Full Circle

"Clara?" Jacob said stupidly, stopping at the sight of her lying on the floor.

"Get the hell out of my way," Flynn said from between gritted teeth as he shoved Jacob aside, dashing over to the bookshelves behind him.

"What the hell happened here!?" Ezekiel demanded as Eve rushed over to Clara, rolling up her sleeves as she moved.

"It was Cassandra," Flynn spat, pulling book after book off the shelf, chucking them over his shoulder, "she let them into the Library."

Nobody said anything, too stunned to speak, just watching the pool of blood swell around Clara's body as Eve frantically worked over her.

"You can't help her!" Flynn bellowed, grabbing a copy of The Nutcracker. "It's a magical wound and magical wounds can't be treated!"

"What, so we just let her die then!?" Jacob said, looking like he was going to kill Flynn.

"Get the hell out of my way," Flynn said, barging both Jacob and Eve aside as he flung open The Nutcracker, extracting a cut glass vial concealed with its pages, holding it up to the light to see it was still full. "Why is nobody listening to me? Do I just have a face nobody listens to?" he muttered, casting them vengeful glances.

The others retreated to a respectful distance, not answering him, just giving him the space he needed to save Clara - or so they thought. Flynn cast aside The Nutcracker, before carefully lifting Clara into his lap, unstoppering the vial before tilting her head back, tipping some drops of the green liquid onto her lips, his face anxious as he waited for the magic to do its magic.

For a moment nothing happened, then Clara jolted back into being, coughing and retching as she collapsed against Flynn, almost throttling him as her fingers clutched his cravat for support.

"Nrngh!" Flynn choked, hastily disentangling himself from her.

Clara tried to curse him, only to burst into tears instead.

"Ssh, it's alright," Flynn soothed as he smoothed back her hair, "you're safe, safe as houses."

Clara slowly raised her head, the life leaving her big brown eyes. "Don't-lie-to-me," she spat, clutching her side, "whatever-you-do-,-don't-ever-lie-to-me."

Flynn stared at her, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, sounding most unlike himself. "I won't lie to you, not now."

"What the hell are you banging on about!?" Jacob demanded, exchanging a bewildered glance with Eve and the others. "She's going to be okay now, isn't she?"

"Magical-wounds-can't-heal," Clara said before Flynn could speak, wiping her eyes with the inside of her wrist, "and-cheating-death-comes-at-a-price-,-one-I'm-not-sure-it-would-be-worth-paying-for-in-the-end."

All the blood drained from Jacob's face, the others looking similarly shellshocked, making Flynn realise the mistake he'd made in allowing them access to the realm of magic. Despite his words of warning, they believed magic could rectify every wrong, changing every unhappy ending to a fairytale one. But this wasn't once upon a time; this was life as it led to death, and Clara would die, becoming another footnote in the Library's annals, her name nothing but a line in a book nobody would read.

"Well, my lack of faith in humanity is restored," Ezekiel snapped, his voice shaking despite the sarcasm.

"Ha-ha," Clara said with great difficulty.

"Jesus Christ," Eve breathed, turning away from her.

"So she'll die?" Jacob said stupidly to Flynn, unable to comprehend Clara's words. "You really can't do anything?"

"I'm-not-dead-yet," Clara said, "so-talk-to-me-not-Flapjack-Flynn."

Despite himself, Flynn snorted, his eyes bright with tears.

"There has to be something up that elbow-patched sleeve of yours, Flap - Flynn," Jacob said, not taking no for an answer. "For starters, what was in that vial?"

"It contains water from the Well of Healing," Flynn said, his voice cracking, "but as Clara said, magical wounds can't heal, so the most it's done is slow down the bleeding."

"So she's basically doomed, then?" Ezekiel asked, eying Clara oddly.

"Duh," Clara said, rolling her eyes, the small effort of even that making her slump against Flynn.

As she did, a church bell suddenly started ringing, followed by another, then another, and another, forming a choir of cacophony, the sound ominous, almost like a warning, making their heads jerk up in tandem.

"Sounds-like-Quasimodo-is-having-a-party," Clara observed, coughing again.

"We have to go," Flynn said, Jacob and Ezekiel rushing forwards to help him get Clara to her feet, only for all four of them to nearly fall flat on their faces as the ground began to violently shake.

"What's going on!?" Eve shouted at Flynn above the din.

"We need to head to the Corridor of Doors!" Flynn yelled, carrying the now half unconscious Clara in his arms bridal-style as he led the way through the bookshelves.

"What-about-the-Vestibule-of-Vagabonds?" Clara said drunkenly. "Vade-mecum!"

"Never mind that, what the hell is that racket?" Jacob bellowed above the pealing bells.

"It's the Countdown Clock!" Flynn bellowed back, only to slow to a stop as the Library started to fold in on itself in front of him, like somebody shutting the pages of a pop-up book.

"Holy shit," Ezekiel said, looking like he was going to faint.

"Somebody's-just-cut-the-anchor-chain," Clara said weakly as the bookcases started to close in on them.

~*~

They came to a stop in front of the Corridor of Doors, Clara's head lolling against Flynn's shoulder, dizzily remembering from almost another life how she'd stood before these very same doors, attempting to guess where the Library would lead her, Clara trying to work up the courage to go there. Now she realised all too late that it had all been a lie, the Library deceiving her into death.

"What do we do!?" Eve shouted, clamping her hands over her ears.

"Yeah, Flynn, what do we do!?" Jacob spat sarcastically as Ezekiel hid behind him.

Flynn dithered, the row of doors disorientating him. Behind each one lay everywhere and anywhere. Every time he'd turned a handle, it had taken him away from Clara, and now the Library was taking her away from him, just like he'd known it always would. He'd realised too late what he was running from, Clara's time running out just when he'd stopped running. Without thinking, he booted open the bright blue door that he'd first led Clara through, the others following him, those who came after Clara, fate coming full circle.

As they threw themselves through the doorway, it was only to find they were in a forest, their surroundings serene and silent, luxuriously green and verdant. Then the door suddenly slammed shut, the Library lost once and for all, dividing Flynn from his family; Judson, Charlene, now all gone from him, Clara going with them. Head reeling, he glanced down at Clara, seeing past her pretty face and into the storm that roared within her heart, a storm he never wanted to shelter from. But Clara closed her eyes, trying to hold onto what was left of her, feeling life fall through her fingers. The pain was borderline bearable, but underneath, it was eating away at her, making her pray for a swift end, the end Excalibur had almost delivered.

"Clara, stay with me!" Flynn yelled, hastily setting her down on the leaf-strewn ground, before violently shaking her by the shoulders.

"Let-me-sleep," she mumbled, her eyes fluttering shut again.

Flynn hesitated before slapping her, hard. The others stared at him, shocked.

"You-bloody-bast" -

- "And that's enough of that," Flynn said smartly, clamping his hand over Clara's mouth.

"She's dying and you just hit her," Ezekiel said, appalled.

"I hit her because she's dying," Flynn retorted. "You try keeping a corpse alive with only sweet nothings and a talking candle-stick."

"I'm-not-a-corpse," Clara croaked, grabbing his cravat with feeble fingers, trying and failing to strangle him into silence.

"Not yet," Flynn said flippantly, "and what a beautiful one you'll make."

"Flynn!" Eve exclaimed, her face paling.

"It's time to face facts, my exotic Eve," Flynn said gravely, "Clara is departing this life third class, and there's damn all we can do about it - I can't even wangle her an upgrade with a nod and a wink. It's terrible, it really is."

"Goodnight-Vienna," Clara whispered, sounding drunk again.

"I couldn't have put it better myself," Flynn beamed.

"Right, that's enough," Jacob spat, rolling up his shirt sleeves.

"Uh, where are we?" Ezekiel asked hastily, throwing himself between Flynn and Jacob.

Flynn glanced at the blue door, the sight of it standing there incongruous even to his eyes. "When are we?" he said, sidestepping the question, his broad brow furrowing.

"Oh-God-we've-gone-back-in-time," Clara whined, tightening her grip on Flynn's cravat, "I'm-going-to-die-before-I-was-even-born."

"Don't be ridiculous, Hartley," Flynn snapped, disentangling himself from her weak grip, only for her to slump against him again.

"Is she alright!?" Jacob said, panicking.

"I'm-dying-dufus," Clara spat, glaring at him.

"You've just got blood on my best waist-coat!" Flynn protested, looking extremely put out. "It's all... crimson." He studied his bloodstained fingers in disgust. "You need to eat more calcium," he admonished Clara, shaking a red digit reprovingly at her.

"I'm-Clara-The-Calcium-Kid," she muttered, baring her teeth like fangs at Flynn.

"I don't do vampires," a dour voice said, startling them all.

"Reveal yourself, evil spirit!" Flynn boomed, his voice echoing oddly throughout the forest glade.

"I don't do exorcists either," the same dour voice said even more dourly. Then a man of indiscriminate middling age stepped out from behind one of the trees, wearing an expensive looking Barbour coat and Wellington boots, looking every inch the landed gentleman except for his loud bow-tie and immaculately starched white shirt. He smoothed back his longish silver hair with a weary hand, studying the group with surprisingly dark eyes.

"Hello," Flynn said slowly, brow furrowing even further. "And who might you be? A wandering dryad perhaps?"

"Do I look like Napea to you?" the stranger retorted.

"I don't know," Flynn said, shrugging his shoulders, "I'm not the one gliding through a glade here."

"What are you doing out here?" Eve asked, stepping forwards.

"Waiting," the stranger said simply. "I do that."

"Waiting for what?" Jacob said, rolling up his shirt-sleeves even higher, throwing off Ezekiel's restraining hand.

"I'm waiting for Zeus," the stranger said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I like dallying with ancient Graeco-Roman deities. It's something of a hobby of mine."

"Snap!" Flynn exclaimed, beaming again.

"Kill-me-now," Clara groaned.

~*~

Skipping down a broken path
How long can I last? Please let me know, oh
Where's the finish line?
'Cause I got to find somewhere to go...

Somehow the group found themselves in the stranger's station-wagon, Flynn humming a hymn under his breath, praying Clara would find the courage to hold on until he could figure out a way to save her. During the drive, her hand had found his large one, gripping it for dear life as death tried to drag her under, drowning no longer a dream but a reality. Flynn could barely feel his fingers but he didn't care, only caring about keeping Clara alive.

"Where are we?" Ezekiel asked, sounding like a broken record as they drew up outside a large low-roofed grey stone building situated on a riverbank.

"Curiosity killed the cat," the stranger observed darkly, killing the engine.

They all piled out of the station-wagon, Flynn carrying Clara in his arms again, her hair falling across her face, obscuring it from sight, the others anxiously trailing after them like a bunch of bridesmaids. The stranger led the way to a set of double doors, before pushing them open, sunlight streaming past him into the dark passage, illuminating the steep staircase below, striking the cobwebs hanging from various corners, making them glimmer oddly as though they were encrusted with diamonds instead of long dead flies.

"Why are we here?" Flynn asked, carefully navigating his way down the steps.

"Why are you here?" the stranger said, turning the question back onto him.

"How did you know to find us in the forest?" Flynn flung back, suspicion rising in him.

"I know all about you, Flynn Carsen," the stranger said strangely.

"I don't understand," Flynn said, brow furrowing again, "who are you? What is this place?"

"I'm Jenkins, of course," the stranger said, sounding surprised, "and as for this place..." He led them down another dark passage before flinging open yet another set of double doors, this time structured out of clouded glass and ornate ironwork, part of the pattern consisting of a sword on each side, almost like an emblem of sorts. He stepped forwards, clicking his fingers together, suddenly flooding the place with light. "This is the Library," Jenkins said dourly, clasping his hands behind his back.

They all stared at him, incredulous and disbelieving, Clara burying her face in Flynn's shoulder.

"But the Library is gone," Flynn said, his voice cracking.

"Obviously you've been misinformed," Jenkins said, raising his bushy eyebrows.