The Second Worst Day

[st_clare]

London, England - 1978


The bottom line was, she wanted to be punished. If they'd punish her, perhaps she'd be satisfied.

Julianna and Edmund remained in Boston for a week after Allison's funeral. They spent the days touring the city, the evenings in the hotel bar, and the nights not talking. The time passed far too quickly. When it came time to fly back to London, the flight alternately was too long and too short. They arrived at Heathrow just before dawn, and he kissed her on the cheek when they said farewell.

She was wearing basic black when she arrived at Council headquarters, the color of mourning. She was terrified but resolute. If they sacked her, it was what she deserved. If they didn't sack her, she was going to turn in her resignation.

The Watcher's appointment was with Cyrus Claymore, a senior member of the Council. Julianna had never met the man, but she'd heard rumors. Her low heels made clicking noises on the highly-polished floor as she made her way down the hall. Portraits of other Watchers, now long dead, hung on the walls. She was vaguely surprised to see that Mother was not among them.

"Doctor Claymore?" She was amazed that her voice didn't shake. Was she supposed to use his professional title? I am Julianna St. Clare. Whatever happens, I deserve it

Comments

[birthright_npc]

Cyrus Claymore was not what one expected of a man of his professional stature. A worried imagination might provide an idea of someone tall and imposing, with an expression as grave as the situation at hand. Doctor Claymore, however, was an older gentleman of average height and build, more paunchy than most members of the Council, as if he had a habit of taking too many servings at the table. He was black, and what hair remained on his head was short and gray. He only wore glasses when he read, which was something of an oddity in a field that demanded near-constant squinting at faded print.

“Ms. St. Clare, please, come in,” he said, beckoning from a large desk with an open hand. His office was large and tidy, the walls done in wood, a grandfather clock pendulum swinging in the corner. Shelves climbed floor to ceiling, each crammed with books and neat stacks of papers tucked into leather portfolios. In the corner sat a smaller desk with a typewriter, and by the windows, a pair of maroon wingback chairs. There was a pot of tea and two cups, a small pitcher of cream, a dish of sugar.

He stood up and walked to one of the chairs. “Have a seat.” The cushion sighed underneath his weight.

[st_clare]

Julianna felt as coltish as a teenager as she made her way to one of the chairs. She didn't correct Claymore when he didn't use her own title. She wasn't 'Doctor' anything in this office. It was a surprise that he was black. She was unsure of why.

"I hope I'm on time," she said as she tried to make herself comfortable. If he offered her tea she would accept, because dealing with the cup would give her something to do with her hands. The curtains were drawn back from the windows, letting in the weak sunlight of the late afternoon.

"And that this isn't too much of an inconvenience for you."

[birthright_npc]

“Not at all.” He poured two cups of tea without asking and lumped sugar into his brew. “There’s no need to stand on formality. Call me Cyrus. May I call you Julianna?” The tone of his voice wasn’t warm, exactly, but it was frank. If the rumor mill was to be trusted, he was not putting on airs; no tyrant worked within these walls. Claymore was a congenial administrator, and he would be so in their interview, as long as it went according to his expectations.

He raised his cup and took a sip.

[st_clare]

"Cyrus, then. And yes, you may call me Julianna."

The Watcher added one lump of sugar to her tea, stirred it into the hot liquid with a silver spoon. There was the quiet sound of metal rattling against china as she did so. Claymore's suit was very well cut. She wondered idly if he'd had it hand-tailored.

Before her thoughts could spin into the land of ridiculousness, Julianna focused her attention on the other Watcher's dark face. Breathe. "I'm afraid I don't know how to proceed from here."

[birthright_npc]

"Mm. Well, these are hardly common circumstances." He set his cup on the little table and settled more comfortably in the chair. As his fingers laced loosely in his lap, Claymore more closely resembled a psychologist than a senior member of an organization tasked with diverting the apocalypse. From somewhere down the corridor, the sound of footsteps came to them, and then a heavy door closing on dry hinges.

"I understand you've just returned from America. You went against the Council's recommendation, did you not?"

[st_clare]

"I did. I went to Boston to see Alli....to see my Slayer buried. It was something I felt I needed to do."

Julianna wondered if this meant Edmund would be called on the carpet for going with her. If Cyrus asked, she would say it was her idea. She'd needed support, and he was the only one she'd known long enough to trust in that fashion. She didn't want him getting in trouble because of her.

She had another sip of tea, allowing the warmth of it to work on calming her nerves. "If I had been ordered not to go, I might have stayed away. But because it was just a recommendation, I didn't see a reason not to see it through."

[birthright_npc]

“It’s interesting to hear your phrasing first-hand. ‘My’ slayer.” Claymore’s thumbs rubbed together and he fixed on her an inquisitive look. Seconds ticked by. A bird fluttered outside of the window pane, but he didn’t break his scrutiny of her. “I heard that you felt a particular attachment to the slayer. There is a reason that multiple watchers are tasked with the training of each of our assets, Julianna. We do it to avoid just this sort of attachment.” He jabbed at his knee, as if her false step was on display in his lap. “This misplaced sense of responsibility over her fate. It seems you were allowed too much time with her. It is a misstep we will avoid in the future.”

[st_clare]

There was nothing for Julianna to say to that. She'd known at the time that she was breaking protocol, forming a bond with the girl. She hadn't been the only Watcher assigned to train Allison, but she'd been the one the Slayer had truly responded to. Perhaps she'd seen a bit of her younger self there - shy, bookish, intellectually curious - and that had been the beginning of it.

"Our relationship was not inappropriate," she told Cyrus, holding the cup of tea between her ringless hands. "My methods were deemed the most suitable for someone so unfamiliar with athletics, and I observed protocol in every instance when we were training. I never took it easy on her."

It was the truth, but she was skirting the issue and she knew it. She must be honest here. Cyrus wasn't condemning her, at least not yet. Perhaps the only one condemning her was herself.

[birthright_npc]

“No one has suggested it,” he said and spread his palms before her. “The slayer passed every test we put to her, and I stand by our determination that she was ready for the field. Her death was not a failure of the Council, but a consequence of her calling, a consequence that is both natural and necessary. The strongest slayers survive the longest in the field, and when they are no longer strong, they are replaced. Not by us, but by the perils of their calling.”

He shifted to pick up his cup of tea. “Such thinking may seem harsh, but our world, our very existence would have crumbled into dust long ago, were it not for this system. This tried and true system.”

[st_clare]

"That girl was not a weakling."

Her tone became clipped when she said it, more precise, and she put the cup aside on the table with the other tea things. She folded her hands into her lap as if she were praying to keep them from fidgeting. "As you said, she passed your tests, lived up to the expectation that she was ready to be active in the field. To follow the path of her destiny."

Outside, a bird had landed on the lowest branch of the tree just outside the window. Julianna watched the way it preened its feathers, the glossy black stark against the green leaves. She forced her fingers to relax their grip on each other.

"All of our...assets...have strength and courage. They have to. Without the raw materials to work with, training would be useless."

She wondered if she was scandalizing him. The philosophy of the Council was a simple one; that if the girls didn't survive, it was because it was their time to die. Julianna knew Mother had subscribed to that belief. She wasn't sure she believed it anymore.

"There is a failure here, Cyrus, but it's not the Council's. It's a personal one. My failure."

[birthright_npc]

"And yet it's your use of pronouns that disturbs me, Julianna. My slayer. Your tests." He chuckled and shook his head, and when he next spoke, it was with pure conviction. Cyrus leaned forward, his thumb and forefinger pinching the air. "We are one entity, this Council. Any failure belongs to us all, but in this circumstance, there was no failure. A slayer was bested. If you believe she was not ready, then you imply a systemic failure of the process we have put in place -- one that has worked for centuries! -- rather than acknowledge an ugly yet simple truth... That girl met her match. If that is the case, I must call into question your faith in this organization, and we cannot afford to splinter."

He sat back.

"We grieve for a life cut short, yes. We grieve for a family who has lost its daughter. But we do not let it deter us. She accomplished more on this earth than most people will in eighty years."

[st_clare]

Was Cyrus right? Was it hubris that was partly fueling her guilt? Edmund had told her that she'd convinced herself she was responsible for Allison's death because she needed control, needed it to the point that she'd believe something horrible. Julianna struggled to separate emotion from cold logic.

"I believe in the Council's work," she said after a silence. "When I was first approached to join our ranks, I knew it was an honor and a privilege to mold girls into warriors so that they could battle the forces of evil. That was quite a few years ago, when I was much younger. Since then, I've unwaveringly dedicated myself to the Council's ideals. Determination, hard work, the imparting of knowledge. I knew there would be sacrifices if I chose that path, and I made them because I believe."

Another silence. Julianna picked up her teacup and took a sip. It was rapidly cooling. China rattled as she set the cup back down. "Perhaps it was a moment of weakness, but I reached out to her because she was lonely. I befriended her. I know it violates protocol, that we aren't supposed to develop attachments to our assets. I wasn't even truly comfortable with it. I didn't want a daughter and she didn't need a mother."

The Watcher closed her eyes, then opened them again to look at Cyrus frankly. "It must seem terribly arrogant to you."

[birthright_npc]

“Not arrogant,” he corrected. “Foolhardy.”

The watcher stood up and adjusted his suit jacket. He went to stand by the window and, tucking his hands into his trouser pockets, he looked at the grounds beyond the pane, the meticulous hedging of the property. “My interest is in whether we’ve lost two assets in this ordeal. The likelihood of your working with another slayer is minimal if you continue on this path. Please understand, it is not your tutelage that has been called into question. It is your disposition.”

[st_clare]

Julianna swallowed Her disposition? He didn't know anything about her bloody disposition. He didn't know the effort it had taken to appear in his office today, to not curl up in her bed at her flat and hide from the world. It had taken enormous emotional strength to get on the plane back in Boston and fly home so she could face whatever consequences she deserved. She was not a weakling either.

"If I made an error in judgement, it was because I was attempting to be kind," she said in a low voice. "I'm not as comfortable with emotional displays as I could be, which probably shows my age and reveals my upbringing. I'd never made the effort to reach out to a Slayer before this."

She looked at the back of Cyrus' suit jacket, noted the way the garment hung on his portly frame. "A friend suggested that I should take a sabbatical," she said reluctantly. "At least for a short time."

[birthright_npc]

Cyrus narrowed his eyes in contemplation of the woman. She was a puzzle, at one moment apologetic for having developed a depth of feeling for a pupil, and in the next, defending those same methods. Loss was a tricky emotion, it was true, but he began to suspect Julianna St. Clare was correct when she diagnosed herself with arrogance.

Let no one cast aspersions on her performance, other than herself.

“A sabbatical might do you some good,” he agreed. “You can return to your research while you sort through what is proving to be a complicated response. And they believe we have it easy.” He snorted lightly. Cyrus walked around the back of his chair in the general direction of his desk.

[st_clare]

"I..."

Perhaps Claymore was correct. The guilt was still fresh, misplaced though it might have been. Was it enough punishment that he was taking away the opportunity for the thing that had given her the largest sense of accomplishment, even if it was only for the time being? Would Mother have been embarrassed by what she saw as her failure? If a girl had ever died on Antha's watch, she had no knowledge of it.

"I'm rather at a loss," she admitted stiffly. She picked up her cup and looked down into it instead of drink. "I had some dramatic idea of how this would proceed, and I was fully prepared to make an equally theatrical gesture in response to it. I don't know how to react now that things haven't gone according to plan."

Outside, the glossy black bird had flown away, but a squirrel had taken its place in the tree, its tail twitching as it perched on a branch. The week in Boston had been a distraction, a reprieve from the real world. In the silence of Claymore's office, Julianna was faced with the uncomfortable fact that she didn't know where to go from here.

"I'm fifty-three years old," she told the other Watcher, carefully keeping her attention fixed on the window. "I've always known that losses occur in the field. If I could explain why this one girl matters so much, it would make this easier."

[birthright_npc]

"It is alright that she matters. She ought to matter," said Cyrus, picking up a manila folder on his desk, weighing it in his palm, and then resettling it on another pile. He briefly rubbed the back of his head. "But there is no reason for it to cost you your career. Surely you told Allison that doubt cripples a slayer in battle. I put that same advice to you now. Doubt on a watcher is far worse. How can you instill confidence in your next pupil if you believe yourself to have failed?"

[st_clare]

"She told me she'd been having nightmares, one afternoon while we were going through endurance training. She had worries, or at least concerns. I told her not to dwell on her dreams, that they weren't unusual in the face of such an uncertain future. I didn't want to shake her confidence in herself. It was difficult enough teaching her not to flinch while we were sparring."

Her voice was matter-of-fact when she spoke, but she was avoiding the real question and she knew it. Self-doubt had begun to accompany the guilt in the aftermath of the funeral, and if she doubted herself, perhaps it really was best that she never trained another Slayer. It might have been simply because Allison responded so well to her tutelage, but she'd had the idea that she'd be assigned to more girls after the training period was complete. But she wouldn't be a reliable teacher if she didn't have faith that she could do the job.

"Hoping that you can do something isn't enough, is it?" Julianna asked Cyrus, and she turned to look at him where he sat behind his desk. "Not when it comes to this. It's too important. I'm not accustomed to how it makes me feel. Edmund said..."

Julianna closed her mouth abruptly. Her tea had grown cold, but she drank the last of it anyway. Then she busied herself with pouring another cup. She shouldn't bring that up. What Edmund said while they were alone was private. She could only deal with so many emotions at once.

[birthright_npc]

“Yes. I had heard he went with you.” If Cyrus thought it was a questionable decision for either Watcher to make, he gave no visual indication of it. That was not the issue at hand, and there were other, more important concerns.

“Do you know what I have here?” he asked, changing gears and pressing a fingertip into the top of that paper pile. When he was done pointing, Cyrus folded his hands across his stomach. “It is the name and address of the young woman who was called, moments after Allison died. While you grieve, another girl is awakening to things about herself she never thought possible, and there is a target on her head. So my greatest concern is not the girl we lost, but the one we’ve yet to meet. The one who will need the capable guidance of this Council… the best we can give her. Right now, I cannot recommend you for that team, and that is a serious loss to this organization.”

His chair squeaked as he leaned up and took a pen from its holder. He began to write on a pad of paper.

“No. Hope is not enough. You must have, above all else, resolve.”

[st_clare]

A sharp pang of loss bloomed in Julianna's guts, and the hand holding the teaspoon trembled. Still, Claymore's words weren't unexpected. She sealed off the disappointment so it wouldn't show on her face as she looked at him again.

"I understand," she said quietly. "I'm no use in the field in this state. That young woman will need counsel and guidance to get through the days ahead and learn to harness her new strength. I'm sure whoever you deem it fit to send will do an admirable job."

Loss. Regret. Guilt. Self-doubt. It was all beginning to tumble together inside her. She loved being a Watcher, the current situation aside. Before Allison, she'd been assured of her competence, her suitability for the job. And she still couldn't explain why it mattered so much, only that it did.

In contrast, she still felt perfectly capable in the other areas of her professional life. She could always return to teaching full-time, concentrate on getting published and achieving tenure. But after Allison, would that be enough?

She wished she knew the answer.

"What do you recommend, Cyrus?"

[birthright_npc]

Cyrus leaned forward. “Put Allison to rest,” he said, not unkindly. “However you can, trusting in powers far greater than us that she played the part she was meant to play. Her death was beyond your control. It was meant to happen as it did. We know from prophesy that very little happens without predestination.” He linked his fingers, which made a dry sound as the skin chafed. “And put some distance between yourself and this place. When you’re ready to work with another slayer, we will welcome it.”

[st_clare]

It was humiliating. Galling. Appalling. But perhaps he was right. Time away might just allow her to put the girl to rest, and to heal herself. She had to cling to that possibility.

"I've agreed to teach summer courses at university," Julianna told Cyrus as she toyed with her teacup. She had yet to drink any of the second cup. "Mundane subjects may take my mind off of this. I would, however, like to be kept on the roster for travel opportunities, at least when you feel it's appropriate. If I go overseas, it will be doubly beneficial. I would like to remain useful, even if it's in a limited capacity."

This was not the way she'd thought this would go at all. She'd truly planned to throw her resignation on Claymore's desk, a gesture that said she recognized her unfitness. With Mother gone, there was no one left to embarrass. But one failure was enough. She wasn't going to compound it by being a coward.

"I thank you for your time, Cyrus," she said with a reserved smile. "This is a very difficult, complicated time for me. Your candor has been appreciated."

[birthright_npc]

“Of course,” he said, a phrase that encompassed all that Julianna had requested. “There may be an opportunity in South America later this year. If it comes to fruition, I will keep you in mind.” He stood up and took the cup of tea and saucer from the woman’s uncertain fingers, setting them aside on a table. Before she made for the door, he opened a desk drawer and withdrew a pair of unmarked envelopes. One held a copy of Allison’s final examination remarks, signed by several of what Julianna would consider trusted colleagues. The other contained compensation for air travel to America.

He handed them to her and returned his hands in his trouser pockets.

“You know, I had the opportunity to share a meal with Allison when she first arrived. She was a sweet girl.”

He went to the door to see her out.

[st_clare]

"Yes. She was a lovely girl with a gentle soul. She shall be missed."

The envelopes in Julianna's hands felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each. The heavy door of Claymore's office swung shut behind her, leaving her alone in the silent hallway. The eyes of the portraits on the walls seemed to follow her progress as she walked towards the large double doors leading outside. May was nearly over, which meant the summer months were close at hand.

Thank God she'd have a distraction soon, no matter how small.