At Charlene's shout, Henry jerked his head at the flying carpet. The carpet dumped its books on the ground and swooped over to catch the brunette woman just before she hit the floor.

"Henry Morgan!" Charlene scolded as he came up the steps. "Is that any way to greet your new Guardian?"

He gently lifted the woman from the carpet. "Guardian?" he inquired.

"Yes, Guardian." Charlene reached over and tugged something from the woman's hands, brandishing it at the Librarian. He recognized it immediately. "She got a white envelope!"

Henry raised an eyebrow at her. "I don't need a Guardian. I'm fine." He looked up at the ceiling. "Do you hear that? I don't need her!"

"Really, Dr. Morgan?" Henry turned, the woman still limp in his arms, to see Judson approaching. "That's, uh, that's not what you were saying a few weeks ago."

"I had a panic attack," Henry replied, fighting to keep his voice calm. "That doesn't mean I need a nursemaid, Judson."

"A Guardian is much more than a nursemaid, and you know it," Charlene snapped. "Now will you wake her up, please?"

"I can't. She'll have to wake up naturally." Henry glanced down at the woman, whose eyelids were already fluttering. He couldn't help noticing how long her lashes were. "I didn't play the flute for that long. She should be up in a few minutes."

"Well, take her to the Annex," Charlene ordered. "She'll be more comfortable there, and you can introduce yourself properly."

As Henry carried the woman down the steps and towards the Annex, he heard Charlene and Judson whispering behind him. "She'll be perfect."

"The Library, it knows what it's doing."

He ignored them, instead choosing to focus on the woman in his arms. She was incredibly light – almost too light, he reflected. She should have more meat on her bones. And he could see that her face was slightly flushed, a sign of excessive drinking, although she couldn't have had the problem long.

Henry pushed open the doors to the Annex. It was his favorite place in the Library. The lower story had bookshelves to one side and an open area to the other, with a long work table and his desk. The second story was more of a balcony. It had additional bookshelves; they contained the books he referenced most frequently.

As he carefully set the woman in a chair, he noticed a necklace that had previously been hidden under her blue button-down shirt. It was a simple gold chain with a wedding ring as a pendant. He glanced at her left ring finger.

Ah, Henry thought. That explains it.

He had no further time to think. The woman was stirring. Hurriedly, he stepped away from her, not wanting to frighten her with his proximity.

She blinked, then opened her eyes fully and looked around. "Where am I?" she asked sleepily.

"You're in the Annex, one of the rooms in the Library," Henry informed her.

"How did I get here?"

He coughed into his fist. "I, uh, carried you. I apologize for my actions earlier. In the past, newcomers in the Library have been a threat. I reacted out of instinct."

She sat up straighter. "So... magic is real."

He had to smile. "Yes, magic is real."

"Was that Pan's flute?"

"Yes, it was." Henry pulled it out of his jacket. She flinched. "I won't play it again," he assured her. "I merely wanted to show you." He held out the flute. Hesitantly, she took it, turning it over in her hands.

"You know, I had expectations for today," she said at last, giving the flute back. He tucked it away. "Discovering that magic was real wasn't one of them."

"What were your expectations?"

She grinned ruefully. "I thought someone had submitted my resume without telling me. Given the magical state of things, I guess that's not the case."

"Why would they have done that?"

Her grin vanished. She looked down at her hands. "It's been a tough year."

Oh, right, Henry thought. "I'm sorry about your husband," he said quietly.

Her head shot up. "Excuse me?"

"I noticed a slight discoloration on your left ring finger," he explained. "It could be divorce, but most divorcees don't wear their wedding band around their necks." She put a hand on her necklace. "I put his death at about a year."

"How would you know that?"

"Well, my assumption is that your drinking is a recent development." He was about to mention the redness of her cheeks and the fact that she had recently lost too much weight, but decided against it, given the already scandalized look she was giving him. "Squinting suggests a sensitivity to light, there's a slight decrease in respiratory function, and the mascara under your right eye is crooked."

"I was in a hurry this morning," she protested, reaching up to adjust it.

"And there's none under your left."

She slowly lowered her hand. Henry sighed, taking a seat across the table. "I apologize, again. I'm invading your personal life and I don't even know your name."

For a moment, he wasn't sure she was going to answer. When she did, it was matter-of-fact, as though she was trying to hide her emotions behind a mask. He should know; he did it all the time. "Detective Jo Martinez, NYPD."

That piqued his interest. "Really? I worked with the NYPD up until a few months ago. Which precinct?"

"The Eleventh."

"Not one I had many dealings with, then."

She looked at him more closely. "Were you a medical examiner?"

"Yes, I was."

"I thought so." Detective Martinez sat back in her chair. "You're kind of a legend. Dr. Henry Morgan, the medical examiner who doesn't even have to open bodies up to know how they died."

"Oh, that's not true," Henry replied. "I always opened them up. You get the full picture that way."

"I assume you're not doing many autopsies anymore?"

He chuckled. "No, not many."

She set her hands on the table. "So tell me, Dr. Morgan... what exactly is a Librarian?"

The first two chapters were longer than the next few. Hope you're enjoying this combination of my current favorite fandoms! Let me know what you think!