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Summary
He's never been here at night, but slipping through the dark, empty Archives is second nature anyway. It’s as if his feet know precisely where to step, to make the least noise. Which floorboards creak the hardest, how to avoid the books Tim left lying on the floor.
And then he’s standing outside the Archivist’s office, just out of sight, taking in that voice.
None of the words are clear, they're mumbled too quietly to make out. But they're familiar. Oh so familiar.It’s like Martin can predict the exact dips in octave the Archivist's voice will take before it does. Like he knows what statement is being read, without any possible indicator.
or
Martin Blackwood gets a promotion. It's a new opportunity with new faces to get acquainted with. If only they actually felt new. If only his new boss didn't make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. If only he didn't look so familiar. If only the inexplicable grief Martin feels every time they make eye contact could be, well.. explicable.