Black and White

[Archibald Stout]

Archie sat in the Vicar's office, chafing at the uncomfortable clothes he was wearing. He was dressed like a cleric, with a surplice over his cassock and fanons streaming behind from his shoulders. He had the First Testament open on his lap but he was staring at nothing, deep in a thought that must have upset him. His eyes were fluid.

"You're not a bishop, Archie," Vicar William Billingsley sighed tiredly as he plucked the fanons from his shoulder. "And without a mitre, these are just ribbons."

Billingley looked tired. He walked over to his closet and loosened his cincture, pressing it to his lips before hanging it over a hook. Then, he removed his alb, leaving only his black cassock. He turned to look at Archie and his face became sad and sympathetic.

"Dory is below," he sighed, shaking his head. He sat in his big chair, opposite Archie. "We will commit her tomorrow, but we will see her together before you go. I am sorry, Archie. For all of us.

"For all of London," he pursed his lips in thought. "She was a devoted Preventer."

"She was a devoted follower," Archie's voice was thick and challenging and a little aggressive. "Of me. Not you. Not God. M...."

"How dare you?" Billingsley stood again, leaning forward over his desk. Archie looked at him hard. "Don't you ever take credit for all the good she did for this church and this city. 'You'!? You think she followed you? I heard her Confessions, Archie. She followed her heart.

"If she followed you," the holy man offered reasonably. "You would never have lived to see her death.

"She followed her heart," Billingsley repeated in a tone that concluded the discussion. Archie lowered his head and nodded.

"Did you Confess to Mary? Here are your travelling documents, tickets and travelling information." the vicar reached for a sheaf of papers and handed them to Archie. When Archie nodded, Billingley nodded. "Anything you want to Confess to me?"

"No. Maybe," Archie leaned forward in his seat, rubbing his eyes with his palms. "I don't know."

"Harry Renounced," Billingsley leaned back in his chair and sighed. Archie knew. "Last week. He comes here with the daintiest little starling with the voice of a dove and tells me he's done. Just like that. Not another word.

"Harry is 'done'. Dory is sacrificed. You are questioning your faith..." the vicar shook his head. "Can the Devotion survive the loss of an Executioner as well as a Punisher?"

"With the right Preventer, you don't need the other two," Archie offered with a grimace. "Maybe there should be only one. You still have the Highlander."

"Don't patronize me, Archie?" Billingsley showed Archie a scowl. "Fear is our greatest weapon. Georg may be the best Preventer ever, but the Punisher strikes the true Fear.

"Are you Renouncing?" Billinglsy asked point blank without humor.

"I will give you my answer when I return," Archie explained with an air that seemed final.

"Fine. Go then," Billingsley seemed almost petulant. "But don't be surprised if London hasn't been sacked by all those villains left unpunished when you return."

"Maybe you'll just have to put your mask back on," Archie challenged with a hard edged smile.

"I was a Preventer," the vicar reminded Archie. "Not a knuckle buster like you."

Archie shrugged his eyebrows and rose from his seat, giving the vicar an uncertain look.

"Have you seen Harry?"

"On the street, this afternoon," Billingsley nodded. "He will stand for you.

"See her before you go, Archie."

Archie nodded as he left the office. He did not get two steps when an apparition in the hall stopped him. It was Cecelia, in the black and white habit of a Sister of the Congregation of the Sacred Passion. It did what it was supposed to do. It made her body seem to disappear, removing any sexual identity.

But, it left her icy blue eyes as the only thing to see. They were all Archie saw.

"We..." Archie finally broke his self inflicted spell enough to speak. "... will be leaving shortly. At dark."

[Cecelia Warren]

Cecelia came to awareness so suddenly, it took her breath away. She lay still on the bed for several long moments wishing pointlessly that she might be able to go back to the sweet blackness of sleep. Giving in she sat up swinging her legs around to settle on the cold bare floor. She considered her feet for several moments before sighing as she stood. Her body ached and protested just as much as she expected it would. She forced the muscles to stretch, reaching up toward the ceiling and rolling onto the tips of her toes with a groan. She twisted her waist about rolling her wrists and ankles as she did so.

Satisfied that she had at least tried she moved toward the basin to find it had been emptied while she slept, the pitcher filled with fresh water. Grateful, she poured new water into the basin; she didn’t need to see her face to know her weakness from that morning showed terribly on her face. She scooped water into her hands splashing her face several times before she scrubbed at her eyes hoping that any redness left in them could be attributed to lack of sleep.
Glancing about she was pleased to find tooth powder which she used quickly before turning to the wardrobe.

She had never worn a habit before but she found that dressing herself was not entirely difficult. Approaching the small mirror on the wall Cecelia looked herself over with what was almost an amused smile. She had not worn anything so colorless since she finished mourning Albert and nothing so shapeless since she was a child.

Turning back to the room she collected the purse, fan, and card case from her dress before going to the door. Stepping out into the hall Cecelia followed the path Sister Mary had lead her in the morning to find herself back in the library. Making her way in the direction the men had gone last night. She rapped lightly on the door at the end of the passage sighing in relief when Samuel’s familiar voice sounded from the opposite side.

“One moment please.” Cecelia smiled to herself pressing her ear to the door to listen to the shuffling on the other side. Generally, she took great joy in tossing open Samuel’s door before being truly invited. She suspected that having her as a younger sibling was vaguely like living in a large glass case. But as it was possible Archie was behind that door as well she waited.

After a short spell, Samuel answered the door dressed in religious garb of his own. He looked Cecelia over for a moment a smirk breaking out across his face as Aseem looked around his shoulder to see her as well.

“Aren’t you the picture of heavenly virtue?” He laughed grinning as the two of them stepped back to allow her into the room.

She pursued her lips glancing around the room. “Where has Archie gone?” She asked shoving her belongings at Aseem as she ignored his teasing.

“He was gone when I woke.” Samuel offered with a slight shrug looking to Aseem.

“The sound of the door woke you.” Aseem offered not volunteering how long ago that may have been. Cecelia nodded, turning to leave the room.

“I’ll go search for him or Sister Mary, I find Im anxious to keep moving.” She sighed heading back up to the library. She wandered a bit, uncertain of where she might find Archie.

She was pleased when they happened across each other in the hall, smiling to see him all dressed up as well.

"We… will be leaving shortly. At dark." Cecelia rose an eyebrow in response to his curiously long silence but did not ask.

“Good.” She smiled tightly at the man. “Aseem and Samuel are ready. How are we to get out of the city?”

[Archibald Stout]

“Aseem and Samuel are ready," Cecelia smiled tightly as Archie moved closer. "How are we to get out of the city?”

"The Vicar will carriage us to King's Cross and we will train to Nottingham," Archie explained as he leaned against a wall in the narrow hall. "He has telegraphed ahead to Father Daly. A carriage will be put at our disposal. From there, to Chalfield. We should arrive near the sunrise."

Archie was silent for a long moment, but it was not his usual silence heavy with gravity and tension. Now, he just seemed to be savoring the silence, all the while looking at Cecelia.

"You have learned things," Archie took a deep breath as he began to speak. He conducted Cecelia to a short hall where a bench waited, opposite a tapestry that was weaved to show the Virgin cradling her Son after his death, the same image cut in stone by Michaelangelo. The Pieta. He helped her sit with a courteous hand. "Not everything, though. When you are ready, Vicar William would like to speak with you.

"But, before that," Archie sank down to his haunches so Cecelia need not crane to look at him. "I would rather answer whatever questions you might have.

"Before the vicar reveals all," Archie seemed calm, but his eyes were uncertain. "What would you ask that I might confess?"

[Cecelia Warren]

"Before the vicar reveals all, what would you ask that I might confess?" Cecelia studied the face of the man knelt before her for a moment. With a smile and a light laugh she let her head hang.

“Archie.” She sighed turning her gaze up to meet his once more. “We are currently seeking sanctuary from a band of assassins sent to see me dead and yet you still manage to appear bothered by what I might think of your involvement with this whole Silver Skull operation?” She shook her head slightly in disbelief.

“While I am curious to hear what the vicar has to share, there is no need for you to confess anything.” She paused looking down at what she was wearing. “And certainly not while I am dressed like this. I’m afraid I’d be too amused to take any of it seriously at all.” She smiled cheerily though it shifted slowly into something more wistful. If what she had seen yesterday, what she had heard whispered about the city, and read in the papers was anything to go on, she thought she understood what Archie was getting at. Death, murder, was not something Cecelia was unfamiliar with, nor those who brought it.

“Perhaps you will tell me simply how you became involved and why?” She asked reaching out to touch Archie’s shoulder.

[Archibald Stout]

“Perhaps you will tell me simply how you became involved and why?” Cecelia asked reaching out to touch Archie’s shoulder. He lowered his head and snorted a laugh, taking the delicate hand from his shoulder in a most familiar way, pressing his lips against a small scrape on her knuckle. Then, he placed Cecelia's hand back in her lap. He stood up.

"I could say it was because of Harry," he admitted, though it was dismissive. "I could say it was because of Dory. Hells! I could blame Aseem if I wanted to really stretch my justification. He's the one that told us the superstitions of the Sikh.

"But, no," Archie sat next to Cecelia on the bench, though he did not crowd her. He rested his elbows on his knees and spoke to her with his profile. "I made a choice. I was the one to put the mask back on.

"Dory was... alone... when I was sent away," Archie sighed, then shrugged.
"When I came back, she was sick from opium and in debt. I went to settle her debt, but the Persian who held her tab decided he would hold her debt himself, whoring her until he felt his debt was satisfied. I nodded my understanding and left the place. But not for long.

"I got Dory out of there and took her home," Archie looked up at the tapestry. He closed his eyes. "The Silver Skull was on the front page of the London Times the very next day. 'Silver Skull Stomps Slavers' was McGee's first headline."

Archie laughed humorlessly, shrugging sheepishly when he looked at Cecelia.

"Harry came to me that day," Archie lost focus, remembering. "Took me to Vicar. Told me about the Justiciars. Like the Templar Knights, but without the paegentry. Cloak and dagger sect. They asked me to be one of them. It was just Harry at the time. Vicar had served his time and would not don the Hood again. The Hood. That was what they wore, for a long time before me. But Vicar liked the Silver Skull.

"I chose to join them," Archie told her, looking at her. "I swore the Oath and served as Punisher for nearly two years now.

"Punishers are just that," Archie explained, seeing the uncertainty in Cecelia's eyes. He almost lost his thoughts. "They punish, appropriate to the offense. If the offense is unforgiveable, and goes unpunished, then an Executioner is sent. And if an offense is detected, but not yet perpertrated, a Preventer is sent.

"Harry is... was...," Archie found it difficult to just come out and say it, even if it was Cecelia, whom he trusted.

"Harry was not a Preventer," Archie finally decided. "Though he did recruit the man who currently carries the burden. Dory was a Preventer. She always knew things. She knew... everything. About everyone. She helped so many people who really needed help.

"You saw the flowers and candles on the stairs," Archie reminded Cecelia of the shrine that grew on the Pig and Whistle's steps. "I suspect the place is concealed by a mountain of blossoms by now."

Archie was silent for a long while.

"I was a Punisher, Cecelia," Archie showed her no guilt. No fear. "I have not killed since I returned to England.

"I am a Preventer now, by my choice," Archie assured her. "No one can stop me.

"I'm on a mission from God," he smiled as if everything around him was not... completely... insane.

[Cecelia Warren]

I was a Punisher, Cecelia, I have not killed since I returned to England. I am a Preventer now, by my choice, No one can stop me. I'm on a mission from God," he smiled as if everything around him was not... completely... insane.

Cecelia had listened to Archie’s explanation quietly. With every knew bit of information she learned about Harry Watson she found herself wondering about the man and the flower of a girl he was engaged to.

She didn’t question his motives, men would do as they pleased. Questioning such convictions generally only lead in circles. She smiled instead leaning forward a bit and dropping her voice as though sharing some secret.

“I’ve got a dozen assassins who would like to prove you wrong.” She teased. “Rumor has it, stopping you is part of their plan to slit my throat. I expect you won’t let a little thing like that stop you though.” She continued with an enigmatic smile. She stood turning to face the door to the vicar’s office casting Archie a glance out of the corner of her eye.

“I must say, I am eager for this conversation.” She said before knocking on the vicars door.

[Special Guest]

“I must say, I am eager for this conversation.” Cecelia said before knocking on the vicar's door.

"Be careful," Archie offered with a tired smile.

"Come in," Cecelia opened the door upon invitation, watching Archie return to the vicar's chambers as she entered his office. Whatever preconceived notion she had about the holy man had not prepared her for whom she found. Vicar William Billingsley, for all the talk of secret societies and biblical violence, was... just a... really.... nice... looking man.



"Lady Warren," the Vicar stood from his chair to move around his desk, taking her hand in greeting, helping her into a very comfortable chair. "Mary Margaret told me you flattered her habit, but that is not why I wanted to talk with you.

"I don't recruit Sisters."

The vicar moved around his desk to sit, taking the lid from a porcelain bowl. Inside, Cecelia saw butterscotch hard candies. Billingsley plucked one and twisted off the paper wrapping. He smiled sheepishly as he popped it into his mouth.

"Of course, you can count on our help in this truly desperate time for you," he explained, the lump of candy showing as a lump beneath his cheek as he sucked at it, still talking. "You know who we are and what we are doing here and your difficulties are our purview.

"We don't simply hurt people, Lady Warren," he explained, slurping at his candy. "We protect the innocent at the cost of the guilty. It really is that simple. Black and white, just like your disguise."

The vicar's smile was... ridiculous. And contagious.

"You knew Dory Philpott," Billingsley's expression tightened, real pain in his eyes. "You know what she did for us. She was never meant to... to fight. She was a Preventer. She looked out for people. She kept her ear to the ground. She let us know who needed help and who needed correction. She knew... quite a lot.

"She died protecting you," the tight expression became hard. "When you are clear of this peril that dogs you...

"You might consider honoring her sacrifice..." the vicar leaned heavily on his desk, lowering his voice. "By replacing her.

"Butterscotch?" he offered, helping himself to another.

[Cecelia Warren]

Cecelia watched the vicar cautiously. She dealt with plenty of men who dabbled in the more unsavory side of business. She would feel confident in saying that she was more comfortable around such men than most women ever would be. The vicar, however, unnerved her. She thought perhaps it was the smile. Not curt, condescending, grim, or any other variation of a smile that wasn’t. It was genuinely warm. She didn’t like it. She was certain that said horrible things about herself, but there it was.

“Black and white?” She mused beneath her breath, she believed in such situations about as much as she believed in the typical sermon. Focusing back on the vicar she declined the candy offered to her, considering his first offer.

She wasn’t entirely certain if she was being her usual mistrustful self or if the vicars suggestion was not as much of a suggestion as it seemed at face value. It reminded her eerily of the way her father made certain deals. ‘I’ve done this for you now it would really be in your best interest if you did this for me.’ The implication being that there really was no choice. If he was being genuine, she wasn’t certain she was or had any desire to be as much of a do gooder as the vicar seemed to think she could be. Either way, Cecelia was not one to agree to any deal so quickly.

“Perhaps, if I do not return to London in a box I will consider it.” She said instead of providing any real answer. She cast the vicar a distant smile, “Before this whole mess really began Archie provided me with your name as a reference. Circumstances have changed rather dramatically since then but is there perhaps anything you might say for him?” She asked changing the subject entirely.

[Special Guest]

“Perhaps, if I do not return to London in a box I will consider it.” Cecelia cast the vicar a distant smile, before changing the subject entirely. “Before this whole mess really began Archie provided me with your name as a reference. Circumstances have changed rather dramatically since then but is there perhaps anything you might say for him?”

The Vicar leaned back in his chair, sighing as he regarded Cecelia with a sadder smile. He shrugged, opening his hands as if offering nothing.

"What can I say?" Billingsley shrugged, looking up at the crucifix that stared down at him from the wall. "He is a good man. An unselfish man. And like all good, unselfish men, he will go where he is needed the most. Where he is... wanted... the most. He is a good friend to have and you might find it odd for me to say, but, he is a good enemy to have, too.

"He believes where there is life, there is hope," Vicar William seemed to be remembering something fondly. His smile was beatific. "He would make a great priest.

"He isn't like Watson," William explained, remembering himself. "Watson is what he is because he cannot forgive. Archie is more like a teacher than a disciplinarian. He punishes, but only so that the student will learn. He was ordered to kill many in war. He will not kill again, if he can help it.

"He was a good Punisher, because he thought everyone should get a second chance," the vicar shrugged. "... after being taught their justly earned lessons.

"He will be as effective a Preventer," William leaned forward on his desk to look at Cecelia. "I am not a deceiver, Lady Warren. I never will be. I will speak the truth whether you like it or not. So, believe me when I say, I invite you to join us for your own value in this enterprise.

"But, I also invite you to keep Archie here with us," he leaned back again, his hands open, having revealed everything. "We fight the Dragons here at St. George's.

"And there are many.

"I cannot do it alone."

William shrugged and smiled.

[Cecelia Warren]

"We fight the Dragons here at St. George's. And there are many. I cannot do it alone." William shrugged and smiled.

Cecelia returned the smile, though it still held the polite distance she used for all conversations concerning business. “The streets of this dear city are fraught with danger.” She agreed. She had seen more than a bit of that danger, sought it out more than once.

Cecelia got the impression that the vicar believed her a much gentler woman than she truly was. She had quite nearly added her own name to the lengthy list of murderers that prowled the streets of London. She highly doubted the vicar would agree that a murder for such a cause was just or necessary.

“As I said, I will consider the offer once the mess I am currently entangled in is resolved.” She said standing and brushing the creases from her skirt. She had no intention of accepting. Perhaps, she would share information when it seemed relevant to the vicars cause but she would not become one of his ‘Preventers’ as he called them, the idea brushed her the wrong way, just as his smile did. And either way, she did not want the expectation that she would do good over her shoulders. She was not that sort of woman.

“Thank you for your generous hospitality, but unless you have more to say I should like to return to my brothers side. I find being separated from him in such times unnerving.” She continued, vague smile on her lips.