Eve managed to keep Jenkins in his bed for a full day before he forced himself up, showered and put on a proper suit. His first task after that was to go back to the Unicorn Forest and retrieve his ruined suit coat, the halter, bridle and any other foreign objects he or Cassandra had left behind in the unicorns' habitat. He then turned his attention to the burial of Tim's carcass; that was completely beyond his abilities in his current state, so he reluctantly asked Jacob and Ezekiel for their help. The two young men were secretly thrilled to be taken to the Forest, though they kept their excitement hidden from the grieving Caretaker out of respect for his loss. Their excitement soon turned to sadness once they were actually inside the Forest, however. The moment they walked through the door, Jenkins's mood plummeted. He became quiet and somber, and they could tell that he was struggling to maintain his composure in front of them as they hiked through the Forest towards the meadow.

After three hours they arrived at the fallen tree. Jenkins was limping badly by then, but he didn't complain. The two younger men tiredly dropped the picks, shovels and other tools onto the ground and quietly waited for instructions. Each eyed the large animal, now in the very early stages of decomposition, impressed that they could get this close to a unicorn, even if it was a dead one. They also took in the churned up turf, dark with dried blood. After a few moments to allow them all to catch their breath, the immortal turned to the men.

"I'd like to have a few minutes alone, if I may, gentlemen," he said quietly. Jake tapped Ezekiel on the arm and led him away to stand several yards off from the old man. The two watched in respectful silence as Jenkins approached the carcass and carefully knelt on the ground next to it. He laid a hand on Tim's neck and patted it affectionately, speaking quietly to the unfortunate animal with words they couldn't hear. After several minutes, the pair saw Jenkins pull his handkerchief from his trousers pocket and wipe his eyes with it. He turned, still kneeling, and called to them.

"Mr. Stone, Mr. Jones, would you assist me, please?" They hurried over, thinking that he needed help getting back to his feet, but he waved them away when they each began to reach for one of his arms.

"No, no, no! I need one of you to hand me the hacksaw that you'll find in that toolbag over there." Ezekiel, who was the closest to the bag, went to it and opened it, dug around for a few seconds, then pulled out the saw.

"What's this for?" he asked Jenkins as he handed it to the Caretaker. Ezekiel noticed that the older man's eyes were red.

"Unicorn horns are very hard to come by, Mr. Jones," Jenkins replied dully as he wrapped his handkerchief around the handle of the hacksaw. "They are incredibly powerful healing artifacts. They are too precious to waste. The last one I had was almost used up tending to Cassandra and myself." He fell silent and stared down at Tim, a look of utter misery on his face. Ezekiel laid a hesitant hand on the large man's shoulder.

"I'll do it for you, Jenkins," he said softly, but Jenkins only shook his head.

"No, thank you, Mr. Jones, but this is something I have to do myself. I owe that to him." Jenkins turned towards Jacob.

"Mr. Stone, may I borrow your kerchief, please?" he asked. "I need to wrap it around the horn so I can hold onto it." Jake untied the kerchief that was around his neck as he walked over to the immortal's side. But rather than hand it over to Jenkins, he knelt on the ground next to him.

"It's all right, J, I got it," he said gruffly. "With hands cut up as bad as yours are, you're gonna need both of 'em to work the saw." He wrapped the kerchief around the horn, studiously ignoring the dark, dry blood of the immortal that covered the razor-sharp corkscrewed shaft. Jenkins briefly thought about protesting, but he decided against it. Mr. Stone was right, with hands as badly damaged as his were right now, he would need both to hold the saw straight and steady. He nodded in acquiescence and took a deep breath as he laid the saw blade on the base of the horn.

The Caretaker began to push the blade across the tough bone and gasped sharply at the pain the pressure produced in his still-raw palms. He squeezed his eyes shut in agony as he gripped the saw's handle to drag the blade back weakly across the horn. He tried another downward stroke, but the blade was barely scratching the horn's surface. Jacob caught Ezekiel's eye and nodded slightly in the direction of the struggling man. The thief nodded in understanding, then quickly moved to kneel on the other side of Jenkins.

"Here, mate, lemme give you a hand," he said amiably, gripping the frame of the saw. Jenkins glanced at the young man and again thought of resisting, but in the end did not. He merely nodded a second time and accepted Ezekiel's help. Together, the three of them quickly removed the horn.

Jenkins carefully wrapped it in a clean cloth and tied it closed. He clambered painfully back to his feet and watched as Jake and Ezekiel labored to bury the unicorn's remains. He was stone-faced throughout the process, but the stoic old knight couldn't keep an occasional tear from slipping down his weathered cheeks as he silently bid his beloved unicorn a final farewell.


As soon as he returned to the Annex after Tim's burial, Jenkins pulled a chair up next to Cassandra's bed and sat down in it. That was two days ago, and he stubbornly refused to move one inch from her side ever since, insisting on taking care of the injured woman himself, much to Baird's frustration. Though he was healing rapidly, the prolonged sitting caused his hip to ache sharply throughout the long hours of his vigil, but he bore it without complaint. He decided that it was a fitting penance for what he had done to his beloved Cassandra, and to Tim.

When he wasn't changing her wound's dressings, using an eyedropper to painstakingly place a few drops of the water infused with powdered horn onto her tongue every few minutes, casting spells in an effort to increase the speed of her recovery, bathing her or otherwise tending to the unconscious Librarian, the Caretaker passed the time by tormenting himself with memories of the Unicorn Forest, of their disagreement beneath the Tree, and with vehemently wishing that they'd been able to reconcile their differences before all of this happened.

Cassandra loved him, he knew that, and he loved her with all his heart—though in his heart he also didn't believe it was possible for her to love him as he currently was. It was a paradox that had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember. All these centuries he'd lived with the belief that he wasn't good enough for Charlene, but he'd tried to earn her love anyway. And in truth he was no more good enough for Cassandra than he had been for Charlene. But the difference was that Cassandra didn't seem to care—she wanted him anyway, loved and wanted him very much in spite of his unworthiness. She didn't need for him to prove himself to her. Cassandra's love wasn't a commodity to be bartered for; it was gift—the most precious gift—and she gave it to him, completely and freely, even eagerly, no strings attached. All she had wanted was for him to acknowledge that he felt the same way about her. Her kind of love was something that he had desperately craved for so long.

And he had turned her down. Again. Because, he realized, he was afraid of that love at the same time he hungered for it. Afraid that it would be taken away the moment she realized how worthless he really was. Jenkins felt slightly ill as he bitterly cursed himself for his foolishness and his cowardice. Now it might be too late to make amends. Cassandra was taking too long to regain consciousness, it seemed to him.

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, wishing fervently that he had it all to do over again. He would kiss Cassandra beneath that Tree, and he would kiss her hard. He would hold her beautiful, soft, warm body tightly in his arms and kiss her as though there was no tomorrow. He would kiss her, then pull her down to the ground and make long, slow love to her and simply be happy with her.

How could I have been so stupid?!

"Jenkins?"

The immortal shot upright in the chair, pain stabbing his hip sharply at the sudden movement.

"Cassandra?" he breathed, relief blanketing him as he was finally able to see her blue eyes peering at him blurrily from beneath her half-closed lids. "Cassandra! I'm here, my love, I'm right here!" He took her hand and gingerly squeezed it. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got hit by a bus," she mumbled slowly. Jenkins couldn't resist kissing her forehead.

"Can you move all of your fingers and toes?" he anxiously asked. He was rewarded with feeble movements of her hands and feet, and he nearly wept with joy. It appeared that, miraculously, she hadn't sustained any brain or spinal injuries. "How do your ribs feel?"

"Like the bus that hit me the first time put it in reverse and then backed over me," she croaked slowly. "It hurts to breathe." He squeezed her hand again and stroked her hair. It was a very encouraging sign if she could still make jokes after all she had been through.

"That's to be expected," he said reassuringly. "You probably have some broken and cracked ribs. But we'll soon be able to set that to rights again." He reached for an ever-present glass of the alicorn elixir on the nightstand, and lifted her head up slightly from the pillow.

"Here, drink this, my dear," he urged her. "It'll help everything to heal faster. We'll have you up on your feet again in no time now." Cassandra took a swallow of the drink and made a face.

"Ugh! That's awful! What is it?" she complained, smacking her lips in disgust. Jenkins chuckled, almost giddy that she was awake and talking to him again.

"It's a mixture of powdered unicorn horn and water. I can mix it with something else to make it taste better, if you like," he offered. Cassandra's eyes went wide at the word 'unicorn'.

"Oh, my God, the unicorn!" she whimpered weakly, her face beginning to crumple with tears. "I was riding that unicorn! Tim! He wouldn't stop! I tried to make him stop but he wouldn't and then suddenly there was this log in front of us and then he stopped and I fell off of him and…" Jenkins set the glass down and took up her hand again in both of his.

"Shhh," he said, trying to quiet the upset woman. "Relax, Cassandra! Everything is fine now. You're safe. The unicorn threw you off and you struck the log. He turned on you while you were unconscious and tried to—" He caught himself, and stopped speaking for a moment to collect himself, the awful memory overwhelming him. Best not to tell her everything just yet. She would be upset when she learned that Tim had to be killed in order to save her life. Jenkins was still trying to come to terms it all himself. He'd been there when Tim was born over 200 years ago, had watched and helped him to grow and mature, nursed him through illnesses and injuries. Tim had been the closest thing to a child the old Caretaker had ever had, as all of the unicorns were.

"He injured you in his panic, my dear. I tried to catch you on Roger, but I was too late." His voice became rough as he spoke, and he squeezed her hand tightly in his bandaged ones.

"I'm so sorry, Cassandra! I tried to catch you, but I just couldn't! Can you ever forgive me?" He never mentioned his own injuries, and Cassandra was too disoriented to notice his hands.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Jenkins," she said dourly. "It was all my fault. I should've done what you told me to do and waited for you. But Tim was so friendly, and I've ridden horses before—I didn't think it would be that much different. I thought it would be okay…" Jenkins shook his head.

"No, Cassandra, this is all MY fault," he said firmly. "I should never have taken you to the Forest, not without at least sitting down with you and explaining all of the dangers involved. I know how dangerous unicorns can be, I should've taken the time to properly prepare you." He took a deep breath and exhaled it.

"Knowing how much you've been wanting to see the unicorns," he began his confession. "I thought that this would be a good opportunity for a quick visit—just take the baby unicorn in and then get out. I stupidly thought it would be a way to make up for my reluctance to…" Jenkins dropped his gaze to the floor, unable to look Cassandra in the eyes. "My reluctance to kiss you, under the Tree."

Cassandra, still holding his hand, squeezed it feebly. She opened her mouth to say something, but a yawn slipped out instead. The Caretaker, immediately concerned, patted her hand before placing it under the blankets and tucking them in around her.

"My apologies, Cassandra—you need to rest," he ordered. "We can talk about this later when you're feeling stronger. Right now you need to heal and recuperate." He bent down to kiss her forehead and stroked her cheek fondly. "I love you, Cassandra."

"I love you, too, Jenkins," she murmured, just before closing her tired eyes and slipping back into sleep.


The next few days saw a flurry of activity for the team. Everyone felt relieved and energized once they knew that their mathemagician was going to make a full recovery. As Cassandra continued to recuperate, the clippings book suddenly came to life and sent the rest on a mission to recover a rare Mayan artifact. Since Cassandra was awake now and becoming stronger every day thanks to the alicorn elixir, Jenkins felt free to assist the team a little with translations, research and advice, frequently checking in on the recovering Librarian. Jenkins insisted that she stay in bed the whole time, though, leaving the young woman with plenty of quiet time for reflection. The subject most of the time was their unresolved disagreement underneath the Tree of Love. The subject today was a new one, though: The new argument they'd had just last night.

Yesterday morning Eve had come to visit her in the infirmary, and, unaware that Jenkins hadn't told Cassandra about Tim or what happened to him, had eventually told Cassandra the entire story about, including all about Jenkins's own injuries and how he had barely managed to patch Cassandra up before he collapsed from exhaustion and blood loss. The redhead was furious, and confronted the immortal about it as soon as he stopped in to check on her later in the day. She was angry that he had kept the extent of his own injuries secret from her, that he hadn't told her about the death of the unicorn (which she blamed entirely on herself and her impetuous actions); he defended himself by saying that he would've told her everything soon enough, but that right now he didn't want her to waste energy worrying about him, that he wanted her to concentrate on her own recovery. The argument had eventually wound its way back to the Tree again, and Jenkins's seeming refusal to let Charlene go. He had abruptly ended the argument then by getting up and leaving, citing Cassandra's need for rest.

So now she lay in bed in the predawn hours, unable to sleep, and thought. She knew her recovery was only an excuse on Jenkins's part. She knew him well enough by now to know that he was just stalling until he felt comfortable talking about what really needed to be talked about: Charlene. She also knew that he blamed himself for the whole fiasco in the Forest, but she knew that wasn't true; everything that had happened was actually her fault—for pressuring him under the Tree that night, or come to that, for even planting the stupid Tree in the first place. If she hadn't done that, none of this would've happened.

What was that old saying? A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Cassandra smiled mirthlessly. That was the truth! She'd learned just enough about Trees of Love to be dangerous, just enough to foolishly run off and grow one, not having a single clue as to what it really meant or how it might affect her life or Jenkins's life. She hadn't even stopped to consider that it might not be a good idea in the first place. How could it be a bad idea, after all—it was a Tree of Love. Love was supposed to always be a good thing, right? She sighed heavily. Why did she have to be such a idiotic, sappy romantic all of the time? Why was she always looking for that impossible 'happily ever after' ending?

Love certainly had turned out not to be a good thing in this case. It had turned out to be nothing but a disaster. And poor Jenkins had been trying to warn her, trying to get her to understand that love wasn't just all rainbows and red roses. It was a commitment, the most serious kind of commitment. And then when things didn't go the way she thought they should have gone, she throws one of her patented hissy fits. And look what the results were: She almost got herself killed, she almost got Jenkins killed, and she DID manage to get a unicorn killed. He tried to hide it, but Cassandra could tell he was very upset by that. He loved those unicorns dearly, and because of her he had to have one of them destroyed. And it was all because of her impetuousness and her addiction to romance.

She was a fool, letting this Tree thing come between them like this, letting it and the ghost of Charlene threaten to drive a wedge between her and Jenkins. A look of determination suddenly set itself onto the young woman's features as an idea took form in her head.

"I know how I can fix this mess right now!" she muttered to herself, climbing carefully out of the bed and completely oblivious to the irony of the moment. She slipped on her long robe over her pajamas and put on her slippers, then peeked slowly around the door of the infirmary. Seeing that the coast was clear, she slipped into the hallway and hurried to the Annex workroom. After checking to make sure Jenkins wasn't around, she went to the closet door and threw it open. She rummaged around in the packed space for a few minutes, tossing things aside haphazardly, ignoring the dull ache in her chest from the healing ribs until she finally found what she was looking for.

"AHA!" she cried in satisfaction, a smile spreading across her face. "I knew I'd seen one of these in here somewhere!"

She tightly grasped her prize and ran from the workroom, towards the elevator and the Heart of the Library.