Note: What else could it be?

Title: Librarian

Disclaimer: I don't own them

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"Miss Brennan?"

Brennan looked up from the computer to see the part-time book shelver standing at the desk. "Yes, Zach?"

The young man shifted from one foot to the other. "There's a shipment here. Where should I have them put the boxes?"

Brennan pushed back the chair and stood up. She smoothed down her skirt and adjusted her glasses. "I'll go and direct them to the storage room." She walked towards the back door of the small library, calling over her shoulder, "Look after the desk for a minute. If anyone comes by, tell him or her that I will be back momentarily."

As she disappeared down the hallway, Zach sat down on the vacated chair. He shifted and squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position. He spun the chair clockwise, then counterclockwise. Finally, he decided that the chair wasn't the right height. He leaned to the side, trying to find the lever that would let him adjust the height.

He found the right lever and the chair plunged towards the ground. He yelped, feeling foolish when the chair stopped after a few inches and he heard someone clearing their throat. He jumped up, looking around for the source of the sound. On the other side of the desk, he saw a man – dark hair, wearing a dark suit and a black tie.

He took an involuntary step back. "You're one of them!"

The man stared at him, and he continued, "A man in black. My roommate says ..."

The man continued staring. "You're nuts. Please tell me that you're not in charge here."

Intimidated, Zach stared like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. "I'm not in charge here", he agreed slowly.

"Great!" The stranger's relief was written all over his face. "Go get me whoever is in charge."

Zach shook his head. "I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"I'm in charge of the desk. I have to stay here until Miss Brennan comes back."

The man drummed his fingers on the desk. "And when will Miss Brennan be back?"

"I don't know."

Exasperated, the man repeated flatly, "You don't know."

Zach agreed, "I don't know."

The man rolled his eyes, barely keeping the sarcasm from his voice. "Did she give you any clue as to when she would be back?"

"Yes."

"And?" The man's frustration was obvious.

"Can I help you?" At the sound of Brennan's voice, both men turned to look at her. Booth marveled at how much she looked like a librarian – hair back in a bun, glasses perched on her nose, perfectly pressed button-down shirt, straight skirt that reached the top of her knees, pantyhose (in August), sensible shoes with a thick, low heel. Sure, she was younger than he'd expected, but he supposed that librarians weren't born old.

Relieved that he didn't have to deal with the weird kid anymore, he pulled his badge from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "I'm Agent Booth with the FBI. Are you the one in charge here?"

Brennan nodded crispy. "Yes. I am the head librarian. How may I help you?"

Booth looked over at Zach. "Can we talk in private?"

Brennan looked at Zach. "Continue watching the desk, Zach. I'll return soon." She spun on her heel and lead the way into a small meeting room.

When the door shut behind them, Brennan sat down, shoulders back with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her knees together, and one foot slightly behind the other. Booth sat on the other side of the table, feet slightly apart and his forearms resting on the table. "I need your help."

Brennan nodded in acknowledgment. "I gathered as much. What do you require?"

"There's a building across the back alley. We need to observe it. I'd like to station two agents here around the clock. They'd stay out of your way – they would just need access to the room upstairs that overlooks the alley.", Booth explained.

Brennan pursed her lips. "That is my office, but I rarely use it. With the recent budget cuts, I'm usually down here at the desk. May I ask how long your agents would need to use my office?"

Booth answered, "I'm not really sure, ma'am. It might be only a couple of days, but it might be longer."

Brennan stood, effectively putting an end to the discussion. "Well, I suppose one can't really know how long these things will take. I will ensure that anything confidential is moved out of my office in readiness for your agents' arrival." She walked out of the room, leaving Booth staring after her.

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When Booth returned with his agents two hours later, he was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, a leather jacket, and sunglasses. Again, Zach was the first one he saw. He pulled off his sunglasses and asked, "Is your boss here?"

Zach nodded. "Miss Brennan is in her office, but . . . "

Booth nodded at his agents and led them to the stairway. When they reached Brennan's office, he knocked on the door. It opened a crack and Brennan looked out. "Oh! It's you!" She reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him into her office and closing the door behind him. "I've been watching the building you mentioned. No one has gone in or out." she told him, whispering furiously, "but I did see a light on the second story. It wasn't in one of the rooms facing us, it was farther in. I just caught a glimpse. It was only on for a 97 seconds approximately seventeen minutes ago."

Booth looked at her incredulously. "You've been watching the building across the alley?"

Brennan nodded, suddenly unsure of herself. "Yes. You said it was important. It would have been helpful to know what I was watching for, but I did the best I could in the circumstances."

Booth could see the sudden look of vulnerability cross her face. "Thank you. I appreciate you keeping an eye out. I have my agents with me, they can take it from here", he said reassuringly.

Brennan looked wistfully at the unremarkable building across the alley. "I suppose that's best. I do have a lot of work to do."

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A week later, the stakeout continued. Soon after the library opened for the day, two casually-dressed agents would wander in and relieve the two agents who had been there all night. Just before closing, two more agents would arrive and relieve the day shift. At first Brennan tried stopping by her office and offering the agents coffee in an attempt to find out what was going on. It didn't work – they would take the coffee, but she knew no more about what they were doing than she had after her first talk with Booth.

It's not like she could ask him – she hadn't seen him since the day the stakeout started. It wasn't until the second day that she realized that the reason her heart raced every time the door opened was because she expected him to be the one to walk through it. Somehow, she had expected him to show up – maybe not every day, but certainly every couple of days.

She had to admit that she found him fascinating, and she was consumed with curiosity about what the agents were up to in her office. She checked out books and made sympathetic noises as Mrs. Winters talked about her bunions while her mind worked on coming up with a new plan to find out what was going on.

As the door shut behind Mrs. Winters and her newly checked-out books, she heard a clattering from overhead. She watched in amazement as the two agents burst through the door at the bottom of the stairs and ran for the back exit. It only took her a second to yell, "Zach, take over the desk!" and take off after them.

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Brennan sat on the examination table under the fluorescent lights, one hand holding an ice pack to the contusion on her head as the doctor finished stitching the gash in her other arm. Her blouse was ripped, her knee was skinned, and chunks of hair were hanging limply around her face instead of being neatly contained in her usual bun.

The doctor finished her work, gave her a tetanus shot, and wrote out a prescription for painkillers. Brennan walked out of the exam room to see Booth pacing the hallway. When she saw him walking towards her, she picked up her pace, trying to get out the emergency door before he caught up to her.

It didn't work.

Just as she reached the sliding glass doors, she felt a hand clasp her uninjured arm. She tried to pull away but failed, and they walked into the late afternoon sun together.

He didn't speak at all as he guided her to the black SUV. She opened her mouth to protest, but thought the better of it when she saw the cold expression on his face.

He didn't look at her once as they drove down Main Street, past two churches, and turned at the elementary school. When he pulled to a stop in front of her apartment building, she broke the silence, asking, "How did you know where I live?"

"FBI", he grunted as he shut the door behind him and walked around the vehicle to open hers. She stood awkwardly on the sidewalk, wondering if she should invite him in. He took care of that decision for her, taking the keys out of her hand and leading the way to her building.

When the door to her apartment shut behind him, she asked, "May I take your coat?", mentally cursing herself for the inane question. She found herself off-kilter, not sure why he was in her apartment – or, for that matter, why he had been at the hospital.

He ignored her question and took a step towards her, somehow sucking all of the air out of the room in the process. "What were you thinking?", he hissed.

"I … I didn't want to sit at the library and not know."

He started pacing back and forth in the narrow hallway, trying to work off some of his agitation. "You're not an agent. You don't need to know. You need to stay out of the way, so you don't get hurt. Your reckless actions today endangered our investigation. They endangered my agents. They endangered you."

Brennan slumped against the wall as her guilt and the pain that throbbed in her arm caught up to her. She slid down to the floor and hugged her knees, trying not to cry.

Booth had been in the army. He was a trained FBI agent. He dealt with danger on a regular basis, but at the sight of the lone tear that trickled down Brennan's face, he panicked. He reached her side in two steps and crouched down beside her, putting an arm around her and pulling her close. "Hey, it's OK. We got the guy, everyone's OK. The doctor said you'd be fine, right?"

Brennan sniffed back the tears and nodded. Booth continued talking, using a low, soothing voice. "That's right, you're going to be fine." He stood and pulled her to her feet. "Point me towards your bathroom."

Five minutes later, he had run a hot bath for her and rigged a piece of plastic to keep her stitches dry. As she soaked in the tub, he took her keys and ran out to the drugstore to get her prescription filled. While he was out, he picked up some take-out for the two of them to share. When he returned, she had washed her hair and climbed out of the bathtub and was sitting on the couch wrapped in a fluffy robe.

Brennan carefully shook two painkillers out of the bottle and swallowed them, washing them down with a glass of water. They shared the food and talked, Brennan listening with interest to Booth's stories of college, his time in the army, and his FBI work.

When there was a lull in the conversation, Brennan said thoughtfully, "You sound like you had so much fun."

Booth brushed it off. "It wasn't all fun, but yeah, there were some good times."

Brennan's brow furrowed. "I don't think I've ever done that."

"Come on, Brennan, you must have had fun."

Brennan was already shaking her head. "I guess, when I was a kid. But when I got to college, I was too busy for things like that. I had to work forty hours a week to pay for school, and I had to study to keep my grades high enough that I could qualify for scholarships. When I hear people talk about all of the fun they had, it feels like I missed out."

Booth nudged her shoulder, "Yeah, but you've had fun since then, right?"

Brennan curled up in the corner of the couch. "I've had fun, but I've always had responsibilities. I couldn't just take off for a week or gamble away the rent money. When your agents ran out of the building today, I just couldn't miss out one more time." She met his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to endanger them."

"It's OK. I think my heart stopped when I turned that corner and saw you lying on the ground, though."

"If your heart had stopped, you'd be dead." Brennan's words were slurred as she started to drift off to sleep.

Booth laughed. "It's an expression. It's just – I don't remember the last time I'd been that scared." He stood. "You're exhausted, Brennan."

"Mmm hmm", she agreed.

He looked down at her. "Come on, Brennan, off to bed. Do you want me to carry you?"

Brennan reluctantly pushed herself up. "I can walk." She yawned and stretched, the robe gaping slightly, then wandered down the hall towards her bedroom while Booth settled in on the couch.

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The early morning sun woke Booth from his sleep. He pulled the blanket over his head, but it was too late – now that he was awake, the lumps in the old couch prevented him from falling back to sleep. He sat up, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light, before walking down the hall to the bathroom.

On his way back, he peered through Brennan's open bedroom door. He noticed her restless movements and deduced that she would be waking soon. Leaving her to her slumber, he went to the kitchen and started rummaging around in the fridge, trying to figure out what to make for breakfast.

By the time Brennan wandered out to the kitchen, Booth had fruit cut on a plate. He had found bread and eggs and as she walked in to the room, he pressed the button on the toaster and broke the eggs into the hot frying pan. He smiled at her. "Good morning."

Brennan looked confused. "You stayed? I thought you left last night."

Booth handed her a cup of coffee and pointed at the blanket balled up on the couch. "I slept on the couch. I didn't want to leave you alone with a head injury."

She took the mug and sat down at the table as Booth asked, "How's the arm?"

Brennan swung her arm back and forth, testing to see if there was any pain. Finally, she answered, "Better. I don't think I need painkillers this morning."

"Good." He pulled the toast from the toaster and put it on a plate before adding some eggs and handing it to her. "Here." He slid two more slices of bread into the toaster and hit the button.

When his food was ready, he joined her at the table and they ate in companionable silence. When they were done, he picked up the dirty dishes and stacked them neatly in the sink. She followed, stopping when she was right behind him. "Thank you."

He turned to look at her. "For breakfast? Hey, Brennan, it wasn't a big deal."

She shook her head. "I don't remember the last time someone cooked for me. Thank you."

Standing on her toes, she pressed her lips to his in a gentle, lazy kiss. When she pulled back, they gazed at each other for a moment before Brennan held out her hand. "Come with me?"

Booth looked at her hand, then met her eyes. "Are you sure?"

Brennan's smile lit up the room. "I'm sure. I don't want to miss this moment."

Booth smiled back and they walked hand in hand to the dark and quiet bedroom, the only light the slivers of sunlight that peaked through the blinds. She removed her robe and hung it neatly on the hook on the back of the door. When she turned around, she marveled at the awe on his face.

He kissed her, breaking away only to pull his shirt over his head and toss it across the room. When his lips met hers again, she pushed his jeans and boxers to the floor and he kicked them aside. She learned how good it felt when his day-old stubble rubbed against her bare breasts. He ran his fingers through her hair and remembered how sternly it had been pulled back when they first met.

They played and laughed and loved, and for one day the world went on without them.

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