Eve had always hated silence.
Much to her parents' dismay, she had always thrived in active situations, often performing two or three tasks at a time while white noise buzzed around her ears. As she grew up, her steps would be more likely to lead her to a bustling coffee shop than a suffocating library. And her years at NATO had all but erased the simplest idea of a noiseless night. Always something to do, to hear, to see. Someplace to be, some voice to focus on. Noise meant her thoughts were kept in check, grounded to the present. There was no time to wander, to get lost in her own mind like her current friends so often loved to do.
When she received the letter, and met these four, mind-blowingly genius people with no self-preserving instincts whatsoever, she had scoffed. Because, really? Out of all places, a library? Turns out, keeping literal kids from accidentally setting off a word-ending magical artifact by tripping on their own feet was not so different from preventing a WMD from exploding. With this, she pretty much abandoned quiet. Quiet was just not something she did. Colonel Eve Baird was everything but silent. She'd accepted that a long time ago.
So you had to believe she was the first one surprised when she sat in silence under the shelves, measured breaths pacing the paper-scented air.
After the end of their arrangement with Nicole, the Librarians still had some matters to attend to. Some artifacts had disappeared since the jump to the alternate dimension (and at this point Eve wished she could be surprised), so it was up to them to travel around the globe in search of the missing trinkets. All this without forgetting the couple of near-world-ending experiences still bound to happen, such as talking trees and body-possessing ghosts. All in all, Eve had not had a single breath for herself. You would have thought tethering to the Library meant taking a step back on the main action, but the universe clearly wanted her skin.
And, she thought, she would not have it any otherwise. She liked the action. She liked running around the world and living on the toes of her feet.
Except she was only human, and despite her new immortality, the exhaustion eventually had to catch up to her.
And so, instead of rushing off to whatever adventure the kids had gotten themselves into, she just sat in the entrance of the enormous hall, staring at a painfully familiar and yet so different painting on the wall. There towered Flynn, but somehow not her Flynn, wielding the same spear that lay proudly in the main entrance. The very first artifact she had laid eyes on while entering this new world of magic, adventure and home. One of the first things she had remembered, but too soon forgotten, in that horrible, horrible sepia world.
Flynn's glittering eyes looked up towards an unseen source of light, while his hand rested on his hip with youthful and almost carefree confidence. His hand on the spear seemed firm, and yet he lacked the usual stiffness Eve had noticed around him recently. This was a younger, more relaxed and inexperienced Flynn, clearly in the middle of the one thing he loved above all, ready to take on anything the world had to offer. No tightness, no underlying guilt in the crinkled eyes. Just pure thirst for knowledge and life.
How she longed to get to know this Flynn better.
She could still see this part of him peep out from time to time. It had showed the tip of its tail more and more after the Bermuda incident. Sometimes, when he thought no one was looking, Flynn would look fondly at the team and their antics. Or his hazel eyes would light up at a new, unsolved problem. Or, more sombre, but equally as Flynn, the raw hurt that lurked behind his whimsical attitude worn like a mask on his features. All this Eve had learned to know, learned to accept and learned to love.
But still her heart clenched at the reminder of how much he had gone through. Alone, with not a single soul to open up to. All these emotions bottled deep down, not to resurface until the day the Library sent for much needed, but not entirely wanted, help.
I'm either a screw-up or a hero.
I've seen what pure evil can do, Eve.
And although it seemed like a lifetime since Apep, their less-than-civil conversations somehow sprung up to her mind as she breathed silently. He had been so broken, so lost, that he had seemed unreachable, pushed miles and miles away from the shore of any physical reassurance. Eve never wanted to see that again. And yet...
You left.
You left.
You left.
He hadn't, of course. Not really. She could not, would never, blame him for being held against his will God knew where. But that didn't erase the weeks of pain, the sting of betrayal weighing down on her all through the time he was gone. The profound disappointment and sense of failure and I'm not good enough that, despite everything, had never really gone away.
Enough. She ran a hand through her loose hair and stood up. I should probably check on Jenkins. Just...Making sure everyone was alright. It was her job description, after all.
As she turned from the painting, however, a familiar yapping reached her ears. The sound brought a smile to her lips and she crouched down in front of the ecstatic magical sword.
"Hey, Cal," she whispered. Excalibur let out an excited yelp and whizzed around her legs. "I guess you didn't get a lot of attention these past few weeks, did you?"
Something in her voice must have perturbed Cal, for he slowed down and hovered in front of her face, whining softly.
"I'm fine, buddy. I guess I'm just feeling a bit…down." I know, shocking, right? Colonel Eve Baird, sitting depressed on the Library stairs? Whatever next? Ezekiel dancing the hula on top of the Empire State? Cassandra quitting her research on mathemagics?
She smiled fondly at the sword as it poked at her knees. "You want me to play, huh?" She was not trying to avoid her thoughts. It was just a little sparring. Wouldn't hurt. And besides, Cal needed the exercise.
With Cal's frenzied panting as companion, she picked up a Renaissance-styled sword (Alright, who left a pile of weapons in the middle of the entrance hall again?) and fell into a slightly awkward en-garde stance. The flying sword hovered to face her, and the duel began.
There it was again. The instant her arms and legs fell into motion, when the thinking gave way to an instinctive series of well-oiled slashes and perfect dodges. Excalibur somehow knew exactly what type of swordplay would challenge her, while still providing opportunities for her to vent off... what, exactly? Anger? Frustration? I'm overthinking this. God, Flynn must be rubbing off on me.
She parried a strike and whirled left, trying to pierce an opening through the sword's impeccable defense. Cal chose to avoid the blow, and Eve quickly pulled her sword back. Already, sweat was forming along her neck and she could feel the sweet effects of hard-earned dopamine in her system. While her sword-fight had significantly improved over the past two years (and gee, she wondered why that was), her preferred weapon had always remained her own two fists.
The two swords clashed again, echoing in the hall. Eve revelled in the intense focus brought upon by the exercise. Really, who would've thought a sword would understand what she needed better than she did?
"You never stop moving, don't you, sweetheart?"
And you could imagine the state of her mind if she jumped at the sound of a voice. A very familiar voice, who definitely should not have been able to sneak on her like that.
Cal perked up and barked, zooming up towards Flynn. The man's eyes crinkled in absolute fondness, and he knelt down in welcome. "Well, who do we have here? Someone's having a swell time with Colonel Baird, huh?" Then he looked up towards Eve, and the pure joy emanating from him was everything she could wish for.
"Well someone has to keep him exercised. Poor buddy's getting restless without attention."
Flynn winced. "Right. Sorry about that, Cal. I guess I have been a little, ah, distracted lately." If swords could murmur in understanding, then that was exactly the noise Cal was making.
The oldest Librarian seemed more refreshed than she had ever seen him, which unfortunately only meant he had taken a shower, and perhaps pulled off eight hours of sleep for once. His tousled hair reflected the dim lights, and his cheeks were rosy as he cooed over his best friend. Eve was just glad he was actually learning some basic self-care.
A wave of emotion washed over her, and her breath hitched. He had never looked so beautiful. Not the haunted look from the battle with Apep, not the lost, betrayed look from the encounter with Nicole, not the crazed and confused look from the aftermath of an umpteenth electrocution-
But then he frowned, and rose from his knees, slowly approaching her. His hands went up to her cheeks, and he tenderly wiped something from her eyes.
Oh.
Oh.
Apparently this day was full of surprises.
Blushing, Eve ducked her head and tried to turn away. Because obviously she was not going to break down like this, not now, not when things still needed to be done, she had done enough moping and now she needed to-
"Hey."
Flynn, precious, amazing Flynn, was now tracing soft circles on her temples. His eyebrows were furrowed, and Eve could almost touch the little worried bump in between. Except she couldn't right now, because her breaths were getting higher and higher for some reason, and she still couldn't stop that god-forsaken crying-
"Hey, hey, Eve. Look at me, you're okay, you're okay, Eve. Breathe." Flynn's voice became a little more shrill, a little more frantic, and that did not help at all. His hand found hers and she latched on to it, unsure of what was happening, because she definitely was not panicking over absolutely nothing, that wasn't her, it just wasn't, and God, why couldn't she just breathe?
"Okay, sweetheart," Flynn tried again, softening his voice until it became a steady flow of words. He gently guided her hand to his chest, where the fluttering of his heart made its way to her fingertips. "You're- you're having a panic attack." What? No, that didn't sound right. Panic attacks had to be triggered, not just appear out of thin air like some type of horror movie monster. And Eve was not some damsel getting frightened by a non-existent spider.
"Eve, it's okay. I want you to look at me, look at my eyes. That's great, you're doing great. Just...try to breathe with me, okay? Breathe in, two, three. Out, two, three, four. That's it. Breathe like me."
Later, she would muse on how different his voice had sounded then, how grounded and sure it had seemed. So unlike his usual mumblings and buzzes, mutterings that only made sense to his special brain.
Usually, she would have cherished the moments where Flynn actively sought physical contact. And yet, as he carefully cradled her in his chest, she couldn't even bring herself to look up.
She hadn't realised the muscles on her jaw were painfully clenched shut until she allowed herself to melt into Flynn's hold. His hands kept brushing her, pressing at exactly the right places while he whispered softly by her side.
Gradually, her breathing calmed. She allowed herself to remain limp in Flynn's arms, burrowing into his chest and basking in the warmth.
"M'sorry," she mumbled eventually.
"Eve, darling, you don't have to be."
Ever so carefully, she worked her way out of the tangled embrace. She lifted her head, and there he was, smiling softly, and the warmest glow inhabited his eyes. Tiny creases framed his cheeks, and she found herself inexplicably drawn to them.
"Do you remember what you told me that night after Apep?"
She nodded, although her thoughts were fuzzy and disorganised. She remembered exchanging thoughts in the dark, and then fumbling with each other's body until the small hours of the morning-
She blushed, not expecting this sudden train of thought. Flynn did that to her, she mused. He sent her usually focused thoughts spinning and whizzing at a thousand miles per second, and she was usually left reeling, amazed at her Librarian's capacity to keep track of all of this.
If Flynn deduced where her thoughts had trailed, he didn't let on. Instead he kept his hands around her arms, in a comfortable half-embrace.
"You said I didn't have to be strong. That you didn't need walls, you needed doors to let you help me."
Her eyes found his again.
"You don't need to take care of all of us all the time, Eve. You're allowed to be vulnerable. Me and the kids," she smiled at the nickname, "we'll always be there. No matter how you feel."
His hand reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"Let the Librarians take care of the Guardian for once, yeah?"
She knew one good cry didn't solve her issues, not even remotely. She knew they still needed to sort things out, and they still had a long, emotional journey ahead of them. But right now, she nodded and wiped the remaining moisture from her eyes, and his radiant smile made her believe that maybe, just maybe, they'd be alright.
After all, they weren't going anywhere. They had plenty of time.
"Now," Flynn stretched like a cat, popping his shoulders and winking at her when she rolled her eyes. "Fancy something to eat? I heard Stone was making pancakes, and well, let's just say I might have a craving all of a sudden."
She chuckled. "As long as Cass isn't helping."
He put his hand on his heart in a pledge. "She's officially confined to a fifteen-foot perimeter around all kitchen appliances."
"Well then, Librarian." She stood up, picking up her sword in the process and throwing it to the pile, which she'd definitely have Ezekiel clean up afterwards. "Let's go."
Hand in hand, they walked confidently away, Cal whizzing around them and barking excitedly.
All the time in the world.
My contribution to this much too small, and very under-appreciated fandom. Thank you so much for reading, and please don't forget to leave a review below! They literally make my day :D Love ya xx