The waitress carried the tray of drinks to the unusual couple sitting in an out-of-way booth, taking care not to bump into any of the other customers or the furniture along the way—not an easy task at this time of night. It was just after two o'clock in the morning. Most of the shows on the Strip were over by now, many of the bars had closed up for the night. Tourists, vacationers, gamblers, night-owls and newlyweds were out in force tonight, and the small 24-hour café was hopping. Just another third-shift weeknight in Las Vegas.
As she drew nearer, the waitress noticed how the young redheaded woman and the older silver-haired man looked at each other across the table between them. Both were leaning forward attentively, their eyes fixed solidly on each other. The waitress smiled; she and the fry-cook, Miguel, picked out a couple each night and made a bet with each other as to whether or not they were a romantic couple. One look at this pair as they came through the door and she'd bet Miguel twenty dollars that they walk out again holding hands. Miguel looked at the pretty redhead and the man old enough to be her grandfather and laughed, happy to make such a certain bet against them.
"Okay, here we go!" the waitress announced as she finally made it to their booth. "Full Moon for the lady, and tea for the gent, fixin's on the side!" She plunked the beer bottle, a glass and a napkin on the table in front of the woman, then the heavy stoneware mug in front of the old man, followed quickly by the small container of sugar packets and a tiny matching stoneware jug of lukewarm milk. When the tray was empty, she stood back and gave the pair a quick, assessing glance.
"Can I getcha anything else right now?" The redhead beamed up at her.
"No, thank you!" she chirped in a ridiculously cheerful voice
"You can go ahead and give me the check, if you please," the old man said in a warm, rich tone.
"Sure thing, hon!" The waitress dug into her apron pocket and pulled out a ballpoint pen and pad of generic check forms. As she quickly scrawled out their total, she glanced at the old man; up close. She could see how beautifully-tailored his suit was, and he wasn't too bad looking, either, for a man his age, she noted appreciatively. She tore off the bill and laid it, face down, on the table.
"There ya go!" she said. "Just yell if you all need anything else!"
"I'll pay for my beer!" the redhead immediately exclaimed as the waitress walked away.
"You will do no such thing!" the old man countered firmly, but his voice carried a note of good-natured sternness.
"But the beer is way more expensive than a cup of tea!" the young woman protested.
"Irrelevant!" the old man rumbled stubbornly. "A gentleman always pays for the lady!"
The waitress stifled a giggle as she headed back to the counter. She realized that she was glad to hear both the young woman try to pay for her own drink, and the old man refuse to let her do so—and not just because she was likely to be twenty dollars richer by the end of her shift. It meant the girl wasn't a gold-digger or a hooker, and that the old man really was a gentleman. And they weren't relatives out for night on the town, either, not with the way they were gawking at each other. They were definitely a couple—and a very cute couple, too, maybe out on their first date together, even. The waitress smiled as she grabbed the next order up from the pass-through; she was definitely going to win that twenty bucks!
"That was really nice of the Library to give Eve that compact," said Cassandra as she poured her beer into its glass and took a small sip. Her brow furrowed slightly in consternation. "I wonder how it knew that she would she need a mirror so soon like that?" Jenkins's set his mug solidly on the table at the question, almost sloshing some tea onto the worn Formica tabletop. Cassandra was surprised to see a look of guilt overtake the old Caretaker's face.
"What?" she asked suspiciously, cocking her head. Jenkins dropped his eyes.
"I...um... What I mean to say is..." Jenkins sucked in a quick, deep breath and then forced his gaze up to meet hers. "It wasn't the Library who gave Colonel Baird the compact; it was me." Cassandra's jaw dropped.
"You gave it to her?!"
"Himiko's Mirror—the real one—is well over a thousand years old, is approximately twenty-two centimeters in diameter and is made of polished bronze," Jenkins explained stiffly. "The compact that I gave to Colonel Baird was made in the 1870's, when japonisme was all the rage. It once belonged to a former Guardian, a Mrs. Emma Peel—lovely woman, she was recruited from some sort of agency related to British Intelligence, I believe, back in the 60's. Never much cared for those 'catsuits' she used to wear, but she used to make an absolutely lovely cup of tea..." Jenkins curled his upper lip in disgust at the mug of decidedly sub-par tea in front of him, while Cassandra gaped for several seconds before recovering from the shock of his announcement.
"But...why?" she asked, confusion replacing surprise. "Why tell Eve that the Library gave it to her? And why lie about what it was?" Jenkins sat up straight and ran a nervous hand over the front of his shirt.
"I didn't exactly lie," he countered defensively, yet unable to look Cassandra in the eyes. "I merely...stretched the truth a bit, that's all!"
"You lied, Jenkins," Cassandra said tartly, refusing to let him off the hook. "And I want to know why!" Jenkins breathed in deeply and exhaled.
"Because I thought she needed a little encouragement," he answered primly. "I know that every time Mr. Carsen leaves, it...takes something out of her. I can't quite put my finger on it, but she always seems so...deflated and lost after he disappears. I thought that maybe if she thought that at least the Library was concerned about her welfare that it might lighten her spirits a little, make her feel appreciated, needed. Loved." Cassandra's shoulders dropped and her head fell to one side.
"Awww! Jenkins! That's so sweet!" she exclaimed, instantly forgiving the immortal for his deception. "But why not just tell her it was from you? I bet she would've loved to have gotten a present from you!" The immortal snorted softly as he took a sip of his tea.
"I didn't think it was my place," he replied, squirming uncomfortably in his seat. "Besides, you heard what she had to say about it. 'Strange and inappropriate' were her exact words, if I recall correctly…"
"She also said it was ultimately lifesaving," the Librarian reminded him. A look of inspiration suddenly came to her face and her eyes widened with excitement. "OH! But now it works out even better for you! Now you can find something else to give her—something you know she'll like—and give that her, from you! 'Cause do you know how crazy she is about you?! She'll feel much more loved and supported if she gets something from you, and you'll be a hero!" Cassandra practically bounced up and down in her seat, clapping her hands at the scheme. Jenkins hid his surprise behind a scowl.
"A brilliant plan—except for the fact that I have no idea what she would like!" he grumbled in response before taking another drink of his now-tepid tea. Jenkins had grown very fond of Eve Baird over the last couple of years, but until now he'd had no idea that his affection had been returned in kind. He wanted to do something nice for his friend, but he was woefully out of practice when it came to giving gifts to females, even if they were soldiers. Cassandra was not so discouraged, however.
"Don't worry about that, just leave it to me!" she assured him. "Eve and I are about due for another girls' night out; I'll just do a little bit of digging for you, and then voila! Happy Guardian!" Jenkins sat back in his seat and looked thoughtful.
"That…could work," he agreed slowly, mentally taking apart her idea and looking for flaws. Finding none, he sat up again and a small smile came to his lips. "Yes, I think that will work just fine!"
"Of course it'll work!" the redhead answered brightly. "And we can wrap it up in some really pretty wrapping paper, put a really nice ribbon and a fancy bow on it—OOO!" Her blue eyes widened even more. "Maybe we can use some Japanese washi paper! I absolutely adore Japanese washi paper! And maybe some kind of cord made out of a natural fiber of some sort to tie it up…!" Stirred by her infectious enthusiasm, Jenkins burst into laughter, and she stopped to stare at him in surprise. She'd never heard him laugh like this before; he sounded genuinely …happy.
"You have a nice laugh!" she blurted before she could stop herself. Afraid that she'd embarrassed him, she instantly dropped her gaze and began to toy with her half-empty glass of beer. "What I mean is—it's nice to hear you laugh. I…I like to hear you laugh—you should do it more."
Oh, good grief, Cassandra—shut up shut up SHUT UP! she instantly reprimanded herself.
To her relief, though, Jenkins didn't fall silent and withdraw into himself as he usually did whenever someone made a comment he deemed too personal. Instead, he flashed a small bashful smile and impetuously reached across the table to take her hand clumsily into his. He gently pulled it toward himself, bending his head at the same time to meet it, and lightly brushed the backs of her fingers with his lips in a feather-soft kiss.
"Thank you, Cassandra," he murmured as he looked down at the tabletop shyly, letting go of her hand and leaning back from the table again. "That's…very kind of you to say. And it's very kind of you to help me choose a gift for Colonel Baird; I am in your debt." His eyes flicked up to meet hers and he smiled again. Cassandra, her heart inexplicably beginning to race within her chest, thought she saw just the tiniest glimmer of affection in his dark eyes when he glanced at her. No, it was something more than simple affection. She felt her cheeks turn red and ducked her head, smiling as a nervous giggle forced its way to the surface.
"You're welcome," she answered warmly, her head suddenly feeling dizzy and light. An awkward silence fell between them. Awkward as those few seconds were, though, Cassandra found herself hoping they would go on forever, but there was a an abrupt rumbling across the table as Jenkins cleared his throat and began to shift anxiously again on the vinyl-upholstered seat, and the enchanted moment was gone.
It's past midnight, Cinderella, she thought to herself, a wave of disappointment crashing over her. Time to go back to the Library and be a pumpkin again, I guess…
"It's only a few hours until dawn," Jenkins said, and nervously cleared his throat again. "There's a park nearby—Lone Mountain Park, I believe it's called. Though it's not much of a mountain, really, more like a very tall hill." He snapped his mouth shut to keep himself from babbling, then squirmed again in the booth, the red vinyl upholstery squeaking dully in complaint. "Regardless, my point is that it's a fairly easy climb to the top of the mountain, and it has one of the most spectacular views of the sunrise I've ever seen. I was wondering if you would perhaps like to—"
"YES!" Cassandra practically shrieked, cutting him off. Startled, Jenkins stared back and blinked; Cassandra quickly got her glee under control.
"I mean, yeah—I'd love to see the sunrise, if that's what you were asking," she said in a calmer tone. She smiled and shrugged. "Sorry, I guess all of the excitement over the last few hours—the mission, the show, the beer—it all has me a little too wound up!" Jenkins slid out of the booth and stood up, reached his hand out to help her up in turn.
"Then let's pay our bill and find a taxi," he said. Cassandra almost floated up from the table, and there was no missing the happy glow in her eyes. Jenkins unexpectedly felt very pleased with himself.
As they walked to the cash register to pay for their drinks, Jenkins caught himself smiling and feeling…what was this he was feeling? While their waitress rang up the check and made change for the ten-dollar bill he gave her, he tried hard to pin that feeling down. He was astonished to realize that what he was feeling was pride. Yes, that was it; pride, mixed with equal measures of delight and satisfaction, something he hadn't felt in ages. He dropped every penny of the change he received into the tip jar next to the cash register.
As they turned to go outside, he took one of Cassandra's hands and looped her arm over his elbow. Both of them had wide, foolish grins on their faces as they walked companionably through the door and out to the street to hail a cab. Each one was lost in their own contented thoughts during the short walk, but each one's heart was full to near bursting for the first time in years, and each one was certain to remember this night with delight for the rest of their lives.
The waitress watched them leave. They weren't hands, per se, but it was close enough for her. She turned to peer through the pass-thru and into the kitchen. She caught the eye of Miguel and grinned as she rubbed the first two fingers and the thumb of one hand together in a gesture that said "You owe me money!" Miguel stared at the waitress, stunned to learn that he'd lost their wager. Shaking his head in disbelief, he picked up a burger with the spatula in his hand and flipped it, slapping it angrily back onto the grill and sending a splattering of grease in all directions.
"Aw, MAN! Not again! You gotta be kiddin' me!" he groaned to himself in disgust. "Someday I'm gonna learn to stop bettin' against her!"
A/N: I just want to thank everyone for taking the time to read my humble fics and leave comments on them-you're the best! I especially want to give a shout out to those readers who comment anonymously but who I'm not able to respond to directly-Thank you!
