Maximus tensed the moment the guards led him into the darkened dungeon. He had thought that it was Lucilla who requested for him. He now knew it was not. He could smell him and feel the change in the air when he was around. So many years, yet his heart still leapt when he sensed his presence. A condensed reaction that could not change, despite the years and the betrayals.

The guards left after chaining him to the wall. After long minutes of waiting with no movement in the dark corner, Maximus heaved a great sigh. "Show yourself, Commodus."

A slender figure stepped out of the shadows, a movement so fluid it seemed as if he was made of shadows. " You knew I was there."

"I always knew."

Commodus walked towards Maximus and came to a stop a few steps before him. He stood there looking at Maximus for a long while, a contemplative look on his face. Maximus bore his stare without flinching.

"So, the great General is now but a lowly slave."

"A slave that would never bow before you."

"You always had too much pride for your own good, Maximus." Commodus started circling Maximus. Like a predator circling the prey before closing in for the kill.

"The only negative point of my pride was that it stopped me from seeing how treacherous you are."

"You mean to say you actually deluded yourself into thinking I am loyal and faithful?" Commodus's tone sounded positively delighted.

"I trusted you, Commodus." Maximus's voice was cold and there were daggers of ice in his blue eyes. "You knew that."

Something indiscernible passed over Commodus's face. "That's your mistake."

"And I will spend each day regretting it for as long as I live."

"It's so very easy to redeem the mistake you know." Commodus stepped closer. Predator closing in on its prey.

"There's only one way." Maximus stated, looking straight into Commodus's eyes. "By taking your life."

Commodus stood immobilized for a short second.

"No, there's another way." He seemed to collect himself as stepped even closer; he was almost leaning on Maximus now. He slide one finger gently down Maximus's left cheek, while murmuring in a low seductive whisper, "For you, Maximus, there's always a way."

Maximus looked at the proud, aristocrat face. "My clothes are very filthy, Emperor. Be careful you don't dirty your silk robes."

Commodus let out a hiss as he stepped back.

"You loved me once. Do not lie to me that you love me no longer."

"You killed the emperor I loved dearer than my own father! You murdered my wife and son in the most foul way!" Maximus exploded in an anger that seemed directed at both Commodus and himself. "How, in the name of all things sacred, can you expect me to love you anymore!"

"I hated them!" Commodus couldn't stop himself from shouting back. "You knew that! You knew how much I despised that woman. She took all your time and attention!"

"No, she didn't." Maximus sighed. "But she was my wife and he was my son and I loved them. I can accept everything you've done to me. But I cannot accept what you did to the people I loved."

Maximus paused, then continued, "It's too late, Commodus. I know you too well. I love…used to love you too much. You're saying all this to try to make me swear allegiance to you, to admit my love for you. It will never happen. You destroyed every shred of my love for you on the day you killed your father and murdered my family. And know, nothing can be the same as it was before."

Commodus's eyes flashed in the dark.

"Why won't you stay dead? I tried so hard to make sure you will die. If you're dead, at least I can mourn you in my heart. You will always be with me, in my soul. We can be together forever. But now, you are alive and I can no longer keep you with me."

"Now, I live with the only aim of killing you."

Desperation, as black as midnight, suddenly rose and overcame Commodus. It was so strong; he could taste it at the back of his throat, as bitter as bile. Before him stood the man he loved more than anything in the world, telling him that his sole purpose for living was to kill him. There was nothing he can do to change that. He knew the fact as well as he knew the steely look of determination in Maximus's eyes. He was Caesar and owned the greatest kingdom in the world but he could never own Maximus's love again. Not as he used to. What was the use of being Caesar then? What was the use of having everything but the one true thing he wanted most ?

It suddenly struck him that this man before him in rags and chains had more power over him, the Caesar, than anyone else in the kingdom. The irony of it, a slave with power over an Emperor! Maximus always had the ability to achieve what no one else could.

They had been rivals since the day they met. Commodus remembered the first time he saw Maximus, standing by his father's side, a tall and proud Spaniard. He remembered the flood of jealousy rising in him when he saw his father placing a hand on Maximus's shoulder, a sign of affection he never received. And he remembered the laughing eyes of Maximus, with that knowing look.

That night, Maximus came to him. It was an attraction between two forces.

Later, Maximus had confided that he was attracted to Commodus the moment he met him. The pale-skinned boy surrounded by an aura of light yet filled with shadows. The proud carriage that one could only be born into. Not yet a man but not a boy either, with eyes that lost its innocence a long time ago.

They say that your bitter enemy knows you better than your bosom friend.

Maximus always knew of the hatred Commodus harbored for him. The jealousy of his father's love for the substitute son, which far outweighed the love for the true son. Likewise Maximus, with his obsessive compulsion for virtue and duty, had always despised Commodus's methods and resources of getting what he wanted.

Somehow, love managed to blossom amidst the hatred. Or perhaps they weren't given a choice. They instinctively knew each other, in character and thought, loves and hates. And they were instinctively pulled towards each other.

Therefore since the year they met, they lived two lives, enemies by the day and lovers by the night. Until the day Commodus found out the plans of Marcus Aurelius. And he knew that he had to make the choice.

Commodus suddenly knew with a certainty that Maximus would kill him. It had come to a point where all of Maximus was centered on it. He had too strong a will not to achieve it -- it was only a matter of when. To his surprise, he felt no sense of dread or fear. Perhaps, death by Maximus's hands was not such a bad thing after all.

He supposed he could kill him now. The thought flitted though his mind. But for what reason? It would only turn his people against him. There was no use in being Caesar only in name, and that was what he would be. He could do it. He did do it. But Maximus, - was that pride he was feeling? - simply couldn't be killed. Not trying was only better than actually failing.

Besides, he was tired. So tired. The thought of dying by Maximus's hands actually sounded interesting. At least, in this way, he would be ensured of a place in Maximus's thoughts for eternity. Maximus loves him. He knew this no matter what he said. They'd been through too much. He knew Maximus too well. He would stay in Maximus's heart and soul forever. If he couldn't own him in life, he will own him in death. As to whose death, it didn't really matter.

He stepped up to Maximus again and this time, really leant against him, enjoying the closeness that had been denied for too long.

"On the day you kill me," he whispered softly, "know that I love you. And always will." He did not try to explain his deeds, nor did he ask for forgiveness. He simply reached forward to brush his lips against Maximus's, a kiss so light it felt more like a butterfly that flitted past his lips flittingly. It held for a split second, a second where they shared a breath, before Commodus turned and left, melting back into the shadows.

Maximus thought that he could feel no greater pain than the day he saw his wife and son's burnt corpses. Now he knew he was wrong.

He knew that his greatest mistake wasn't trusting Commodus, it was believing that his love for Commodus could ever die.