It was two minutes till the museum closed, and Jerry at the security desk gave Nick a stern look. Then he smiled and waved him along. Nick responded with a big grin, dropped a bag of his aunt's cookies on the desk, and boldly pushed open the door marked Employees Only.

"You're killing me with these," Jerry groaned.

"Tia Dolores will kill you for real if you don't eat them all," Nick called over his shoulder.

He hummed as he took the stairs down two at a time. Once on a school trip his class had gone backstage at a theater. Being in the museum after hours gave him that same feeling, that he was going to see where the magic was made.

Megan was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.

"Wow, you're not chained to your desk."

She frowned up at him and brushed back a wisp of dark hair. Megan Fairfax looked like the classic academic. She dressed a little eccentrically and often looked just a little bit disheveled. Tonight she had on a batiked blouse and jeans, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

She was always a little softspoken, but tonight she seemed downright shy. "I want to show you someting in the workroom," she said. A sort of formality settled around her as she led him down the hallway into the main workroom. The long benches and tables seemed more cluttered than usual; one table had been almost entirely cleared off.

Megan looked back at him, took his hand, and pulled him up to the table to stare down at an object of leather and bronze.

"Armor? Where did it come from?"

Megan stared at him. "You tell me."

Nick whistled softly. "I've never seen or heard of armor like this. It's like a pastiche."

She was watchiing him expectantly, so he continued.

"The skirt is sort of Greek. The chest piece is...I don't know. It reminds me of a sketch I saw once of a Sumerian soldier. But that was just an artist's idea. And this detailing here...very serpentine. Almost Egyptian."

He shrugged. "It's like someone put the Bronze Age in a blender." Megan didn't return his smile.

"Touch it."

"Really?" He'd been subjected to more than one lecture about not touching anything the conservators were working on. Very gently, he laid his hand on the leather. It felt warm and supple like something alive. Did he smell spices? Spices and attar, oil and sweat.

"My god," he whispered. "It's...it's very old, isn't it? I can feel it. I swear I can feel it."

"I felt it too." She sighed. "I was afraid I was imagining it."

He jerked his hand away and looked around the room as if to reassure himself of where and when he was. "Where did it come from?"

"I think it's of Babylon. Like you. I think it looks Hellenic and Egyptian and so on because it predates them. Those designs descended from this."

"Destiny calling on line two."

This time she returned his smile. That was their little joke, when their research into the Babylon Line turned up something that was just too unbelievable.

"Destiny has been texting me all night," he would mock complain.

"Destiny was looking for you," she would say. "She's a little pushy, if you ask me."

Their attention returned to the armor.

"So what are you waiting for? Put it on already.'

"Are you crazy? First of all it belongs to the museum--"

"It belongs to you. You know it does."

"It was made for some little dude in ancient times. From before they invented calcium." He jerked a thumb at his broad chest. He was a tall man and no stranger to the gym.  "It won't fit me."

But he was already unbuttoning his shirt. He realized what he was doing and blushed. "Uh, maybe I should get changed in Professor Sidoro's office."

"Good idea."

He carefully picked up the armor and jogged into the Professor's office.

Megan counted to one hundred. "Hurry up!"

"I can't figure out how to put this on. Unless...oh, it goes like this. Oh!"

"Everything okay?"

He walked out slowly, shaking his head in amazement. "It fits perfectly. At least, it feels perfect. I probably look ridiculous." He looked down and around, trying to see the armor from every angle.

"You look...the opposite of ridiculous. Noble, somehow. Like, I can't imagine you making that goofy face anymore."

"Do I make a goofy face?" he asked absently. If he stood just right, he could see his reflection in the glass door of the specimen cabinet. He turned and flexed and even struck some muscleman poses. No, he didn't feel ridiculous at all.

She'd seen him in shorts before, but she'd never really noticed his legs. A man's legs, she decided, could be a very nice feature.

"We should get you some bike shorts to wear underneath. Don't want any wardrobe malfunctions."

Nick sighed. "Megan, I can't just take this from the museum."

She smiled, very pleased with herself. "It doesn't belong to the museum. I acquired it for myself, and I'm giving it to you."

He frowned. "How? Isn't this worth a fortune?"

"It was a minor curio in a private collection. Not that hard to get, actually. Of course I spent all my savings and maxed out my credit cards."

"You, what?"

"I think there are other pieces like this out there." She shivered with exhilaration. "I'm going to find them for you, Nick. I've found a reference to a spear, and a chalice, and--"

"Megan! You can't...I don't want you spending your money like this. I can't even pay you back!"

She looked up at him with wide, trembling eyes, and Nick was afraid she was going to cry. He stepped over to her but she took a step back. "Maybe you're not the only one with a destiny," she said almost plaintively.

Gently he reached out and stroked her hair, ashamed of raising his voice. Her shampoo smelled of jasmine. "Destiny", he said softly. "Destiny can get you killed. I've already been shot at, stabbed, thrown out of a plane..."

"I'm not going to try to do the things you can do. I'll do the things I can do. To help you. Like get the armor. When we work together, doesn't it just feel right? Like putting the armor on felt right?

Something about that comparison didn't feel right at all, but Nick's head was swimming in jasmine. Roses perfumed the air too, and there was something green and grassy and lush underneath.

"Helper," he said, stroking her cheek.

"Helpmeet," she whispered, and pressed herself against his chest.

"Partner," he murmured. He panicked for a split second. He really was in the grasp of destiny. Their lips met for a long moment.

Finally Megan drew back. She was trembling like she was a virgin all over again. Her hands fumbled with the buttons of her shirt. She bit her lip anxiously when she recalled she was wearing her most comfortable, most unsexy bra.

Nick smiled as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. God, she was beautiful. He tugged awkwardly at the shoulder straps of the armor. His armor.

"Leave it on," she whispered. Then there was no talking. And if Nick made a goofy face, he wasn't the only one.