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?

"Are you okay?" he whispered, moving just a little closer. "Does it—" He laughed and shook his head. "Yeah, it probably hurts. Dumb question."

"I've had worse," I replied, wincing away from the memory of burning as a witch. "I, um, I just wanted to talk to you. Let you know that I wasn't—that I still want to...see you. If that's what you want?"

His forehead wrinkled slightly at that. He took a moment to study my face—my eyes in particular—and couldn't quite hide the disbelief flickering over his features. "Is that all you wanted to talk to me about? Or was there...more?"

"God, so much more," I said unthinkingly.

Daniel's brows shot up and a hopeful spark lit his beautiful eyes. I couldn't stop myself. I rose up onto my toes, pressing my mouth to his. A million memories flooded me—a million kisses. I snaked my hand around to the back of his neck, drawing him closer. His arms circled my waist, pulling me into him and he groaned softly as my body pressed against his.

This was always the same, I realized. This feeling. His lips always fit perfectly with mine. His strength always surprised me—made me feel protected. Made me feel loved. Worshipped. Like I was the only thing that had ever mattered to him. His desire came off of him in waves, crashing into mine, multiplied by thousands of years and hundreds of lifetimes. 

Finally I had to pull away, just to catch my breath. Daniel leaned his forehead against mine, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"What was that about?" he whispered.

"I, um... I don't think you'd believe me."

Daniel pulled away slightly, winding a dark curl of my hair around his forefinger. With his other hand, he gripped my chin with care, tilting my head back so I was staring into his eyes. His beautiful, beloved eyes.

"Why don't," he lightly kissed my mouth, "you try me?"

Staring up at him, I realized he already knew. He could see it.

In my eyes.

I leaned into him, resting my head against his chest as I played with the collar of his button-down. "Would you believe me if I told you a nurse in Bastogne wasn't surprised by the green-eyed American who knocked on her door three years after Germany surrendered?"

He fell perfectly still. I wasn't even sure he was breathing. "I might."

"Or that Abigail Russell never regretted killing a man for a wounded cowboy who wandered into her life?"

"I might," he whispered.

"Would you believe Abigail Pryce never regretted marrying a Son of Liberty, even with war breaking out?"

He shrugged, seeming suddenly too overcome to speak.

"Would you believe me if I said I cried for a Templar knight I barely knew?"

Daniel seemed to wobble against me, his breath starting to come in shaky gasps. Tears blurred my vision and I sank toward the ground, pulling him with me. When he was sitting, I crawled into his lap. He shuddered as I hid my face against his neck, breathing in the subtle scent of his cologne and the utterly familiar smell of him.

"You wouldn't believe I forgave what you did in Constantinople. That's why you became a Templar." A small choking sound reverberated in my ear, but I kept speaking. "Eleanor remembered that, after you—Gabriel—died. She—I—remembered and realized that was what you were trying to atone for. The sacking of Constantinople."

Other memories began to bubble up, lifetimes I was just now starting to remember. Lifting my head, I kissed the corner of his jaw. "Would you believe I feared a soldier of Vlad Dracula's army far less than I feared the man I was supposed to marry?"

"I helped put people to the stake in that life, and watched as you were burned at one in the next," he said raggedly. "I don't really like to remember the Middle Ages."

I bit at the inside of my lower lip. "Did my nephew ever get well? The one in—"

"Trier," he said. "I took him to Spain. The warmer weather helped, but there was only—only so much I could—" His voice broke and he wrapped his arms around me, careful of my broken collarbone.

"You didn't leave," I said. "You told me you wouldn't let him see."

"He didn't." A tear landed on my cheek, surprising me. "But I couldn't—I had to—"

"It's okay," I whispered. "I understand."

It was the same compulsion that had driven Eleanor to Paris. The one that had forced her to watch Gabriel burn. To bear witness.

Daniel took another shuddering breath, then leaned back so he could see me. I scrubbed at the tear-tracks lining his cheek. "You never remember like this," he said, voice thick. "I'm lucky if you remember even the previous life."

"Do you always remember?" I asked, curious.

He nodded, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he tried to wrangle his emotions.

"Why?" I couldn't manage to stop my voice from breaking. It must be terrible, to bear the weight and love of so many past lives alone.

Daniel shrugged. "I'm cursed to remember, and you're cursed to forget? I don't know, Abby. Honestly, I'm just grateful I keep finding you, no matter what."

I smiled, kissing his lips for a moment. "How do you know me?" I asked. "How do you know when you've found me?"

Daniel laughed, tracing a finger over my eyebrow, then over my cheekbone. "The eyes are the window to the soul, Abby. Yours are always the same—kaleidoscope blue, every shade jammed in there."

His answer was stunningly simple. After all, that was how I'd recognized him through all those centuries.

He laughed again, and this time I couldn't help but join in. "God," he managed between laughs, "now you won't think I'm crazy when I say I'm in love with you and want to marry you."

I nodded, using his shoulder to muffle my giggles. "I'm just glad I'm not crazy, period."

"No," he said, turning my face back to his. "No, you're not crazy. You're mine."

"And you're mine," I whispered.

Daniel nodded before he kissed me again.

We stayed like that—locked together, clinging and desperate—until my phone started buzzing. When I answered, out of breath and unfocused, Aiden's very angry voice overlapped by Mom's made me spring to my feet.

Daniel looked up at me from the floor, his head tipped back and a radiant smile on his face, like a dedicate whose goddess had finally revealed herself to him.

I told Aiden I'd be back in thirty minutes to face the music and hung up, kneeling down in front of Daniel.

That gave me ten extra minutes.