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Jenkins may have been extraordinarily tall and essentially immortal, but he was not Superman, and it'd been quite some time since he'd last been called upon to display any heroic feats of virtuous strength. Working in the Library tested him in many, many ways, but he hadn't had to carry more than a large stack of books since at least the invention of the automobile. So while time was very much of the essence and he had no desire to fail any of his charges, he could not transport all three of the young Librarians out of the gas-filled tunnels at once.
It was pure chivalry that made him go to lift Cassandra first. Oh, he would rationalize it a dozen different ways after the fact, but as has been noted time was short, and man was still primarily a creature of habit, even when the man has somewhere in the vicinity of a thousand years under his belt -- more so, in fact. That was a long time for a rut to be worn. He was a feudal knight before he was anything else, and Ms. Cillian was a woman, and thus was to be evacuated first. He carried her all the way back down the tunnel and up into the tent that covered the access point, pausing long enough to press an oxygen mask into her hand and ensure she was conscious enough to use it before he went back down for the others.
Mr. Stone had roused himself to crawl several feet into the now open door, so Jenkins went to Mr. Jones next. The young man cracked his eyes open and smiled when Jenkins lifted him, though he was certain that whatever Jones was seeing, it was not a grouchy caretaker. Jenkins paused by Stone on his way out.
"Try not to move," he said. "I'll be back for you momentarily."
Cassandra had roused enough in the tent to peer blearily at Jenkins and she patted the second oxygen tank and reached for Jones when Jenkins set him down. Jenkins trusted she could handle things while he retrieved Stone and hurried back down into the tunnel.
Stone, unsurprisingly, had not listened. He'd made it another few feet down the tunnel, but now lay flat on his stomach, wheezing distressingly. Jenkins could only be glad none of the man's various metal accessories had managed to set a spark while he struggled; while they'd managed to avoid the likely town-wide catastrophe, there was more than enough gas now in both the junction room and the tunnel itself to set off a very nasty explosion.
"Stubbornness," Jenkins said, bending down to pick Stone up. "Thy name is Mr. Stone."
Stone let out a slurred protest and managed to struggle enough that Jenkins couldn't get a decent grip on him.
"Sir." Jenkins attempted to make eye contact and calm the man down. "Jacob." Stone stared back at him wide-eyed and wheezing, too far gone for coherent speech, but the flailing stilled and Jenkins decided he was understood. "Please. Allow me to assist."
Stone seemed to swallow and cough simultaneously and Jenkins wasn't certain if he nodded, or simply could no longer hold his head upright consistently. He took Stone's weight as best he could while still allowing him the illusion of being on his feet.
They didn't have time for pride. They also didn't have time for Jenkins to argue with said pride. Unfortunately for Stone, there were only so many ways of getting him up the ladder, and thus to where the co-workers Jenkins presumed the man wanted to save face in front of, without actually carrying him. Jenkins apologized curtly, then scooped Stone up, hoping the movement wouldn't result in the nausea the man was no doubt experiencing to come to a head.
"Can either of you walk yet?" Jenkins asked Cassandra and Ezekiel when he reached the tent. Stone grumbled something incoherent from where he was draped over Jenkin's shoulder, but was ignored. Cassandra and Ezekiel exchanged looks and both nodded, staggering to their feet and supporting each other as they started out of the tent. Jenkins took up the rear so he could ensure neither of them collapsed or wandered off, and they made their way slowly back to the Library, Stone continuing to grumble the entire way, but thankfully neither throwing up or struggling again.
*
Half an hour after their discussion about a Guardian's role in the Library, Jenkins managed to talk Baird into leaving the office. She'd been unsurprisingly reluctant, considering the close call, but Jenkins assured her that he had the care of the three Librarians well in hand. It wasn't long after that that Ezekiel began faintly snoring and Jenkins decided that he and Cassandra were deep enough asleep to allow him and Mr. Stone a bit of privacy.
"You'll find, I suspect, that the treatment will be much more effective if you lie down."
Stone still sat where he had when Baird returned: on the end of the cot with his elbows on his knees, his head resting on his hand.
"I'm fine," he said softly, and though his arm was trembling from the effort of supporting his drooping head, Jenkins did not contradict him.
"It's not about pride, is it," he said instead, and Stone shifted enough to be able to look up at him.
"What?"
"I carried you back here and you were conscious enough to notice. So you're not trying to save face in front of the others."
Stone looked over to where Cassandra and Ezekiel lay sleeping, then put his head back in his hand. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Very well, I'll be blunt. Why are you refusing to lie down?"
Stone's shoulders stiffened. "Because I'm fine."
Jenkins sighed. "Mr. Stone, I have been around for an exceptionally long time. You are not going to get anything past me."
"I'm not --" Stone cut himself off and sighed. "I can't," he said finally, his voice barely audible. "Not here."
Jenkins frowned. "You're perfectly safe here, Mr. Stone, I assure you."
"I know." It was bit off in a growl. "I just --"
"Is this to do with the difficulty you had with Ms. Cillian?" Jenkins asked when Stone didn't finish. "I'd rather thought that had cleared itself up."
"No," Stone said. "I mean, yeah, we're cool, but -- no. It never -- clears itself up. I just get better at pretending." He looked up again, and Jenkins thought it'd been a long time since he last saw a man who looked that exhausted. At least a decade or so. "That's what she never got. It ain't about her. It's me. I just --"
"I see," Jenkins said, saving Stone from having to own his trust issues out loud. "I'm afraid I can't let you recover on your own in another room, though. Natural gas poisoning -- it's nasty stuff. And I'm afraid your efforts to escape on your own likely only caused you to inhale more carbon monoxide than you might have otherwise."
Stone snorted and closed his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "I know. This ain't exactly my first rodeo."
"You've been exposed to it before?"
"Not me. A few of my guys on the rigs. I'm usually the one organizin' the rescue, not the guy gettin' dragged out."
"Ah. That's the trouble with being a professional hero, I'm afraid. You will inevitably become the damsel in distress as well." Jenkins stood and moved to place his hand on Stone's shoulder and applied to gentle pressure until the man finally lay back. "You don't need to sleep," he said. "But you must relax. Trust this old knight to keep an eye on things for awhile. Even if it's just pretend."
Stone sighed through his nose, eyes falling closed, and though the lines of concern on his face never smoothed out, Jenkins saw the rest of his body relax. He stepped aside to check on Cassandra and Ezekiel, giving Stone as much privacy as he could, then went back to his desk to keep watch.
He wondered if it would ever cease to amaze him, the similarities between cowboys and knights.