OOM: Javert in London for the scond time

[witchfinder_general]

It' the same featureless blue corridor as before, but this time, there are still people about in it.

Nobody, however, is paying any attention to them: two women with papers under their arms are chatting to each other, and a man is wheeling a trolley of scientific equipment into an open door.

Father Harman holds the door of the supply closet open for Javert.

Comments

[witchfinder_general]

"No," Father Harman says. "There are no current Code Five cases that need to be pursued, so we are all just doing our research and liaising, but I have no appointments today. I'm still trying to get some Code Five ashes shot into space. It's a lengthy and complex project."

He closes the drawer and stands straight. "Shall we?"

[never_shall_yield]

'Yes.'

He is ready to go. And as they walks, asks, 'shot into...space?'

[witchfinder_general]

Father Harman walks along the corridor; they meet a few people who merely say hello almost shyly and pass them without giving Javert a second glance.

"Into orbit," Father Harman explains, "out of the atmosphere, with a satellite, in containers set to explode and scatter the contents once they're at their destination, blowing the ashes throughout the airless void in eternal sunlight. There is no way whatsoever that these Code Fives can regenerate at all, ever."

[never_shall_yield]

'That is good. I would say it sounds efficient, but sending things into the heavens is hardly usual.'

Or possible at all to his mind, though obviously things are much changed here.

'Do your colleagues agree it is the best course of action?'

[witchfinder_general]

"I got the idea in Milliways," Father Harman says.

Of course.

"But yes, they agree it is a good thing for us to try."

[never_shall_yield]

'The place has some uses then,' he murmurs, looking around with studied eyes.

Everything in this place is so bland. He did not notice last time. But neat, and clean; he can appreciate that at least.

[witchfinder_general]

"Would you have doubted that?" Father Harman says, stopping.

He presses a button between two identical, bland sliding doors -- the elevators, if Javert remembers the last time.

[never_shall_yield]

He does remember this time, and does not cause a scene by stating that he would prefer the stairs. He just steps inside, and internally steels himself for the strange sensation he remembers.

'Yes.'

[witchfinder_general]

"Was the place never useful to you?" Father Harman says as the cabin starts its descent.

[never_shall_yield]

'I suppose it has allowed me to avoid damnation a while longer. And the chance to change my fate.'

He looks up, following the numbers that click down.

'Yes, I am thankful for that. Even if the process so far has been difficult. That is as it should be.'

[witchfinder_general]

"Things should not be easy, you think?" Father Harman says.

[never_shall_yield]

'No.'

There is no hesitation in his answer.

'Especially not in something like this.'

[witchfinder_general]

"Why would it be wrong if it was easy?" Father Harman asks. "Would it feel cheap?"

[never_shall_yield]

'Yes.'

It is quite simple.

'A man cannot commit such a sin against God, and expect the journey back to be easy. It would be quite wrong if it were.'

Life was simple enough before, blindly committing all the wrong he did. It is only right he should pay the price now.

[witchfinder_general]

The elevator stops on the ground floor, and Father Harman walks out, expecting Javert to follow him. There are a few people around, but they ignore both of them completely.

[never_shall_yield]

Javert follows, walking silently, taking in the faces of those who pay them no attention.

His mind turns to what he will say to the priest; his stomach clenches with unhappy anticipation, but it is a duty he must fulfill.

'I can find my way if you would prefer, Father. I believe I remember. I do not wish to inconvenience you.'

[witchfinder_general]

"The walk will do me good," Father Harman says. "I spend far too much time at my desk as it is. And I can talk to some of my confratres while you're at confession; at this time of day, there will be some of them about."

[never_shall_yield]

'They are members of your order?'

His eyes flick to the street outside the office building, much busier than on their last visit.

'I do not expect I will be too long.'

[witchfinder_general]

Father Harman walks through the sliding glass doors out onto the sidewalk; it's not very busy, but far from deserted as it was at night. "Yes, they are," he says. "It was the obvious place to take you to; they know they'd better not ask questions about anything connected to me, and with the way we tend to move around, you can always rely on somebody there speaking fluent French."

[never_shall_yield]

'I hope Father Meunier will be there, but if he is not then it will be well enough.'

The man may not remember him in any case. But if he does, it will be easier to explain the further struggle he is engaging with rather than having to start from the beginning. Still, one priest is much the same as another.

He watches some cars go by with obvious interest. Fascinating things.

'Do you expect to stay in London now?'

[witchfinder_general]

"The last I heard, he was still here," Father Harman says. "He's teaching at the Jesuit college in Wimbledon this year."

Pause.

"And yes, I expect to stay because I'm assigned to that government project, rather than work with my order directly. I'm on permanent loan, you might say."

[never_shall_yield]

He has no idea where Wimbledon is. It could be on the moon.

'Ah. No danger of hunting creatures elsewhere, then.'

He vaguely wonders who is doing the job in France. But this is not his world.

[witchfinder_general]

"The Vatican office that recruited me for this job has other priests in other countries, working with whatever authority or organisation does this thing there," Father Harman says. "And in some places, the Vatican isn't welcome. There's presumably people in Moscow, for example, but they're allied with some department where you'd least expect them. Fire brigade, emergency service for gas leaks, something like that."

[never_shall_yield]

'So even if you have no cases here any more, you cannot be sure the infestation will not spread from another country.'

That could be problematic, he imagines.

[witchfinder_general]

"The last lot we dealt with was coming in from Brazil by plane," Father Harman says. "We do know where to find our counterparts, and alert each other."