Chapter Text
There was a large section in the library which was always dark. Housing books filled with written shadows and evil things grafted down into simple text. No matter the amount of lamps they brought in, they could never bring true light to the place.
Flynn never liked it in here.
“Jenkins!” he marched down the dim corridor. The thick atmosphere clung to the books and shelves like a musty second skin. Briefly he scanned the aisles for the wayward caretaker, holding his lamp up. “Jenkins! I need your help finding something.” he called in a sing-song voice, his tone was light, a stark contrast to the quiet hum of despondency, “Where have you tottled off to man?”
When he turned back a tall shape loomed behind him. “Gah!” he yelped, swinging his lamp towards the figure, who deftly stepped back. The light brought the face into focus. “Dammit it Jenkins, don't do that.”
The caretaker smiled, “Sorry sir,” he didn't look sorry at all. Not with that damned sweet smile. Flynn huffed a nervous laugh, uncertainty coiling in his chest. Despite their time working together he was never really sure where he stood with the old Knight. Stone once called Flynn and himself closed books, if that were the case then Jenkins was a bound Grimmoire, or perhaps a sealed verse, maybe even a locked diary.
In any event, he could never get an accurate read on him. He always felt two steps behind.
It irked him.
With another flashing smile Jenkins slid back into the aisle, and Flynn quickly followed.
“Tell me, do we still have the Ashes of Nefertiti?”
Jenkins paused in replacing a book, a look of thoughtful contemplation taking over his expression, “No.” he finally said, “They were destroyed about sixty years ago by an accident in the room of Masked Souls.”
“Ah, I see.” he said, tapping his own smaller book, “Any other important items that have been destroyed recently that we should know about?”
He slid in another volume, which was humming softly, and picked up a new one, which seemed to be made from a sort of green brick, “Not that I am aw-” a sharp yawn cut him off, he turned his face away for a moment, then cleared his throat, “Not that I am aware of, sir.”
Flynn blinked, surprise blooming, drowning out the thirst for knowledge momentarily. He'd never seen Jenkins tired, nothing that human ever happened to him. Or at least he'd been certain of such. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, fine.” he said quickly and moved down the aisle with his trolley, “I've simply been a little preoccupied with a few things, and haven't had the chance to really... rest.”
“Okay,” Flynn swiftly moved in front of him to stop the trolley, leaning on it with one arm he gave him a lidded look, “When was the last time you actually 'rested'”
“This will not impede my performance.” he said, close to actually biting, Flynn was unperturbed, he had no doubt Jenkins would be an excellent adversary should they come to blows, but when he was right he was right, and right now he was dead right.
“When?”
Jenkins stared at him. For just a moment he could see duty and pride fighting on his expression. Duty won out, it always did. He lowered his gaze briefly, “Sixty three days.”
Both eyebrows shot up in a fine arch. Flynn whistled, “That's a lotta days without rest, Jenkins. You must be tired.”
“Your powers of deduction are astounding, sir.” if his voice was any drier, he'd need a glass of water, maybe even a fountain.
“Indeedy! So I'm giving you a day off to sleep, rest and relax.”
Briefly his whole body went rigid, as if fighting down an urge or reaction, then just as suddenly he relaxed as if it never happened. But Flynn noticed things, he always noticed things, and wondered at the strange reaction, the old Knight never really shared anything, why would he now? He wanted to press further, but Flynn also sensed this was no the best time to do so.
“I will meditate tonight-”
“Mediation only gets you so far, Jenkins.” he said, waving a quick hand to dismiss the idea, “What you need is proper rest. So from this moment - “ he checked the time, “14:02 you are resting, I don't want to see you back here until 15:00 tomorrow.”
“Sir, I am immortal!” he implored, “My body is far more efficient and, might I add, better equipped than yours to deal with any extreme-.”
Flynn raised a hand, hoping to stop this from reaching a full blown argument, “I know.” his hand slid over his own mouth, “But sixty three days Jenkins, even for an immortal is a little hectic. Meditation won't help, you need to sleep.”
“I don’t need-”
“That's an order.”
And the fight deflated right out of him. Flynn could see the argument right there, ready to form and start again, but credit to his caretaker he held back. With a final sigh he nodded, turned and stalked down the aisle, heading, hopefully for his rooms.
Feeling a job well done, Flynn smiled, grabbed his book and sauntered back to the annex. Glad to be away of the creaking, creepy, crawly part of his beloved library.
When he returned to the annex he quickly informed the other librarians about the caretakers impromptu absence for the next day. They were of course curious, but when Flynn explained he was resting, they were all eager to help with the chores Jenkins usually handled.
The old caretaker had at least left a list, and if Flynn didn’t think he knew him as well as he thought he did, he'd swear the man was trying to kill them. Whole wings needed to be re-organized? Thirty two rooms with animals had to be fed? Fifty nine artifact’s protections spells had to be re-cast? Everything had be recorded in a book?
And those were the bigger things. They did not include the million other smaller things that still needed their attention.
Where did the man get the time to even eat?
But it had to be done, so do it they shall!
Stone quickly offered to reorganize the wings. He had the knowledge so he felt he should be able to sort it out. Ezekial and Eve went ahead and fed the animals, and Flynn and Cassandra started on the incantations. They would sort the rest out later.
Later turned out to be much, much later. Stone got lost, about four times. The books, he learned, were not friendly and liked to play mind games. He ended up taking the Minotaur's string into the darker parts, hoping to at least save some time backtracking every time.
Flynn and Cassandra ended up with burns, nasty ones, magical ones to be more accurate, and Cassandra could only speak in gecko for the remainder of the day. Which was rather disturbing, seeing as all gecko's communicated with tongues and eye blinks.
And Ezekial nearly died, at least five or six times. Eve nearly died as well, but only because she kept having to save Ezekiel. Feeding gryphons, manticores, Lamia's, Sirens, Mermaids, Chimera's, Nessie, Centaurs and who knows what else, turned out to be a little more hazardous than any of them imagined.
And they had to do it again tomorrow.
However they were all pleased to note that Jenkins was not seen for the rest of the day, nor the following morning, and only came in for tea at about twelve.
It was well into the evening when the explosion ripped through the library. Flynn, who had been sparring with Excalibur, tripped over his own feet and landed face first on the floor. He dropped the sword and started at a full blown run to the annex where he knew Cassandra and Jones were discussing something or other.
“Flynn!” Cassandra called just as he stepped inside, “It came from the lab!”
Lab + explosion = magical accident. He didn't have to think;
“Stay here!”
Without another glance he shot down the corridor, took a hard turn and stopped. There was no real smoke, no fires, which only affirmed his suspicions; magical explosion. Nasty things.
“Jenkins?” he called, stepping closer to the open door. The room was dipped in a soft puse haze, beakers and liquids lay upturned or broken on the floor. Cabinet doors hung off their hinges, even the tiles were cracked in places.
“Here,” squinting he made out the form of the caretaker sitting on an overturned crate, hand pressed over his bowed head. “You can come in, there is nothing malicious here.”
“What happened?”
“Tried to fix the staff of Neptune,” he said gesturing to the fractured pieces still on the table, “I... probably lost focus and the magic conductor exploded.”
“That's unlike you.”
“I-” he yawned, long and hard.
Flynn went very, very quiet and Jenkins quickly lowered his eyes. Flynn could feel actual anger build up within his chest. “I specifically told you to sleep.”
“I did mediate -”
“And I told you it wouldn't be enough.” Flyn ran a hand through his hair, “This could have been a whole lot worse, Jenkins.” he started pacing, his feet trying to expel the awful energy running through him. He hated being angry.
“I can't be killed by something like this.”
“But the others can!” he almost yelled, “What if any of us had been in here with you? What if we had all been in here with you?” he stopped and pointed a finger at him. “You directly disobeyed an order.” he paused, “Which is also unlike you.”
Instantly he pulled a small item from his pocket, pressed it against the man's forehead and waited. After a moment it turned yellow. “Well at least you're you.” he shoved it back into his pocket, “Which just makes this worse! What the hell is going on with you?”
“Nothing!” he rose like a titan, towering over Flynn and if he hadn't been so angry Flynn would have taken a step back, as it were he pushed towards him, daring him to do something. “I am just tired, and there is a lot to do! If you will excuse me I still need to do it.”
“But you can't do it.” he stepped in front of him, “This” he gestured to the room, “Just proved you can't handle this. You are too tired, and overworked, you need sleep, your body needs sleep, if you don't sleep, it will get worse Jenkins.”
Without another word Jenkins pushed by him and left. Flynn took a deep breath, holding back that awful anger, beating it back down into submission. Jenkins wasn’t going to listen, he was a man with 1500 years worth of stubbornness under his belt, there would be no easy way to convince him. Slowly Flynn smiled. “Then we’ll have to do it the hard way.”
He didn't like doing this. He really, really didn't like doing this. Eve told him not to do it, and she was usually right. But Flynn knew he was usually righter. But still, he really didn't want to do this.
Getting a sleeping potion that worked on immortals was hard enough. Getting one that would for at least 24 hours was even harder. But Cassandra was Cassandra and she was amazing, and Stone would always know more about everything than anyone and Jones...
Well he never really liked Jones. But he was helping him, so he should probably start liking him now.
Flynn spotted their target exiting the annex, engrossed in his book. Even from this distance he could see the fierce blinking, the slumped shoulders and over all tiredness of the man. How he was still standing was probably something knightly or other.
He would never admit this to anyone, but when he found out that Jenkins was one of the knights he'd felt like a five year old all over again. Galahad had been one of his old heroes, finding him in the library had been like one of his dreams come true. He'd always wanted to be a knight, in a very big yet pathetic way, Jenkins was still his old hero.
Sometimes, just sometimes he wondered if he should tell him that. He often got the impression Jenkins had been through... well a lot. Perhaps knowing someone not only appreciated but admired him, could be good for him.
Then again, it could back fire completely and Jenkins might just shut down all over again.
Oh well, that would be another day's worries.
Taking a breath he quickly made his way over to Jenkins, who didn't even look up until Flynn was on top of him.
“Jenkins.”
The man went dead still for a full moment, then shut the book and looked at him. “Yes sir?”
“I'm giving you one more chance to go to bed, Mister!”
The caretaker raised both eyebrows, “I see.” he paused, tapping a quick rhythm out on the book, “Well I must kindly decline.”
Flynn sighed, “I was afraid you'd say that.”
There was a moment when Jenkins probably knew someone was behind him. Normally his reflexes would have allowed for a quick dodge, kick or block. As it were he'd barely turned around when Ezekiel hit him with the dust.
He coughed once, shook his head then turned fully at Flynn, unadulterated fury in his eyes. Flynn backed up when the knight advanced, angry didn't really cover it.
And then he collapsed. Just folded in on himself, Flynn managed to catch him before he could face-plant and Jones quickly helped him keep him steady.
Immortal Knights were quite heavy buggers.
Stone took Ezekiel's place when they stepped into the annex. No one knew where the man's sleeping quarters were but Flynn knew where a spare room was, so they staggered their way to the door just beyond the lab.
“Do you think this was a good idea?” Even asked as they plopped the old man on the bed.
No, “Yes.” he said, smiling brightly, “He refused to rest, he needed to rest, and now he's resting. Good job overall.”
“Won't he feel betrayed?” they all looked at Cassandra who was fiddling with her shirt, “I mean maybe he didn't want to sleep for a reason?”
“Then he should have told us.” Stone piped, in the process of removing the Knight's shoes. “We aint mind readers, and if there was something important coming up, he should have just let us know and we would a let him be.”
“I still don't like it.” Eve said, arms crossed. Flynn walked up to her and touched her arms.
“He'll be angry.” he said, “He was angry when Jones popped him with the powder.”
“That was awesome.” Jones didn't even look up from the phone.
“But he's also not unreasonable.” Flynn smiled, “He's too honorable for that, and if he realizes - with a clear head - he'd become a danger, he will forgive us and move on.”
But the dark ugly feeling of deception wouldn't abate. Jenkins trusted him, he didn't trust a lot of people but he trusted Flynn, Eve, Cassandra, Stone even Ezekiel and they'd all broken it. Deep down he knew he'd done the right thing, he just hoped Jenkins would see that.