Chapter Text
It was difficult at first.
The lying. It used to be second nature to Ezekiel, but after a certain point in the loop (He refuses to call it a game. It was never a game.) he just… stopped. There was no point. They wouldn’t remember. One time he stalled them by confessing to every single crime he had committed. Another time he told them every circumstance he’d lived through that still kept him up at night. It was easy. He knew them better than he’d ever known anyone. They never quite trusted him at the beginning of the loops but they always did before it reset. No matter how it reset.
So when it was over the first lie hurt.
It physically hurt Ezekiel to push the words out of his mouth. That little lie of omission. The lie of confusion. The lie that distanced him once more.
Because he decided long ago. He decided in those years in the loop that he had to. Given the chance he had to be able to leave who he’d become behind.
Ezekiel Jones was not selected to be a savior. He was not selected to be a friend. He was not selected to tell the truth.
So he did his best to once more be who the Library selected.
He almost slipped up a lot at first.
Little inside jokes that each of them had shared with him lingered on the tip of his tongue. References to their lives that they had told him that would jump right to his lips when something happened that reminded him of them, probably reminded them as well.
So he learned to be silent.
The snarkiness of Ezekiel Jones became a thing of the past. At first they commented on it. “Ezekiel, you’ve been quiet. Anything to add?” was one of the most common ones.
But slowly they stopped noticing that he had stopped talking. They were so busy after all. Cassandra in her own head more than in the real world. Stone running away from all his problems by smashing through things with obscure knowledge and brute force. And Eve. Eve had it the hardest. Wrangling three new librarians while another was always off nearly getting himself killed every other time he went through that door.
So, yeah. They stopped noticing.
And yeah, maybe it felt a bit like abandonment. A bit like being invisible. A bit like being a stranger in a group of people he called family, but every time it stung Ezekiel reminded himself that this was better. This was safer. This held the librarians together in a way that allowed them to work together easier which made missions safer. Ezekiel Jones, the Master Thief, had been the one the Library called to. Not Ezekiel Jones the Protector, or Ezekiel Jones the Little Brother.
He really did think it would be his smart mouth that got him in trouble, though. It almost was. Every once in a while one of those quips would slip out when he was just too bone tired to catch them and he would have to pretend to be confused when someone reacted. It hurt to pretend he didn’t know.
But in the end, it wasn’t his mouth. It was his hands. And his heart.
There was an incident they were running interference on. Just a bit of thievery. Apparently Anubis, some Egyptian god of the dead, was on strike and had taken some scales. Something about his boss Osiris treating him poorly and now a bunch of souls were wandering the earth awaiting judgement instead of being trapped in some chamber to wait as its guardian had left. Ezekiel wasn’t quite sure what happened as he slept through most of Eve’s briefing.
He hasn’t been sleeping well at night.
At least he never wakes up screaming from night terrors during his daytime naps. That was a trick he found out early on and abused it wholeheartedly.
Anyway, Ezekiel is supposed to be getting back this… set of scales or something. Eve’s fighting some mummies with Stone in the outer chamber, Cassandra’s running through some complex reasoning or therapy or something with this guy who has a dog head and Ezekiel is doing what he’s good at… which is sneaking unseen around the dog dude to get closer to the scales.
It’s all going pretty well at first.
No mummies have entered their chamber, Cassandra seems to be ranting about worker’s compensation and paid time off for some reason and the dog dude seems to be taking notes on what looks like genuine papyrus. Ezekiel even tries to catch a glimpse of his writing, but it’s a string of hieroglyphs. Right. He doesn’t have time to translate that right now, so he keeps moving, staying close to the many limestone pillars and massive pieces of gaudy furniture strewn throughout the huge chamber.
He senses movement and ducks under the table.
It’s Cassandra. The dog-headed man seems agitated and is stalking forward. She’s arguing something and waving her arms around frantically but he keeps advancing and she keeps backing up.
Right toward the scales.
The dog headed guy seems to be getting even more riled up and Cassandra is backing up even more quickly.
Ezekiel starts to panic. He may have skipped most of the briefing via nap, but he does remember that something horrid happens when someone touches the scales.
His job is to silently steal the scales with the protective gloves to keep him safe, but they’re in the bottom of his bag as he thought he’d have another few minutes to remove them after checking the hieroglyphics surrounding it on the table for warnings of a trap. But now Cassandra’s one step away from bumping into them and he has no time.
No resets this time. He pushes the thought out of his head and darts out from his hiding spot under the table to snatch the scales away from Cassandra right as he elbow swings back to narrowly miss hitting it.
“EZEKIEL, NO!” It’s Eve.
Too late. His hand closes around the middle shaft of the scales and he’s suddenly kneeling next to Cassandra.
Dog guy seems suddenly calm as he stares down his nose at Ezekiel.
“Thief. You have made a grave error in thinking that the scales are yours to touch. Yours to take.” The voice comes out in a low growl.
“Anubis, he’s sorry!” Cassie’s face is sheet white. “We’re just trying to put them somewhere safe so souls can pass on while you and Osiris sort out your differences. He means no harm, he just wanted to help, please, please let him go.” She sounds close to tears.
While that’s relatively normal, Ezekiel has a sinking suspicion that it’s pretty serious this time.
“Yeah, sorry, mate, I was just borrowin’ them. Wasn’t gonna keep ‘em. Promise.” Ezekiel flashes a winning smile.
Dog guy does not seem impressed. Ezekiel tries to rise to his feet but finds he can’t move. What the hell?
Cassandra continues to plead with him and suddenly Eve is next to him. “The gloves, Jones. Why didn’t you use the gloves?” She grits out.
Ezekiel stares at her. Didn’t she see that there was no time? No. All she saw was Ezekiel touching the scales with his bare hands. He supposed she was too preoccupied to see whatever led up to that.
Eve looks much older than her age all of a sudden. She seems to take his silence for confusion. “Jones. The ones that protect you from the scales? Ring a bell? Well, it’s too late now.”
If Ezekiel didn’t know any better, which he does, it looks like Eve’s about to cry. Shit shit. Eve almost never cries. He’d only seen her cry five times and they were all in the loop.
There’s a loud thud and then Stone is striding into the room. “What did Jones fuck up this time?”
“He touched the scales,” Cassandra says quietly, resigned.
Stone freezes, a look of horror washing over him. He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, the dog head speaks.
“Little thief. You, Ezekiel Jones of the Living, have chosen to touch the scales.” He side-eyes Cassandra and continues. “Intention has no purpose here. Should one of the flesh touch the scales, they shall be tried as if brought into The Hall of Ma’at. I, Anubis, call thee, Lord of the Dead, Osiris, to bear witness.”
There’s a flash of light and suddenly a man decked out in flashy colors stands before him as well. He barely blinks at the ragtag group in front of him.
“I, Osiris, Lord of the Dead, answer the call. I offer the Feather of Ma’at, for though we do not reside in her Hall, Ma’at may bring judgement nonetheless.” He lays a large feather onto one side of the scales, careful not to touch the scales himself.
Ezekiel can’t take it anymore. He interrupts. “No, I’m sorry, but what? Whose feather? What are they talking about? Why can’t I move?”
Cassandra sniffles, but answers, “Ezekiel, if someone who’s still alive touches Anubis’s scales, they initiate their judgement. Normally, you’d only be judged if you believed in the Egyptian gods and died. You’d show up and be judged as your religion dictates, but since you’re living and have touched them, it doesn’t matter. They have to judge your heart.”
Ezekiel sputters. “What? What does that even mean?”
Osiris finally looks at him and extends a hand out toward him, reaching, palm down.
There’s a soft tugging in his chest, then he suddenly feels very light.
Everything feels very surreal as Osiris places his red, still-beating, heart on the scales across from the feather.
The scales begin to rock up and down.
The dog guy— Anubis, he supposes, speaks again, “Ezekiel Jones, Master Thief of this Age, Librarian, Protector, One Who Has Resurrected Innumerous Times, you shall be measured for all twenty-seven years of your life.”
Ezekiel twitches, but can’t tear his eyes away from the tipping of the scales.
Anubis continues before anyone can comment, “As you are of the living, should the feather balance, you shall be released back into life and continue as you have been. Should your heart stand heavy, it shall be consumed by Ammit and your soul shall drift without rest forevermore.”
He can hear muttered confusion from behind him, presumably about the age thing.
He ignores it. There’s a deep burning where his heart should be and it’s making him gasp for breath.
Moments of his life are suddenly flashing by as if someone compiled every decision and mistake he’d made and put them on fast forward.
It starts when he’s 18 and being kicked out. The hunger getting too much, it’s the moment he first steals food out of an older woman’s basket as she makes her way slowly to her house. Her angry yells echoing as he takes off down the street. A flash and suddenly he's stealing his first sculpture. Another flash and he’s handing the artifact to the descendant of the artist who had never sold it, but had instead been robbed in death. A grateful man pressing a small amount of money into his hand as he gratefully accepts, too hungry to say no.
A flash and he’s back at the old woman’s house, leaving a basketful of bread on her porch and bolting off down the street. The curtain in the second floor window swaying as a shadow moves away from it.
Ah, he’d forgotten that. He’d remembered his first theft, the guilt he had for stealing from her. He remembered his first theft of the art. Being hell-bent on returning it to its rightful owners, but somehow he’d forgotten that moment with the bread.
His decisions continue on.
Accepting MI-6. The choices that came with it.
The other series of thefts, the series of returning the items to their rightful owners.
His petty thefts. The ones where he lifted cards off wealthy businessmen, spending their money on food and stashing it away until the missing cards were identified and cancelled.
Then the decision to go to the library. His decisions since.
Then, finally, the loop. He refuses to focus on the images he can’t look away from. The images are running in his mind but that does not mean he has to actively remember them.
He thinks instead of the happier moments. He forces his memory toward Cassie’s favorite sounds, Stone’s favorite architecture and who it was created by, Eve’s favorite stories. He remembers his skepticism of receiving the letter. His realization that magic is real. But ultimately he cannot stop himself from thinking of his hardest decision. The choice to hide who he is from his fellow librarians. The choice to hide who he is from his family in all but name and their own memories.
The reel of memories has stopped. So have the scales.
There’s an open sound of shock behind him. Ezekiel can’t help but agree as he stares blankly at the balanced scales.
His legs unlock. He rises, stunned.
Osiris is holding his heart once more, this time pressing it gently to his chest. Ezekiel watches numbly as it sinks like a stone to sit back inside him.
He feels very heavy.
Osiris looks at him knowingly, “Your friends do not hold much faith in who you are, Ezekiel Jones.” He almost seems to hesitate but continues nonetheless. “Yet you sacrifice much for them anyway. I speak not for Ma’at and the decision she has made regarding how your heart weighs, but I cannot help but recognize that the lives you lived have had a significant impact on how your heart balanced.”
Ezekiel flinches away. He does not respond. He does not, for once in his life, take the artifact he is here to take.
He leaves the scales and the librarians behind as he quietly walks out of the chamber, goes around the inanimate mummies strewn on the floor outside, and exits back through to the Annex.
They can sort this one out without him. After all, Osiris and Anubis are right there and Eve is nothing but effective in her dressing-downs of deities.
He vaguely hears Jenkins ask where the others are.
He thinks he replies something about being along soon.
Then Ezekiel Jones does what he does best. He vanishes into the night.