first posted fic in the fandom, hope it goes ever well! i'm looking forward to writing more for this delightful little show. hope everything seems in character!
warnings for referenced food/eating issues relating to food scarcity/neglect in the past, as well as skewed current priorities.
i'm a head case if i don't keep moving
and my head hurts if i don't sit still
it's an itch that i'll never stop scratching
it's a hole that i'll never quite fill
- "insomnia", electric president
"We need to talk about Ezekiel."
On a sliding scale of things he would like to hear come out of Eve's mouth, that one is… relatively low on Flynn's list. Right below 'Charlene needs all our receipts for a budget review', and just barely above 'the Serpent Brotherhood is back and right outside'. Actually, with the expression she's wearing along with the words taken into account, Flynn thinks that whatever is going on, he would genuinely prefer the Brotherhood. Steeling his nerves, Flynn takes a deep breath, plasters on the amused grin that he hopes is the appropriate response for whatever shenanigans Ezekiel Jones has wrought upon his library this time, and turns to face Eve.
"Jones?" His voice is too loud and brass for the jovial quality of it to entirely be genuine, but thankfully, Eve seems too preoccupied with whatever is concerning her to notice his farce. "What's he done now?"
"Nothing. He hasn't done anything." There's a crease in Eve's forehead, a tightness at the corners of her mouth that betrays the seriousness of the situation. She shifts on her feet, hip cocking as she leans on one leg, looking away from Flynn and out around to the rest of the room. Whatever she's looking for, she can't have found it on her examination, because when she finishes sweeping her eyes across bookshelves and desks, her gaze returns to Flynn. "I think he might be sick."
A shaft of cold, like an icicle piercing his abdomen, lances through him, and Flynn swallows hard. He drops the smile, for whatever good it had done to begin with, and sighs. Whatever the hell is up with Ezekiel that has Eve so concerned, Flynn readies himself to dive right into the whole mess, and sits down.
"Alright. I'm listening."
Eve's list of concerning aspects of Ezekiel's behavior and general appearance lately are, Flynn has to admit, legitimate cause for worry. An ashen hue to his normally warm skin tone, deep circles beneath his eyes, a tremor in his hands.
"And the worst thing is, he says everything is fine, and won't tell me what's going on. I'm getting really worried, Flynn." Eve shakes her head and stops the pacing that she's been keeping up, wearing a tread in the floor as she enumerates her list. She looks at him and shakes her head, then sits down. "I know you don't like him, but-"
"Hey." It comes out a little more wounded than Flynn meant it to, but once it's out, it's out, and what can he do about it then but follow it through. "I don't not like him," he says, hand twitching a bit, flicking up off his thigh in a half-wave that is a bare ghost of his usual enthusiastic gesticulating. "He and I just… I don't not like Jones, alright? It matters to me, what happens to him. Just- It matters."
"Alright." Eve's looking at him with interest, having sat down now at the bottom of the staircase near Flynn's desk. Interest quickly slides into relief, back into worry. Her observation of Flynn's sudden defensiveness at the suggestion that he may harbor ill feelings towards one of their young compatriots will have to be tabled for later, to needle and tease him with when the one in question isn't in danger.
"I'll see what I can figure out, alright?" He tries to smile again, half as successful as last time. "Whatever it is, I'm sure he's gonna be alright. Just finished a case, yeah? Close call with Stone?" Eve nods, and he mirrors the motion. "It's probably just stress. But I'll look into it."
"Let me know what you find out?"
He agrees and Eve is gone after that, needing to round up some last details from Jacob, who had, during their last adventure, disappeared for two days, courtesy of the bad guys of the week. They'd got him back in one piece but it was alarming nonetheless, and everyone is still feeling the aftershocks of a near loss. Coming after that, it makes sense that Eve is on edge about the wellbeing of the three of them, watching them closely enough to have noticed all the signs of Ezekiel's potential illness.
Flynn watches her leave then leans back in his seat, raking his hands over his hair and blowing a breath out slowly. Now, not only is there something going on with Ezekiel Jones, but he's gone out of (what's left by now of) his mind and volunteered to figure out what it is. Nevermind how it is he's going to do that when he and Ezekiel aren't exactly buddy-buddy, or what he'll do when he does work out what's up.
"Well this is a big old mess, isn't it," Flynn says out loud before he remembers Judson is gone, a pang echoing around his chest like a boomerang when he realizes it's been weeks since the last time he made that particular mistake.
Well. Nothing else to do now, is there? Time to go investigating. Suss out what he can about Ezekiel's situation while he's distracted by Jacob's return and thus less likely to be obfuscating the truth.
As he meanders around the library, peeking his head into rooms every so often, trying to find Ezekiel, Cassandra, and Jacob, Flynn finds his mind wandering to the worst case scenario - 'I think he might be sick', Eve had said, and Flynn feels his chest contract. He doesn't even want to consider the possibility, much less imagine the reality. Ezekiel Jones most days feels like a physical manifestation of life itself, vitality and enthusiasm, if sometimes directed towards the wrong things. The thought of him changed from that, at risk from an enemy Eve and Jacob can't punch, Cassandra and Flynn can't outsmart…
"He's fine," Flynn mutters to himself, leaving yet another room he never actually expected them to be in. "It's statistically highly improbable that two of three will have serious health problems at the same time, life threatening health problems. It's a cold. It's a cold or the flu and he just won't tell Eve about it because he's a contrary little criminal who must at all times appear untouchable by the kinds of things that plague us mere mortals. He's fine. He's fine and I'm talking to myself again, monologuing even."
The most dangerous aspect of human existence is fear. Flynn will decide this later, thinking back on his panicked search. It's fear that leads him to avoid actual possibilities in favor of back hallway rooms he knows full well don't hold anything he's looking for, be it people or answers. Fear sends Flynn's mind churning, picking at a what-if until Ezekiel's illness looms like a monster in Flynn's imagination. The thought makes him feel sick, and now he has to contend with that. With how much the thought of something happening to Ezekiel Jones scares and hurts him.
I know you don't like him.
Eve's words occur to him at the same time that a striking thought does - if it came down to a choice, if it was him or Ezekiel, Flynn would choose Ezekiel every time, throw himself over the grenade to keep any harm from coming to the young man. The thought twists and pierces through his chest, a knot of razor wire tightening into an angry mess of cold and breathlessness. It's been true for a while, maybe since the beginning, but a truth existing is another thing than a truth being named.
They bicker and clash and keep each other on their toes, and damn but it would kill Flynn to lose the kid.
His feet move faster on the polished floors, squeaks echoing from the bottom of his shoes, as he thinks about them and gets more frantic. Cassandra. Jacob. Ezekiel. He sees the way he feels right now in Eve's eyes when she looks at them and wonders when he became a person who couldn't stand the thought of being alone.
Right as he's wondering if this is what the Library wanted all along, if it was building a family out of splintered pieces that didn't fit anywhere else on purpose, Flynn finds what he was looking for.
Ezekiel Jones. And he's fine.
Flynn sags against the doorframe feeling relieved and ridiculous in equal measure as he takes in the scene before him.
Jacob is sprawled across a couch, holding a bag of ice wrapped in a towel to the side of his bruised jaw, braced ankle propped up on a pile of pillows at one end, leaning against Cassandra's shoulder at the other. Cassandra is illustrating something with her hands, the movement distinguishable by expression and familiarity from her equation-related gesturing. And then Ezekiel, the focus of Flynn's mad dash through the Library, sitting cross legged on a coffee table, ever allergic to using things for their intended and natural purpose. (For the sake of this thought process, Flynn will omit the minor detail of having done that exact thing himself a dozen times in recent memory.)
From the vantage point of the doorway, as of yet unnoticed by the occupants of the room, Flynn catalogues the details of Ezekiel's present existence.
He's laughing, and his eyes are bright, alert and aware. There's a slice of half-eaten pizza in his hand, recognizable as Jacob's favorite kind, and two more slices on a plate next to him. Cassandra and Jacob have food nearby them as well, and they appear to, despite the recent scare, be having a pretty good time. If anyone here has an appearance that would elicit enough concern to warrant the kind of conversation Flynn and Eve had, it would be Jacob, bearing proof apparent of his ordeal, on his face, his ankle, his bloodied knuckles.
"Flynn!" Cassandra has noticed him, one of her hands jerking away from her illustration of her story into an enthusiastic wave in his direction. He gets the sense that she would jump up and dash over, pull him bodily into the room or something, if she wasn't hyper aware of the injured man resting against her. There's an absent gentleness in Cassandra's actions at the moment, a consideration for her teammate in the background of her every move. It's an observation that causes the razor wire to unknot a bit, cold leached away somewhat by a warmth that insistently takes its place.
Eve's concerns are banished quickly from his mind as Flynn smiles and steps into the room. Greetings are passed around, and there's a familiar glint of mischief in Ezekiel's grin that sets Flynn's heart at ease.
Everything is fine. There was nothing to worry about.
Until it happens again, and this time Flynn is right there to see it.
After that first conversation with Eve and the subsequent conclusion that there wasn't anything actually wrong with the youngest librarian aside from maybe an overprotective guardian, Flynn does have to admit his instincts are maybe on high alert for any sign of trouble, with any of them, but tuned towards Ezekiel specifically. Maybe this is why he notices what he does, two days into a case the urgency of which is somehow a notch geared up even than their usual kind of 'world hanging in the balance' stakes.
There's no other way to put it. Ezekiel looks sick . He look sick and he stumbles, at least twice that Flynn catches sight of.
Of course, before anything can be done about this, before Flynn can so much as check in with Eve, things go into overdrive, and the immediacy of the fullness of time and existence hanging in the balance takes precedence over a problem that isn't immediately dire quite to that level. By the time Flynn remembers what he was keeping an eye on and why, the dust has settled and everything is back to normal. Including Ezekiel, discovered at the conclusion of yet another urgent search through the Library, sitting on the back of the couch this time, his knee pressed against Cassandra's shoulder, eating a bowl of cereal at ten pm.
Flynn watches them for a few moments, squinting at them and then turning around and taking off, Cassandra's voice echoing down the hall after him. He stands in the annex, puts his hands on his hips, and stares at a wall, sliding the pieces of this puzzle around in his head as some of them finally start to fit together. The stillness lasts for approximately fifteen seconds before Flynn launches into movement. He finds Eve quickly.
"Jones-" he starts, then breaks off when the name tastes bitter in the back of his throat. "Ezekiel. When did you notice his… symptoms?"
"What?"
Flynn sighs in frustration, and tries to bear in mind that it's his lack of clarity, not Eve's lack of understanding, that is slowing this conversation down. "When was it you first noticed that he seemed unwell."
"When I came and told you about it," she answers, catching up quickly. "The case where Jake disappeared."
"But is that the first time," Flynn insists, pushing at the matter harder. "Think back on it, Eve, is that the first you ever noticed it, thought something might be wrong."
Her face crinkles up as she thinks about it, focusing hard and staring off into space, trying to recall. "No," Eve says, finally, looking back at him. "No, I remember seeing it before, but I thought it was nothing, because it barely lasted."
"When?"
"The case in Duluth, Minnesota, the one with the-"
"The thing with the lake! Yes! Okay. Okay, so you noticed it then, but it went away-"
"Too fast for me to think it was a real issue. He was better by day after we sorted things out." Eve frowns at him. "What are you getting at?"
Flynn laughs out loud in relief, shaking his head. "I know what happened," he announces triumphantly. "He's not sick! I can't believe I didn't see this- He- This is good news, Eve," he says, breaking into his own sentence and smiling at her reassuringly, grasping her shoulders in his hands. "He's not sick!"
Before she can ask him how exactly it is he knows that, Flynn takes off in search of the subject of their conversation, this time bypassing the rooms he checked last time, the ones he had mainly poked his head into as a method of procrastinating the bad news he was sure was hanging over him like a cartoon piano, about to be dropped on his head. This time, he knows there's nothing there, just a problem he's already deeply familiar with, a monster whose face he has memorized, who's lived draped over Flynn's own shoulders for years.
"You forget to eat," he announces, walking into the room where Ezekiel sits on the floor in front of a couch, playing a video game on a console Flynn can't be bothered to wonder as to the origins of.
Upon his entry and declaration, Ezekiel's hands still on the controller, one thumb darting out to pause his game before he dies and loses his progress. He makes a comical figure, one eyebrow arched, looking dubiously up at Flynn, the stick of a lollipop poking out of the corner of his mouth. He gives the silence a good few seconds, long enough for Flynn to start feeling ridiculous for having barged in here and just come out with it, then takes the candy out of his mouth.
"Uh, don't think so, mate."
To be fair, there's half a pizza sitting in a box open on the coffee table, a handful of candy wrappers on the floor next to Ezekiel, and a bottle of Eve-encouraged water resting against his knee. To all appearances, this is not a person who has a problem remembering to eat.
Shaking his head, Flynn walks fully into the room, sitting down on the couch next to Ezekiel's right shoulder.
"Happens to me too," he says, voice light and casual, trying to get to the point as quick and easy as he can. This is a conversation that needs to happen. Flynn only hopes Ezekiel doesn't spook and bolt before what needs to be said is said. "Used to happen more often. Before Eve, before you guys."
Ezekiel doesn't look at him, seemingly riveted by the pause screen of the video game. He doesn't get up to leave either, though, so Flynn takes the chance and keeps going.
"The job is important, Ezekiel," Flynn says. "I know that. It's so, so important. When there's a case, it's easy to think it's so important that nothing else matters at all, focus on it so hard you forget to take care of yourself." He allows a pause, trying to both give Ezekiel time to process what he's saying and give himself time to figure out what to say next. "The case is always important," he says again, staring straight ahead at the video game pause scene like this is going to be any easier to say if he doesn't have to look at Ezekiel while he says it, "but you're important too."
"What're you-" Ezekiel starts, almost turning and getting up, making a half-move to get to his feet before changing his mind and dropping back onto the floor. He starts the video game back up again, fingers clicking rapidly over buttons.
"I mean it," insists Flynn. The further he goes into this attempt at responsible mentoring, the more confident he feels about it. He can do this. He nods to himself, glancing down at the thief sitting next to his knee. "That feeling you get, sometimes, middle or end of a case, light headed, dizzy, can't think as sharp as you're used to? That's hypoglycemia. Low blood sugar. I passed out, once. When I was new, as the Librarian. It's easy to forget to take care of yourself, but it's important to remember to eat. We may feel invincible, but we're normal people too, and people gotta eat."
The video game is paused again, and this time Ezekiel glances behind him, a look on his face like he knows he's about to get the last word in an argument.
"Well excuse me," he drawls. He jumps off the ground and tosses the game controller onto the couch cushion next to Flynn. "Some of us didn't exactly have enough food growing up to, I dunno, learn how to eat like a normal person, or any adults responsible enough to teach us." He sweeps out of the room before either of them can really process what he's said enough to respond to it.
Flynn is left on the couch wondering what just happened, fighting against a sick feeling in his chest that he's missed something. Maybe all of them have missed something. What Ezekiel has said is worrying, and what's perhaps even more worrying is everything he didn't say, whatever was behind those words that just slipped out, secrets and truths Flynn can't begin to guess at. Things Ezekiel hasn't told him, through, the longest-standing Librarian things, ashamed, every fault of his own. Maybe he could've said something sooner, tried to help sooner, let Ezekiel know he didn't have to manage things on his own just a little bit sooner.
The past is the past though, and if he gets too lost in his own guilt about what he hasn't done, Flynn is risking caring more about that than about what he can do now. The kid deserves better than that from him. These people, this family Flynn hadn't noticed was building around him until it was already there, they all deserve so much more than that.
A thought occurs to Flynn and he launches off the couch in a sudden flurry of motion. He's got a plan. First, though, a run to a convenience store, then to track down their wayward miscreant. When he returns, the young man in question is ready for him.
"About earlier," Ezekiel says as soon as Flynn makes it into the room. "Listen, I think it'd be better for… everyone involved if we just forget about what I said, 'kay? It was… an exaggeration or a lie for sympathy or whatever will make you most comfortable pretending that never happened."
Without seeming to have registered a single thing Ezekiel has said, Flynn saunters into the middle of the room and dumps a box out on the table.
"Granola bars," he announces, looking incredibly pleased with himself. Ezekiel raises an eyebrow. Flynn takes the chance to elaborate, explaining, "Look, they're portable, require absolutely no preparation, and can pack some surprising nutritional punch. They helped, when I was trying to figure it out."
"Look, mate-"
"I never said it was easy." Flynn speaks softly, and it's a voice Ezekiel recognizes, one he's heard out of Flynn a couple of times. After Excalibur, when Cassandra used the magic to heal him instead of her. A near death experience with Eve. A part of a conversation he'd overheard between Flynn and Jacob after Oklahoma. The voice makes Ezekiel look down and away, throat feeling tight and hot, stomach churning. "It was hard for me, and I wasn't trying to sort through half the excess crap you apparently are, which we can talk about later- if you want to. But this… Granola bars and a promise you're not doing it alone. It's all I've got to offer you, and it isn't much, but it's what I've got."
Ezekiel looks up, and the voice is mirrored in Flynn's face, sincere enough, kind without the condescension or pity Ezekiel had been afraid of. The first instinct is deflection, a joke and the urge to run, a fallback plan that's kept him alive and in one piece for this long. He's got something ready, sneaker already turning towards the door, about to make his thousandth clean getaway.
"You wanna grab dinner with us?" is what he actually says.
Flynn looks surprised at what he said, which Ezekiel figures makes two of them. He shrugs, a little embarrassed, and decides hey, go big or go home.
"I'm told I have low blood sugar, y'know, I need to eat something" he says, voice as bold as he can manage. "Cassie and Jake and me were gonna go to dinner with Eve, figured maybe you'd like to join."
After a moment of silent appraisal, Flynn nods and grins. "Sure. Sounds great."
Ezekiel grabs a granola bar and stuffs it in his pocket, then follows Flynn out the door.