Here's To the Insanity
Corbett really should’ve left by now, but for some reason, he just couldn’t bring himself to do so.
Maybe it was some connection he felt to the place since he’d finally found closure with Teresa and a new Slayer in Faith. Or perhaps it was the fact that things were so out-of-whack right now the Watcher thought he might be of use should someone ask.
Thing was, no one was asking. And even if they did, Corbett had no guarantee he’d be able to offer anything more than an “Oh, dear” or a “Bloody hell.” Corbett had been around long enough to know a Watcher’s job description went a little more in-depth than that.
He wandered into the Lighthouse, not necessarily for a bite to eat or a drink – though a pint sounded splendid at the moment. He found Mallory sitting at the bar and smiled to himself as he approached. The Watcher mounted one of the stools, flagging down the bartender.
The place was dead. Not entirely unexpected, given the late hour and the madness surrounding the world.
“’Ello,” he offered after ordering a drink.
Mallory had never been so glad to be unemployed. She'd driven all the way out to Henderson and back just to turn in the badge and other items she'd been given by DHS, sitting in stoic silence while they got someone to remove the tracking device from her arm. She was currently admiring the clean white bandage over the small wound and munching on the pretzel sticks in the bowl in front of her.
Just feeling kind of relieved about everything, really.
"Hi, Corbett," she responded, pushing the pretzel a little closer to the Englishman. "Didn't figure you for stopping in here. Not that I can't blame you; with the curfew still in effect, it’s hardly worth it to go up the highway."
The redhead offered a headshake. "They canned me, by the way," she added with an almost breezy tone. "I am no longer a cog in the government machine. I guess all clouds have a small silver lining, as my Ma says."
Corbett offered a small smile, grabbing a few pretzels himself before taking the first sip of his drink. He wasn’t much for American beer, but something told him a small bar in a desert town in Nevada didn’t serve true ale.
And no, Guinness didn’t count.
“Least they only fired you,” he mused. “Faith was worried they’d either try to capture or kill her.”
Reaching for a small card, Corbett slid it across the bar. The pretzels were a little too salty for his tastes, but the brew before him seemed to help with that. The smile faded, and Corbett glanced over his shoulder. Just because everyone knew the deal now didn’t mean he wanted them to know everything.
“Besides, it should free you up for other employment.”
"I've been thinking about that, actually," Mallory said with a nod. She ate more pretzels, washed them down with beer. "What's supposed to happen next, I mean. I don't have a lot of options right now, and sometimes I wonder if I haven't stayed here too long. This town tends to grab on and not let go. I guess now I know why."
She made a hand gesture towards the door of the Lighthouse, indicating the general outside world. "I saw that ..." She looked over her shoulder briefly, then lowered her voice. "I saw something, I'm not even sure what it was. It looked kind of like the Northern Lights." She looked down into her beer, took a quick drink.
"Did you talk to the people on your end? Did they mention needing new recruits?"
“I did,” the Watcher replied, pointing to the small card sitting in front of the redhead. “Call the number on that card. His name is Rupert Giles. For lack of a better term, he’s my boss.
“Every Watcher’s boss, really.”
Truth was, the Watcher’s Council could use all the help it could get. Nearly a decade after every Potential became a Slayer, and the Watchers of the world were still outnumbered nearly three-to-one. It was a rough scenario, particularly in light of recent events and revelations.
“I was suggesting he fire that Logan fellow after he decided the newspaper was a nice place to tell everyone what was what,” Corbett continued with a smirk, “and asked if they’d be interested in bringing you in.
“Rupert would very much like to speak with you.”
"I saw that. What a jackass."
Mallory looked at the business card, feeling the weight of the paper it was printed on as if it were made of lead. This would be a few steps up from what she'd been doing, if the Council agreed to hire her. But it was like she'd told Corbett; she was almost out of options, and she'd been here too long.
Maybe it was just the breakup with Victoria acting as a catalyst, but Searchlight had started to feel claustrophobic, and the revelations of the past few months weren't helping. Maybe if she tried something really different, how things looked would improve.
"What are you planning to do?" she asked the Watcher, tucking the card into her shirt pocket. "I'm guessing the guys in England aren't real happy about this whole mess, but there's probably not much they can do about it now. Do you have marching orders from them?"
Corbett took another drink before contemplating the question. He hadn’t necessarily been given orders, though he remembered Rupert suggesting he return to the mother Country. Corbett had considered such a move anyway, partially because of recent events and partially because he grew weary of America.
“I’ll probably return to England,” he said. “Figure they could probably use my help at the home base.”
It was something Corbett had considered since Faith’s departure. She was pretty much the only thing keeping the Watcher in Nevada toward the end of things, and he never felt quite right asking her to relocated with him. Now that she was on her own again, Corbett felt free to pursue whatever he felt necessary.
"I guess things don't ever stay the same for long," Mallory said in a thoughtful voice. It would be hard to say goodbye if she left. Three years was a long time to be in one place. She would miss Julie and Sonya, and even Hannah, no matter what state she was currently in. Claustrophobic or not, Searchlight had become home, and home was hard to walk away from.
She'd have to see what the man from the Council said.
"Do you think things will at least return to something like normal? Or that people will calm down soon?"
Corbett chuckled, almost to himself, for a moment considering how ludicrous the idea of “normal” was. Normal was never a part of the Watcher’s vocabulary. Well, it might’ve been when he was six or seven, but beyond that? Corbett’s world had never been anything other than really strange.
“Calm down, perhaps,” he offered. “I suppose eventually people will learn how to deal with the menace.”
But normal? Hardly.
"It better get calm," the redhead said, her tone souring a little. "I don't know if you saw my television debut the other night, but if you see a news crew skulking around here, you never heard of me."
She fell silent, crunching into a few more pretzels. "People are scared, I get that," she said finally. "But it’s not the end of the world, it’s just ... different."
Another chuckle. The whole situation was absurd, bordering on funny. Hell, the Watcher might’ve been outright laughing if the chaos weren’t so bleeding dangerous. He thought back to the little girl in Vegas whose father was attacked by a vampire. Had Rhiannon not been there, the vampire would’ve had a free meal.
This was the world everyone lived in now.
“Panic seems to be something humans are quite adept at,” Corbett mused, downing a large gulp of his drink. In some ways, the mass panic was justified, but the picketing and rioting and protests in front of the White House served no purpose.
And the theory that this dated all the way back to the Bush Administration, that his cronies cooked up vampires and the like as a way to help fight the War in Iraq? Ludicrous didn’t even begin to cover it.
"I'm gonna call your guy in a few days," Mallory told the Watcher. "There's one or two loose ends I'll need to tie up, but after that, I'm pretty much ready for what's next. Nevada's getting too crowded."
She would have to make her proper goodbyes if she intended to leave. Even in this almost barren place, she had managed to put down a few roots. Leaving would be painful, but maybe it was time. Because she wanted to see what was going to happen next.
“We could certainly use the help,” Corbett nodded. “Back when there was only one Slayer, we were plentiful. Then someone blew up our building and all these Slayers started popping up.
“Almost a decade later and they still outnumber us nearly three-to-one.”
Corbett finished his drink, setting a couple five-dollar bills next to his empty glass. It was well beyond what the drink cost, but in light of recent events, the Watcher was feeling charitable.
“Whatever you decide, I wish you luck,” Corbett said with a warm smile. “You have my number should you need to contact me.”
"Thanks, Corbett, I appreciate it. And I'm probably going to need that luck, given my habit of stepping in it up to my knees at every opportunity." Mallory finished off her beer, reached for her wallet, wincing as the bandage rubbed a little too hard against the fresh incision on her wrist.
"If I don't see you again before I leave, if I leave, take care of yourself. I'll be in touch if I need anything."
Corbett gave another warm smile, giving Mallory’s shoulder a soft squeeze. “Here’s to the insanity.”
The Watcher chuckled to himself yet again. He couldn’t help but laugh, because if he didn’t, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his mental bearings together. These were trying times, and Corbett needed to make sure he made it back to England both alive and sane.
Well, relatively sane.
Mallory stepped out of the bar into the last of the day's sun, peering around suspiciously for anything that even remotely looked like a van from a television station. But the coast was clear, and so she tromped across the broken asphalt of the parking lot on her way home.
Calls to make, plans to consider, things to do. The world was changing again.