Episode 7: The Worst Version of Himself, Chapter 6

The deck of the ship creaked below their feet. It creaked above their heads and around their sides as well, but their movements weren't the cause of those noises.

"Remind me," murmured Eve under her breath, dragging Jones left to a set of semi-rotten planks that claimed to be stairs, "where exactly are we?"

"On board the Pickering," breathed her stealthy companion, whose feet were definitely causing fewer creaks than Eve's. "One time revenue cutter, then appropriated by the American navy. Melted away into the inclement weather of the Bermuda Triangle in eighteen hundred. Never to return."

"We're inside the Bermuda Triangle?" Eve's hissed whispers went up in pitch if not volume. "Did that get missed off the memo for a reason?"

"Probably the fact that we all knew already and you had enough to freak out about without adding more," suggested the silent stealer. "Predominantly the primary part of that."

"I don't freak out, I voice my concerns," growled Eve. "Sometimes loudly!"

"You're adorable," he retorted, and she could hear the smirk.

"You've been spending too much time with Jenkins," she snapped. She regretted the words as soon as she'd said them. She'd let him get to her. The irritating, annoying, smug, arrogant way he'd been talking had reminded her too much of days gone by. Days back when this adventure first began. When he was still a thief, Stone was still several secret identities, Cassandra was still ill, Flynn was still pushing everyone away and Jenkins was still, well, Jenkins. The sharp intake of breath she'd expected never came, but then Jones was a World Class Thief: he was better trained than that. The silence that descended around them thickened. She winced. There had been no sharp witty comeback.

"Could have spent more time with him recently," murmured a soft voice by her side. He sounded unusually young, almost wistful. It was probably the most vulnerable she had ever heard Ezekiel Jones sound. It reminded her of the alternate Ezekiel she had met, so very long ago now.

"I'm sorry, Ezekiel," Eve began, reaching a hand out to where the disembodied voice in the darkness suggested there might be a shoulder. There was. "It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault."

"I should have listened to him," sighed the hidden voice. "All along, I should have listened to him. He knew what he was talking about."

"What are we talking about?" Eve frowned, more than a little confused. The shoulder under her vaguely supportive hand moved forward, into the illumination of her flashlight. The light bounced oddly off his features and it took more than a moment for Eve to realise that the young man's face was streaked with tears. She frowned. "Ezekiel?"

"I have to let her go," he whispered, dragging a hand across his damp face. "If I don't, one day this will be me."

"What? Let who go?" Eve blinked. "Seonaidh?"

Ezekiel nodded, drawing in long, shaky breath.

"What makes you think this will happen to you if you don't?" Eve enquired, almost casually. "You're not Jenkins, Galeas, Galahad, whatever we're calling him now, here. There's nothing to say either of you will even live half as long as he and Flora did, never mind get stuck with a curse like theirs."

"I saw it," he replied, his eyes sliding away from hers.

"You what now?" Eve's eyebrows rose. "When was this, exactly?"

"Back when we were checking the artefacts for fakes," Ezekiel admitted, his eyes closed as he struggled to keep control of his breathing. "There was a mirror. Bronze. Celtic origin. I shouldn't have looked, but... It showed me a lot. It showed me here. Me, here. Not like this, though. Older. It showed me why..."

"That doesn't mean it has to happen that way," replied Eve, her voice soothing and gentle. She had kept her hold firm on his shoulder, but now it softened. "The future isn't a changeless thing. What we choose to do, or not do, affects it. Someone I trust once told me 'I don't believe in fate', and he's been right so far."

"You've been to the future, though," Ezekiel pointed out, his voice trembling once more. "You've seen it. You were there. Where was I?"

"I don't know," she sighed softly, brushing away a stray tear on the youngest Librarian's face with her free hand. "I don't know where any of you were. I was only there a very short time, and I only met Judson. All he had time to tell me was what I needed to know to make sure he's there with the right information when time gets there the long way round."

"Then it could happen," he murmured despondently, turning his eyes away from hers again. "If I don't break both our hearts now, I'll go crazy too when she..."

"I'm not crazy."

The words were spoken so softly Eve might have through she imagined them. Ezekiel's reaction, however, was confirmation enough. Beneath her hand, still resting protectively on his shoulder, she had felt every muscle tense. His eyes had snapped up and zoned in on a point behind her. She sighed and turned. "Sane people don't break every rule in the book to walk straight into the jaws of death."

"You do when you're protecting the people you love," replied the ever stately tones of Jenkins.

"Not like this."

"You did."

"We used a different power source."

"The Library."

"Yes."

"And Flynn?"

"How...?" Eve's eyes narrowed.

"You were foolish," sighed the old man, sounding older now than he ever had. "The Library should not be weakened at this time. Not for this. Not for me."

"If you failed..."

"I already have."

The statement was so succinct, so final, that a shiver ran down the Guardian's spine. She turned her flashlight fully on the far side of the ship. Seated on the floor, propped up against a great wooden chest, was Jenkins. He looked worn and pale, weary and weak. She moved to his side, and Ezekiel was there at his other before she ever heard him move. Together, they heaved the much taller man to his feet. He was worryingly light.

"The spell I cast," he breathed. "It draws its power from my life force. Power, focus, effect. Always those three. And always a cost. I was willing to pay that cost, if it meant you would all live. I have nothing left here now. Nothing but the one small group of people who have invaded my life for the past few years. It seemed a fair exchange. My life for all of yours. All I had to do was hold on long enough to find it. I knew I only had so long to search. I didn't find it in time."

"Find what?" Eve asked, ninety percent sure she already knew.

"My armour. My shield. My sword," murmured the old man as they dragged him up the rudely complaining stairs. "They are mine. They are a source of my strength, my power. Their magic sustains me. Only me. They cannot be claimed by another until I am gone and a suitable candidate steps forward to take my place."

"But do the Serpent Brotherhood know that?" Eve wondered aloud.

"Maybe," admitted Jenkins, trying to shrug but not having the energy to do so. "They have Mhairi. She was not destined to be the next Cailleach, but she still had to know some of the history of the family. I do not know how much Flo... my wife told her."

They reached the top of the steps. The portal glimmered darkly in the gloom. Eve looked around. "Stone! Charlene! We got him! Get back here!"

An answering shout hailed them from somewhere in the distant shadows. From the far end of the deck a shape emerged, hurrying towards them. It swiftly resolved itself into two shapes, one closer than the other. The latter shadow was somewhat encumbered by a large consignment that distorted their outline beyond recognition. The former gradually metamorphosed into the image of Charlene, bearing sword and shield towards them. The shield was white with a red cross.

"And we got the goods," she called, once she was sure she was within earshot. She stopped short in front of Jenkins and hefted the hilt of the sword towards him. "Yours, I believe."

Unfolding an arm from Eve's shoulders, the knight reached out and gripped the hilt of the sword with one hand, resting its scabbard sheathed blade in the other. He breathed in deeply, eyes closed, and it seemed to Eve that he was standing a little straighter than before. He fastened the scabbard to his belt and took the shield that Charlene was now handing him, setting it in place on his shield arm with a sigh. Stone came hurrying up, a pile of armour in his arms. He gave Jenkins an appraising look and nodded warily. The Caretaker nodded back.

"Let's get out of here," growled Charlene. "I hate these places. They give me the creeps."

XXXX

The queen walked through the halls of the ancient temple. Through the doorway to her left, she knew, lay the parts of the underground labyrinth the tourist tours never transversed. There were stories about them. Ghost stories. Mysteries. But then there were always mysteries and ghost stories about places like this. They had stopped the tourists interfering. An official archaeological survey. Such things were so simple to arrange, and could take such an unpredictable length of time.

She walked towards the hand-cut doorway, carved into the rock centuries before the pyramids were even begun. Through that dark and forbidding tunnel there lay a maze of chambers her minions were even now mapping. They returned at set meal times. Mostly. She was very interested in the ones that didn't. Many of the stories told of people disappearing. A few told of intrepid, or perhaps foolish, adventurers who had wandered into the tunnels only to catch a terrifying glimpse of rooms they knew could not possibly be there. People they knew could not possibly be there. One or two suggested a link between the underground temple here and those above ground, farther outside the centre of the town. She wondered which stories were true. Were any of them? Were they all?

Walking up to the doorway, she ran a delicate hand over the edges of its hand-hewn walls. She could feel the power there, just as easily as she could feel the lines cut by the tools of the makers. Lines that worked their way along the tunnel. Towards her.

XXXX

The road through the portal was invisible but solid enough underfoot. The first sign Eve had that something was wrong occurred when she felt her foot sink in the velvet darkness below her.

"Take my arm," ordered Jenkins. "All of you! Quickly!"

Four hands reached out and grabbed one or other of Jenkins' arms. The blackness around them dissolved and resolved itself into another darkness. Once again, the road was solid beneath them. Once again, the atmosphere around them was nothing but a silent void.

"What happened?" Stone growled under the weight of the armour he was still carrying.

"We must hurry," Jenkins dictated. "Quickly. With me. Do not let go!"

"Why not?" Eve demanded, fear blooming in the back of her mind. "What's wrong?"

"We've switched paths," answered Charlene. "We're not on our road any more. We're on his."

"How...?" Eve began, then stopped as a circular stone walled room appeared around them as suddenly as if someone had switched on a light.

"Somehow the connection to the portal at the Library has been cut," Jenkins explained, turning to Stone and lifting the armour out of the cowboy's overburdened arms. "Ladies, I need you to find my granddaughter and activate the Library wormhole at this end. Charlene I believe you know the way from here. Gentlemen..."

"I need to talk to Seonaidh," interrupted Ezekiel, ignoring the two women hurrying to follow Jenkins' instructions.

"Not right now you don't," returned his old mentor, shaking his head. "That is necessary, but can wait. This is more pressing."

"What is?" Stone rumbled, worry starting to show on his features.

"We need to get back to the Library and it would be advisable to play our strongest hand when we do so."

"Cut the cryptic, Jenkins," snapped Stone. "Cassie was holding that portal open too."

"Ah, I thought as much," he nodded, "but I hoped not. Gentlemen, I need you to help me into my armour. I am neither as young as I was, nor as strong at present, but with my knightly accoutrements complete I should begin to heal much faster. Let the ladies arrange our transport while we set about returning me to full strength."

By the time they had done so, and joined the women three floors above, the doors to the castle library were shimmering with a familiar light. Jenkins nodded to Charlene and she pushed the doors open. With a faint pop, she stumbled through, leading the others into exactly what she had feared she would see.

The office was empty.

Ezekiel was the last to step through the portal. He didn't trust himself, wasn't sure that he could lie to her, but he couldn't leave in silence. He looked over to Seonaidh, whom he now saw was watching him closely.

"You're leaving," she said, her simple words full of complicated meanings.

"We all are," he replied, sticking to what he knew to be true.

"But you will not be returning," she countered, and this time the shuddering weight of honesty was palpable in her voice.

"We need to talk about things," he tried, but he knew she had the truth of it even as he said it.

Seonaidh stepped closer and kissed him, resting her hands on either side of his face. "We just did," she sighed.

He watched her turn and walk away, vanishing along the ornate corridor like a ghost.

A hand reached through the portal and dragged him to his senses, and to the Library. With his other hand, Jenkins closed the door to the wormhole behind them, then turned to the youngest Librarian with a stern, and somehow saddened, look.

"Look around, Thief," Jenkins ordered. "What do you see?"

Ezekiel shook his head, blinking his eyes as if to erase the memory they had just created. He looked around. "I see nothing. The place is empty. Where is everyone?"

"That's what we're trying to work out, Jones," snapped Stone. "While you were daydreamin', we were here looking for Flynn and Cassie. They should be here. They wouldn't have just let the portal close like that!"

"What about the first aid room?" Ezekiel suggested. "If one of them passed out it would break the connection and the other would take them there."

"Not there," called Eve, marching back into the room at a pace that would have impressed the toughest drill sergeant. "Not answering phones or shouts either."

"Look around, Thief," Jenkins repeated, emphasising the last word. "Two of our friends have disappeared at a time when we know they would never have gone anywhere willingly or without leaving some trace for us if they can. So look around. What. Do. You. See?"

"Three," corrected Charlene. "Da Vinci's gone too."

"Tell me something I wasn't expecting," growled Jenkins. He looked back to Ezekiel. "Well?"

His eyes roamed the office of the Library, taking in every detail. Eve was the only one of them that could every be called tidy, but there was order in their chaos. There was the pile of books Cassandra had been working through. There the dust covered tome Charlene had brought down with the spells to the lost places. The book of fairy tales he had found lay discarded at one end of the central desk. He closed his eyes and focused inward.

It was time Ezekiel Jones, World Class Thief, returned to the Library.