csi_sanders1129 | Fic: While Rome Burned (Reply)

Title: While Rome Burned
Chapters: 2/2 (too long for LJ to deal with, had to divide)
Author:

csi_sanders1129
Genre: Hurt/Comfort. Angst. Friendship. Romance.
Ratings: M
Word Count: 6,134/10,312
Pairings/Characters: Jed/Octavius, Larry, Emperor Nero.
Synopsis: In which a new addition (Emperor Nero) to the Roman diorama causes serious trouble for our two favorite miniatures.
Comments: Written in response to trope_bingo prompt: hurt/comfort. First NATM fic, and it's actually been in progress for a long time, so I'm really happy it's finally done. This does sort of alter things to make the museum characters a little more human like than they appear in the films, and less like plastic. So injuries are a little more serious. Pretty graphically violent scene included. Hope no one is too OOC - Nero sure isn't. He was a creepy, sadistic, crazy historical figure. Historical sidenotes: for those of you who don't know, Gaius Octavius eventually becomes Augustus, the first Emperor of Rome. Also, title comes from the infamous phrase "Nero fiddled while Rome burned," which, though a historically anachronistic idiom, sounds really cool. Characters are not mine, please enjoy! Comments are awesome.

<-- Chapter 1

When he forces his eyes open again, it's with the feeling that comes with waking up for the night, that all over awareness that slowly builds up to consciousness and movement. And that means that he lost what was left of the night last night - several hours - and who knows what has happened since then?

He sits up quickly - ignores the way doing so makes his head spin like he's had too much to drink - and gets to his feet. He's still short a shirt and the blood-dried lines on his back are sore and tender when he moves, but he needs to get out of here, needs to get Octavius out of here and away from Nero's wrathful clutches.

"Octy?" He calls, as loud as he dares in the room he's been left in. "Octavius?"

Even if Octavius was out last night, the shift back to being real will have stirred him at least a little, Jed knows. So long as he's not too late. Dying, even with Akmenrah's tablet, is still a possibility for them. Dying means an eternity spent as nothing more than a plastic figurine on display.

He's not too late, though, not yet. There's a choked off noise on the other side of the room that Jed rushes toward. He's moving so fast that he ends up stumbling over one of Octavius' feet, and he hurries to right himself to avoid landing on top of the other man, knowing that it would cause an insane amount of pain. He's sprawled on his side, curled up around himself even though the marks that spread over his ribs have to be hurting him. His back is just... Jed doesn't even know how to describe his back. He hopes it won't look as bad when it's not caked in dirt and dried blood, but he's sure it will still be pretty mangled even if he can manage to get them somewhere safe. His shoulder, on top of the cuts that are there, too, is covered in black and blue bruises and is still most definitely not where it's supposed to be.

"Octy," he says again, quieter now, and shifts to sit beside his friend. "Hey, buddy, say something, will ya?"

"Jed?" comes Octavius' voice, rough from so much screaming yesterday, and weak from pain.

"Right here," he answers, letting his hand catch the one that Octavius reaches out for him.

"Hurts," Octavius mumbles, eyes squeezed closed.

"I know," he says. "I know." And he's thinking that he might have to make it hurt more, even though that's the last thing in the world he wants to do. If Octavius ever wants to be able to hold a sword again, at least, he needs to fix the shoulder. And it's not gonna be fun. He's popped a dislocated shoulder or two back into place in his time on the railroads. "Just... hold on, okay?"

This is far from an ideal way to be doing this, but he wrangles Octavius' arm into more or less a workable position and starts moving. He pulls in first, in toward Octavius' chest in an attempt to loosen up muscles that have to be rigidly tight after so long, and then starts working it back the other way. It's a long process, a lot of back and forth, and at some point in the process, Octavius passes out again. Jed is counting that as a win because he doesn't need to be awake for this additional sort of torture. A few more twists and it finally pops back into place.

"There," he sighs in relief, watching Octavius' face relax slightly once it's done. He rotates it a few more times to make sure it's as stable as it's going to get and pulls his hands away to find that the one that had been braced on his shoulder is wet with fresh blood from the wounds there, which he's irritated into a steady flow of blood again. "Darn it!"

He wipes the blood off on his jeans and wishes he had something to wrap Octavius' back with. He's got nothing, though, but an empty room.

There's a groan of pain when Octavius shifts slightly, undoubtedly jarring one of the lines that cross over his ribs, and Jed moves him carefully until he's sort of sprawled across his lap, the pressure taken off the side wounds a bit.

"We'll get outta here, Octy, I promise ya," he tells his friend, even as his mind spins for ways to make that promise a reality. "We gotta get outta here."

But, for now, there's nothing to do. There's no way out of this room and there's no one else here to get them out. Gigantor might step in later, two days with no word from either of them ought to get his attention, but probably not til just before morning, he thinks. For now, he waits. Eyes focused on the door while his fingers drag lightly through Octavius' hair.

He's not sure how long they've been sitting there like that, but when the door slams open sometime later, it startles him out of his thoughts and he rushes to get to his feet. He's quick to put himself between Nero and his friend.

"Don't even think about pickin' up where ya left off last night," Jed warns, ready to fight if he needs to.

Nero seems unconcerned as he and a few of his men block the door. "I would hate to have to harm you further," he tells him, eyes flicking over him like that might actually be true, creepy as it is, "but then I don't have to harm you, do I? I can hurt him, instead."

Jed longs for his guns, for Octavius' blades, even for one of those spears or some flaming arrows. Anything. Anything he could use to stop this monster from touching either of them. "Just try," he answers.

Nero laughs, shakes his head at Jed's pointless defiance. "You are a fiery one, aren't you?"

Jed glares an incendiary glare at the Emperor, but sadly it is not fiery enough to burn they way he wishes it would.

A motion from Nero sends his men forward. Two grab Jed, holding him back while another pair wrangle an unconscious Octavius to his feet. He's slumped between them, head lolled to the side, and he's dragged over to Nero rather ungracefully.

Jed doesn't know what Nero has planned now, isn't sure he wants to know, but if it's going to involve hurting Octavius anymore, then he has to put a stop to it. He fights, squirms, kicks out at his captors. "If ya don't let him go..." he lets the threat trail off, but that hardly means he won't keep to it, whatever it is.

"You are wasting your energy with all of this struggling," Nero tells him calmly, as one of his men dodges a wildly flailing arm that nearly lands a solid punch. "You cannot save your friend."

"I'm damn sure gonna try," Jed counters, continuing to squirm in the hold they have on him. He tries not to let Nero see how his words have hit him, how the thought of losing Octavius to this tyrant makes his stomach roll and his head swim. He can't lose Octavius. He can't. He won't. "Why don't ya face me yourself, instead of usin' these trained dogs you got, huh? Or are ya afraid of me?"

He gets a steely glare in response to his challenge, but Nero does not rise to it. He doesn't need to. "You might be the only person here that does not fear me."

In truth, Jed is far too afraid for Octavius to be afraid for himself, and so he's coming off far braver than he actually feels, but Nero does not need to know that. "I might be, but a lot of your men out there aren't gonna like whatever it is you got planned for us, and then maybe they won't be so scared of you anymore, either."

"You overestimate their loyalty to your friend, and to yourself," Nero counters. "They will not defend you. They are defenders of Rome."

Jed bristles, as he's reminded of the battle they fought at the Smithsonian, how Octavius had rallied all the troops he could to rescue him from Kahmunrah. "They've fought for me before."

Nero's face contorts into a deep frown, which is the first real reaction Jed has managed to suggest he's concerned the man. "Rome is mine," he affirms, perhaps more to himself than to Jed. "Not yours, and not General Octavius'," he's getting angry, and Jed fears that perhaps he pushed too far, but the glorious sound of approaching Gigantor footsteps stops them all.

"Jed!" Gigantor calls out, voice a booming loud echo in the diorama room. "Octavius!"

Nero curses under his breath and motions for his men to stay behind with their captives. Octavius is already silent, but someone shoves a hand over Jed's mouth to keep him quiet.

But before Nero can leave, the world shakes, and the building they're in is lifted off of its place on the Roman display. Larry brings it up to eye level and looks in, from a safe distance (lest there be any weapons aimed at him) and does not look happy about what he finds.

"You'll let them go," Larry says, glaring pointedly at the unruly Emperor. "Now."

"I will not. They are my prisoners. As the Emperor of Rome, I am entitled to-"

Larry has had enough, though. He nods to Akmenrah, who is standing just behind the loyal night-guard, armed with the tablet. A few mumbled words and turned tiles freezes the miniatures for a brief moment, long enough for Larry to get them all out of the building without causing any injury to those he counts among his friends. With Jed and Octavius in one hand, he deposits the Emperor's henchman back among the populace and grabs up Nero in his other. Another nod, a few more words, and they're all coming to again.

The change briefly stirs Octavius again, and Jed is quick to settle at his side on Larry's open palm, even though he passes out nearly immediately. Nero, however, awakens dangling six feet off the ground, supported only by the hold Larry has on him. He's cursing, flailing about wildly in an attempt to escape. Larry ignores him.

"You alright?"

"I'm not too bad off , but those brutes did a number on Octavius," Jed explains, though Larry can surely see that for himself. "Can ya gimme some help here?"

Sacagawea appears from the entrance to the diorama room and Larry carefully shifts them into her more than capable hands. "She'll help you out. Teddy, too," Larry assures Jed, and she's quick to walk away with them, eager to get started.

"Thanks, Gigantor," Jed says, as they watch Larry walk away with the irate Nero still dangling precariously. He's not sure what Larry intends to do with him, and quite frankly, Jed doesn't care.

Jed stares at the carnage done to Octavius' back in something akin to amazement. He doesn't even know where to start. There are so many wounds. They all criss-cross each other, spread all across his back. Some curve up and over his bad shoulder, while others edge over his ribs. He can pick out the lines he put there, too, knows exactly which ones they are amidst the vast array of marks. He could probably find them blindfolded.

"Okay," he says, mostly to himself since Octavius is totally out of it. Sacagawea had picked through the gigantic first-aid kit Larry had directed her to, and then offered some other suggestions, before sizing things down for their use. She'd brought them somewhere private, where the prying eyes of the curious Roman soldiers and his own concerned Westerners couldn't bother them. She'd told him what to do to fix the wounds, and she'd left him to it, promised she'd be back soon to make sure nothing was wrong.

So, that leaves a lot of work to be done before she returns.

Among the pile of supplies he's been left with, he pulls a rag soaked in strong smelling liquid from a bowl of the stuff. Just smelling it burns his nose, so he's pretty sure it won't feel very nice when it hits the raw wounds, but Sacagawea had insisted it be done.

"Sorry 'bout this," he tells Octavius, even though he's not awake to hear it. He carefully covers the angry red marks with the cloth and the other man stirs in his sleep, trying to squirm away from the burn.

Octavius makes these sharp whining noises and Jed settles down next to him, catching his good arm as it shifts to pull at the cloth. "S'okay," he says, hates that this has to hurt after what Nero did.

He waits a long moment, she'd told him to let the cloth sit for as long as he could stand to leave it there, and when he pulls it away, it is stained brownish-red with the dried blood it removed, and the wounds look a little cleaner without all of that spread everywhere. It's pulled some of the Roman dust off of him, too, leaving clean skin where it hasn't been ruined by the whip.

Sacagawea reappears while he's waiting for the cool museum air to dry the wound a little. If anything, Jed thinks, that seems to be kind of soothing for his friend, so he counts it as a good sign.

"How is he?"

"Still out," Jed answers, with a sad sigh, from where he sits beside his friend, "but that's probably a good thing."

She nods in agreement, and extends a hand that offers Octavius' missing armor, his own missing shirts and his beloved hat, their confiscated weapons.

"Where'd ya find all that?"

"The soldiers that came to tell Larry about what was happening brought them, as proof."

And, well, that's news. "They did what now?" He asks, unbelieving that the men who had stood there and watched and hadn't done anything, that the men who had tried to keep him from helping, had gone and gotten them rescued just when they were running low on time.

She must understand what he's thinking because she attempts to explain on their behalf. "They came as soon as they could safely get away from Nero, they claimed," she reports, "And they also said that Octavius ordered them to keep you away if you were to show up."

Jed doesn't quite know what to do with that. Maybe Octavius thought he would go get help a little more immediately - that would have ended things much quicker, if he had gone straight to Larry when he realized what was happening. But how did Octavius expect him to know what was going on, to have seen what they were doing to him and then to walk away from it? Maybe it was for his own protection, so he wouldn't - as he had - incite any further rancor from the Emperor and get himself hurt, or so he wouldn't do something stupid like sacrifice himself as he had done with Kahmunrah's men. Maybe so he wouldn't have to see what he had caused in convincing Octavius to leave with him, wouldn't have to carry that guilt.

But they hadn't managed to keep him back and so he had seen, he hadn't gone for help, and he'd gotten both of them hurt so he has plenty to feel guilty about.

Octavius stirs again, reaching out in the direction that Jed's voice is coming from.

Jed catches hold of his hand and let's it ground him. There's no time for guilt-trips right now, he has to get Octavius fixed up. That's the least he can do.

"Think he'll wake up soon?" He asks, even as he coats Octavius' back in cool medicated cream that quickly absorbs into the wounds.

"Perhaps," Sacagawea tells him, unable to say for sure. "You should stay with him until he does."

He nods, because he doesn't want to leave - even though a part of him is thinking of bolting before Octavius is awake enough to blame him for this - and carefully secures a large bandage into place, so that it covers even the lacerations that extend over his friend's sides.

"You have your own injuries, too," Sacagawea reminds him, as if he might have forgotten the pulsing sting of the whip wounds on his arm and on his back. He hasn't forgotten, but he doesn't care.

"They're nothin'," he assures her, and occupies himself with cleaning up the head wound Octavius' obtained in the time before Jed had found out about what was happening in Rome. ""M fine."

"Had he been hurt protecting you, would you allow him to ignore his wounds?"

Close enough, Jed thinks. Octavius got hurt because of him, which isn't far off from Sacagawea's suggestion.

"If they get infected, you won't be able to help him," she tries again.

"Maybe he'd be better off."

She sighs, an exasperated noise that he's surprised to hear from her. "Would you trust anyone else to take care of him right now?"

And, well, no. No, he wouldn't. He knows that it would be Octavius' higher ups, probably, the same ones who went to Larry for help but hadn't helped when faced with Nero. He shakes his head, and reluctantly moves away to soak his own wounds in the burning liquid to clean them. The rest of the work on his arm is easy enough, but Sacagawea helps him with the wounds down the center of his back, as much as she can given the substantial size difference between them.

"That okay?" He asks, hoping he can get back to his vigil over his friend now that he's patched himself up.

"It will do. You will need to change the bandages - his and your own - later."

He nods in agreement and she takes her leave. Jed reclaims his seat by Octavius, close at his side, and his reassuring grip on the other man's hand and he waits.

And he waits.

After a while, Larry shows up. He doesn't say anything, just waits with Jed.

"You know, I don't think it was your fault," Larry tells him, but Jed figures he's probably just tired of watching him mope around in the silence that's hanging between them. "Nero was... a pretty messed up guy, Jed."

"No kiddin'," he snarks. "Hadn't noticed."

But Larry ignores him and does something he doesn't normally do. Jed knows that Larry has learned a lot about all of their histories in the time since he started at the museum. How they lived, how they died. But he tends to keep that information to himself. Just like a lot of the later exhibits don't mention anything they happen to know to the older ones. "Nero was the last in his family to be the Emperor. Things got crazy for a little while after that until another family took over and stabilized things for a while. And Nero wasn't even the first in his family to be a little nutty - there was lots of squabbling for the power, lots of killing within the family. Nero had his own mother executed, and probably killed his stepbrother. There are plenty of other things to hate him for, too. But, you know who started that line?"

Jed shrugs, uninterested in the history lesson.

"Octavius."

And that gets his attention. "No way is he related to Nero, no way."

But, Larry argues, that might not be true. "Nero would be his great-great-grandson, if I remember right. Roman history is pretty confusing. He was known as Augustus, once he became Emperor, the first one Rome had. A lot of people consider him one of the greatest, too."

"That part sounds like 'im, at least," Jed says, eyes flicking over to the unconscious man.

"He's even got a month named after him," Larry laughs lightly, "He did a lot for Rome."

"He's doing a lot for Rome now," he counters. Just because it's this little made-up slice of Rome, in their not-really-real lives, doesn't mean it doesn't count. "Think Nero knew who he was when he ordered this?"

Larry doesn't know, and he says as much. "He might've," he concedes, "could've done it to make sure our Octavius never got the chance to take over Rome. If Nero did know, maybe he did it to keep the power for himself. Or maybe he just wanted to hurt somebody and that somebody happened to be Octavius."

Only it didn't just hurt Octavius. Nothing has hurt Jed so much as watching what happened and not being able to stop it. His own wounds pale in comparison to that feeling and he never wants to feel it again.

"What're you gonna do with him?"

Larry hums in thought. "I'm not sure. He's locked up for now, but I was considering leaving him outside before dawn hits. Or giving him to Attila. Or maybe to Rex," he explains, sounding not at all ashamed for considering such violent options. Jed's sure he hasn't taken well to Octavius' injuries, either.

"But?"

"But, I think I'm just going to pull some strings, get the whole lot of them shipped outta here. Maybe get the Mayans back, or some other exhibit."

That sounds like a decent plan, Jed has to agree. At least they could keep the Mayans contained in their diorama without issue.

"You want to see him?"

"No," Jed answers quickly. "Nope, I'm good."

Larry nods, Jed guesses he understands that he's resisting the urge to avenge his injured friend and doesn't need to be tempted any further. "Gotcha," the man says, and moves to leave them alone. Larry has the rest of the museum to look after, still, despite this emergency. "I'll be back later," he promises.

Jed nods and his gaze drifts back to his friend, and he's surprised to find sleep heavy brown eyes looking up at him. "Hey," he says quietly.

"Did we get away?" Octavius asks, though the words aren't that clear and it takes Jed a moment to realize what he's been asked.

"Yeah," he says, and his hand catches Octavius' again without any conscious movement. "Yeah, Larry got us outta there just in the nick of time. You'll be okay."

"You?"

"Oh, don't you go worryin' about me," Jed counters, because he's hardly worth worrying about in comparison to the wicked wounds Octavius has. "Just get some rest."

Octavius groans, tries to shift to one side and then the other with no success. "Can't," he chokes out. "Hurts."

And he's not really sure what he can do to fix this at all. The wounds are so widespread that there's nearly no way to lay that won't irritate something. But he can't do nothing and the way they were laying back in their prison didn't seem too bad, so he carefully wrangles Octavius back across his lap so that his sides are up off the ground. But that still leaves his bad shoulder in an uncomfortable position, so he struggles out of his vest and rolls it up, tucks it so it gives a little support to the injured joint. "Better?" He asks, his fingers moving over the bits of bare skin he can safely touch, loosening up the wound-tight muscles he finds as much as he can.

"Mm," Octavius hums, and Jed assumes that it must be a little more comfortable because he can feel the moment when the other man relaxes against him. "Indeed, my friend."

"Good," he answers, settling back against the wall behind him. "Now rest."

He gets another mumbled reply and Jed stays perfectly still as Octavius' breathing evens out and slows down. It's the first time he's been sure that he's been asleep rather than unconscious and that is a welcome change. It's only when he's sure the other man is out that he lets himself rest, too, the first he's had since this started.

Jed wakes with a jolt, to the thrashing of limbs against his own.

Octavius, he realizes, and he's reaching down to still the man before he even really has full control of his body in the magical haze of waking. But Octavius is squirming, fighting against invisible foes in the nightmarish trappings of dreams that they only rarely have. The imagined enemies might not be able to harm his friend, but all of this movement certainly could, so he tries to catch his flailing arms, nearly gets hit himself in the process and holds on.

"It's okay," he says, over and over and over again. "You're okay, you're safe."

But he's calling out for Jed in his sleep, "Jed," and "please," and "no," and he doesn't seem convinced that everything is as okay as Jed is promising him it is.

"Octavius," he tries, as bright, red lines start seeping through the stark, white bandage, showing Jed all the wounds that must have been broken open. "Hey, buddy, come on. Wake up, talk to me."

Octavius continues to fight him, it's not until he wrenches his bad arm the wrong way in an attempt to swing at his would-be attackers that the pain pulls him out of his dream and drops him back into a state that's almost conscious. "Jed?" He asks, blinking up at the cowboy in delirious confusion.

"You're okay," he says again, because he doesn't know what else to say right now. "You just had a bad dream, is all."

"Nero... Nero, have to stop him," he mumbles, clutching at Jed's arm, scrabbling for his hand. "Stop him."

"Hey, hey," he whispers, dragging the fingers of the hand that isn't caught in Octavius' through the other man's hair, trying to calm him down. "Gigantor's got Nero all locked up. Nothin' to worry about, there, I swear to ya."

He feels Octavius take a deep, relieved breath at hearing that.

"You're safe, we're safe. Ya just gotta worry about gettin' better, ya hear me?"

The energy just seems to leave Octavius all at once after that, which isn't exactly a bad thing because Jed is going to have to patch him up all over again now.

If only he could get Octavius to let go of his hand.

Later, after Sacagawea has helped him clean and rebandage the reopened wounds, Larry appears. He brings a reminder that that tonight is set to be a night-hours kind of night and that he should keep out of sight - as if he's going anywhere so long as Octavius is down for the count - and to tell him that one of Octavius' men is going to stand in for him for the night.

Jed reluctantly surrenders the General's helm he's laid aside with the rest of Octavius' armor and makes the man promise to return it as soon as he can.

"I promise," Larry agrees, leaving the cowboy to look after his injured companion in the relative peace of an empty Western building.

"Just you and me," he tells Octavius, though he's not expecting much of a response from the still unconscious man.

The hustle and bustle of the night hours begins outside of their little world, the laughter of kids, the half-interested mumblings of adults, the few awed gasps and the rare disparaging remark.

Despite the noise, Jed finds himself falling back into a restless sleep with Octavius sprawled across him again.

Jed wakes the next evening, feeling almost relieved, for the first time in days, since this business with Nero began. It's a short-lived feeling, though. The borrowed helmet has been returned, but that only serves to remind him that Nero might be safely restrained, but that doesn't mean the damage he's done has been so easily repaired. Octavius is still sprawled all over him, but judging by the flash of pain that flickers across his face, he's awake.

"Hey," he greets, a small smile on his face. "How ya doin'?"

Octavius winces when he moves, but he somehow manages to sit up with only minimal support from Jed. Definitely progress, there. "A bit better, I believe."

"S'good," Jed answers. Maybe the weird medicines Sacagawea had given him were starting to work. He peels back the edge of the bandage on his friends back and cringes at the sight of the mostly scabbed over wounds. "Guess I'll need ta change that soon."

"Your own as well," Octavius insists, eyes landing on Jed's wrapped up arm. "You should not have put yourself in danger for me."

It's not really what Jed is expecting. "What?"

"It was my choice to leave with you that night. So it was my punishment and-"

"And it would have killed you. Nero would have killed you."

Octavius frowns, "better me than you."

"No. No, no, no. Better neither of us! You've got an army that's loyal to ya. You. Not to Rome, to you. They fought to save the likes of me, what made you think they wouldn't - that I wouldn't - do the same for you?"

"Nero had an army, too."

"I don't care what he had," he says, thinking of Kahmunrah's armies - of the creepy bird-men, of black and grey gangsters and angry Russians and prideful Frenchmen. Hundreds of enemies, all a thousand times bigger than them, of everything Octavius took on to rescue him. All of that for him, and he's surprised that Jed would take on Nero without a thought for his own safety. "Don't you get it?" He asks, covering Octavius' good hand with his own. "I'll always fight for you."

Octavius doesn't have anything to say that, but the way he looks at Jed, all intense and awed, is a bit surprising. So surprising, in fact, that Jed is too distracted trying to figure out the staring that he misses the slow move Octavius makes, crossing the little distance between them to do something even more surprising. The press of lips on lips spurs him out of his own head and back to reality, though what an unexpected reality it proves to be.

Jed comes back to his senses just in time to return the kiss, just as Octavius had been about to pull away and he can practically hear the apologies on Octavius' lips already, taking back the quick kiss with excuses and brush offs, none of which would have been true.

Instead of all of that, because Jed didn't let it happen, Octavius moves in even closer, as the not-so-quick kiss is drawn out, until it becomes a second and third and fourth, until Jed's hands move of their own free will, one sliding into Octavius' hair, the other settling on his side. But that one brushes one of the sensitive wounds that carve around his ribs and Octavius hisses in pain.

"Sorry," Jed breathes out, pulling back to put some space between them. "Sorry, I just- Sorry."

Octavius sits back, too, waiting out the waves of pain that come with the contact. "No worries, my friend," he says, once he can breathe again. "Perhaps we can continue this most enjoyable encounter another time? I fear that may be enough for now."

"Another time," Jed agrees, because he's still happy that Octavius is awake, moving, talking after what he's been through. But, Octavius is strong, stronger than Jed even knew, and his injuries will heal in time, likely leave some impressive scars in their wake, and they'll move on from everything Nero did. Together. And that's enough.

"I want to see Nero."

Jed's half asleep with Octavius sprawled out next to him, when he says it. It's been a week since Octavius really woke up, since that first kiss. A week of bandage changes and slow recuperating. A week of stolen kisses and careful touches. Only two days have passed since they rejoined their own displays again, quick to rush back to each other once night has fallen over the museum.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not? You're welcome to join me."

"That's why it ain't a good idea," Jed counters because there's no way he'd let Nero anywhere near Octavius, at least not without being there himself. But that would mean challenging the control he's managed to maintain on that subject. Seeing Nero again, he's not sure what he'd do if given the chance.

"I need to do this," Octavius insists, though Jed can't understand why. "The shipping containers for Nero and his men arrived tonight. We'll be rid of them all by this time tomorrow. And Nero's confined, he's no threat to anyone now."

Jed doesn't like it, but he can't stop Octavius either. If he does really need this meeting, then who is he to prevent it? He sighs, reluctantly gets to his feet, and says "I'll go an' find Gigantor."

Ten minutes later, they're in front of Nero.

It's not going well.

Octavius has questions and he thinks Nero has the answers.

Jed is beginning to think that Larry shouldn't have told Octavius of Nero's ancestry because that seems to be what all the questions are about. He's asking "Did you know?" and "Why?" and for other explanations that probably don't really exist. This is why none of them should know their history like that, it's dangerous.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance," Nero spits at his great-great grandfather's feet and fights against the binds that hold him back. "Maybe I'll still manage it."

The weight of Jed's gun is heavy and solid where it rests on his hip and his hand is drawn to it automatically when the psychopath threatens Octavius, no matter how benign it seems. It's out, level and steady in his hand, and aimed straight at Nero.

"Jed," Larry warns, overseeing this meeting with the power to end it should he deem it necessary. Jed suspects it will end soon, so he doesn't waste any time.

He takes a step closer, then another and another until he's right up in the tyrannical emperor's face, and he presses the gun up under the man's chin. Nero stares him down, doesn't seem bothered by the gun, except for the way his eyes dart around the room in search of a rescue that isn't coming.

"Not so tough now, are ya? Without your thugs around to watch your back," Jed says, his finger heavy on the trigger. There's a flash of fear on Nero's face and that is what Jed wanted most of all. For Nero to be scared. Scared and terrified and desperate. Everything he felt when he saw what they were doing to Octavius that night. "He's so much better than you, better than ya ever could be."

Nero glares at him, but answers, "Why else would I want him dead?"

"Jed," it's Octavius this time, and a hand lands on his shoulder, a soothing weight that counterbalances the weapon in his hand. "He is not worth it."

"I know," he agrees, but he pulls the trigger all the same.

Panic, this time on Nero's face. Panic and fear and confusion (perfect, Jed thinks) when nothing happens after the audible 'click' of an empty shot fired. "Like it or not," he explains, waving off an alarmed Larry before he can step in, "His blood," he nods to Octavius, who's looking a little shocked himself, "is in your veins and thanks to you, I've cleaned up more than enough of that for a lifetime. So, I'd start talkin' ta him, if I were you, 'cause he's the only reason you're alive."

It feels like a weight has lifted off his shoulders as he backs away from the man, who is already begrudgingly answering prior questions - maybe he needed this meeting just as much as Octavius - and moves to stand at Octavius' side, where he belongs.

Later, when Nero and his men are all but gone, when Octavius has his answers and Jed has had his not-quite-revenge, things seems better. They're at the divide between Rome and the West, as another sunrise ticks nearer and nearer.

They'll have to leave soon, return to their own spots in their own worlds for the day, but for now they linger, fingers twined together as they watch the other inhabitants of the museum come and go, returning to their own places, too.

"I thank you for your help, my friend," Octavius tells him, though the kiss he steals is more than friendly. "I doubt Nero would have been as forthcoming without your assistance."

Jed smiles, steals one of his own before they part, "Anytime, partner."