Disclaimer: I don't own the universe or the characters, and Heaven knows I'm not trying to sell this.

Note: This is a Lyric Wheel piece.  Thanks to Faith for the pretty '80s lyrics that follow!

A Lady's Occupation

©, HonorH

"I can't believe you're leaving," Anne said softly.

Rebecca smiled as she laid another dress on her bed.  "It's always hard moving away, child.  Sometimes, though, it's necessary.  My husband is in ill health; he needs warm air, and England seems to be short on that at the moment."  The beautiful redhead smoothed the dress softly, looking up at her lady's maid.  "I do wish you could come with us, but I wouldn't take you away from your family, Anne."

Anne forced herself to smile.  "I know, My Lady.  You've been so good to me, though, that I have a hard time thinking of working for another."

"Any lady would be privileged to have you, Anne," Rebecca said softly, firmly.  "I've enjoyed your company immensely.  Would you bring in my shoes from the wardrobe?"

Anne moved to obey, swallowing the tightness in her throat.  She moved into the wardrobe and bent to retrieve several pair of shoes from their places.  As she did so, she felt the soft movement of metal next to her skin.  On impulse, she pulled on the cord around her neck, freeing the amulet that had been hanging between her breasts.

It was a circle with a stylized "Y" shape within, the symbol of the Watchers.  Anne smiled as she recalled yet again how difficult it had been to earn the right to wear it.

***

"Anne, for the last time, women do not become Watchers," Jonathan Southby declared.

"But they do!  Or, at least, they did," argued Anne.  "Look, Father.  Here, in Cassandra's chronicle."  She forced the heavy book underneath her father's nose.  "There were two female Watchers assigned to her between 680 BC and 590 BC when she was on the Isle of Lesbos."

The argument was over two years old.  When she was fifteen, Anne Southby had discovered the Watcher chronicles her father had been faithfully researching most of his life.  Anne had been captivated by tales of the Immortals and by the organization that recorded their lives.  Sooner or later, the inevitable question had occurred to the deplorably overeducated girl: Why not me?

Now, Southby looked at his daughter over his spectacles.  "That's because men would have been unacceptably obvious on an island peopled entirely with women."

Anne grinned impudently.  "Well, I knew that.  But still, there's the precedent."

"I fail to see why this changes anything."

"Father, don't you see?" Anne sat down just opposite her father.  "If women have done it before, it can be done again.  Father, a Watcher normally passes his knowledge and occupation down to his son.  You have no sons.  You have me -- and Mirabelle, of course, but she's not interested."

"At your age, you should be more interested in a husband," Southby muttered, trying to get back to the paper he'd been reading.

Anne rolled her eyes.  "Young men are such dull creatures.  Besides, I'm better educated than most of them.  You spoiled me abominably, Father.  If I've notions no proper young lady would, it's all your fault."

"Can't argue with that."

"To get back to the subject," Anne ignored her father's groan, "what possible reason could there be for me not being a Watcher, aside from that it Simply Isn't Done?"

A heavy sigh escaped Southby's lips.  "Anne, being a Watcher is about more than listening to gossip.  It's a demanding role for a man.  A woman simply wouldn't be up to the rigors of Watching."

"Yet women are up to the rigors of the Game."  Anne decided it was time to play her trump card, and if she was reading her father right, he was about to play directly into her hands.

"They're Immortal women.  They're different," Southby protested.

Perfect, thought Anne.  "Exactly," she said aloud.  "But *how* are they different?  How is it that women can survive years, decades, centuries, millennia, in the Immortal Game?"

Southby muttered something Anne was sure was, "Blowed if I know."

"You don't know, do you?" the young woman pressed.  "No man can.  Only another woman could get that close.  Think of all the Watchers have to learn about female Immortals, Father!  How do they survive, when the world is so hostile to women?  What keeps them going?  What do they know?  These are questions no man could ever answer."

Southby grunted.  Anne pressed on.

"If I were to become a lady's companion, or a lady's maid, I could get far closer to an Immortal woman than any man, save for her husband or lover -- and unless I'm mistaken, the Watchers discourage that sort of thing."

"Well, yes," Southby acknowledged.

Anne leaned in toward him.  "Father, I could learn more about the day-to-day life of a female Immortal in one month than male Watchers could learn in ten years.  You could speak to the Council.  Tell them to take me on on a trial basis.  If it doesn't work out, it doesn't, but Father -- at least let me try."  As a last resort, Anne let her big blue eyes fill with tears.

And Southby did what he had done ever since Anne was a baby: he gave in.  Whatever he said to the Council must have been very persuasive, for less than a month later, another Watcher came to the house and began instructing Anne in the finer points of Sneaking and Spying while in an Immortal's house.  A few months later, bearing a false set of references, Anne was hired on as Rebecca Horne's lady's maid.

It had been a dream come true for the young woman.  Rebecca was all Anne had ever dreamed an Immortal woman could be: beautiful, strong, intelligent, and gracious.  The Immortal didn't treat Anne like many a lady would have treated a servant.  She was kind and encouraging, and when she'd discovered Anne's remarkable mind, lady and "servant" had had deep talks about literature and history.  Anne knew Rebecca suspected there was more to her servant than Anne would admit, but apparently, the Immortal decided Anne wasn't a threat and kept her on.

Over the next few years, Anne had learned.  She'd learned the legend and history of the Methuselah Stone (after a casual comment about the crystal Rebecca wore), Rebecca's take on women's place in society (a rant, really), that "her" Immortal had terrible nightmares on a regular basis, and the strains and sacrifices of being married to a mortal.  Rebecca's husband's "illness" was nothing more than age -- rather, aging that made his wife's agelessness all the more noticeable.

And now it was about to end.  Rebecca was leaving, and she was leaving everything except her husband behind.  Anne understood, but losing the Immortal woman's companionship was painful beyond what Anne would have imagined.

She picked up the shoes, slipping the amulet back into hiding, then looked back into the room.  Rebecca was humming lightly to herself as she packed away her toiletries and knick-knacks.

There was so much Anne wanted to say to her, but all she could do was bring over the shoes.  Carefully, she set them in one of Rebecca's trunks and tried not to cry.  She helped Rebecca fold the last of the dresses then.  Anne carefully packed them away, kneeling on the floor.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder.  "Anne, dear, is something wrong?"

Anne dared not face her mistress as she tried to find words that weren't too revealing, but would tell Rebecca what she had meant to Anne.

"You're the only one who really knew me at all," she choked out.

"Oh, Anne, don't cry, dearest."  Rebecca drew her to her feet and embraced her gently.  "I've truly enjoyed your companionship, Anne.  But all things come to an end.  They must, dearest.  It's the way of the world."

Anne forced back her tears.  "Yes.  You taught me that, Rebecca."  She smiled as Rebecca let the use of her first name pass without comment.  "I will miss you, My Lady."

A thought seemed to strike Rebecca.  "You know my dear friend Amanda who so recently moved to London -- why don't I recommend you to her?  I'm certain she would take you on."

Delight coursed through Anne.  "My Lady, I would be honored."

"Then it's settled."  Rebecca looked around.  "I believe that's it for the packing.  Thank you for helping, Anne."

"Yes, My Lady.  Shall I call Bierly to get the trunks?"

"Please do."  Rebecca heard a sound and walked over to the window.  "I believe that's your father, Anne."

A short while later, Anne sat in the confines of a carriage with her father.

"I'll write my final report when we get home, Father," Anne said.

"Good.  I'm sure the Council is looking forward to it."  Seeing his daughter's startled expression, Southby smiled.  "You've impressed them, Anne."

"I have?" Anne asked a little breathlessly.

Southby looked a little embarrassed.  "Yes.  And . . .  you've impressed me, too, Anne.  You've done well here."

This time, Anne resolutely caught herself before she started to cry.  "I'm glad, Father," she said simply.  "By the way, Rebecca recommended my services to Amanda, so if the Council is willing, I could have a new assignment within the week."

"Not Amanda!" Southby growled.  "The woman's no proper lady.  She steals.  She carouses with men.  I've even heard tell that she's a--"  he lowered his voice to a whisper  "-- Sapphist!"

Anne smiled and gathered her resolve.  "Father . . ."

--end--

Against All Odds
by Phil Collins
(Reprinted without permission)

How can I just let you walk away
Just let you leave without a trace
When I stand here taking every breath with you ooh
You're the only one who really knew me at all

How can you just walk away from me
when all I can do is watch you leave
'cause we shared the laughter and the pain
and even shared the tears
You're the only one who really knew me at all

So take a look at me now
There's just an empty space
There's nothing left here to remind me
Just the memory of your face
oh take a look at me now
there's just an empty space
and you coming back to me
is against the odds
and that's what I got to face

I wish I could just make you turn around
turn around and see me cry
There's so much I need to say to you
So many reasons why
You're the only one who really knew me at all

So take a look at me now
There's just an empty space
There's nothing left here to remind me
just the memory of your face
So take a look at me now
There's just an empty space

But to wait for you is all I can do
And that's what I gotta face
Take a good look at me now
Cause I'll still be standing here

And your coming back to me
is Against all odds
its a chance I gotta take

Take a look at me now.

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