failed miserably. So thanks but no thanks, I'll just stick with the day job" - Her voice suddenly cut off, stopping short, realising too late she'd ditched the day job.

Judson just looked at her, making Clara squirm slightly, feeling strangely guilty, as if she'd let him down in some inexplicable way.

"Flynn will have a Guardian," Clara argued, attempting another offensive, "that's one of the perks of being a Librarian. I know he'll say he doesn't need one, but that was then, or it was, or it will be – what I mean, he'll get a Guardian now. It's – it's tradition – that's what you said" -

- "No, Clara," Judson said tiredly, "it was a tradition. But it's out-dated now. Having a Guardian won't save Flynn from dying before he becomes the Librarian. It never saved all of them," he gestured to the row of paintings, "it didn't save Edward." There was a painful silence, Clara cradling her head between her hands, unable to deal with what Judson was all but demanding. "There was Nicole," Judson said slowly, making Clara's head snap up, "there would be Nicole, but you being here changes everything – Flynn's choice has changed the fabric of fate itself entirely."

Clara stood there, finally putting a name to the look that was sometimes on Flynn's face, Nicole, the woman he never spoke of, the painful expression in his eyes the only indication she ever existed. Clara only had a brief broken engagement in her romantic past, having spent the majority of her life singularly single, but she was aware Flynn's relationship history was rather more colourful than hers, although to look at him now, she would never have thought it. "Why me?" she said quietly, lowering her hands to her sides. "Alright, it was Flynn's choice, but I chose to leave" -

- "You chose to stay by choosing this," Judson snapped, losing his customary cool, gesturing around him with an agitated hand at all Clara would sacrifice herself to save. "That was your choice."

Clara stared at him again, reality suddenly turning red, the Library asking too much this time, always taking, never giving. "You know, it's not always going to be like this," she snapped, waving her arm wildly at the row of paintings, "one Librarian after another, sending them out to the slaughter, with only a book between them and the flames. Things will change" -

- "But there will always be a Librarian in the Library," Judson said slowly, "whether there's one or one hundred."

Clara just looked at him, nostrils flaring, wondering for the thousandth time how much he knew. Once there had been only one Librarian, the Librarian; now there were four, or there had been. But how Judson knew this, that everything would change, Flynn rewriting the rules; again, Clara didn't know.

"You never got your letter," Judson said simply, ruining her reverie, "yet here you are. Nothing changes, not really. There will always be a Librarian in the Library, and you will always find yourself here."

Clara dropped her gaze to the ground, fists clenching by her sides, Judson juxtaposing himself with his contradictions. Everything changed whilst staying the same, the cerebration making Clara's head spin. "Change comes at a price," Clara then said through gritted teeth, raising her head, "and I paid for it with blood. Now you're asking me to pay for the past with my heart. I... I just can't do it, Judson."

"Do you love Flynn, Clara?" Judson asked suddenly, startling her. "Did you tell him you loved him? Did he say that he loved you?"

Clara exhaled sharply, feeling like the breath had been stolen from her lungs.

"Love led you here," Judson said quietly, "and love might not let you leave. Think on that, Clara Hartley, before you go back."