A/N: Sorry it took so long folks.

Cassie stumbled through the wormhole, Jacob's arm going out to steady her automatically. He watched her head turn and take in the familiar sights and sounds of the office as if they were utterly new to her. No, not utterly new, he thought. More like she hadn't seen them in a long time and was checking to see what had changed. He felt his eyebrows descend; whatever had happened back there with that mask, something was very definitely wrong with Cassandra Cillian.

Ezekiel Jones, World Class Thief, strolled through the wormhole and out of the office. He was heading for Jenkins' lab: not because he had ben ordered by the old man to report to him as soon as they returned, oh no; because there was something of great importance that he needed the archivist's help on. Had there been no necessity, he would have made his report in his own sweet time. It wasn't so much what she had said that had worried him - memory issues were something he knew they could fix – but the way she had said it. He had spent the best part of his life observing people: trying to decipher whether or not they were a suitable mark, or what challenges they may pose for his heist plans. Since joining the Library he had begun using his observational skills on those from whom he would not dare steal (because the Colonel had made it explicitly and abundantly clear to him what she would do to him if he tried). Observing Cassandra was always his favourite hobby. Stone was too easy to read, as was Colonel Baird. Jenkins and Flynn were a bit more of a challenge. Cassandra, however, was just fun. Every case she encountered seemed to be a new and fascinating discovery in the world of magic, filled with joyous realms of possibility. She even treated people like they were magical artefacts. She treated him like one! That was a new and rare occurrence for Ezekiel Jones. Nobody had ever bothered to consider him before.

This new Cassandra, though: she seemed different. Sure, she was minus a couple of decades worth of memories, but surely that couldn't change the basic personality of a person, could it? He knocked on the door of the lab, brows furrowed deep in thought. The simple act of knocking was so unlike him that the first words out of the Caretaker's mouth told Ezekiel just how worried he must look.

"What happened?"

The thief shook his head and shrugged, walking past the old man into the room. "Cassandra got whammied, and I think it's more than just memory loss."

Jenkins sighed and shut the door. "Tell me everything."

XXXX

Jacob watched in silence as Cassandra traversed the office, delicate fingers trailing gracefully over piles of books, the desks and table, the bookshelves, the bannister, the card catalogue. He noted, with interest, that they did not touch Jenkin's desk. Nor did those once so fragile fingers come into contact with the mirror or clippings book. She circled back round to the shelves and a rustle filled the air. Not the pleasant rustle of the books welcoming home their friend and Librarian, but an uneasy rustle, like a dog who, hears footsteps at the door and knows they are not of his master's making.

XXXX

Jenkins turned the mask over in his hands. "And you're certain there was writing on this? On the back, you say?"

"Course I'm sure!" Ezekiel replied, perhaps a little more forcibly than he ought. "Look how could Cassandra read out something that wasn't there? Stone said it was Malay or something: Cassandra doesn't speak Malay!"

"Malay?" Jenkins frowned. "In Borneo?"

"Yeah, it was something like… Ugh, what was it," Ezekiel looked aside, snapping his fingers in irritation with his own brain. Before Jenkins could stop him, he looked up and continued, "Jiwa ke jiwa kata-kata ini menetapkan saya bebas."

Once again, a bright light filled the room, emanating from the mask out towards Ezekiel. When the light faded, Jenkins walked softly over to the prone figure on the floor and stretched out a hand, shaking a shoulder gently. There was a groan and two dark eyes blinked open, focusing first on the ceiling, then on the old man watching with a resigned expression on his face.

"Jenkins?"

"Last I checked," sighed the knight. "And let me guess: you're Cassandra."