makingthisupasigo | And the Failings of Fortune

And the Failings of Fortune - For Tom Mason

cw: ptsd, mentions of war and war atrocities, violence, gore, death, torture, paranoia, abuse, kidnapping/abduction

He wouldn't trade it for the world, but being the Librarian wasn't easy. Being the Librarian with a bounty on your head, even worse.

Jake couldn't remember the last time he's walked down the street without feeling paranoid, without needing to carry a weapon on his person at all times because the Serpent Brotherhood would just not quit.

Apparently being a living artifact was exactly what they wanted to help bring magic back to the world. And he really, really didn't want to find out what they'd do if they got their hands on him.

That, of course, was also a direct result of him being a Librarian in the first place. If he'd have said no, if he'd have torn up the card, he wouldn't have been shot twice with knock-out darts that morning. It was by sheer luck that he got Jenkins to call up a door for him in time and make it through before they got him.

Jacob wakes up painfully on the cold floor of the Annex, flat on his face. Jenkins must have removed the darts, but decided to just let him sleep it off.

"Ow." He gets up, sitting back, and suddenly there's a cup of tea in his hands and Jenkins with that not-smile of semi-disapproval. Jake tries a disarming grin, as he sits back against the table, not bothering to get up. "Thanks. Again."

"Mr. Stone, you know that I...in your terms, 'have your back,' but this is really just luck. And I can't always be on the lookout for you. You need a Guardian."

"I know, I know, but I got my own style, y'know? I've been doin' this for awhile and--"

"Especially with your...unique condition."

"My condition." That just gets an eye-roll and a loud slurp of his tea. "Y'know, I just think they have it in for Librarians."

"Mr. Stone." Jenkins' voice isn't unkind, but it's cutting and firm. "If it were up to me, you'd never leave this Library. It's the same thing as if we let someone walk off with any one of the artifacts. If you keep getting into these...situations, I will be forced to take measures."

There's a long pause. "Measures. You gonna trap me here?"

"Yes. By any means necessary, up to and including getting a new Librarian. What you don't seem to understand, Mr. Stone, is that it's your job to keep magic out of the hands of the untrained and the evil--that includes keeping yourself out of their hands. You find a Guardian, or I find you a spot on the shelf next to Flutes of Pan. Is that clear?"

Jake slams his cup of tea down and gets up from the floor, staring him down. Jenkins meets his gaze, and as much as he'd like to think he could take him, Jenkins was an immortal, millennia- old knight of the round table with massive knowledge of magic and how to use it...he wouldn't see it coming.

"Yeah. Crystal." It's a growl and he storms away, into the Library proper. He needs to punch something, hit something...

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"History," Tom mutters. "Boston University."

"Huh," Jenkins says, giving him another once over.

Tom ignores him, his eyes wandering back to the bookshelves. "This place is incredible. You're... trying to tell me I'm in a different universe?"

"No." Jenkins shakes his head. "Same universe. Different type. This is still Earth, like you are from Earth. Just a different one." While Tom exhales, taking the mug Jenkins offers him, the Caretaker continues on. "In this world, magic is real. Now it might not be in yours – but I need you to be open-minded here about the possibility."

"Magic is real." Tom thinks about that for a moment, then chuckles. "So you're saying the 'Djinns' are..."

"... actual Djinns. Yes, sir. Magical creatures, like the ones from Scheherazade's tales."

Now that he's calmed down somewhat Tom seems to be a lot more willing to at least talk through this, even though his eyebrows climb higher than Mount Everest. "Okay. Right. Alright then. What do they want with me?"

"History." Jake repeats the word, the biggest grin and a hint of sheer, utter awe coming to his voice. He's got half a mind to go summon up the Djinn right now to tell them thank you because this is great!?

It takes him a second to follow where Jenkins and Tom were going in the conversation, he was too busy thinking of what questions to ask him and how many questions would be too many and what his specialties and favorite things to lecture on were and really how many questions would be too many--

"What? Oh, um, they want you to be my Guardian." He blinks, as if that's self explanatory because he doesn't have time to explain it to you, can they start with Colonial Boston because clearly that's gotta be some interest to you what with being in Boston and all--okay yeah, probably should take a second to explain.

"The Librarian is supposed to have a Guardian. Y'know, someone to keep an eye on them, make sure they don't die, that kinda thing. So what's your opinion on First Period New England homes versus Georgian style? I really dig the symmetry of the Georgian, but there's something just so raw about the pitch of the roof and those distinctive shingles in a classic First Period?"

Edited 2018-07-06 05:17 (UTC)

"The Librarian keeps this world safe from magic," Jenkins explains helpfully. "He seeks magical artifacts and brings them here, to the Library, so they won't fall into the wrong hands. Which is a very dangerous endeavor, as you might imagine. The Guardian, on the other hand, protects the Librarian."

"Like a literal bodyguard?" Tom looks over at Jake. "Why me? Why would you need a bodyguard from another world?" And then suddenly the conversation shifts towards colonial architecture and Tom is completely caught off-guard.

"Uh. Well. First Period style breathes the settling of the colonists in every way. They're not designed, they tried to adapt to a new land. Materials brought from Europe, mixing with the timber the land gave to them. Central chimneys because it's the most effective way to warm the house in a cold New England winter. That rawness? It's a visual representation of their will to survive."

"Is... this the time?" Jenkins politely interjects.

"Georgian style, now, that represents the attempt of taming the land with civilization. Modeled after the Italian Renaissance. Culture. Forms. Sophistication, in this new, wild land. Elevated taste, the establishment of an upper class after European models. But the First Period? You can feel the spirit of hardship, despite all odds."

"Yes, well, very fascinating I'm sure. The Djinn, sir?"

Tom blinks again, looking up sharply. "Yes. Why have they brought me here?"

"They seem to think you are the most suitable candidate for the job. Now please let me assure you that the Library is in no way affiliated with the Djinn. We did not participate nor condone your bringing here."

"'preciate it," Tom remarks dryly. "So call them up, tell them that and have them send me back."

"I'm... afraid that's not possible, sir." When Tom's AK threatens to come up again, Jenkins quickly holds up a hand, trying to placate him. "These lines on your hands? They are the marks of a very powerful Djinn curse called 'the Contract'."

"That's a lousy name." Even drier. "Considering I didn't sign anything."

"Yes, well, unfortunately Djinn aren't too hung up on these details."

"That's too bad." The driest of all tones. "Because I am."

This is...

This is amazing.

Jacob can't stop grinning. His eyes are wide and alight with uncontrollable excitement, and as Tom continues, he's practically launching himself out of his shoes, he's so worked up.

"I know! I know, I totally agree!" He gestures back and forth to indicate that they're totally super incredibly exactly on the same page, Mr. History Professor. "I did a paper on the transition from First Period to Georgian architecture, and well--it would mean a whole lot to me if you could--maybe, I dunno--take a look at 'em sometime?" Please, please would you? The biggest, puppy-dog eyes.

Oh wait, the Djinn thing. Yeah.

He really should send them gift baskets and thank you cards.

"Five years. They said five years and you'll go back to where and when you came from. That ain't so bad, right?"

Could he... what? What the hell is he supposed to make of this? "I... you want me to grade a paper for you?"

He's so confused and the weapon goes down again in sheer bewilderment, but the second part lets him snap back into the here and now.

"I don't have five years." His voice takes a distinctly sharper tone. "I need to get back to my world now. We're at war. People need me! Look, I'm sorry that you're having problems filling your vacancies but it's really not my problem?"

Jenkins clears his throat. "Yes, and, for that we are terribly sorry. But Djinn curses cannot be broken. Only by death."

"Death," Tom repeats incredulously.

"Yours, to be precise. But. As Mr. Stone was saying? If you fulfill the Contract-"

"Still not a contract. It's so not a contract."

"– then the curse will be lifted and you shall be returned to the exact moment of time you have been taken from. To your world, to... whatever war it is you are fighting, it will be as if you had never left."

No. Nonono, this is crazy. Tom shakes his head. "I can't be here for five years!"

"...yes. Yeah. If...yeah, that would be...great."

He feels for his plight, he really does, but he's also really, really excited. Probably bad form to show how excited he is, so he coughs and tries to keep his voice level.

"Look, I didn't want a Guardian either--"

Until now, until he found out he was a history professor--

"--so we're both stuck with each other until the five years are up."

A pause.

"Jenkins, is something bad gonna happen to me in five years?"

"No." Jenkins shakes his head. "A random number. They do like the number 5 for some reason. We should be glad they didn't make it 25 or 50."

Tom can't quite share the gratitude here yet. "No, come on, there has to be another way. I can't stay away from the fight for five years!"

"You won't." Jenkins looks at him. "No time will have passed in your world."

"No. No, this is insane!"

"Well, that's a relief." And would give him ample time to scout for a new Guardian.

He turns towards Tom, offering an apologetic shrug.

"Look, I know this must...be wild for you, I know it would be for me. What say I give you a tour? Give you a chance to check things out?"

Tom stares at Jake, at Jenkins.

He doesn't quite believe this story or that these two want to be unable to send him back but getting a better idea about the layout of the place might not be a bad place to start.

"... Alright." A curt nod. "Show me."

"Okay." He offers him a friendly smile, and motions for Tom to come and follow him through another set of doors. With an apologetic shrug at Jenkins, he walks through the doors and into the Library proper. The stacks extend as far as the eye can see, the warm hues and lighting everywhere, artifacts glittering in the distance.

"This is the Library."

Tom is skeptical, bordering on hostile but when he steps through the door it's a good thing his rifle is strapped on because he would have dropped it. His eyes widen, his mouth drops and his hands move up to cover it in disbelief.

It's... too much. Too beautiful. Too impossible.

"Wh... what...?"

Jacob looks over at him, that smile still lingering on his face. He doesn't get to bring anybody here, even if he's wanted to--he's imagined what other people's reaction to seeing the Library would be, and this--

--yeah. He knows that feeling, buddy.

"It's somethin', ain't it? Come on. I'll show you the jet pack."

"The jet pack."

To be fair, Jacob could have said anything at this point because Tom isn't listening. He's just staring at the rows and rows of shelves, the ageless wonder and he feels like he's about to cry.

"This... this can't be real."

He's dead. That's the only explanation. There is no place as peaceful as this anywhere left in the world.

...and he knows that look, but it's more...intense than he expected.

"It's real." His voice is kinder, quieter. Because there's also another reason why he'd react this way and it's not fun to think about. There's war and then there's war. He's pretty sure what the answer's going to be.

"What's your world like?"

Edited 2018-07-07 04:05 (UTC)

"Ruins. Rubble. ... Death." He pauses, and a quick, wry grin appears on his face. "Sorry, that was needlessly dramatic."

But then again, not inaccurate. As Tom walks he raises his hand to touch one of the shelves but then draws it back as if he was afraid it might crumble and disappear under his touch.

Maybe if he tells them. Maybe if he can make them understand they'll send him back.

"... Our world has been invaded by alien forces and we've been hit hard. Our cities and governments have fallen. Our military, our power grids and basic infrastructure has been incapacitated. We're resisting against our oppressors but... there's few of us left." Still it doesn't sound like he's willing to give up. "We can't drive them out so we're trying to make the invasion too costly in the long run."

He looks around, his harsh features softening. "... I never thought I'd see so many books again."

Edited 2018-07-07 09:42 (UTC)

"A little, yeah." The fact that he's making a joke might mean he's warming up a little, and a smile crosses Jacob's face in return.

What Tom's describing does reach him, and Jacob's face falls--he'd been expecting something disastrous, but not on this level. And aliens!? It takes him a long moment for all of that to sink in, but it does.

The fact that the poor man never thought he'd see so many books again is painful enough.

He opens his mouth to speak a few times, but what can he say?

"I'm sorry." Sorry wasn't nearly enough.

Tom gives a brief nod because he knows. There's just nothing you can say to that. To amply describe the horrors and loss and heartache of it all. "It's what we have to face."

He turns away from the beautiful display of books and looks back at Jake. "Which is why I have to get back."

And that's definitely guilt pooling in his stomach. To take him away from his fight, even if it is on pause...just for himself?

"I don't know how we can get you back." It's sympathetic, but he wishes it sounded better. He can think of a way to say it in two or three other languages that might convey the tone better, but... "These are Djinn. There's nothin' we got here, nothin' we can do for it. I'm sorry."

A pause. "You think maybe you might need the five-year break?"

Edited 2018-07-08 23:25 (UTC)

"I'm not going on a break until the last damn alien has left my planet."

Tom shakes his head. "There's gotta be a way to break this contract. ... Which is still not a contract."

But he doesn't sound as heated as before. He has tried firing on these things. He has seen how powerful they are. He can feel the tingling sensation in his hands (which he tries not to freak out about), making the situation uncomfortably real.

"... If you're lying to me about this..."

Jake notes the change in the sound in his voice, which is...better, all things considered. He keeps his own tone as kind as he can muster.

"I'm not lying. Look, you're more than welcome to do the research here yourself." He gestures towards the stacks of books. "You might even find somethin' me and Jenkins haven't discovered yet."

Research. He can do research. If there's a way back he will find it, with or without these two, and this is the best place to do it. Tom glances around. At all the books, all the knowledge he can practically breathe in. From a strategic point of view it's sensible to play along, to not turn his back on these resources.

"... Alright." He nods. "I'll be your Guardian."

Still, it feels wrong to lie. Or at least to not play his cards straight to a certain point. "But just so we're clear, the moment I find a way back? I'll take it. I'm out of here." He glances down at the lines on his hands, back up at Jake. "And I won't look back."

"Okay." It's weird for him too, man. Jake nods, Tom's 'terms' sound just fine to him.

He shrugs. "You do what you gotta do." He doesn't think he's gonna miss this guy once he leaves, anyway. He seemed nice enough, just...when it really came down to it, he didn't really want a Guardian.

He didn't need one. He could take care of himself.

Maybe.

"Okay."

Glad that's settled. Tom continues walking with him, trying to stay focused but his eyes get drawn again and again to the books.

"Tell me more. What are we dealing with? What kind of weapons do you have?"

Something that's a little more effective than his firearms? Maybe against Djinns? (Maybe best not to mention that thought aloud.)

"Well, to be honest with you," he points at his own head. "Our minds are the best weapons we have."

That's not the answer he's looking for, but he smirks anyway, and continues. "Physically though, I mostly just use my fists. Maybe a staff. I'm pretty good with a staff. Occasionally, and by occasionally I mean rarely, an artifact is used. I don't like usin' magic to fight with if I don't have to."

He nods over to the stacks and the artifacts lined up in a row. "But in terms of actual firepower? More than half of those could probably destroy the world if you knew what you were doin'."

Jake grows a little quieter, more serious. "And we're usually dealin' with people who want to use those artifacts for their own gain. At no matter what cost."

Edited 2018-07-10 17:15 (UTC)

That draws a chuckle from Tom. "The pen is mightier than the sword?"

But he looks over at the artifacts keenly because if what Stone is saying is true... maybe he can take home one or two souvenirs. He's seen what those Djinn could do, who knew what these gadgets here were capable of?

"You mean like evil people trying to take over the world? ... What about guns?"

Edited 2018-07-19 14:17 (UTC)

"Literally, in some cases. I've seen it."

And Jacob recognizes the look on Tom's face, the cynical part of him zeroes in almost instantly on what Tom likely wanted to do. And as much as he wanted to trust him, he was still on his guard. He'd have to be, he'd have to watch him closely for a little while. He was a stranger, after all.

"Guns ain't no match for some of these things. And half the time they use magic anyway. And yeah. We get various evil factions all the time. Mostly with a snake or scorpion theme."

"What about magical guns?"

He tries to think back at sitting with Ben, reading Harry Potter to him, and points down at his rifle. "Can we enchant that?"

Obviously he has no qualms at using what he can get here.

Jacob pauses.

"...I haven't actually seen it done, but yeah, it's possible."

He fixes his gaze on Tom and frowns, because that's a little much?

"You want a magical gun for some reason?"

He shrugs.

"Pragmatism, really. I'm not that well-versed with a staff. I do know my way around firearms."

...well, that made sense, but it seemed so against, well...everything the Library was it takes him a second to come to terms with it.

"You're not gonna need magical guns here. We don't really use weapons here, it's your mind that's the weapon. And fists, occasionally."

Tom hums. Fists, he can work with that, but it's definitely not his favorite choice here.

There's a moment where he kind of steps outside of his own body, watching himself, surprised how disturbed he is at the thought of not having a gun. Funny how things change. Oh well, he still have his rifle, unmagic but very reliable so far.

"Guess it'll have to do."

Edited 2018-08-21 14:47 (UTC)

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And the Failings of Fortune - For Tom Mason

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