Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Hello, Jenkins?" Colonel Baird said over the phone. "We can't reach Cassandra. Is she still with you?"

"No, she thought it would be a good idea to return the truck Mr. Jones borrowed to the tavern."

"But she can't drive," Baird said.

"She can drive; she just doesn't have a drivers' license. I rode with her and now I'm heading back to the Annex. Did you and Mr. Stone discover something?"

"Yes," Stone said. "There's a rare book collection at the local library donated by Thompson Deter in his will. He died a few weeks ago."

"Huh."

"The books fit the description. I'd bet anything the Libris Fabula is in the collection."

"But it's locked up," Baird interrupted. "We'll meet up with Cassandra, find Jones, then get him to pick the lock. In and out quick, and back to the Annex."

"Hmm. Yes. Good plan," he finished, hanging up the phone before they could hear him scoff. Little did they know that Thompson Deter had actually willed his collection to the Library. It seemed someone was possibly manipulating the situation here in Bremen, Washington. Jenkins only needed one guess. He frowned to himself and tried to figure out a Plan B for if and when Plan A blew up in his new colleagues' faces.

Time for Plan B, Jenkins thought after the others had told him how they were being swept up in the fairytales as well.

"All right. Listen. Good luck finding the book. Got to go."

Samuel King loved the library. It was his favorite place in town. The best part of his tenth birthday was that his mom and dad started letting him ride his bike to the library on his own. It was pretty much empty right now; Mr. Maguire, the librarian, was nowhere to be found. That didn't bother Samuel though. He could find everything he needed all by himself anyway.

He was sitting in his favorite reading chair when all of a sudden an old man appeared behind the counter near the front doors. It was as if he'd appeared by magic. Samuel didn't dare move a muscle as he watched the tall man in the dark suit open the cabinets and start packing some books into an old bag. It looked a little like the bag from the Mary Poppins movie actually, but Samuel knew that couldn't be true. Magic bags like that were only in stories. He was about to go back to his book when the old man really did stick his head all the way in the bag, and then he reached his whole arm in, up to his shoulder, just like in Mary Poppins! Samuel almost shrieked but he covered his mouth quickly.

The old man finally finished packing the books into the bag, lifted it off the table as if it weighed no more than a feather, and then snapped his fingers. Samuel stared wide-eyed at the front desk. The man had literally vanished right in front of him. No one was going to believe it. He was about to rush out to find his mom when it seemed like the whole town was running into the library. Some weird people were leading them into the back rooms. Samuel's dad was with them and they ran up to each other.

"You won't believe what I saw, Dad!"

Jenkins smiled to himself and rubbed his fingers together. He could get away with using just a little magic once in a while. Then he patted the carpet bag. Especially if it was for a good reason, like collecting Deter's rare book collection.

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Pow. Pow. Slam!

Jacob held the giant punching bag that hung from the ceiling for Baird as she took out her frustrations on it. The laws of inertia meant that he could feel each and every hit vibrate through him. She'd been going at it for twenty minutes. He could tell that Baird was very frustrated.

"Broken any nails yet?"

"No," she grunted. She gave the bag three more hits then wiped her forehead. "You want a turn?"

"Yeah, why not?" Jacob stepped back and waited for Baird to get situated. He threw a few shallow jabs first, trying to mimic Baird's posture and stance. He'd never be as good a fighter as her, but he could learn.

"Don't go easy on the bag. You gotta follow through all the way. This isn't boxing. It's fighting. You gotta put the bad guy down fast and then be ready for the next one."

Jacob nodded and took her advice, putting all of his weight behind his punches. Soon he found a rhythm, but it had nothing to do with fighting imaginary bad guys. He was mad at Jones for being able to get away with everything. He was angry that Baird was a better fighter than him. He was frustrated that Cassandra had gotten all kinds of attention from those women in town.

"Stone, stop. Calm down. Stone!"

"Huh?" He stopped assaulting the bag when he finally heard Baird shouting his name.

"You're bleeding. What the hell's the matter?"

Jacob looked down at his knuckles, shocked. "I dunno. Guess I just got carried away."

They walked over to the first aid kit and got out some antiseptic and band-aids.

"I think you do know what's wrong. Tell me."

"It's nothing. Really."

Baird let him bandage his hands up himself and just leaned against the table sipping a bottle of water.

"Look, I'm not gonna treat you like a soldier. You're the one that suggested we're all partners. So, talk to me about it."

Jacob just sighed.

"Is it family stuff?"

"Nah." He sighed again. "Uh, okay, I-- I think I'm just a little jealous. I got to know how it feels to be a fighter today, but now it's all gone and I'm... I'm jealous that you're so much better than me. Jones can do whatever the hell he wants and he gets away with it because he's awesome," Jacob said that last bit in a fake Australian accent. "And Cassandra... Did you see how all those women were falling all over her? And the one that was supposed to be Red Riding Hood, the one I pulled out of the wolf. She couldn't stop staring at Cassandra." Jacob just shook his head. "I've literally never been jealous of a woman getting attention from other women. It's throwing me off or something."

"Hmm... not what I was expecting," Baird said, "but I can work with this. First of all, I wouldn't be jealous of me at all. I've had yeeeaaars more training than you. And actually in the last couple of weeks, you've learned a lot more than I thought you would. You've got a long way to go, but I have no doubt that you'll be a great fighter some day." Jacob had finished bandaging up his knuckles, so she offered him a water bottle and a small smile.

"As for Jones." Baird sighed and slumped her shoulders. "It could go a couple of different ways with him. Either karma will catch up with him and lay down universal balance..." Jacob tried to stifle a chuckle. "Or, he'll just always be lucky. Which could actually make my job a little easier. It'd be nice not to have to watch out for all three of you all the time."

They both took sips of their waters. That last was a bit more than he thought she would let on. Jacob wondered if that's why he was paired up with Cassandra today. Maybe Baird still felt bad that she and Jones could have been killed in the Labyrinth a few days back. Maybe she felt better knowing he could help watch out for them. Jacob certainly felt better when Cassandra was with him or Baird.

Part of it was because he still didn't trust her, but he didn't trust Jones either. Everyone he'd ever met, including those two, had a selfish streak. That's really all it was. He just wasn't sure they could be trusted not to bail on him, or sell him out if the price was right.

But if he was really honest, there was another reason he felt better when Cassandra was with him or Baird. Jacob didn't like to think what would have happened if Karen Willis had shot Cassandra when Jones had fled with the String from the Labyrinth. For better or worse, Cassandra had charmed him. She'd gotten under his skin. He couldn't help liking her, and couldn't help feeling just a little bit sorry for her. She'd been dealt a really crappy hand. Problem was, he'd rather she trusted them to help her win with that hand instead of doing it herself and damn the consequences. He knew he was being arrogant about it, but right was right. That's just how he saw the world.

Jacob got out of his head when he noticed Baird snapping her fingers in his face. "I feel like I lost you again."

"Oh, sorry. Just thinking. Maybe you're right. Maybe it is better that Jones is so darned lucky."

Baird just quirked a glance at him, as if she knew that wasn't what he'd been thinking about.

"Well," she continued, "I don't really have any advice about your vagina-envy." Jacob shuddered and Baird seemed to get a kick out of that. "If it's any consolation, I don't think Cassandra really wanted those girls falling in love with her. I think she just liked the attention."

"I still wonder though... How come she became Prince Charming instead of you or me? You'd think Cassandra would fit the Princess archetype much better."

Baird took a deep breath before answering. "I think it has more to do with me than her." She gritted her teeth and continued reluctantly. "I...was more of a princess than a tomboy when I was growing up. I was an army brat and bounced around a lot of bases whenever my dad had a change of orders, but I was also a full-blown princess. I had Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty dolls instead of G.I. Joes."

Jacob tried, unsuccessfully, to keep his smirking in check. "Nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah, but it's not what you expect from a female, full-bird colonel, is it?" Jacob just shook his head. "It wasn't until eighth grade when I started to grow out of it. I started playing a lot more basketball and softball, and a lot less time playing dress-up in tiaras and ballgowns. Though, I was still a chick-flick freak." Baird laughed to herself. "You should've seen Cassandra and me last weekend. We sat in front of the TV all day, just one romantic comedy after another. It was awesome."

Jacob did laugh out loud then, and Baird cleared her throat. "So anyway, I think the book knew that Jones was the lucky rogue, and that I was a closet princess. I'm guessing you did the typical outdoorsy stuff to warrant the Huntsman archetype."

"Yeah, I did Cub Scouts when I was little. And I've been camping and fishing. It's not a secret love of mine or anything, just something I grew up with. But I guess the book knew that I, uh, kinda like being the tough guy, the one who knows everything." Then Jacob shrugged. "Still don't know why Cassandra became Prince Charming." He threw his water bottle in the trash can and absently rubbed his knuckles.

"I think maybe you do," Baird said as she picked up her gym bag and left.

Jacob just stood there thinking about what she'd said. Because I like her? Was that why Cassandra had filled the Prince archetype? Because she was charming and likeable? Because he wanted to work with her and be around her even though he didn't trust her? Jacob shook his head as he left the little gym and made his way through the Annex tunnels outside. More likely the book was just having a laugh, deciding it would be funny to have a girl be the Prince. Jacob nodded to himself. Yeah. Had nothing to do with Cassie being attractive and charismatic and magnetic and... Jacob got in his truck and dropped his head on the steering wheel. Damn. He was in trouble with this one.

Chapter Text

Cassandra smiled and blew the little dust mote of magic back into her hand. This was definitely an interesting turn of events. What did it mean that she still retained a small bit of Merlin's magic leftover from Jamie's storytelling?

Best not to get her hopes up. For all she knew, the magic might metabolize or dissipate overnight. Eve certainly wasn't a princess anymore. And Jake didn't seem to have any cool axe skills anymore either. Though, maybe that wasn't the lesson they were supposed to have learned. Cassandra walked through the Annex tunnels past Jake and Eve throwing punches in the gym. When she got outside, she unlocked her bike and started riding home.

Obvious to everyone else, Ezekiel hadn't really been changed by the book. If anything, he certainly became exponentially luckier. But all the book did was draw out his inner self. Cassandra probably wouldn't have known this if they didn't live together, but Eve really was a closet princess. She liked clothes and make-up, though she kept that to a minimum for work, and she also loved chick-flicks, as evidenced by their movie marathon last weekend. So, the book was two for two with Eve and Ezekiel, discovering their inner selves and amplifying them.

It wasn't a stretch of the imagination at all to see Jake as the Huntsman. He was strong and heroic, and he lived by a code. Black and white. Right and wrong. Sure it was a little short-sighted and arrogant, but it was also appealing. She'd found herself wishing she could be more like that sometimes.

What did stretch the imagination was Cassandra being cast as Prince Charming. What did that say about her?

All those girls, buying her drinks and fawning over her... like she was the center of attention. As an only child, she'd certainly had all of her parents' attention. She'd been home-schooled through grade school, but she still had friends in her neighborhood. They all got along really well, and she was often a leader, making up games for all of them to play. She did win a lot of the games, of course, but she was always a gracious winner. As she got older she found ways to handicap herself a little, to give herself more of a challenge and to help her friends win sometimes. On very rare cases she actually let her friends win. Perhaps those were some of the reasons she became Prince Charming. She tried to be likeable and please her parents and friends.

So, continuing with this line of thought, if the book had given all of them archetypes that matched their inner personalities, and if none of them really changed drastically afterwards, how come Cassandra had retained that small speck of magic? Did it mean that she had a bit of magic within her already?

This was something she'd been considering for some time. Ever since she'd been diagnosed with her brain tumor at fifteen, she'd wished on every birthday candle, every shooting star, every lucky penny thrown into a fountain, that the tumor would just go away. It never did though. Every MRI and brain scan showed that it was still there, and growing. Though not as threateningly as some tumors her doctors had seen. Of course, they wouldn't attest that to anything magical. It was just "unexplainable at this time."

Her parents had approved all kinds of experimental treatments. For five years, Cassandra was more of a guinea pig than a daughter. In the end, she'd had enough. She said she'd keep up with her medications and MRIs, but she wasn't going to subject herself to any more experiments. Whatever time she had left, she wanted to live it. Her parents were naturally against her decision, but with the doctors on Cassandra's side, they finally relented. From Cassandra's point of view, they'd lost their only daughter when she was diagnosed. She wasn't sure why they were putting her through all this anyway.

So after she'd won her freedom from the hospital rooms, she really didn't expect to live longer than a couple of years. She took a job as a janitor at the hospital for the health insurance and the paycheck, and attended a few classes at a community college to be with people her own age again. After three years, she was still alive and the doctors had little to no explanation. They just kept saying it could be any month now. After five years, they were really baffled, but believed Cassandra's medications were just working at peak efficiency, or perhaps there was something in her DNA that retarded the tumor's growth. Whatever the case, they reminded her not to make any long term plans. She couldn't expect to live for more than another 18 months.

And now here she was, over a decade after being diagnosed, still alive, and apparently beating all the odds. Was it because she had a little bit of magic inside her already? And if so, now that she knew about it, was there a way to use it to her advantage? If she learned more about it, could she get it to shrink the tumor, make it disappear, or at the very least slow its growth to an infinitesimal rate? All very interesting questions. And all based on a wild assumption that this little blue spark of magic would be there in the morning.

As Cassandra lay awake in bed, rethinking everything she'd been thinking all evening, she could make only one conclusive statement: morning could not come fast enough.

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The next few weeks weren't terribly exciting at the Annex. The Clippings Book was still reporting new mysteries, but none were very serious. One day they were sent to a museum where just the Van Gogh paintings were going missing. A week later they were sent to the Arizona-Mexico border to tackle a few sand monsters moving gas station oases around the desert highways. Then there was a town where armored security vehicles were disappearing along their routes, robbed, but left nearly intact when they arrived at their destinations. The Librarians definitely tried working together better, but each problem seemed fit for one or two of them, leaving the others bored and uninterested.

In the meantime, they were each working on their own projects at the Annex. Stone was taking his fighting lessons with Baird more and more seriously. Jones was learning to handle Jenkins' tech equipment since none of the Library's vast collection of books could hold his attention for more than five minutes. And Cassandra studied various equations and functions that were above and beyond anything the others could understand. Everyone except Jenkins, that is. Cassandra liked working alone, but every so often she could be seen reluctantly walking into Jenkins' lab to ask a question or confirm one of her calculations. It was always a quick conversation; they never seemed to be working together very often or for very long.

That all changed after their latest mission, where Cassandra just couldn't concentrate on the job at hand. After Jones had successfully determined how the armored trucks had been magically hacked and robbed, they'd all come back to the Annex and promptly left for the evening. Except Cassandra, who went looking for the Annex researcher.

"Mr. Jenkins? Are you back here?"

"Yes, Miss Cillian. What can I do for you?" He had his lab coat on and was studying both Flynn's ley line globe as well as some maps of northern Europe and Asia.

"I...I think I may have a problem." She sighed. It was going to be hard to admit that she'd nearly screwed up again, keeping this secret from everyone. "Remember a month or so ago when we came back from Bremen with the Libris Fabula?"

"Mmm-hmm." He absently tapped a pen on the map in front of him, possibly irked by her interruption.

"And we were all kinda sorta transformed into heroes of legend. Baird was the Princess, Stone was the Huntsman, Ezekiel was the Rogue, and I was Prince Charming."

"Yes, I remember you all telling me that." He went back to his maps, clearly not interested in how long it was taking her to get this out.

"And remember Ezekiel telling us how Jamie, the sick little girl, had saved the day by changing the story? She made Stone a robot, Baird a ninja, and she made me Merlin in disguise."

Finally Jenkins looked up in her direction. "I recall that as well. Has something happened?"

Cassandra took a deep breath. "Apparently I was able to keep a small speck of magic."

"Aha," Jenkins muttered quietly. "The equations you've been working on, hmm?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. "I gathered up all my old test results and tried plotting the tumor's growth rates and extrapolating various outcomes using differential equations, formulae, various iterative algorithms... I'm trying to determine if this magic is safe to use. If there's maybe a way I can use it to put an end to the, uh, brain grape."

Jenkins scoffed. "Oh, please tell me you don't call it that."

"Ezekiel named it. And it sorta...stuck."

Jenkins just shook his head and went to a bookshelf to gather some notebooks.

"I honestly don't know if these will help you, but there is some work here I've done on learning to get a basic handle on rudimentary magic. There are also a few notes on wild, unpredictable magic that require a much more centered focus for control." He hesitated, then finally held them out for her. "I wouldn't mind working on it with you, if you like."

Cassandra looked from the notebooks to Mr. Jenkins and his small smile. She took the books and set them down on the table, taking one of his hands in hers instead. "I'd like that very much, thank you."