Chapter Text
She is free.
Every time the thought passes through her mind, and it does so with increasing frequency, she starts giggling. And then tears bloom in her eyes, and she lies in the bed laughing and crying like an insane person until a concerned nurse comes over to ask if something’s wrong and whether she would like them to give her more meds.
No, nothing’s wrong, Cassandra says.
Nothing could ever be wrong again.
*
Every time she wakes up, it’s everywhere all around her, this huge feeling of fullness in everything her senses can reach, everything her numbers embrace.
The soft cadence of a bird through the open window.
The rays of light that reflect from the surfaces at such pleasant angles.
The smell of antiseptic that doesn’t bother her anymore.
The molecules of nitrogen and oxygen that have never tasted so delicious.
Her head is light with deliverance and her arms are heavy with love.
She wants to hug the whole world.
Maybe this time it lets her.
*
It’s funny, she muses as she leaves the hospital (free, she's free) – all the magic in existence at her disposal, and it was the doctors and medicine that saved her.
Just as well, she thinks then. Had it been magic, she wouldn’t be able to keep it to herself – she’d want to share it, let everyone feel this wondrous joy that seemed forever out of reach. But the Library wouldn’t let her, and perhaps even the others… and she doesn’t know if she could continue being a Librarian after that. It’s good, all in all, that it turned out like this.
(Sometimes, she thinks, it can’t have been just medicine. No, it was the magic inside her wanting her to live, weaving the Loom of Fate for the best possible outcome, sparing her thread. Or God finally answered her prayers and healed her, guiding the surgeons’ hands. Or it was just her, and she wanted to live so much that there was no other option but to overcome.)
There are so many thoughts and feelings in her that she feels like a river, liquid and flowing and spilling over in equations sparkling all around her.
*
It happens when she enters the Annex like a rainbow on her first day back, grabs an unsuspecting Ezekiel, who happens to be closest, and draws him into a little dance. (He looks back at Eve with an exaggerated please-help-me face, and Cassandra giggles.)
When she lets him go, Flynn steps up smartly with an extended hand and she twirls from it, once and twice and three times (and it doesn’t make her dizzy!), before realizing the momentum has brought her in front of Jenkins.
He stands up. His smile is warm, his eyes forgiving. There is no love in them, not like Cassandra wanted – but also, there is love.
And perhaps that’s even better.
“May I have this dance, my lady?”
She grins.
“Of course, sir Knight.”
Everything inside her flutters, but his hands are steady and solid and he does have some experience with this, to put it very, very mildly. He leads her into a kind of waltz, generously compensating for her missteps and Cassandra almost melts in his arms, because even yearning feels sweet right now.
And suddenly, impossibly, Jacob is bringing out an old gramophone from somewhere and asking Eve for a dance, Ezekiel is saying he still can’t believe they’re so lame they’re gonna have the party at a library, and Cassandra is laughing and dragging him out of his chair again into a lopsided dance with her and Jenkins. She beckons Flynn over too, and then Eve and Jacob are upon her as well and she’s enveloped into a hug, and she feels like her heart might burst, brimming and overflowing in endless cascades. (There’s no calculating this; this has always been outside her grasp, both literally and figuratively – but maybe she doesn’t need to understand it. It just needs to understand her.)
And it dawns on her: she was wrong.
It’s not just Jenkins. She’s in love with all of them.
Eve and her blazing look and maternal arms. Flynn and his endless, contagious excitement. Ezekiel and the way he uses stealing as a love language. Jacob and his warmth and crinkled blue eyes and protectiveness. They’re all hers and she’s theirs and her heart is so full of love that she never thought could feel so whole.
*
The party lasts on well into the night. Jenkins has somehow dimmed the lights, and the Annex is lit by hundreds of brilliant stars from the Jar of Asteria. It’s also full of snacks that Ezekiel has smuggled from somewhere.
Because they have planned this.
A party for her, Cassandra Cillian. The math girl, the dying girl. For so long, she was only one, or both of those things. (And a third, perhaps, these past few years – friend, a word as bright and golden as the sun.) She counts the parties she’s been invited to in her life on her fingers. As for parties that someone organized just for her… that’s a thing of fairy tales, and somehow it’s fitting that it’s happening here, where all the fairy tales have come alive.
Midnight finds her swaying to the soft rhythm of the gramophone with Jacob. A comfortable sleepiness has begun to slow her moves, and she’s only still on her feet for the sheer pleasure of being able to be. The others are around, somewhere. She saw Flynn and Eve dancing drowsily in each other’s arms not a moment ago, and Jenkins and Ezekiel playing some sort of game – two-person flip cup, Ezekiel called it – and arguing over the modified rules.
Jacob smiles at her.
“You look happy,” he tells her, in that deep, genuine, raspy tone of his, and as if on cue, Cassandra’s eyes fill with tears.
“I am,” she says. Chuckling at the instant concern on his face, she waves her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, this is normal. Apparently it intends to keep happening.”
“Is it too much? It’s too much, isn’t it?” He frowns. “I knew it. We should’ve waited, given you some time to adapt. Are you tired? Do you wanna sit down?”
“No,” she laughs. “God, no.”
“It’s okay if you do, I mean it’s understandable –”
She puts a soft hand over his mouth. Her heart leaps at the way it feels like a kiss upon her fingers.
“Jacob,” she begins slowly, “I can’t even explain to myself how I’m feeling right now, let alone to anyone else. But I promise you, the one thing I’m definitely not feeling is a desire to stop dancing in any shape or form.”
He smiles against her fingers, though he still looks uncertain. She lowers her hand.
“If you’re sure.”
She gives him her most brilliant, sparkling smile, the one that seems to have become as natural as breathing.
“I’m sure.”
Soon, Flynn will fall asleep with his head on Eve’s shoulder and Eve will fall asleep with her head on Flynn’s head, and Jenkins will end up doused with beer and Ezekiel will be running away trying not to laugh, and Jacob will be gazing at her with stars reflected in his eyes and she’ll remember again how much she loves them all, and how freedom means such a big thing when you can feel it with your entire body.