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

[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."