A Bucket For A Crown

After Cassandra had worked out the riddle of the rocks, nearly killing herself in the process, Flynn had hit one of the stones with the heel of his hand, revealing some sort of medieval safe concealed within its hard hollow. As the others debated what to do next, Clara just stood there staring at it, head spinning at everything that had just happened in the past five minutes. If she'd thought she was clever, she was nothing next to Cassandra, who had found the Crown by reeling off data like she was some sort of human computer, Jacob stepping up and helping Cassandra to focus when her mind went into freefall.

"We need a blow-torch," Jacob observed, his brow furrowing.

"Don't suppose you packed one of those, did you?" Clara asked Flynn, finally making him look at her.

"Actually, Cassandra did," Flynn said slowly, confusing everyone.

"Huh?" Cassandra asked, the most confused of all.

"In the truck," Flynn explained, "there's an oxygen tank and a First-Aid kit."

Again, confusion reigned.

"Go and round them up, cowboy," Flynn fired at Jacob, who promptly took off like a boomerang, too bewildered to challenge Flynn's order. "Idiot," he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes as Jacob fell over his feet, almost landing flat on his face.

"He might be Southern, but he's not stupid," Clara said irritably.

"Never said he was."

"You just called him an idiot!"

"You might feel some fondness for our resident bronco-buster, but the rest of us don't," Flynn said, looking bored.

"I like him," Cassandra chirped. "He carries off a Stetson very well."

"I'd look hot in a Stetson and a pair of Daisy Dukes," Flynn said, pluming himself. "Yee-haw!"

"This isn't Rawhide," Clara snapped.

"Whatever," Flynn said, flapping his hand at her, "I don't care what you say; I'd definitely give Jessica Simpson a run for her money."

~*~

Cassandra watched wide-eyed as Flynn finished putting the finishing touches to his culinary creation, almost absentmindedly popping a cracker into her mouth, her loud crunching getting on Clara's last nerve.

"Wow, a cutting tool that is both effective and delicious," Clara said sarcastically, as Flynn then handed Jacob the cucumber-cum-blow-torch.

"Bacon would have been better," Flynn said, getting to his feet.

"Where are you going?" Jacob asked, confused.

"I'm going to get the rest of our gang," Flynn said, "and you fantastic three are going to get that crown."

"No pressure then," Jacob muttered, eying the medieval safe with some trepidation.

"So stay put, my little Munchkins," Flynn said. "It isn't over until the fat lady sings." And then he was gone, leaving the others blinking in bewilderment.

"That guy is nuts," Jacob said, shaking his head to himself.

"You don't think?" Clara said, rolling her eyes.

"He did just construct a cutting torch out of a picnic lunch," Cassandra said mildly.

"Which proves my point exactly," Jacob said darkly.

~*~

But sometimes the money's gonna run out
And you'll be standing on the corner with a belly full of doubt
Sometimes somebody's gonna bring you down
And you'll be standing on your own with a bucket for a crown...

"Imagine we had eyes in our ankles," Cassandra said, "then we could look inside mouse-holes without having to bend down."

"Focus, Cassie, focus," Jacob said, aiming the blue-white flame at the hinges.

"More like you should focus," Clara pointed out.

"I am, sweetheart," Jacob said, "but you're distracting me in more ways than one." His gaze flickered over her, taking her in from top to toe, making Clara turn away from him, folding her arms across her chest.

"I'm getting a teeny-weeny bit worried about the others," Cassandra said, nibbling on a cracker.

"You don't seem very worried," Clara snapped.

"Well, I am," Cassandra protested.

"I'll go and check, alright," Clara said, grateful to have an excuse to be alone for five minutes.

"Flynn told us to stay here," Jacob said, standing up.

"And he told you to get that goddamn crown," Clara retorted, "so goddamn get it."

"Flynn's a big boy, he doesn't need you to babysit him," Jacob said, "he's got Eve for that."

Clara just shook her head and limped towards the trees, ignoring Cassandra's cries for her to stop. She was tired of standing there like she was a henge herself. She wanted to do something, to prove to herself that she was Librarian material. So far all she'd done was get stuck in a rabbit hole and translate some obscure Latin. It wasn't exactly the Ten Labours of Hercules.

As Clara made her way through the forest, following the sound of shouting, nearly ending up in a ditch as she did so, she finally emerged from the tree-line, just in time to see Ezekiel get knocked sprawling to the ground. Limping forwards, she hastily snatched up a tree branch, before creeping up behind his assailant and hitting him over the head with it, reeling slightly as she did so. "Wow," she said breathlessly, helping Ezekiel to his feet, "that certainly beats the Times crossword."

"Where the hell did you come from?" Ezekiel gasped, brushing himself down.

Clara pointed to the trees behind them.

"You Tarzan, me Jane?" Ezekiel said doubtfully, stooping down to pick up his lost crowbar.

"I meant the henge," Clara said, rolling her eyes, "the others found out where the crown was" -

The world suddenly went sideways, Clara colliding with damp earth, Ezekiel landing somewhere to the south of her. For a moment, nothing made sense, the sky spinning above her, and then reality righted itself, Clara trying and failing to find her tree-branch as a shadow fell across her.

"Oh, it's the one that got away," Lamia said, looming over Clara, twirling her sword like she was a majorette.

"Watch, you'll have someone's eye out with that," Ezekiel groaned.

"Shut up," Lamia snapped. "I'll be despatching you in a moment."

"The Princess of Parcelforce," Clara intoned, "delivering and despatching despots since 112 AD."

"Famous last words, little one," Lamia snarled, raising her sword like an axe -

- "Sorry to disturb the execution," Flynn said apologetically, "but can you tell me where Arcadia ends and Scheol begins?"

"Why are you always in the way!?" Lamia screeched, launching herself at Flynn.

"Because you have such a magnetic personality," Flynn said, sidestepping her.

"Flynn, catch!" Ezekiel cried, chucking his crowbar.

Flynn neatly caught it, before performing a minuet and parrying Lamia's sword aside as though it were part of the dance.

"Nice fleuret," Clara observed weakly as Ezekiel hauled her to her feet.

"Thank you," Flynn bowed, deflecting another sword blow, "but I prefer performing the nautch. Preferably while fire-eating."

"We really don't want to be here," Ezekiel called, running past them, leaving Clara to her own fate as he disappeared among the trees.

Flynn looked at Clara for enlightenment, but she just shook her head, both of them then doing a double-take as Lamia suddenly took off, abandoning the fight.

"It's time to go!" Eve bellowed, appearing out of nowhere and grabbing Flynn and Clara by the elbows, dragging them along.

"I can't run!" Clara cried, almost falling to her knees.

Rolling his eyes, Flynn shoved Eve on, before almost rugby-tackling Clara and slinging her over his shoulder. Before she could protest, she was up and away, tree-branches catching at her clothes and hair, the world whizzing past her. An explosion rocked the forest, sending them staggering, but they kept on, heading back to the henge, Ezekiel and Eve leading the way.

"The stone, how's it going!?" Flynn boomed, clumsily setting Clara down on the grass.

"We're done," Jacob said, looking slightly taken aback at their frazzled appearance.

"What was that big bang?" Cassandra asked disingenuously.

"It was me," Ezekiel said, striking a heroic pose.

"It was Jacob sitting down," Flynn said, twirling his crowbar, "remember, he has a huge ass."

"Just get the goddamn safe open," Eve snapped, glancing agitatedly over her shoulder.

"Your wish is not my command," Flynn said tersely, kneeling down in front of the safe.

They all watched as he levered it open, Cassandra passing Clara a cracker, both of them holding their breath as Flynn took out a burnished silver crown, his face inscrutable in the fading light.

"Congratulations," he said in disbelief, "you've all just did something no Librarian has been able to do in a thousand years." He raised his reverent gaze to theirs. "You just found the Crown of King Arthur."