Chronicles of Julian, page 20
She tilted her head, catching his gaze. “...to live your life?”
He nodded, rejecting the idea at the same time. “That sounds selfish.”
It truly did.
“That sounds like the most natural thing in the world,” she countered, regarding him with a pensive stare. “But I can tell you don’t want to hear that,” she continued abruptly. “You don’t want to hear people telling you it’s okay. So let me tell you some other things.”
She leaned forward, folding her hands upon the desk.
“Let me tell you some of the things Angel’s told me about you.”
Bloody hell...
Julian braced with a preemptive grimace.
“You know what, maybe we could just skip—”
“She told me when you first moved in together she couldn’t sleep in the dark. She told me every night before going to bed you’d wander the halls, turning on every light in the house.”
He froze in his chair, barely breathing.
“She told me you read fairytales to your daughter. That your elders come to you for advice, and your friends adore you. She told me you give homemade presents, and that you single-handedly pulled a desperate girl back from the brink of annihilation and taught her how to love.”
There was a ringing silence.
“She said all that?”
The woman shrugged.
“She drew me a crass picture, and I extrapolated the rest.”
He let out a breath of laughter, still smiling as he stared down at his hands. When he lifted his eyes a moment later, the smile remained.
“Are any of those things likely to change if you stop working?” Mariel asked. “Are any of those things likely to disappear if you quit your job?”
She leaned forward before he could answer.
“Do any of those things define you less than your job?”
There was a pause.
“...I suppose not.”
She nodded, leaning back in her chair.
“So it seems to me you have nothing but options. If you want to continue working, I’d say that speaks well of you. If you wanted to step back from that part of your life and focus on the rest, it sounds like there are a great many people who’d speak well of you just the same.”
She considered him a moment longer.
“Maybe it’s better to get your head out of the future, learn to live in the moment. If you need a break, then take one. If you want to return, that life will be waiting when you get back.”
The world froze perfectly still.
“Get my head out of the future,” he repeated slowly, eyes fixed on her face.
She didn’t appear to be toying with him, and there was no way Angel could have mentioned it. She must truly have had no idea the significance of what she’d decided to say.
He stared a second longer, then lowered his gaze with the trace of a smile. “You’re very good at this.”
She smiled in return. “It comes in waves. Sometimes it gets to be too much,” she added suddenly, “bearing the constant weight of other people’s problems. But you caught me fresh off sabbatical.”
Their eyes met in a moment of shared understanding.
“Sabbatical...right.”
The pair of them spoke for a while longer, flitting around topics of seeming inconsequence, but he found it helped to discuss them all the same.
The way he’d missed his daughter’s spelling bee. The anxiety he felt in moments of unscheduled time. The way he resented the growing emotional dissonance of reading the news.
When at last the clock struck the appointed hour, he was feeling significantly lighter than when he’d walked in. He slipped his jacket over his shoulders, flashing a genuine smile.
“You know,” he began mischievously, “Angel told me you were a Norwegian sheep-farmer, who’d moved to London on a dare.”
The doctor laughed and pushed to her feet. “Your wife is a strange and complicated woman,” she replied. “I can only assume you rescued her from the asylum too soon.”
Julian shook her hand with a parting smile. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time,” he admitted. “I’ve wanted to thank you.”
She smiled warmly, giving him a little squeeze. “Me, too.”
The sun was shining when Julian stepped out of the office, slipping on a pair of sunglasses as he gazed over the street. It was tucked away in a quieter part of the city, but there was still plenty of foot-traffic. People hurried back and forth in cheerful oblivion, carrying on with their days.
In a sudden burst of clarity, he realized he wanted nothing more than to be one of them.
With a little smile, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and scribbled a quick message to Carter—slipping into the crowd at the same time. The text was simple, and possibly long overdue.
I quit.
Chapter 16
Word travelled fast in the supernatural community. No sooner had Julian gotten home from the therapist’s office than there was an unexpected knock at the door.
He set down his keys and doubled back, only to find Cliff Barnes standing on the other side.
“Oh...hi.”
He was too surprised to manage anything else. Despite the fact that the man was tasked with managing personnel files and mission reports, he couldn’t believe he knew where his family lived.
“I heard you were thinking about retiring.” The man raised his eyebrows with an incredulous, yet cheerful smile. “I couldn’t believe it—had to see it for myself.”
That was fast.
Julian waved his arm dispiritedly at the house. “You’ve seen it.”
There was an awkward silence.
“Do you want to come inside?”
The man stepped cheerfully through the door. “Just for a second; thanks, Jules.”
Jules threw a quick glance over his shoulder as he closed the door.
He couldn’t remember a time the man had ever called him that. They were polite, but not friendly. Aside from a casual yet deliberate run-in at a coffee shop, wherein he’d tried to indoctrinate the psychic into his radical agenda, the two had hardly spoken.
Except when you derailed his tyrannical speech at Carter’s meeting. Bet he remembers that.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked, heading towards the kitchen.
The man followed after him, taking in every inch of the house. “Whatever you’re drinking is fine.”
Julian put on the kettle for tea, pulling down two mugs.
“Sugar?’
Barnes scoffed. “We’re English.”
Julian put back the tin with a faint smile. “What can I do for you, Mr. Barnes?”
Cliff had insisted upon his first name nearly every conversation they’d had, but given the fact that he was nearly two decades older the informality hadn’t gained much ground. Truth be told, he actually hadn’t started out as a bad guy. He was just sitting in an unfortunate chair. The chair that saw every case report and every batch of hastily scribbled field notes, every list of casualties and every belated moment when things could have gone better and lives might have been spared.
He was a man living in hindsight...speaking to a man who’d recently sworn off the future.
“So...retirement, eh?” He sank into a chair at the table, watching as the psychic breezed around the counter. “After everything you’ve seen, I can imagine it would be quite a relief just to live in the present for a while. After this latest mission...I can see why you’d want some time away.”
So THAT’S what this is about.
Julian’s eyes flashed warily across the counter. “Am I up for review or something? I never gave a formal debrief—”
Barnes held up his hands, shaking his head quickly. “I honestly just stopped by to see how you were doing. You never debriefed, but Rae came in the day after you came back and did it for you, pulled the memories from your mind.”
He shook his head again, eyes clouding with concern.
“Some of the notes I read...that’s a tough case.”
Julian pulled in a quick breath, flipping off the kettle. His pulse was racing at the mere thought, and he was certain all over again with his decision to take a step away.
“Yeah, well...it’s over now.”
Barnes stood up abruptly, ignoring his cup. “It certainly is. And if anyone deserves a rest...” He reached suddenly across the counter, shaking the psychic’s hand. “It’s been an honor, Decker. I wish you nothing but the best.”
Julian shook his hand in surprise, trying to keep pace. “Uh...thanks.” He glanced down at the cup. “Did you want some tea—”
“I should get back,” the man interrupted cheerfully. “Lots to do.” He moved towards the door. “But I hope you’ll still speak with your friends, try to nudge them towards my point of view.”
There was a pause.
“Drive safe, Cliff.”
The man chuckled. “You’re throwing me out?”
“Not at all.” Julian flashed a smile, then added a pleasant, “Get out of my house.”
The man laughed again, pausing a moment on the porch as if to immortalize the image of the famed psychic contained in residential London.
“See you around, Decker.”
He vanished with a wink.
“Or not.”
JULIAN TRIED TO GET back in the swing of things, tried to rediscover some of that levity he’d felt after the session, but the visit with Barnes had left him too unsettled. He even tried working on his new canvas for a while, but all he succeeded in doing was smear even more paint over his hands.
He was just rinsing off in the shower, when his phone rang in the bedroom.
Crap.
He considered darting out to grab it, but he was still lathered in copious amounts of his wife’s shampoo and decided to ignore it instead. When it started ringing a second time, he simply guessed who it was and called out loud, “Dev...I’m in the shower!”
It didn’t matter if his friend was calling from the other end of the block, he’d still be able to hear. Sure enough, the phone stopped ringing a second later.
The doorbell rang instead.
“Son of a...” He rinsed off the suds, wrapped a towel around his waist and jogged down the stairs, pulling it open with an irritable, “Just give me a minute—”
Gabriel tilted his head with a smile.
“Not who you were expecting?”
The two hadn’t seen each other since the psychic’s return to England, and despite his state of undress they came together in a warm embrace. Warm and oddly fragrant. Gabriel turned with a little frown, sniffing curiously at the psychic’s wet hair.
“Were you using Angel’s shampoo?”
Julian pulled back with a grin, shaking it deliberately into his face. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too.” Gabriel regarded his brother-in-law with a smile. “A lot better in person than scanning through Hungarian security feeds, but I do love the Danube in the spring.”
That’s what I said.
“Do you want to come in?” Julian asked, stepping back to make room. “I was just—”
“Take a walk with me.”
The psychic froze, then gestured to his naked body. “Now?”
Gabriel flashed a grin, backing towards the street.
“Jules, I’m not unreasonable. You can put some pants on first.”
FIVE MINUTES LATER, the two men were walking along the same sunlit trail that Julian and Devon had wandered just a few days before. Gabriel might have insisted upon company, but it didn’t look like there was anything in particular he wanted to say. The two merely strolled along in silence, soaking up the afternoon sun, until the psychic shot him a sudden glance.
“You were the only person who didn’t ask me why,” he said quietly. “Before I left for Hungary, you were the only person who didn’t ask me why I took that mission.”
They shared a glance, then continued walking.
“I saw the newspaper.”
Simple as that.
Gabriel had never asked his friend about the orphanage, just as Julian had never asked what happened at the church. Over the years, little things had slipped out. Tiny bits of damage that were just as quickly shoved back into place. But while other people pressed, the psychic never had to worry about things like that with Gabriel. Unless he wanted to discuss it, Gabriel would never ask.
Maybe it was just his nature—he’d never felt the need to satisfy his curiosity at the expense of someone else. Maybe it was because he had damage of his own.
But he’d clearly read the article, just like the rest of the world.
The two continued walking for a while before Julian stopped suddenly at the edge of the trees. Gabriel paused beside him. His eyes traced the line of shadow, where sun met silhouette.
“It never happened to me,” he said quietly. “But there were others. Lots of others. I never knew if I should have...” He trailed into silence. “I never knew what I was supposed to do.”
Gabriel stared at him in silence. “You weren’t supposed to do anything. You were a kid.”
Julian flashed a sad smile. “Doesn’t feel that way sometimes.”
Gabriel sighed, then nodded. “No, it doesn’t.”
It helped that he didn’t try to refute it. If there was one person in the world who understood the concept of survivor’s guilt, it was Gabriel Alden.
“...is that why you’re planning to retire?”
Julian flashed a quick look, to see his brother-in-law watching him with a wry smile. He laughed in spite of himself, shaking his head in exasperation.
“Seriously, how do you know that already? I sent one text—”
Gabriel threw him a look, and he conceded the point.
The two lapsed back into silence, gazing out at the sun. After a few minutes, Julian shook his head—eyes straying a little farther to the house at the end of the street.
“Devon will hate me.”
“Devon could never hate you,” Gabriel replied instantly. “He physically couldn’t do it. He wants you to be happy.” He paused. “He also loves you the way most people love their wives.”
“I wish you’d stop—”
“I will never stop,” he interrupted calmly. “Understand that. I will never stop.”
Julian smiled faintly, but it dimmed the longer they stood beneath the trees. “Do you think it’s the wrong decision?”
Gabriel merely shook his head. “I don’t think there is a wrong decision. It’s just whatever you decide.”
Julian cast him a secret look. “But you wouldn’t make it,” he said quietly. “You’ll never stop working.”
Gabriel tossed back his hair with a laugh. “Of course I will,” he said easily. “This is spy-work, Jules. It’s great now, while we’re in our twenties, but I’m not going to do it forever. Even if we technically could. When I feel the time is right, I’m going home. I’m going to rest. Let someone else take the baton. Make room for someone else at the top,” he added seriously, “since none of you ever managed to displace me.”
Julian laughed in spite of himself, feeling inexplicably lighter.
“Make room for someone else,” he repeated. “You think there’s some budding psychic out there who’s never going to progress because I’m not making room for them?” He threw his friend a dry smile, seeing through the little ploy. “That sounds like a pretty big rationalization.”
“I think that budding psychic might be running around your backyard,” Gabriel countered evenly. “And never underestimate the power of a good rationalization. They keep people alive.”
Julian smiled again, but it was quick to fade. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” he admitted, raking his dark hair back. “I wrote to Carter on a whim. I was feeling good—for the first time in a long time. I was feeling hopeful, I guess. But it’s just...not my right. It’s not my right to stop. I was given this gift. This gift can save people. Knowing that, as I so painfully do, I can’t just...”
He threw Gabriel a sudden look.
“My uncle killed himself. Did you know that?”
Gabriel nodded slowly. “I read it in one of Cromfield’s files.”
Julian nodded as well, eyes on the houses. “He killed himself because he didn’t get any ink. My dad didn’t even want it. The way he talks about it now...” He trailed into silence, shaking his head. “I don’t want Lily to feel like this. I don’t want Lily to live with this kind of pressure.”
Gabriel held up a hand, stopping the spiral before it could begin. “All right, now you’re talking about a lot of things. You have a responsibility to save people; you were meant to do it. As long as you keep going, maybe your daughter won’t have to.”
He shook his head, stepping into the psychic’s line of sight.
“You’re not seeing the bigger question, Julian. What do you want to do? Because there are plenty of ways to help people. But I also happen to know you love what you do.”
Julian pawed at the ground with his shoe. “Not always.”
“No one always loves it,” Gabriel said pragmatically. “Especially in your position, especially after some of the things you’ve seen.”
Unlike the rest of the inked community, both he and Angel were some of the few who’d ever really understood. It was the reality no one ever talked about, the truth of what it meant to live with clairvoyance. It was preventative. It was a weight. It was living in the dark—seeking out that small window of light and steering his friends through it. It was keeping his phone charged.
Julian flashed another sideways glance. “You think I’m jumping the gun?”
Gabriel smiled sadly in return. “I think you just lost a friend and weighted his body. I think you spent the last few weeks living above a group of scared women, and we’re having this talk thirty years too soon.”
He tilted his head, catching the psychic’s eye.
“But that doesn’t mean anything you’re saying isn’t real. It doesn’t mean you can’t stop if you want to. Julian, by every measurable standard...you have done enough.”
