Chapter Text
Ezekiel loved his job. He acted in disdain and annoyance, but deep inside he found pleasure in his workplace. His colleagues whom he dared call his friends— made it worth it. He can't say he regrets joining, but he knows he’d regret not joining even more.
The annex brought a stable tranquil environment that he only ever dreamed of. Something constant, calm, warm, and fun. Something that was opposite of his life before joining the Library.
Ezekiel never wanted to steal, he was very opposed to the idea. At a young age he was careful to obey the law and be a good citizen. Maybe it was because of his obsession with superheroes. This was his first dream job. He wanted to fight crime, not run from it. Seven years later he was caught in a mall stealing a watch and a few knacks he found on the way. He was only twelve. Barely tall enough to reach the top shelf.
His foster families throughout the years weren't too fond of a thief living under their roofs. For many years Ezekiel hid behind a sarcastic personality to let everyone know that they could never get to him. Snapping at every foster parent only led him to more misery, which usually led him to laborious chores that seemed very unnecessary to Ezekiel.
Sometimes they had a huge group of children. Usually, they lived out of town or on a farm. Those were his least favorite for two reasons. One: he hates other children. He never kept any real friends growing up, and usually the other kids bullied him. He never let them know though. If anyone said anything he couldn’t ignore it. That was one of his fatal flaws. He learned to use his words instead of fighting… it only took eighteen or so years. Ezekiel is glad that there’s no pictures of him growing up, because the majority of them would have him with black eyes or a split lip. He rather forget those fights. Then, there’s reason number two of why he hates foster farms in the middle of nowhere: the farm chores.
Farms were cool when you didn’t have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn. Carrying heavy buckets full of chicken feed to a barn (that smells like something died a month ago) was not his favorite chore. Well, he always despised farm work. Chickens scare him. Those bloody beaks are always nipping at his ankles and knees. And the cows are disgusting. He still struggles eating beef knowing a whole swarm of flies and other filth were on them. The greasy American style burgers help him forget.
School was horrible. He was smart, but he knew not to do too much. He liked easy work, but a quick meeting with his principal and foster parents caused him to be put in all advanced classes. Suddenly, school became all text books and grades. There was no joy of learning, only succeeding. He thinks that’s when the skipping began. Then the fights followed shortly after. Ezekiel never understood the hatred for the new kid, but at least he knew how to take a punch. Throwing one was different. Hitting was scary. Between bad foster families and life before foster care, he was too scared to throw a punch. He got over that fear at fifteen.
Kids were always mean to him. Calling him poor, freak, orphan, etc. Sometimes he wondered if kids ran out of things to make fun of. Most of those were genuinely pathetic to even bully him for, yet he still took the insults until one day he was already in a horrible mood. One moment he was at his desk, the next he was standing and a kid was passed out on his bag.
At sixteen he ran away from his foster home. There was a third reason why he hated foster homes out of town: it was far from any big city. He snuck out just after everyone fell asleep. He took his small bag of clothes and a small sum of cash that he may or may not have stolen.
Surely enough, a missing persons report was filed and he was found a few days later. He was sent to a new foster family… it would be his last. This one was different from the rest. They stole and even encouraged stealing. He left school and continued stealing for a living. It seemed like the best outcome, but they were still horrible people. They adopted him once he proved himself a useful asset.
If Ezekiel had to choose between a life of stealing or a happy healthy family, he’d choose stealing. It’s all he knows… it's all he has ever been.
His parents dying was the worst day of his life. He still has the scars from the accident. They’re small, but when he takes off his shirt and catches glimpses of his back and shoulders, he grimaces.
He hasn’t been back home in a couple of months. He doesn’t miss the warmth, but he misses the beaches and some of the niche restaurants where he went to grab a quick bite. No one would question why a teenager was hiding out in a small cafe.
A few months into living with his new ‘family’, a letter was sent to him about some library. He hesitated. ‘Why would he want to join some dumb library?’ He tossed it into the trash. ‘Although, it could be a way out.’ He pondered for days. Heaven knows that Ezekiel Jones has been looking for a way out for the past nine years. Lenore allowed him to leave for America, but he had to promise that he’d send back every piece of jewelry, or anything worth anything. It was a fair deal. He gets to leave and she still makes a profit.
He never took her up on that offer or the letters offer. He remained in Australia until he was eighteen. Finally, he could escape the house he despises most. Freedom was just a breath away and he could do anything he ever dreamed of.
Stealing became second nature. It was an addiction that he couldn’t quit. He told himself that he would stop once he had enough money to get a nice apartment and a car, but that never happened. The eighteen year old landed himself in trouble with a security guard in Geneva. That’s the day he met Flynn— the one who led him to the other librarian’s and Baird. He was never too fond of strangers. There was always a hesitance to trust anyone in his life, but for once he put total faith in a stranger and believed that magic was real for a second. Genkins led them to the library and that’s been his home ever since.
Ezekiel wonders what life would’ve been like if he took the offer at sixteen. Maybe everything would’ve been better. His teen years were full of fights, handcuffs, rides in the back of police cars, different countries with many museums to borrow from, and a house that never felt like home.
The Library was always his favorite place he has ever been. He was always curious about history and science, but never got the privilege to sit down and learn. School wasn’t enjoyable, but he didn’t care— that’s what told himself— he couldn’t let himself care. Maybe in another universe he was a huge nerd like Cassandra or Stone.
Music was a passion of his. It was something that he held close to him; it made him forget the turmoil of everything around him. No one knew that he played guitar or the piano. One of his foster homes had an old piano and some practice books. Within the first few weeks of his stay, he learned the basics. Ezekiel was adept at reading sheet music. Quickly, he moved onto the guitar that he found in their shed. It was out of tune, but a quick YouTube tutorial aided him.
Ezekiel loved getting lost. His world has felt like it was on fire since his parents' deaths, but sometimes a breath of fresh air cooled him off, shielding him from the flames. Picking locks was a puzzle that soothed his mind. Sometimes when he plays the piano, he forgets he’s reading music. His fingers just know where to go and he’s lost in thought, but suddenly he’s at the end of the song and he miraculously finishes without error. It’s a floating feeling. He doesn’t hate it.
He hasn’t touched a piano or a guitar in years. He fears if he plays again, he’ll feel ten again.
———
Ezekiel wasn’t a morning person. Seven in the morning felt like hell, plus it was freezing! America felt like a bloody cooler in his opinion. Morning chill felt like it would last forever in his bones. Making his way to the annex, he could feel the frost crunch under his shoes. In a few hours it would melt and the grass would be wet and bright green again.
There was an emergency discovery that was found by Jenkins at five this morning. Ezekiel was the last to show as perusal. A gust of warm air greeted him as he opened the door to the long hallway leading to the annex.
Stone, Baird, and Jenkins were at the table. “Nice for you to join us, Jones.” Stone said as he mindlessly flipped through a large ancient book. Baird took Ezekiel’s bag and made a facial gesture that means, ‘get to the door now before I hang you’. Ezekiel gave a small smirk. A soft slam came from Stone’s book as he hopped off of his chair to join the other two. Due to Ezekiel’s constant lateness, the debriefing was done as soon as they entered the town that needed help.
The town was right outside of a large forest that looked easy to get lost in. He thinks maybe they’re in Colorado. Baird is talking but he isn’t listening. He’ll figure it out.
“—split up in pairs and find a house that looks science-esque.” Baird said. He didn’t catch anything else, but all he knew is that he was stuck with Stone while Baird searches for Cassandra and Flynn. Those two were eager to get a jump start apparently.
The Colorado town was cold still and the sun was barely out. You could still see the moon in the sky and your breath was visible. Ezekiel curses his light sweatshirt that he put on blindly before leaving his apartment this morning. Baird always gets on him for not dressing professionally enough.
“They should’ve given us a truck or something,” Stone says before blowing warm air into his hands. “It’s freezing.”
Stone had a jacket on. He has always been one to prepare— or maybe he actually listened to the phone call this morning. Ezekiel wishes Jenkins would learn how to text in the group chat. The group chat is only used to check in on everyone on missions, and the occasional cat pictures from Cassandra.
Stone and Ezekiel made their way to the center of the town where they scouted out potential homes that may be science labs. A large brick home was at the end of the block. It was old and had a few bricks missing with moss swallowing the bottom half of the building. The cement stairs were chipped and stained. It appeared abandoned, but that warranted a quick search.
“Does that look ‘magicy’ to you?” Ezekiel asks. The younger boy unhooks the metal fence and steps through the tall uncut grass.
“You think they’re hiding a science lab in there? It looks like it’s at the brink of collapse.”
Stone hesitantly follows Jones up the stairs. “Jones, the only lab we’ll be finding is a meth lab; you don’t want to mess with that.”
“Well if we do find that, then that’s one less thing for this town to worry about.”
Ezekiel knows a little too much about drugs. The streets were littered with it and the people were wasting away with every shot and huff. The smell isn’t foreign to him. He thought that the smell would make his nose bleed when he was younger. It was like huffing nail polish, but ten times worse.
Stone steps in front of him and twists the door handle. Ezekiel steps back as he watches Stone push on the door, but his strength was to no avail. Ezekiel reaches into his bag and grabs his lock picking kit. It’s his time to shine since he can already guess that Stone isn’t too keen on breaking any windows. He pulls out a brown bag that has various metal sticks and other tools. He mindlessly unlocks the door.
Stone pats him on the back. “Good work, Jones.” Ezekiel rolls his eyes and collects his things. The house looks like it was ransacked years ago. It was filled with vintage furniture from anywhere from the 30’s-50’s. Dust and dirt littered the floor and mold was visible in the ceiling.
“Maybe this is just an abandoned house that would’ve been too expensive to demolish.” Stone says. He pulls out a flashlight and makes his way down the hall where the stairs to the second floor are. Ezekiel goes the opposite way to the downstairs. The main floor is only a living room and kitchen and maybe a bathroom in one corner.
The air felt thick and musty in Ezekiel’s throat. He pulls up the front of his sweatshirt to block out the smell. ‘No meth lab at least’ he thinks. He let out a rough cough and cursed himself again for forgetting his inhaler. Normally, he doesn’t walk through health hazards everyday. The steps were steep and led him to a long dark hallway that was at an angle going down. He pulled out his phone and used the flash. He’s sure Baird packed him a flashlight, but his phone was more convenient just in case he needed to call Stone or Jenkins for a door. Wooden floors and concrete walls were an odd choice in Ezekiel's opinion, but a cellar door on the floor caught his eye. There were thick metal chains and another lock. The boy sighed and pulled out the pliers instead of just picking the lock. Curiosity got the best of him. He pried the cellar door open and flashed his light to see how far the drop was. There was a large crate just below him, so he threw his bag down and lowered himself down.
Ezekiel would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit freaked out. Even with his flash on, the room was still and abyss in the corners. He had no idea how deep underground he was. There were no windows, no lights, just a room with large crates and spider webs. It reminded him of the cellars on the farm. He shuddered a bit. The numbness in his hands and feet were back. Ezekiel debates on going back, but as he turns around, his light makes contact with a door hidden behind a few boxes.
“If this isn’t a lab, I swear to god—“ Ezekiel mutters under his breath.
He pushes the boxes over. It makes a loud crash and Ezekiel winces. Metal clangs to the floor and pieces begin to roll out. He steps forward to investigate. Wires, pipes, bolts, and wrapped up packages lay on the floor by his feet. Nothing looks old or rusted. Perhaps they were freshly imported or vaguely new. ‘Maybe I am in the right place’ he thinks.
Quickly, he makes his way to the door. He doesn’t want to spend another minute down in the creepy cellar. To his surprise, the door is unlocked. For the first time since he entered the abandoned house, he is greeted with a clean room and bright lights. Bingo. He goes to text Stone.
Found the lab
He slides his phone in his pocket and waits for a response, but for now he decides to look around. Maybe he’ll find something that he can pocket for later. His kleptomaniac tendencies never went away.
Five minutes pass and he’s tempted to call Jenkins to make a door. He checks his phone with no notifications from anyone. He sighs with frustration. Of course no one is going to text him! There’s no cell service from the cellar. He’s not too deep underground, but the walls are thick cement. He gets a few pictures in and decides to turn back.
Ezekiel's world goes white for a few seconds as a strong force brings him down. Sharp pains are scattered all around his torso. His head hits a counter as he forces himself up. With shaky legs he lifts his body and backs away from a man that suddenly attacked him.
“I— I don’t mean any harm, mate… I’m a librarian” He says through a wobbly voice.
The man looks to be in his 50’s. He has a thick brown beard and a long scar that goes through his eye. The man ignores him and throws a punch at Ezekiel. Warm liquid drizzles down his face.
Ezekiel grabs a beaker on the counter and throws it at the man. The glass shatters and he hunches over. The shards are all over the man's face.
One thing Ezekiel is great at is running away. Bailing from the scene and escaping is his forte, and that’s exactly what he’s doing. He ignores the piercing pain that radiates all over his body, but especially his head and chest. Quickly, he grabs his bag and lifts himself out of the cellar and runs through the dark hallway. Too panicked to even grab his phone, but he can feel the persistent buzzing as he makes his way up the steep stairs.
“STONE!” He desperately calls out. His voice is raspy from the air. He runs through the house— hopping over the holes and dead wood scattered around the floor and calls out his name, but there’s no response. There’s an abundance of light that shined into the house that wasn’t there before. There was a chunk missing from the back. Ezekiel swears under his breath. The house is going to collapse soon. Loud creaks echo all around him and he notices more dust falling on him. Time is running out. A snap echoes and he watches the kitchen get crushed by the second floor. ‘Oh god, please don’t let Stone be up there’ he silently prayed.
Ezekiel felt trapped. Everything around him was coming down and he didn’t know where else to go. He needed an escape; he’s great at that. For as long as he remembers, he has always been looking for an escape. So why can’t he find one now when his life depends on it? He leaves when he’s bored, he leaves when he knows there’s an easier way out. But there’s no easier way out— there’s not even a way out…
More bricks came tumbling down as the rest of the house crumbled to smithereens. Another wall comes plummeting down. There goes that exit. Ezekiel can envision his fate string being cut. He remembers Stone telling him about Greek mythology the other day. ‘How ironic’ he thinks.
Was he afraid of death? He was asleep during the car accident that took his parents. He didn’t know until he woke up alone in a hospital bed. ‘Did they feel fear like this? Did they try to search for a way out?’ Ezekiel wonders. All of his near death experiences could never amount to this. He is aware that he is minutes away from seeing his parents again.
“No, Ezekiel Jones does not lose to a bloody house.” He says through gritted teeth.
Ezekiel Jones refuses to accept fate just as much as he refuses riding in the back of police cars. The shift of the foundation of the house seems to mock him. The floorboards protested under his feet. Darkness was slowly engulfing the inside of the house as every possible exit began to close in. The only light was the window, but it was so far away. He didn’t dare to shift from where he stood. Falling through the wood would eliminate the possibility of survival completely.
Fate was not on his side.
———
Stone only made it to two rooms before Baird came running up the stairs.
“Baird, what are you doing here—“ Stone says before Baird grabs his arms and drags him back downstairs.
“We are getting you and Jones the hell out of here! Cassandra detected energy coming from 50 feet below the surface of this house. The lab is definitely down there, but I’ll be damned if I let you two down there when the house is about to collapse.”
Stone forces Baird to stop at the end of the stairs. “Are you kidding me? Jones is down there!” He cried out.
Both the guardian and librarian messages the younger librarian. “There’s no way there’s any cell service down there, it was hard enough for Cassandra to detect the radiation. Flynn said something about how thick cement walls will often blocks detectors.”
“Okay, so what do we do?” Stone asks.
“We get out of here for our own safety. We are no use if both of us are crushed, understood?”
Jacob nods. Baird was always good at picking up her librarians' worries. She always managed to keep calm to reassure them under pressure.
But usually nothing goes to plan. A small section of the house crumbled right in front of them, which led to Baird pushing Stone out the front door. You could hear the wood snapping and concrete falling from a mile away.
Flynn and Cassandra were sitting in a white truck. Their faces white as they watched the house slowly fall apart. Flynn sprints out of the driver's seat and makes his way to Baird. Cassandra is quick to follow.
“Woah woah woah!” Flynn cried out. “Ezekiel Jones is not in there; is he?” There was no response. Only silence.
“He went to the basement while I went upstairs— we should have stuck together!” Stone cursed out loud.
“No! We can still save him! Jenkins can make a door— or or maybe we could—“ Cassandra frantic worries were cut off as the whole house collapsed onto itself. The red heads cry muffled as she cupped her hand to her mouth.
“JONES!” Baird cried out. She ran to the house and kept calling out her librarian's name— her voice soon becoming raw as tears trickled down her cheek.
“No, this can’t be happening.” She whispered. She threw bricks to the side, but only made a dent into the house. Ezekiel can’t be gone. The world's greatest thief cannot die like this! It’s unfair. ‘He’s so young, he doesn’t deserve to go out like that’ she thinks. Flynn grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her away from the rubble.
Baird was Ezekiel’s guardian. Him dying is on her and she knows that. She failed him. Baird couldn’t breathe. Ezekiel Jones can’t go out like this. He was her friend— she had this parental instinct around him. She was almost tempted to put him in bubble wraps once from one mission where he kept getting bumps and scrapes. It’s a fond memory that brought her warmth in her achy chest. He jokingly called her mother Baird afterwards. It dawns on her that she’ll never get to hear his voice again…
“Flynn, we need to find the body.” Baird says through tears and a broken sob. “We need to—“ She unleashes an agonizing scream. Flynn wraps her up in an embrace on the moss covered stairs. His eyes burn with tears as well.
Flynn and Jones were never close, but he still cared for the young librarian. Sure, he admits that he did not like the kid when they met, but after the course of a few years he has grown quite fond of the thief. Perhaps he saw himself in Ezekiel. A young naïve teen. He can only hope that death greets the kid with delicate tenderness.
Stone and Cassandra held onto each other, none of them daring to move from the site. Ezekiel Jones was in there— his body was 50 feet below the surface. Stone knew they couldn’t retrieve him. There was too much rubble and debris. His mind raced thinking about what to do. There would be nobody in the casket at the funeral— and oh god— they would be burying a kid. He wasn’t even old enough to drink yet. He wanted to take him out for his 21st birthday despite knowing that Jones had drank alcohol before, but it’s American tradition to drink on your 21st. This was unfair. He cursed every god he could think of for letting this happen to his friend.
Cassandra cried silent tears. Her hands gripped Stones jacket sleeve in fear that he would somehow disappear. Death wasn’t an anomalous thing in her life. She has always looked death in the eyes due to her tumor. The fear vanished, but this struck her with such an unapologetic force and the fear returned tenfold. Yet again, she was reminded that death is inevitable, even to the ones around her. She always expected it would be her, not the ones she loved. In that moment she wishes it was her. Maybe it would be easier to process because— well— she would be the one under the rubble, unable to feel a thing. She hopes that it was painless. Ezekiel doesn’t deserve a painful end. He deserves to grow old and explore the world.
In a world of magic, Cassandra is hesitant to pray. Gods and goddesses are real, but they won't listen. Mankind has always been selfish ruthless creatures, so to pray, it would be like shouting into a void. She looks up and is met with a molten blue sky. In movies there’s always gray clouds and rain.
Someone should call Jenkins. Someone needs to break the news to his family. Someone needs to do something.