If Jacob had expected any kind of gentle ride to the door back to the Annex, he would've been disappointed. Parker, apparently, learned to drive in a demolition derby. Or, perhaps, from a drunken taxi driver in Kuala Lumpur.

Jacob counted it a win that he managed not to throw up during the drive, nor the lurching stop.

Parker was out of the car and by his door before Baird even got her door open. "C'mon!"

Parker helped him out of the car, supported him until Baird reached his other side.

"Eliot, we're here," Parker said.

"He took out his comm," Jacob said. "I saw him."

Parker's expression crashed, and he wished he hadn't said anything.

"Quinn," Baird barked. "Status?"

No answer came.

Baird repeated the question twice more, and Jacob swallowed back a lump in his throat. He'd never begrudge anyone for giving in to emotional pain on top of physical pain, but he couldn't allow himself that luxury - not here, not now, not until they were safely home.

"We should go," Baird murmured.

"No," Parker snapped. "I'm not leaving without him."

"You know he probably didn't survive," Baird began, and Jacob barely recognized the anguished cry as his own.

"I don't care." Parker's expression turned mulish. "He always said he'd die to protect us. The least I can do is bring him home."

"Parker," Baird began, then broke off to look at Jacob.

Jacob could only shake his head.

"It's the right thing to do," Parker said firmly. "You guys go on. I'll do it."

She glanced at Jacob, and he met her gaze without flinching. He nodded, once, and she nodded back, a silent acknowledgment of the risk she was taking and the closure she offered.

Parker held the look a moment longer, then turned to get back in the car they'd escaped in.

Just as she turned the engine over, a voice crackled through their earbuds.

"You better have that magic door open, because we're coming in fast."

Parker squealed, and Jacob winced, even though he shared her relief. It was Quinn, not Eliot, but he'd said we.

Eliot was alive.

Jacob turned to the door closest to him, reached for it, and when it opened, he could see the Annex beyond. He blinked at the linen fabric draped over the … well, everything, but said only, "Ready for you."

"Go on," Baird told him. "You'll only slow us down if they're hurt."

Jacob wanted to protest, but he knew Baird was right. One step, two, and he bit back a groan as he stumbled into the Annex.

Only to groan aloud when Cassandra flung her arms around him. "You're back!"

"Got to move," Jacob said. "The others are coming through behind me - I think Eliot's hurt."

Cassandra allowed him to move them a few steps away from the door, but didn't loosen her grip. Jacob scowled, and pushed her away. "Ribs, Cassie."

"You're hurt," Cassandra exclaimed. "Jenkins!"

Jenkins came in from his lab, if the white coat he wore was anything to judge by. "Welcome back, Mr. Stone."

"He's hurt," Cassandra said.

Before Jenkins or Jacob could respond, Parker's voice echoed through the Annex. "Coming through!"

The woman herself followed hard on her words, lunging past Jacob and Cassandra to whisk - no, fling - the contents of the new, round table to the floor.

"Miss Parker," Jenkins began. "Was that really necessary?"

He was answered by Baird and Quinn's entrance, Eliot supported between them. They laid him on the table, and Quinn pulled a knife from a sheath at his ankle and started to unfasten Eliot's flak jacket.

"Tell me you have a blowout kit, Colonel," Quinn said.

"Like for a tire?" Cassandra asked.

"I don't, dammit," Baird replied.

"Any kind of hemostatic agent?" Quinn pressed. He'd gotten the flak jacket open and now was cutting through Eliot's shirt. "He'll bleed out if you don't."

Jacob wanted to check his twin's condition for himself, but knew better than to get in the way of the people trying to save his life. He could only stand and watch, and wait, and pray.

"I said no," Baird snapped. "Jenkins, re-set the door to the nearest hospital. It's his only chance."

"Colonel Baird." Jenkins's voice was as calm as ever, and Jacob clung to that steadiness in the wake of Baird's declaration. "Remember where you are. What, exactly, happened?"

"Two guys with tactical assault weapons," Quinn told him. "What part of he'll bleed out didn't you understand?"

"Ah, the impatience of youth," Jenkins said. "Excuse me."

If his twin weren't bleeding - dying - Jacob would've laughed at Quinn's expression when Jenkins body-checked him aside.

"Mm, yes, that is serious." Jenkins looked up at Quinn. "Can you remove the bullet?"

Quinn's expression darkened, and he drew a breath to - Jacob didn't know what Quinn intended. But he cut it off before it began.

"It's okay, Quinn. Do what he says."

"Even if it means your brother's life?" Quinn demanded.

"It won't," Jacob said. Quinn glared at him, but turned back to Eliot.

Jenkins turned to Cassandra. "If you'll check the Library, row 712, shelf 6A, I believe you'll see what we need there. Bring it - quickly, please."

"Pressure, as soon as the slug's clear," Quinn said, and Baird nodded a grim acknowledgment.

Then a small hand slipped into Jacob's, and he turned to see Parker standing next to him, staring at his twin with wide, anxious eyes.

Jacob could only squeeze her hand in reassurance.

"What the hell?" Quinn's startled yelp yanked Jacob's attention back to the table where Eliot lay -

- and he almost laughed aloud when he saw Excalibur lying on Eliot's chest.

"Well, yes." Jenkins sounded thoughtful. "That works, too."

"Cal!" Flynn's voice echoed through the Annex. "Cal, where'd you go?"

Then Flynn burst through the curtains hanging from the second story, a sword in his hand, and stopped dead in his tracks.

"No," he said. "This is not the way to keep a secret, Cal."

Flynn strode forward, reached out a hand toward Excalibur.

A growling noise from the sword made Flynn jerk back, Quinn stare, and Jacob laugh, even though his ribs hurt with it.

Parker crept forward, and only then did Jacob realize her hand wasn't in his anymore. Just pretend it never happened - safer that way.

She looked at Eliot, then reached out to stroke one fingertip down Excalibur's grip. "Thank you for saving my friend."

"I've got it!" Cassandra came in, then, waving a clear vial filled with green liquid. Jacob recognized it from his first mission, before he was truly a Librarian. Bathsheba's Oil of Healing.

Cassandra stopped when she saw Excalibur. "I guess you don't need it, after all."

"Stone does," Baird says. "He was beaten pretty badly."

"Be fine in a few days," Jacob said. More like weeks.

"No need to be stubborn, Mr. Stone," Jenkins said. "We can spare a drop for you."

He withdrew an eyedropper from the pocket of his lab coat and offered it to Jacob.

Jacob eyed it suspiciously. "Where's that been?"

"No place that would make you uncomfortable," Jenkins replied.

"That's reassuring." But Jacob took the eyedropper and carefully piped some of the Oil into it. He let one drop fall onto his tongue, then returned the rest to the bottle Cassandra still held.

She smiled at him as she re-capped the bottle.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, maybe it was the placebo effect, or maybe, just maybe, he wasn't hurting as much as he had been.

He was feeling better, his brother was alive - Jacob decided it had been a good day, after all.

Except -

"Shit," he muttered.

"What?" Baird asked.

"The reason I went to San Lorenzo in the first place," he said. "I didn't get the artifact."

"Artifact?" Parker perked up. "You were going after an artifact?"

"I managed to ID it just before those guys grabbed me," Jacob said. "It's still sitting in Moreau's library. Or it was."

"I'll get it," Parker offered. "What's it look like?"

"A nineteenth century Katar dagger," Jacob told her.

"And I'll know it from other daggers because…?"

"It's got two flintlock pistols built into the grip."

"Huh. Okay." Parker turned toward the Back Door, paused to look over her shoulder at Eliot. "Wanna come?"

"He's not awake yet," Jacob began, but broke off when Excalibur wiggled its pommel in what would be a negative manner if Excalibur had been human.

"You're right," Parker said. "Grumpy Eliot needs you more."

Then she was gone.

"A flying sword," Quinn muttered. "And some kind of healing potion. Not to mention a teleportation device - or a miniaturized Einstein-Rosen bridge."

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio," Jacob quoted.

From behind him, Eliot groaned. "I did not get shot just to listen to you recite Shakespeare."

"You're awake," Jacob said.

"Doesn't take a 190 IQ to figure that out, genius," Eliot shot back, and Jacob grinned. His twin was definitely better. "Okay, sword, I'm fine, quit cuddling, or whatever it is you're doing."

"Healing you," Cassandra said.

"Oh." Eliot patted Excalibur awkwardly. "Thanks, then."

Excalibur floated up off Eliot's chest, point down, and dipped its hilt, almost as if in a bow. Then it leveled out and, point first, flung itself toward Flynn.

"Hah!" Flynn parried, but was forced a step back, then another and another as Excalibur pressed its advantage.

Quinn's expression made Jacob chuckle and clap the other man on the shoulder. "Think of them as Kato and the Green Hornet."

"That - makes an odd kind of sense," Baird said.

"Colonel." Eliot's voice made them all turn to him. He'd sat up and was exploring the place where his wound had been with one hand.

Eliot was staring at Baird, and Baird straightened, if only slightly.

"Jenkins," she said, "I think you owe Quinn his phone back. Cassandra, if you'll return the Oil. And I'll just - go make sure Flynn doesn't destroy the place."

"You'll have to teach me how you do that," Jacob told his twin.

Eliot quirked a grin, but now he was focused on Quinn. "You get it."

"Get what?" Quinn asked, frowning. Then his expression cleared. "Yeah, I get it."

"I don't," Jacob said.

"In helping him help you," Quinn explained, "I learned that Eliot Spencer has a brother. In our line of work, that kind of knowledge could be worth a lot to the right people."

Jacob got it. "Like Damien Moreau."

"Among others," Quinn agreed.

"I gave you leverage over me," Eliot said. "But this place, these people - they're Jake's. You get that?"

"I got it," Quinn said.

Then the Back Door opened, and Parker breezed in just ahead of what appeared to be a massive rainstorm. Jacob ran to close the door.

"Weather changes fast in San Lorenzo," Parker observed, then slung a pack from her shoulder onto the table.

"That's a pretty big pack for a Katar dagger," Jacob observed.

Parker pulled the dagger from the pack and offered it to him. "This is for you. The rest is for me."

"The rest?" Jacob repeated, even as Eliot pinched the bridge of his nose. "Parker-"

"It's okay, the general was there. He didn't mind."

"General?" Jacob asked.

"A friend. At least, he was before this." Eliot jerked his chin toward Parker, who still rummaged in the depths of her pack.

"Your cell phone, Mr. Quinn." Jenkins moved almost as silently as Parker did, Jacob thought. "I assure you, it hasn't been tampered with in any fashion."

"Thanks." Quinn slipped the phone into his pocket without turning it on.

"And I believe we owe you transport, as well," Jenkins continued. "Back to Marseille? Or is there somewhere else you'd prefer to go?"

"This is from me." Parker turned from her pack so quickly Jacob was surprised she didn't give herself whiplash. "Thanks for helping Grumpy Eliot get Happy Eliot back."

Quinn took the package - a leather box - she offered, opened it.

Jacob couldn't help whistling. "D'you know what that is?"

Quinn looked at him. "Do you?"

Jacob snorted. "That's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, the 1969 Maecenas Press edition. Illustrated by Salvador Dali, and signed by him. Only a couple thousand copies were produced."

"It's valuable, then?" Quinn asked.

"A copy sold in the low five figures a couple years ago," Jacob said.

"Thank you, Parker." Quinn's grave tone matched his expression. Parker beamed a smile at him before turning back to her pack.

"Marseille, I believe?" Jenkins prompted.

"Marseille," Quinn agreed.

Eliot slid down from the table, offered a hand to Quinn. "Thanks. I owe you a favor."

Quinn took his hand, glanced at Jacob. "For this, you owe me a lot of favors."

"Don't push your luck." But Eliot was grinning when he said it.

Then Quinn turned to Jacob. "Take care of yourself."

Jacob shook his hand in turn. "Thanks. You, too."

Quinn stepped through the Back Door and almost before it closed completely, Jenkins broke the connection and spun the globe, so that even if Quinn tried the door he'd stepped through, he wouldn't find the Annex again.

"So," Jacob said. "Anyplace else I shouldn't go?"

"Myanmar," Eliot replied promptly. "Half a million dollar bounty on my head there."

"Maybe I should've asked how many other places I shouldn't go?"

Eliot smirked. "The list is short, but distinguished."

Jacob sighed. "I'll get a pen."