While Rome Burned

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.

"Mr. Daley!"

The call comes the second he'd stepped foot into the museum's main lobby. Larry has only just arrived for his shift, and such an immediate summoning from Dr. McPhee is likely not a good thing. He fears another mishap with one of the exhibits, though nothing had been amiss when he'd taken his leave early this morning. Nonetheless, Larry braces himself for the worst as he approaches his ever-disgruntled boss.

"I've got something to show you," he continues, and Larry breathes a sigh of relief when he finds that they're going down to storage instead.

"What is it?"

"New miniatures," McPhee answers, approaching a wooden shipping crate that's been left by the loading dock. "We'll be loaning the Mayan diorama out to Chicago..."

And, again, Larry finds himself relieved. Out of all of the exhibits, he's never managed to reign in the Mayan's - and certainly out of all of the diorama's on display, it's the only one he could stand to lose. If it had been Rome or the West, that would've been bad. He'd have had to find a way to stop it.

"And we'll be using that space to expand the Roman exhibit."

"Ugh," he groans, unable to catch the sound before it escapes his mouth. Jed is not going to be happy to hear that Rome is expanding and the West is not, especially since it directly contradicts that whole 'manifest destiny' thing he's always going on about.

But, Dr. McPhee isn't privy to the delicate balance of museum life, and the equally delicate hold Larry has managed to keep on it, so he's just staring at the night-guard as if he's insane. "Problem?"

"No," he answers, quickly. "No. Got anyone good in there?"

"Well, 'good' is relative term, we've obtained a figurine of the Emperor Nero. We've gotten several of his generals and a host of soldiers, too."

Larry hopes that they mesh well with those already occupying the Roman diorama, and agree to continue the peace with the other exhibits in exchange for the free reign that most of the others enjoy, though he suspects dealing with an Emperor might prove more difficult that the easy loyalty he's gotten from Octavius.

"When are you putting them in?"

"I'll be adding them in before I leave for the night, Mr. Daley."

He cringes. So much for a chance to ease Jed into this, to break the news ahead of time. "Alright, then," he reluctantly agrees before he takes his leave.

They don't pay him near enough to deal with irate cowboys first thing at night.

The shift comes slowly, like it always does. It starts with thoughts, the awareness that they'll be waking up soon, and then it seeps into their bones as they form from the plastic. Bones to muscle to flesh and blood, as the ability to feel works its way outwards via the magic of Ahkmenrah's tablet. Another second to regain movement and sight and voice and then it's like they never went to sleep for the day.

Jed comes back to the noise from the train, and the unending clatter of work on the tracks. "S'enough, men," he calls because by now he's given up on actually making progress on the railroad. None of them want to waste away their time on a pointless project when they have the whole museum to roam as they wish. The only time they actively work on the railroads comes with the periodic night hours. "Call it a day."

His men tip their hats at him as they pass on their way away from their exhibit and he waits until most have gone before he starts toward the wall the West shares (despite numerous attempts at blasting it out) with the Roman area.

"Octy!" He calls, expecting, as always, to find his friend there. It's where they always meet before they go exploring.

But, today he isn't there.

"Octavius?" He calls out again, wandering over to the Roman side. Many of the soldiers are milling around, but he doesn't see any sign of Octavius' General's helm, which sets him apart from the legions of soldiers.

He's admittedly quite startled when he's suddenly surrounded by a ring of those soldiers armed with spears, which are all pointed at him.

"Hey, now!" He says, raising his hands. "What's goin' on?"

"You have dared intrude upon our Emperor's lands."

"Umm," Jed starts, nudging one of the spears aside a little when it gets a little too close for comfort. It whips back at him, even closer now, and presses him back against those ringed around behind him. "Just hold on a second there, ya'll know who I am. Octavius ain't gonna like this." Granted he doesn't actually know any of the soldiers here. He could recognize a couple of Octavius' higher-ups, but no one guarding the edges of their little worlds will be so well-known.

The one who seems to be in charge of this gang of fools doesn't appear bothered by Octavius' name. If anything, he looks amused. "We've been instructed to bring any intruders straight to Emperor Nero."

"What's a Nero?"

Someone bops him on the shoulder with the wooden shaft of a spear. "You will show the Emperor the proper respect."

"Ouch," he says, a hand flying to cover the spot, where it stings from the hit. "That smarts."

"March," the leader says, as spear-points poke insistently at his back.

He does. But he doesn't like it.

"Octy!" He calls, when he finally does spot the other man at the entrance to that Coliseum thing that he's always going on about. "Hey, tell your men to quit pokin' holes in my vest, will ya?"

And that clearly gets his attention, his head snapping up and his eyes scanning the gathered crowd for the cowboy. He marches over and addresses himself to the one who'd seemed in charge of the group. "I will handle this. Leave him to me."

"The Emperor commanded..."

"I will handle this."

The man huffs, indignant, and signals for his soldiers to drop their spears. "Don't think he won't be hearing of this."

"I have no doubt you will be rushing off to inform him straightaway," Octavius sighs, as the group retreats back to the boundaries of their section to continue their patrol. With them gone, Octavius grabs hold of Jed's sleeve and hauls him away from the amassed population - which, Jed notices, seems much bigger than normal - with haste. "What are you doing here?"

"Lookin' fer you, of course," Jed answers. "Why else would I come over here? We're supposed ta take the car out tonight and run ol' Rexy around."

Octavius frowns,"I can't."

"And just why the hell not?"

"The Emperor has forbidden us from leaving the confines of our territory."

Jed doesn't see why what some bossy, dress-wearing snob says matters, and he tells Octavius as much. "And Gigantor said we could do whatever we want," he counters. "I think I'll side with Gigantor. When did ya get an Emperor anyway?"

Octavius sighs, long and heavy, and leans back against a nearby wall. "Today, apparently. He's not my Emperor, I served no Emperor in my time, nor have my men. Things were... different, then."

"So, forget 'im," Jed says, nudging the other man lightly. "C'mon, Rexy's waitin' for us."

"Very well, my friend," he agrees, letting Jed drag him away from the exhibit despite the apprehensions on the matter.

"Come on, Octy," Jed sighs, pacing the line between their exhibits. He' staying on his own side tonight, thank you very much. He can see those spear-wielding maniacs lurking nearby and he's not giving them the satisfaction of catching him again. "Anytime now."

But he doesn't come.

This Emperor dude is getting on Jed's nerves.

He takes one last glance at the Roman side of things and heads off in the opposite direction. He'll find Larry and put in his two cents on this high and mighty Emperor who thinks he can keep Octavius away from his best friend.

And he does find Larry. It takes a while to locate the man in the sprawling maze of the museum, but eventually he happens upon Gigantor in the main lobby, playing fetch with Rex. Little Gigantor is around, too.

"Hey!" He calls, when he's sure that Larry will hear him. "What's the big idea puttin' all them new fellas in Octavius' world, huh?"

Larry cringes, "Yeah, about that..."

"Ya know, that jackass of a leader they got over there won't even let 'em out at night. He's got 'em all patrolling and bowing down to him like mindless puppets," he says. "Some of them spear-wieldin' robots even threatened me."

A sigh, and Larry nods. "I'll talk to him. For now, just keep your distance, okay?"

Not quite the answer he'd been hoping for - but since he'd been hoping for the immediate removal of the Nero dude, he's not really surprised. "Fine," he answers, "but do it soon, will ya?"

Another nod, a promise. Nick offers him the racecar, but he declines. It's not the same without Octavius.

He retreats back to the Western exhibit and, for once, wishes this miserable night would hurry up and end.

The next time he wakes, he's still lingeringly furious over what's happening in Rome. If Octavius doesn't show up today, he's going over there. Men with pointy sticks or no. He gives his friend an hour to meet him, but before that time is up, he hears an uproar from the always gathered crowds.

He's not sure what they're calling for, but he knows it isn't gonna be good. The patrolling soldiers are drawn into whatever's going on, so he takes the chance and slips over the boundary line.

Weaving his way through the people is a brazen move, especially given the supposed orders the men who'd grabbed him had gone on about, but no one seems to care about him right now.

"Nero!" They're all chanting. "Nero! Nero! Nero!"

He breaks through the front line of the crowd, he finds mostly soldiers there and among them, he spots several of Octavius' men. He's about to ask them what's going on, where their General has been hiding out, but he sees the answer to both of those things before he can ask.

Octavius.

And at first he doesn't understand. Octavius has been stripped of his upper armor and chained to a wooden pole, that Jed knows wasn't here before, his wrists are bound above his head, his bare back facing the crowd. He's dirty, and there's blood on his arms from where he's struggled against the binds, another spot on his head, where blood trails from matted hair, down his face to his neck.

A man approaches, armed with a whip that Jed would never even think of using on his horse, let alone another person and that's about when things click into place.

"Octavius!" He shouts, tries to surge forward and stop this before it can start, but someone is holding him back. Several people are holding him back. Soldiers. One of them Jed even knows. "Let go of me!"

"Shh," someone hisses at him, but he squirms and fights all the same. "Stop it," comes with the press of a spear to his back and he does, begrudgingly, still.

Despite the roar of the crowd, he hears, but thankfully doesn't see, the first strike of the whip. There's this choked off pained noise from Octavius that makes him look up in time for the second and there's already blood trailing from the fresh wounds. He realizes then that the whip ends in sharp little stones that tear flesh far too easily.

A third hit comes and Octavius stumbles, presses closer to the pole. Biting back a scream as the fourth and fifth hits come within seconds of each other.

Are they trying to kill him? Jed has to wonder. That thing is tearing Octavius' back to shreds. If they aren't trying to kill him, then they're trying to destroy him. And Jed knows for what.

He ignores the threat of the spear-point at his back and stomps down on the foot of the man keeping him from his friend. It's enough. Surprised, the man staggers back a foot or two, which allows Jed enough room to lurch in the other direction and rush forward.

"Octavius," he calls again, racing up the steps that elevate the pole so that it can be more easily seen by the gathered crowds. He sticks an arm out as he gets close, and catches what would have been hit number seven in the process of blocking his friend's body with his own.

There's a flash of pain and red immediately stains his sleeve, but somehow he manages to get hold of the thing and pull it out of the stranger's hand. He tosses it away and pulls his gun, instead, reveling in the familiar heavy weight of it in his hand, and aims for the head of the man who'd carried out the attack. "This stops now."

Spears surround him - them - again, but he doesn't give in. "What is wrong with you all?" Jed demands, focusing mainly on the spears that come from those he is familiar with. "How can ya just stand here and watch them do this? You've fought with Octavius, with me, with us! We fought for this," he gestures to the open space beyond the exhibit, "and now you're just gonna let some idiot in a fancy dress take it away from ya?"

There are shocked mumbles and angry threats. Any effect he might have had on Octavius' men is cancelled out by the irate soldiers who are loyal to this Nero. But then it gets worse.

"Idiot in a fancy dress?" comes an insulted, incredulous voice booming from above. Nearby, on another raised platform sits a man dressed ornately in comparison to the soldiers, surrounded by generals, it appears. "Seize him," the man, presumably the wonderful Emperor Nero, orders. "And continue with the punishment as ordered. Make him watch."

And, okay. Panic. That's panic he's feeling because there is not one thing going right.

"Get out of here," Octavius manages, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Jed, my friend, you must go."

He turns slowly in the ring of spears around them. Octavius is standing stock still against the pole, but for the shaking. Eyes closed to fight the pain. "No can do, buddy."

There's an exasperated sigh that morphs into a hiss of pain, but there's no time for arguing. Jed fires off a single shot, all he can manage before he's taken, dragged away from Octavius. The shot is aimed at Nero, but it goes wide and the bullet buries itself harmlessly in the stonework behind him. "No," he fights, "no, damn it, you're not gonna do this."

"Proceed," comes Nero's command, once Jed's been effectively restrained.

Jed stares resolutely at the ground, unwilling to watch, but the sound of the whip doesn't come.

"They don't count unless you're watching." Nero laughs at him, signaling for another strike before he can look up. "That one, for instance, did not count."

Jed raises his head, stares unblinking, at the gruesome sight before him and figures that he'll never be able to get these images out of his head. "I'm watching."

A nod from Nero and the strikes continue. The third attempt at the seventh hit is followed nearly immediately by the eighth. He feels Nero's eyes on him now, studying him carefully as he's forced to watch Octavius suffer.

Nine comes and Octavius slowly sinks down the pole, all of his weight resting on his arms.

Jed can't watch anymore.

Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

"Stop, stop it," he begs. "Look, I'll take the hits for him, just stop."

"You'll be getting hits of your own soon enough," Nero brushes him off.

"It's my fault," he continues, ignoring the fact that it's probably not a wise idea to keep shouting at the Emperor. "I made him leave with me that night, it's my fault he disobeyed whatever orders you gave."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," Jed insists. "I talked him into it."

The thirteenth blow hits, harder than the others have and Octavius can't bite back the pain this time. He screams, scrabbling in an attempt to get away from the whip. Jed fights, too, as hard as he can.

"No general of mine should be so easily convinced to desert."

"Desert what?" Jed demands, angry. "This ain't... there aren't any enemies here, there's no war, no battle for them to fight. So what did he desert?"

Another hit comes then, criss-crossing over several of the other fresh wounds. Octavius sinks lower, but the movement must do something because there are more pained noises and Jed notes that his arm is twitching and looks oddly out of place. Damn it.

"C'mon," he tries, "I'll do whatever ya want me to. However many he has left and my own, I'll take them all. Just stop."

But then comes the next blow, and Jed would swear that it was aimed directly at the shoulder that is clearly injured. So is the one after that. The sixteenth.

"Maybe he will take your hits, instead," Nero counters, a wicked grin on his face.

Jed struggles, twisting and squirming against the men holding him back. He manages to get a hand on one of their sword-belts and it's enough to grab a hilt. He pulls the sword free and swings it expertly, glad that Octavius trained him with them just as he trained Octavius with his guns. He fells his two captors in three hits and rushes forward once again. This time he bypasses Octavius, as much as it pains him to do so, and jumps the distance between this raised platform and Nero's. His landing there forces two of the four Generals off of the small platform and he ignores the remaining ones, instead pressing the sword to Nero's neck.

"Ya touch him again and I slit your throat."

Nero doesn't look terribly concerned by his threat, though he does seem impressed. "You do that and my men will do the same to him. You cannot win."

There are swords on him now, too, which effectively relays the message that any move to end the Emperor will be his last. A glance over his shoulder, at the man with a blade held on Octavius' neck, says it'll be his end, too.

"I'll make you a deal," Nero says, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he nonchalantly pushes Jed's sword aside and stands. When he's sure he has Jed's full attention, he continues. "If you hit him, just once, I'll allow you to take his place."

He wants, more than anything, to say no. He'd never hurt Octavius. Despite the wars of their past - before Larry convinced them to be friends - there'd been fights, but even then, their roles in the battle kept them apart. He's never had to really hurt Octavius - hell, he sacrificed himself to Kahmunrah to make sure Octavius wasn't hurt. And now, when he's broken and nearly unconscious, bloody and bruised, he's not sure he can make himself do it.

"Yes, okay," he says, instead, because this needs to stop. Jed has no idea how many more hits Octavius has coming and the man with the whip hasn't shown him any kindness thus far. "You'll let him go? Ya promise?"

"He will be released as soon as you fulfill your end of the deal," Nero tells him, motioning him to return to the other platform. He does, quickly, and reluctantly accepts the bloody whip. The blade drops from Octavius' neck and he's left to slump, barely conscious of what's going on anymore.

Jed stares. It's the first chance he's had to really see the extent of the wounds the whip has left on his friend. His back is red and raw, bleeding considerably and yeah, that shoulder is not where it's supposed to be anymore. He glances from the weapon in his hand to Octavius' back and fights to ignore the rolling of his stomach when he thinks about what he has to do. Should he aim for something that hasn't been hit yet, even though that will maybe hurt less, but leave more marks to take care of? Or should he stay on top of the other wounds? Maybe he could get away with less of a hit that way.

"Now!" Nero demands, impatient even as he watches Jed's every move closely.

"'M sorry 'bout this, 'Tavius," he says, even though he's sure his friend can't hear him.

He takes a deep breath, chokes on the scent of blood that's everywhere up here, and looks up and pointedly not at Octavius. He swings, and the tails of the whip come down on unmarred skin, tearing fresh gashes along his ribs. Jed drops the thing like it's on fire, reaches out to comfort in place of the pain he's just caused. "I'm sorry, he says, "'m sorry." He braces himself at Octavius' side, taking some of the weight off his arms. "Let him down. Now!"

Nero laughs at him, but nods to the man who'd done the rest of the damage. "We had a deal," he says.

Someone pulls Jed back, away from Octavius while he's freed from the chains. Instead of easing him down, they just let him drop to the ground. He'd already been passed out, but landing on his back stirs him long enough for another hoarse scream before the fresh pain takes him back under.

"Octavius," he calls, desperately. This was not what he'd been hoping for. "Octavius, c'mon."

He spins to face Nero again. "I did what ya wanted, now send him over to the West. My guys'll patch him up best they can."

"Ha," Nero snorts, amused. "I said you could take his place. Not that I would let him go."

Jed starts to protest - rather, shout a combination of colorful curses and distasteful insults at the powerful man who is presently wielding immutable power over both he and Octavius - but he is cut off quickly. On Nero's order, he's divested of his remaining weapons, which is not surprising. Surprising they hadn't done that sooner, really. But then the man with the whip enlists two others in ridding him of his vest and shirt, leaving him stripped from the waist up as Octavius had been. They do leave him his bandana.

"Ya no good lyin' coward! Yer as crooked as a dog's hind legs! Ya oughta-"

Then they take his hat.

He's fuming then, which is ridiculous because he was already furious with what they'd done - what they'd made him do - to Octavius. Something so trivial as a hat shouldn't anger him so much, but it does. He spits every insult, every curse he knows at them, watches Nero laugh and laugh at him as the men ignore him, wrangle him forward past the crumbled form of Octavius, and to the post. His wrists are chained over his head and just like that, he's taken Octavius' place.

"You lot don't know what yer doin'," Jed tries, fingers curling and uncurling against the chains. "When Gigantor finds out about this, you'll..."

They don't seem to care, though, because the first blow comes with no warning. He feels the blood flow before he feels the pain, but once it starts, it's constant. Burning all along the array of wounds one strike leaves down the center of his back.

He resolutely keeps his mouth shut for the next two hits, glaring daggers at Nero. The Emperor is still watching him closely, perhaps closer than before, Jed thinks. It makes him uncomfortable, being watched so closely.

The sound of approaching footsteps - Gigantor footsteps - gives Jed a fleeting moment of hope that's abruptly squashed when he and Octavius are hurriedly relocated into one of the nearby buildings where their would-be rescuer won't see them.

Maybe Larry will see the blood? The whipping post? Maybe he'll realize that something is wrong and demand answers. It's all that Jed can hope for.

Larry's voice is its usual booming tone, Jed can hear him asking after he and Octavius. He doesn't hear whatever response comes to the inquiry, but it doesn't seem to be alarming him into searching the diorama to find them. Another voice comes - Nick's, Jed thinks - and then the footsteps are retreating.

"Hey!" He shouts, even though he doesn't think he'll be heard, "Gigantor! Larry! Help!"

Not only does it not draw Larry's attention, it angers the soldiers who'd dragged him away. One of them wastes no time in bashing him over the head to shut him up and the blow, unfortunately knocks him out cold, leaving him no way to protect either himself or Octavius from whatever Nero has planned for them next.

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.

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."