Jenkins bent over to sweep up another dustpanful of the playing cards that had once been the Queen of Hearts and now littered the floor of the Reading Room. As he stood up, he flinched and yelped in surprise, spilling some of the cards back onto the floor. Cassandra had slipped quietly into the room while he was bent over. and she was now standing directly in front of him. She grinned and ducked her head, but the grin quickly faded as Jenkins scowled down at her before he turned to dump the remaining cards into the trashbin.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you," she murmured contritely. Jenkin set the dustpan down and began to sweep up more playing cards.
"I thought you were checking the Library's inventory?" he asked gruffly. Cassandra was stung by his unexpectedly churlish mood.
"I am," she confirmed in a small voice. "But I'm taking a break right now. I thought I'd pop in and see what Flynn said to you about the Library and all of the artifacts going missing." Jenkins snorted, but otherwise remained silent as he continued to sweep. Cassandra looked on sympathetically; the elder Librarian must've been pretty hard on Jenkins. That would certainly explain his bad mood right now. She inched closer, clasping her hands nervously behind her.
"Was Flynn very angry with you?" she asked quietly. Seeing that she wasn't going to go away, Jenkins stopped sweeping, then slowly stood up and turned around to face her.
"Not unduly angry, no," he answered stiffly. He should've gone back to his work, but to his surprise something inside of him suddenly wanted to talk about what had happened between him and the Librarian. Flynn Carsen had a knack for saying things in such a way that, while on the surface were spoken kindly, still managed to cut deeply, and part him desperately needed to be comforted. It didn't help that Carsen's words about Jenkins while under the spell of the Apple of Discord a year ago still rang loudly in the immortal's ears.
Broken-down, miserable old charity case!
"I should've told Mr. Carsen right away about the missing artifacts and the chaotic nature of the Library!" Jenkins said harshly, dropping his eyes in shame. "My negligence and ego almost allowed Prospero to not only acquire a new staff from the Tree of Knowledge, but he might have also taken over the Library itself after he acquired the new staff—all because of my ego and my fear!" Jenkins shook his head and made a non-verbal growl of disgust deep in his throat.
"Mr. Carsen had every right to chastise me", he continued unrelentingly. "He would've been well within his rights to terminate my position with the Library if he chose to do so—and he would've been right to do it!" He snatched the broom up and furiously resumed his sweeping.
Cassandra blinked in surprise. Where had that come from? Cassandra couldn't imagine the older Librarian saying anything, even a reprimand, in anything like a cruel or mean-spirited way, and she absolutely refused to believe that Flynn would ever actually threaten to fire Jenkins. And yet, he seemed to have feared the possibility a great deal by keeping what he knew about the Library's "illness" secret for so long.
She silently watched the immortal as he roughly, almost angrily, swept up the playing cards and other bits of debris left from Jake and Eve's battle with the Queen of Hearts. Her thoughts drifted back to her earlier conversation with Jenkins in the workroom and his confession that he had been reluctant to say anything about the Library's condition sooner, that it had been nothing more than fear and ego that had held him back.
But what could he possibly be afraid of? Was he really afraid of being fired and forced to leave the Library? Cassandra hadn't had time to reflect deeply on what Jenkins had said in the workroom, but her brow furrowed gently as she pondered on it now. She let her mind run through the scenario in her imagination: Jenkins is fired and he leaves the Library. He has to live out in the "real world" again, for the first time in—how many centuries? How much had that world changed since he'd last actually had to live in it, make his own way in it, survive in it?
The world had probably changed a lot, she decided. Where would he go? What would he do? What would he live on? How could an immortal live in a world full of mortal beings? How could he make friends or form relationships, fall in love with anyone, when he knew he would outlive every single one of them? How would he explain away the fact that, while everyone else grew older and eventually died, he never did?
A terrible sadness filled her as she realized that if Jenkins ever had to live in the world outside of the Library, he could never truly be a part of it. He would always be alone, always be lonely, because there was a huge difference between being alone in a place like the Library, and being alone in the middle of a world teeming with people. She knew firsthand what it felt like to be in a room full of people and yet feel so alone, to be so alone; to feel that way in an entire world filled with people would be nothing less than agonizing. To believe that he might be only one mistake away from being exiled from the Library must be absolutely nerve-wracking for Jenkins; no wonder he was so upset.
Jenkins dumped that last of the playing cards into the wastebin and set his broom and dustpan aside. Cassandra reached out and laid her hand on his arm.
"You made a mistake," she said earnestly, looking up into the Caretaker's wary eyes. "You thought you had a good reason for not saying anything earlier, but you were wrong. That's all. Mistakes are nothing to be ashamed of or to be afraid of." Jenkins tensed and he stared back for a moment, bewildered. He quickly recovered and dropped his gaze, shook his head again.
"I should've known better," he persisted, refusing to allow himself to accept the comfort she was offering, the comfort he craved so much. "After all of the time I've been in the Library's employ, I should have known! I should've anticipated—!"
"Stop!" exclaimed Cassandra loudly, sharply. Startled, Jenkins raised his head and gaped at her. Her brows furrowed as she stared the large man down. He suddenly noticed, oddly, that when Cassandra frowned, tiny furrows etched themselves into the skin between her eyes.
"Being immortal doesn't make you perfect," she said kindly. "You're just as human today as you were on the day you were born. You're going to make mistakes, and that's okay." He looked into her large, caring blue eyes, and he unexpectedly felt his heart flutter beneath his breastbone. He shakily sucked in a breath of air and forced himself to look away from her. He didn't deserve her compassion, he didn't deserve her concern.
Her soul is so pure, so innocent, he told himself coldly. But even her kindly soul will shrink from you in horror and disgust if she ever learns about all of the horrible mistakes you've made in the past, the amount of blood that has been shed, the number of lives lost because of you...
As he was having these brooding thoughts, he suddenly felt two small arms encircling his waist, and he realized with a shock that Cassandra was now leaning against him, her small, warm body lightly pressed against his, her head resting gently on his chest. She tightened her arms around him in an embrace.
"You don't have to be afraid, Mr. Jenkins," she said quietly. The soft, sweet, flowery scent of her skin and hair drifted up and into his nose, and he felt his heart wildly flutter again. "No matter what kind of mistakes you make or what happens because of them—I'm here for you. I'm always going to be here for you. I'm always going to be your friend."
He hadn't felt a woman's touch in well over a century, and the sensations were dizzying—the warmth of her body seeping through his clothes; the soft, floral scent of her perfume floating about his nostrils; the russet silken hair barely brushing his throat. Hardly able to breathe, Jenkins realized with a panicked horror that he could feel his own arms lifting, could feel them moving to close around the petite young woman in order to return her embrace. With a short, sharp cry, he forced them instead to grab her shoulders and push her roughly away from him, almost causing her to stumble and fall. At the same time, he stepped backward from her and fixed his eyes on the carpeted floor of the Reading Room.
"I... I'm...sorry, Miss Cillian! Forgive me! I... I...!" he stuttered, shaken and unable to think clearly. "I... I... What I mean is..." He drew in a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. He raised his head with enforced confidence, but kept his eyes downcast.
"What I mean is, I...appreciate your sentiments, Miss Cillian," he said tautly, finding some sense of composure in detached formality. "But, I am fine. What's more, I will always be fine. There is absolutely no need for you to be concerned about me." He quickly sidled over to where he had set down the broom and dustpan and clumsily snatched them up.
"Now, if you will excise me, I have a great deal more tidying up to do in the Antiquities Room." Jenkins turned without waiting for a reply and all but ran from the Reading Room.
Wordlessly, Cassandra watched him go. As soon as the Caretaker was out of the room, a tiny smile came her face. She had heard the immortal's heart racing in her ear as she hugged him, had heard his breath catch in his lungs, had felt his arms move to hug her back. Her smile grew brighter.
"Liar!" she whispered knowingly, then slowly headed through the door herself to return to her work on the inventory.