Old Soul Syndrome |ONC 2020|

February 13, 2020 Continued

It didn't take me long to get to the museum. That, or time was just blurring together. I sat for a moment in Aiden's truck, trying to gather my nerve as I stared up at the towering facade of the museum.

I hadn't ever been here.

A movement in the glass doors of the entrance caught my eye. I stepped out of the truck and the door was pushed open. Picking my way across the icy parking lot gave me time where I didn't have to look at him just yet. Where I could gather some semblance of courage.

It wasn't as hard as it used to be. I had a bigger reserve to draw on now.

"Hi," I said when I got to the door.

"Come on," he said, his face giving nothing away. "Come get out of the cold."

Daniel ushered me across the darkened lobby. Our footsteps echoed off the stone floors, up into the high ceiling. Above my head, I could just make out the suspended skeleton of what might have been a whale. 

The building itself seemed sort of spooky, in the way that all public buildings were spooky after hours. It was like I could hear the faint echoes of all the people who had walked its halls during the day. I could practically feel the weight of the fact that I wasn't supposed to be here.

Daniel seemed to feel it as well, his shoulders slightly rounded and his head down as he walked beside me.

"You work here?" I finally asked because I couldn't stand the silence anymore.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Er, well, technically intern while I finish out my doctorate." 

"You never said anything about a doctorate." I peered into a doorway to be confronted by an upright sarcophagus illuminated by soft yellow runner lights. A memory of a man stumbling toward me through desert heat waves crashed into me, making me gasp a little.

"Kind of creepy at night, I know." He laughed and took my hand, then just as quickly dropped it. We stopped for a moment, just staring at each other, both of us unsure.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I could barely make out the green of his eyes in the dim light, which sparked another dozen memories. Memories that made the blood rush into my cheeks and had my stomach fluttering.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, making me blink. He scrubbed at the back of his neck. "I was...well, kind of an ass on the phone."

"Well, you thought I'd ditched out on you," I murmured. "I would have been pretty mad too."

He huffed a laugh, gesturing for me to keep following him toward the back of the museum. "Still," he said, "I should have guessed something had happened. I would have called, but was afraid of scaring you by—" He cut himself off and turned forward, scowling.

My heart leapt, but still I was afraid.

He reached a door and swiped a key card, holding it open for me. Bright fluorescents made me squint as I stepped into a lab of some sort. Lying on a pristine white table directly in front of the door were a sword and dagger, crusted in dirt and rust. Beside them were neatly lined brushes, picks and what I assumed was a bowl of some sort of cleaning reagent. Other tables scattered throughout the room held other artifacts, waiting to be properly preserved.

The door shut and I turned. Daniel sucked in a breath and took a step toward me, lifting a hand. He hesitated. When I didn't move back, he lightly touched my cheek, tracing the blotchy outline of the bruise there.

A familiar warmth shuddered through me. A deep recognition. One I understood now.

But how did I even begin to ask the question that mattered most?