Jake has mixed feelings after his conversation with Cassandra about not being able to trust her. He knows he has a right to his feelings and a right to be angry at her betrayal. But she was right too. He can only assume that he would not be willing to sell out someone else when faced with certain death. He's never had to deal with that kind of choice. He prays he never will.
Ezekiel isn't bothered by Cassandra's choice. He probably never was. Baird seemed to get over it rather quickly too. Hell, even Flynn who almost died as a result of her actions was still willing to die so Cassandra could have her cure. And he let her come back into the fold. If none of them were bothered, then why was he?
Because they never had to hide who they are. He didn't like to think he was ashamed of his intelligence and interests, but in a way he was. He learned early on hiding his knowledge would be better for his sake. School was easier if you weren't the kid who stood out unless you did so through sports. He knew he wasn't going to get out of his hometown and escape his life in the family business even though he desperately wanted to do so. So hiding was best…until he came to The Library.
Meeting others who have their own special gifts and would encourage his made him feel like he finally had a place to belong. A place where he no longer had to hide. Friends who would accept him. He thought Cassandra had felt the same, and that was why her betrayal hurt so much. She hadn't. Or if she had, it hadn't meant more to her than a cure would.
He'd been attracted to her instantly. Not just because she was pretty, but he could tell she was sweet, and if she was invited to The Library she must be smart. It wasn't often he met a woman who could share his interests. In fact, it was never. Hearing about her tumor was a punch in the gut. Not just because he was sad for her, but because she was someone he could see himself being with for the long haul. Only she wasn't able. When he helped her with her vision, he thought they had some kind of connection. However, she must not have seen it that way.
Maybe he was being too harsh. It wasn't her fault if he read more into something than she did. She couldn't have known that with her betrayal she'd also taken his chance to be completely honest about himself with someone. She had come through for all of them when it really mattered. But it was too late. He learned his lesson long ago. Long before she came along. She only served as a reminder that he couldn't completely trust even those he called friends.
Still he hoped a time would come when he didn't have to feel that way.
He had to observe her because he doesn't trust her. At least that's what he told himself when he started. He had to make sure she wasn't planning something that could potentially endanger all of them… herself included. Only now he knows she won't. She is too kind a person to do something intentionally dangerous. She's proven that repeatedly. She did so before he stubbornly refused to admit it. He's not worried about her anymore.
So when he began to trust her more but still watched her, he told himself it was because he was worried for her. He wanted to make sure she didn't overexert herself solving an equation. The first time he noticed her squinting her eyes and her forehead crinkling as she stared intently at a page in her notebook, he thought she was getting another headache. He was almost out of his seat to get her some medication when he noticed her smile and dance a little in her seat. She wasn't in pain. She was happy. She had solved some long equation in minutes that he would never finish in a lifetime. But she didn't say anything to anyone.
She never does. He knows she's not embarrassed. This is just something she likes to do for herself. And she only rewards herself with a cookie Jenkins makes for tea time.
She thinks of numbers in hues. At least up to seven. One is red. Two is orange. Three is yellow. Four is green. Five is blue. Six is indigo. Seven is violet. He doesn't know if she branches out to different colors for higher numbers. Maybe higher numbers that are divisible by one of those first seven numbers is also that hue. He knows there are more numbers in the world than there are colors. He spent most of his life being mesmerized by colors in famous works of art. Unlike numbers, he is pretty sure colors are definite. Still he wonders if a new color appeared in the world, what number would she associate with it?
He wants to ask her sometime about her color-number system, but then he remembers the fear. He can't personally engage with others like him because that never works out. It's not that he doesn't trust her with his life anymore. It's that he doesn't trust himself. Not where his heart is concerned.
It's easier to hide. Easier to flirt with Lamia whom he knows can and will kill him. He knows where he stands with Lamia. Knows nothing will come of it. Nothing important anyway.
Easier to trust a fleeting feeling with someone you could never trust than risk a strong feeling with someone who could destroy you with one look. A look that says she doesn't feel the same way.
A look from Cassandra saying she just wants to be his friend would be worse than death.
She's writing in her notebook again. Something to do with Euler's number. He snuck a peek when he picked up a book that was conveniently lying on the same table as her workspace. Thankfully no one noticed the book he grabbed for his research on Ancient Greek architecture was about 13th Century folk dancing. After she's done and leaves to search for Jenkin's cookies, he takes a look at her notebook. Normally, he wouldn't. He knows that for her writing equations in her notebook is akin to writing in a diary. But she seemed especially proud of herself today, and he wants to see what made her smile so much. He can't understand most of what she wrote, but the one thing he notices is where the answer should be is a word instead of a number:
Indigo
He's always had a particular affinity for indigo. When most people see it, they assume it is either blue or purple. It takes a strong eye to catch it, but he thinks it is the most vivid hue in the spectrum.
Some days he entertains the idea of asking Cassandra to visit a museum with him. Take the back door to the Louvre… the Met… any and every museum they can name. He wants to impress her with his knowledge of art and culture the way she impresses him when she uses her gift.
The way she impresses him all the time.
He wants to know what she thinks and sees when she looks at a painting. Does she see the colors as numbers? Will she focus on the patterns in Van Gogh's The Starry Night? Will the shapes in Picasso's work amuse her? Will she count each dot of paint in Georges Seurat's A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte?
Sounds like the perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon to him. He would gladly stand next to her as she takes in the sights, sounds, and smells all around them.
And maybe one day when she needs a strong memory to keep her focused through her visions, she'll be thinking of him.
The end.