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Jenkins was an annoying and cryptic man, yet, despite this, he was indispensable. He had a knowledge of the magical world that was far more profound and in depth than the mythological lore she and the Librarians-in-Training had combined. In fact, she would go so far as to say that he knew more than Flynn, who spoke of magic in every aspect with a casual ease. Jenkins spoke of magical history and culture as if he had been there—which she couldn't be sure was impossible. After all, she had met the Founder of the ancient institution they stood in a few years after his death.
She turned over the paperwork with a small frown. Normally, Jacob would have helped her until they were finished and Cassandra would go until she was too tired to keep her eyes open, but it had been a rather brutal mission in the Saharan desert and she was the only one that wasn't dead on her feet.
"Now, Colonel, I know you didn't stay behind to see me," Jenkins said with a playful smile as he leaned against the desk she shared with Flynn.
It was difficult to stop her own smile at the sight. When he was in an impish mood after work, he was actually pretty charming. It was a stark contrast to how he was during missions where he was often stubborn as a mule and testing her patience.
"No, not for you this time," she teased in return. "I'm going over the acquisition paperwork from this last mission."
His expression fell with disappointment and had become almost scolding. "You spoil them. They ought to be doing these things themselves."
"Do you want them done quickly and correctly?"
"Of course, but they need to set aside time to manage these. If they can't manage this, then I doubt they'll be adequate liaisons for foreign magical embassies." He leaned forward so that most of his weight was on his arm and glanced over the paperwork languidly. "There's a chance they could meet their demise due to paperwork—you know how that bureaucracy works—but they'll need to learn just as they did with missions… By themselves."
She set aside her pen entirely and leaned back in her chair with a challenging tilt of her head. "What do you suggest I do in the meantime? Rest?"
The twinkle in his eyes returned full force and he began gathering and organizing the paperwork as his smile slowly grew. "I propose you set aside all of this for them to finish in the morning and you come with me for something far more entertaining."
Her eyebrows rose at his mischievous tone. "And what would be the entertainment?"
She turned her chair to face him as he walked around the desk and noted that he placed all of the paperwork on the corner of the desk.
In front of her, he offered his hand with a cheeky grin. "Why don't you come and find out? After all, we have the Annex to ourselves and no paperwork to hold us back."
She looked between him and the work he'd so carefully put away with some internal debate.
She liked having everything completed before she went home. When confined behind a desk and forced, focusing on acquisitions and performance reports and endless correspondence for the sake of the mission, it was often that she was the last to leave. Very nearly the last, anyway. Her last Sergeant Major had, many a time, knocked on her office door some half an hour before the end of the day and asked what was the last thing on her to-do list before she went home. If it was anything that he could help with, he would pull up a chair and open his laptop to help her finish and if it wasn't and it was after hours, he would pull out a book, kick up his feet and keep her company. He had always jokingly said that he'd look bad if he left his commander alone to burn the midnight oil. No matter how many times she had insisted that the old Sergeant Major went home to get some rest, he would give her a scolding look that reminded her of her father and passive aggressively keep working or reading. The second he caught that she started on something else, he'd lean over the desk and snatch her card out of the reader to forcefully log her off without destroying any progress. He was, in fact, the only one that could get away with that given their rapport and comradery.
Were he there now, he'd probably say, "It's play or go away. Your choice, Colonel."
The way that Jenkins was looking at her kind of reminded her of him. Something told her that if she didn't accept the offer, she'd be kicked out by force to get some rest.
"Alright, you've convinced me," she finally said while taking his hand.
"Excellent!" He pulled her to her feet with a large grin before turning and offering his arm like a gentleman. "I think you'll find my plans much more suitable."
She rolled her eyes as she took hold of his arm. "The way you're talking about it, it'd better be the most entertaining evening of my life."
As he began walking, he shrugged. "Well, if I'm wrong, you'll have bragging rights."
"Now I'm determined not to enjoy myself."
He glanced at her with a knowing look. "Good luck."
They walked past the armory that she was familiar with—the one that had guns from throughout history and ammunition of all kinds—to another armory with rows of weaponry from bows and arrows to throwing stars, from blow-darts to clubs and so much more. There was a methodical system that she could almost make out that ranged from geography, the time period and weapon type. There were wooden training weapons grouped in the middle that bled into the actual weapons and this was where he dropped her hold to peruse the wooden swords with whatever criteria he had in mind.
"What do you say to," he started slowly before glancing at her over the bracket, "a little spar?"
She eyed him dubiously. "Are you sure you're up for a spar?"
He scoffed as he turned his eyes back to the training weapons. "Trust me, Colonel, you're going to be struggling to keep up."
Her spine straightened automatically at the challenge. "Alright, you're on."
He chuckled lowly as he plucked out two swords. "I knew you'd see reason. Now, hold this and tell me how it feels."
She took the offered sword and found that it was lighter than what she had expected for all that it was about as long as her arm. "It feels nice. Light."
He nodded and twirled a much shorter wooden sword in his hand with such casual ease that it seemed natural even in his suit. "Perfect. I don't want you crying about any disadvantages or cheating on my part."
"Giving me a lighter sword and a further reach… I'll take those odds."
"There's a room where we can spar next door. Let's go have some fun."
Whatever confidence she had held in her own skills had been quickly and thoroughly slain by Jenkins at every turn, because whenever she thought she'd managed to figure out his patterns and his capabilities, he would change it up. He sparred as if he'd been doing it all of his life and with the energy of a man ten years her junior. What was most frustrating was that he'd dart into her space and tap the side of his sword against her leg to correct her stance or remind her to fix her grip. Perhaps what was more irritating than all of that was the fact that he made it look like gorgeous choreography rather than an actual fight.
She landed on her back, breathless, and stared at the ceiling recalculating everything she knew about the man thus far—which wasn't substantial, to be quite honest.
"You're improving already," he praised as he stepped forward and held out a hand. "I could keep training you if you'd like."
She grabbed his hand and used it as leverage to get to her feet. "You bet your ass we're doing this again. Another round?"
"No, I think not," he said as he strolled to the nearby supply table. He grabbed a towel and tossed it to her. "You do need to eat, shower and sleep. While you can do all of that here, you don't have any clothes stored away. Unless, of course, you would like to stay the night in borrowed clothes and go back to your apartment in the morning."
She dragged the towel across the back of her neck and stared at him. "What do you mean?"
He tilted his head and dipped his chin with disbelief. "You had no problem conceptualizing that we have two separate armories and a gym, but a kitchen and spare bedroom are outside of your imaginative ability?"
"It never occurred to me." Her mind connected the dots and she shook her head with a hard blink. "Wait, do you live here?"
"I do call this my Annex for a reason," he deadpanned while wiping his face of the minuscule sweat she'd managed to make him break and placing his weapon on the table. "There aren't many rooms. About… a dozen bedrooms with attached bathrooms and a kitchen—though the kitchen isn't adjacent to the residential area by any means due to being communal."
"You say a dozen isn't a lot of rooms? Why go through all the trouble?"
He took the training weapon from her hand and placed hers beside his. "You must keep in mind the purpose of the Library. While we're to keep the balance in the magical world, throughout history we've also been called upon to provide aid and Sanctuary during times of strife. Should any magical factions go to war, their refugees often seek asylum within the Library. The Annexes had some accommodations, but the Library has hundreds of rooms for such an occasion."
She turned over this information in her mind and cocked her head as she followed him out of the training room. "What about the wars going on now? What about them?"
His lips briefly pressed together in a regretful line. "If someone is aware of the Library or stumbles across it, we'll grant Sanctuary but we don't have the manpower to properly care for so many people after the mass exodus in the sixteenth century."
She hadn't heard of an exodus before, but then again she hadn't learned a lot about the institution she'd been called to join. Not yet anyway.
"What happened?"
"All of the Acolytes that had worked within the Library were either killed or turned against the institution. The internal damage was great enough that there was no choice but to downsize to as small of a unit as possible and rely on secrecy. The only ones aware of the Library are those entrenched in the magical world to begin with, bar the Librarian and Guardian should they come from the mundane world."
"But what about the security that the Library had at the Metropolitan?"
"All of them had grown up with magic in some way or were magical themselves. They already knew of the Library and had volunteered their services."
"But they looked so… normal."
"There're plenty of magical beings that can take or have a human form… and then there are plenty of witches as well." He paused to let her through to the kitchen.
She turned her head to look at him as she passed. "How do you know so much?"
His eyebrows twitched upward with mild surprise. "I've been around a long time and I, too, grew up with magic."
"What was it like? Growing up with magic?"
"It… Well, it was normal for me. I grew up around magic and so I never questioned it unless it was outside of the norm. Many people where I'm from could conjure fire for the fireplace and would make potions for maladies. It wasn't until I was… older that it became something to hide." He opened the fridge and cocked his head as he surveyed the ingredients within. "Do you have any allergies or preferences, Colonel?"
She shook her head as she leaned against the kitchen island when he made a gesture for her to stay where she was. "No. No allergies or preferences."
He gave her a look over his shoulder. "Surely you crave something."
"When you eat enough MREs, you really just take anything that's edible."
"Oh, I've got my work cut out with you," he groaned as he grabbed some ingredients.
She cocked her head. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that we'll be refining your palate again."
"Again?"
He pulled out a pot and began filling it with broth. "I believe it's safe to assume that your years of being a military brat and in the Army and NATO led to world travel. What with your adventurous spirit, I can't imagine you wouldn't have at least tried the local cuisine in every country you stepped foot in." He paused as he opened a cabinet. "How do you handle spice?"
"Not terrible, but not great either." Her lips curled into a wry smile. "You're not planning on putting ghost pepper in my food, are you?"
He sighed forlornly. "I was, but that's been foiled. Looks like we'll have to think of something else… And I believe I have just the thing."
She watched him from the island and thought that his technique was flawless even while they continued bantering. It was fairly clear within the first five minutes that he was making a sort of beef stew and within an additional fifteen minutes the scent was mouthwatering.
It was while he was telling a story about teaching a man to fix a car that she came to a realization: she felt comfortable with Jenkins. More than that, she felt… safe. She tried to remember the last time that she went an hour without reminding herself to unclench her jaw. She tried to recall a time where her muscles weren't bunched in preparation for the worst. She tried to reach back into her memory for the last time she had felt like the protected rather than the protector.
She failed.
Eve had been the one to stand up to bullies when she was in school to the point that she'd had to look over to make sure her friends were safe. Lieutenant Baird had been the one to escort convoys and dignitaries with the expectation of an attack at every turn. Colonel Baird had thrown her rank to ensure her soldiers were not being bullied or coerced by officers and senior enlisted to bend the rules for them.
She had been a protector, a Guardian, for all of her life and she didn't remember what it was like to rely on someone else for safety. Even memories of being in her father's arms or curling into her mother's side felt… foreign after so many years of independence.
But she felt it now. She felt completely safe in a kitchen where Jenkins cooked for her as if it were a regular occurrence. They didn't always agree, but their personalities didn't exactly clash either. He was just… neutral and predictable and dependable. He was one of a kind.
Jenkins placed a bowl of steaming stew in front of her with a spoon already waiting to give her the first bite. "Bon appétite, mademoiselle."
She licked her lips unconsciously as the smell hit her full force. "Merci, monsieur."
She knew that he was judging her for how she didn't bother to wait for it to cool significantly to take her first bite, but she didn't care. The food—simple as it was—was divine. It was upsetting that it was so good because everything the man touched was perfection. The Backdoor, a sword, the stew. No one was perfect, but dammit, he was close.
She slammed her spoon onto the table with a moan of pleasure and despair.
"I take it you like it?" He asked teasingly.
She swallowed and pointed the spoon at him. "I'm never giving you up if you keep feeding me like this."
"Ah, but I'd get scolded for driving up your cholesterol or some other nonsense," he countered lightly. "I chose to cook tonight on a whim. You mustn't get used to it."
She narrowed her eyes as she swallowed the third bite. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to tease a woman?"
"Oh, quite the opposite," he drawled with that impish smile of his. "Teasing brings the most satisfaction—pause."
She inhaled the broth and started coughing between her fits of laughter. She felt a hand thumping her back and saw a cup of water slide into her field of vision just beside the bowl.
She took several gulps when her coughing subsided and finally gave him an accusing sideways glance. "I know you saw me eating that."
He shrugged languidly. "I'm funny. You should've already known that it was a hazard to eat around me."
She narrowed her eyes briefly and then finally asked, "Who taught you that?"
"Taught me what?" Was his innocent response.
"To say 'pause' after saying something… saying a euphemism?"
"Mr. Jones."
She shook her head as she ripped off a paper towel and started to clean up her mess. "Yeah, that tracks."
"I promise I won't say anything else for the rest of your meal."
She gave him a curious look. "Aren't you gonna eat, too?"
He waved her off. "No, not yet. I prefer to have my meals curled up with a good book."
She narrowed her eyes, but didn't question it further. Instead, she took advantage of his silence and returned to inhaling her meal. She ate slower than she normally did, but the food was so delicious that she didn't have it in her to inhale it as if it were an MRE. She sighed with satisfaction as she finished and mournfully placed the spoon back into the bowl.
"Well! You've had your exercise and been fed and watered. I believe it's time for you to go to bed," Jenkins said cheerfully as he took the bowl from in front of her and turned to place it in the sink.
"You say that like you didn't try to kill me ten minutes ago."
"My dear Colonel, if I wanted you dead, we'd have already had your funeral," he cheekily countered.
Her eyebrow ticked upward. "You're confident."
"You lost every spar tonight. I'd say my confidence is well-earned." He stopped in front of her and gestured towards the exit. "Now, let's get you home. I think you'll be able to manage eight hours."
Gratefulness welled within her chest and she said an earnest, "Thank you," as she fell into step beside him.
"Don't get used to it. I've heard I'm cryptic and annoying and I do have a reputation to maintain."
She tried not to react, but she laughed anyway.