Originally posted 01/10/07 reposted 05/02/10


A/N:

New year, New fic, New category.

This has been through so many changes of late so im sorry for any confussion.

But it is my version of what could of happened 'the day after' series one ends. I worked myself and lots of people stuupidly hard over Christmas just to get this finished before the second season started!

Just my way of starving of the 'Rome' withdrawal symptoms. lol.

Many thanks to my wonderful boyfriend who gave up 6 hours of his new years day just to help me get this ready to post today. You are amazing! Xx13xX

Anyway...

Obligatory Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, or make any money from this, if i did own them i'd be having far too much fun to be doing this.

Friendly warning: This will become slash with later chapters If you do not like please DO NOT READ! You have been warned.

and now thats out the way, onwards with the story...


Chapter 1 - The day after


Rome lay silently basking in the morning sun, its streets empty, and all its residents hiding from the dark magic the murderous deeds of the previous day had created.

All, except one…

Walking hand in hand with his former slave Eirene, Titus Pullo smiled and turned his face to the sun as they wove their way through the streets. He had everything he could possibly want. Ok, so Eirene might not be his wife yet, but she had at least stopped spitting in his food and for now he was content with that.

Only when he reached the Forum did the former soldier emerge from his cloud of contentment to notice that something was wrong.

The normally bustling city centre that was home to everything from public trials, livestock markets, and funerals, stood silent and empty. Like a faithful family home whose family had been torn from its nursing walls in the dead of the night by a horror unknown, the forum looked sorry for itself.

Scanning the area, Pullo was amazed as his footsteps echoed around the deserted square. Only when he had turned in a complete circle did his eyes fall on the senate house, its doors wide open and to a seasoned soldier such as him, the unmistakeable stain of blood on its white columns and steps.

"What in..?" his question halted as his roaming eyes found the still wet graffiti on a near wall. Crude drawings much like those that he could scribble himself, were splashed on top of whatever had been the previous day's gossip. Picture after picture depicted the same scene; Caesar, a bloodied mess of red brush strokes, lay slain with Brutus above him, a stained knife in hand. It wasn't hard to work out what had happened.

"Pluto's cock, I go away for one day..." Pullo's words drifted off once again this time as he remembered who else had been at the senate yesterday.

"Vorenus." The name tripped from his lips and he dropped Eirene's hand. Had his friend been involved in the events depicted on the wall? Pullo knew it was likely he had, everyone knew Vorenus was Caesar's man, and if Caesar was dead… Pullo could not, would not, finish that thought. Turning once more, without a second thought he headed towards the cloth dyers district, and the closest thing he had to a home.

As he marched through the Subura, Pullo's eyes were scanning everything, his entire body on high alert. Somewhere behind him, he could hear Eirene struggling to keep up with his pace, but he cared not. Right now nothing mattered more than finding his friend. If something had happened, he had to know.

As his distance from the forum- and the black magic that had occurred there- grew, so did the number of faces he saw. Windows opened as he passed, and whispers echoed along the empty streets.

"He's here?"

"Does he know?"

"Where was he yesterday?"

"I thought they were friends?"

Pullo heard all the questions, but no answers. With his concern racing, he broke in to a run, stopping only as he reached the entrance to Vorenus' insular.

The fact that the gates were closed, an unusual event to begin with, confirmed his worst suspicions and tightened his chest when he saw they supported a black mourning ribbon.

With his heart beating faster than he could ever remember before Pullo slammed open the gate, and knocked the ribbon to the floor, crushing it under his foot, as he stamped forward for all the world looking like a wild animal.

"Niobe!" he cried at the top of his voice, his head turned up to the balcony outside the Vorenus apartment door. "NIOBE!"

"Hush!" Came the sharp reply. "Have you no respect?" From a lower apartment Niobe's best friend Clarissa appeared. She knew the enraged soldier must be in shock, but it hurt to hear the name of the woman she would never speak to again.

"Respect my ass!" Pullo answered, not able to pull his eyes from the closed door. "Where is she?" When yet more silence answered his question Pullo finally turned to look at her. The anger blazing in his eyes died as he took in her black mourning dress and shawl, the last fragile hope of his friend's safety was ripped away.

"Where is she?" he begged quietly once more, his throat feeling so tight he was surprised he could even breathe.

Clarissa stepped forward, and almost fell onto the wooden bench in the courtyard, the strain of her grief becoming too much. "She's gone," she whispered, her voice hitching as her tears began, "she's gone."

Pullo was confused. The woman wept, yet it was his friend that was dead, dead and abandoned by his wife. Unwittingly his mind sped to the promise he had once made in jest, to pour wine on to Vorenus' grave. Silently he vowed again to honour his words.

Shaking his head to clear his vision he stepped towards her. "What happened?" he questioned.

Clarissa sobbed harder. But Pullo had no time for her dramatics, he needed to know everything. Crouching in front of her he held her arm tight and pulled her to face him. "Tell me," he demanded, his voice deep and aggressive. "What happened to Vorenus?"

Clarissa looked up, her eyes watery. "We don't know," she answered honestly, pleading to be believed. "We just found him, crumpled on the ground, every spark of life gone, his eyes and ears dead to all around."

Pullo turned white and for the first time found himself blanching at the thought of a dead body. Blinking, he tried to focus on what she was saying.

"You could hear the cries three streets away," Clarissa continued and shivered; she would never forget the sound of the grief, even if she lived to hold her grand-children's children. "So many tears, and blood that would not clean," she whispered, her hysteria starting to emerge again, and she looked down to her hands."I tried and tried…"

Pullo's eyes followed her gaze; her hands, scrubbed red raw, confirmed her words.

"What…" Pullo's voice broke. "What did you do with… with him?" He needed to know, he needed to know his friend had been treated properly. Vorenus was Thirteen. Pullo cared little for what he had become since the legion had been officially disbanded. Once you were Thirteen, you were Thirteen for life, and the Thirteenth didn't disrespect their dead.

The woman looked up, caution in her eyes. "We… we couldn't move him," she admitted. "He was so heavy, the look of death on his cheeks. For hours he lay where he fell, no-one could move him, not the children… not the solders."

Pullo felt his anger rise as he stood. They had left him there, Vorenus in the courtyard, dead?

It was too much to bear. With an angry yell he kicked over a wooden stall and condemned it to a life as kindling. As he breathed deep, it clicked what she had said. "Soldiers?" he repeated, quickly turning back. "The Thirteenth?"

Rissa just shrugged. "I don't know," she answered tiredly, "they were just solders. Lots of them. Most didn't know. They just came for guidance about Caesar, and left muttering your name. Everyone muttered your name... after."

"Pullo?" a small faltering voice called from the gate, surprising them both, with an echo of the woman's thoughts.

Turning just his head, Pullo could see Eirene standing there. "Leave," he shouted, so full of rage he was unable to temper it. "Go!"

Tears sprang to the girl's eyes. She didn't understand.

"Go?"

"Be anywhere but here," he snapped again, turning his head so he didn't have to look. He couldn't bear to deal with her right now. Besides there was more of the story he needed to know. Turning back to Clarissa, all thoughts of the freed woman were lost to him.

"Why didn't someone come for me?" he questioned.

Clarissa turned back from the view of Eirene shrinking away. "No one knew where you were," she answered truthfully.

"I needed to know," Pullo moaned, "I should have known." Angry, he hit the table with a closed fist, and the woman jumped.

"There was little you could have done," she consoled after a second, laying her hand on his arm. "Death came on swift wings yesterday, taking more than his share."

"When?" Pullo had to know every last detail, for it would not sink in.

"Midday," Clarissa answered, "around the time the senate met. There have been whisperings that somehow it is part of the same bad business that occurred there, but I don't know." She had her own theories.

Pullo's heart sank even further. He had guessed it correct; Vorenus had been right all those time when he said Caesar's path would lead them into trouble, and now he was dead, they both were.

In silence, he walked back to where he had stood earlier and called up to the balcony, only this time he noticed how a small circle of the stone courtyard shone brightly clean.

"Here you say?" he asked, thinking where Rissa had pointed earlier, and the woman nodded.

Staring at the clean spot, Pullo felt tears in his eyes. His senior officer, his best friend, the first person he had cared about in years, had died there.

"How?" he suddenly asked, looking back to the woman. "HOW?"

"A fall," she whispered, "some say pushed, others jumped."

Pullo was incredulous. He looked back to the balcony above; his friend hadn't even got an epic fight like he deserved, just a cold floor.

"Nay," he shook his head. "No, he couldn't…"

"They fought beforehand," the woman continued, as if it explained it all. "Vorenus was angry. He broke things…" she trailed off, worried about offending the unstable soldier in front of her by speaking ill of the other.

Pulling his eyes from the spot, Pullo turned to the woman. "Over what?" he questioned carefully.

"I..." the woman paused. "I don't know."

Rushing forward with dread knotting his stomach, Pullo dragged her to her feet. "You're lying," he accused her.

"A... a" Clarissa stuttered as he shook her, "a family matter."

Pullo's eyes narrowed. "Family?" he repeated.

"Family," she confirmed.

"Dis' balls," Pullo swore vehemently, as he realised what must have happened. All this time he had tried so hard to keep that whore's secret from his friend, and now it had killed him. Vorenus was dead because his wife couldn't keep her legs together? His anger flared. If he got his hands on her…

"Where," he growled, "is she?"

Clarissa just stared at him, with wide eyes.

When she failed to answer, Pullo's hands tensed, crushing her arms. "WHERE," he asked again, "IS NIOBE?"

"She's dead," The woman whimpered. "She's dead."

Pullo let go of the woman almost as fast as he had grabbed her.

"Dead?" he questioned, not understanding. Sacrificing herself after her husband's death went only a tiny way to redeeming Niobe in Pullo's mind, but it was a start. Maybe she had loved him after all, but somehow it just didn't sound right. "Dead," he repeated, "As well?"

"As well?" Clarissa was confused for a moment, until she remembered why the rest of the city was in mourning. "Yes," she lowered her eyes. "It is horrific."

Pullo fell heavily to sit on the bench next to her. He didn't know what to do. Like a leaf on the wind, he had no direction, nowhere to go, no one to follow.

Sighing, he sank his head into his hands. "I need to get drunk," he moaned.

Clarissa was surprised by the depth of emotion playing on his face, and she knew it wasn't for her friend. "You knew him well?" she questioned.

Pullo's head shot up. What kind of question was that? "Best as anyone could." He nodded, not without a little pride, meaning it in so many ways. "I know he loved her," Pullo spat out the words that left a bad taste in his mouth. As far as he was concerned she did not deserve such an honour.

Clarissa's eyes crinkled in confusion "Niobe?" she asked.

Pullo looked sideways at her "Yes," He said slowly, "Vorenus loved her, he turned down…" Biting his tongue suddenly, he stopped his mouth from betraying the secret Vorenus had teased him he would not keep, and shook away the memory of one of the best nights of his life. "Now he's dead," he finished tonelessly. Finally admitting the truth to himself, as he said the words aloud.

Clarissa's eyes widened at the soldier. Somewhere he had become mistaken. "No, no," she hurried to correct him, the words tripping over themselves to escape her lips. "Only she rests with Pluto."

Pullo's world lurched violently sideways. "Only she," he repeated, as if to reassure himself the woman had said the words. "Only… Niobe?"

Rissa nodded. "Vorenus lives."

Pullo's face cracked, his wet eyes now of joy. "Ha!" he cried, laughter spilling from his lips as he jumped to his feet.

"Respect," the woman scolded again as she watched the solder's face light up. His friend might not be dead, but hers still was.

Pulling her to her feet, Pullo kissed her hard on the mouth for a second, ecstasy running through his veins. Spinning her around the courtyard, he could not stop grinning.

"Where?" he asked as he calmed. "Where is he?"

The woman shook her head. "No one knows," she answered softly. "The children were sent to her sister's, and no one has seen him since."

Pullo's heart pulled painfully again. Despite what he thought of the dead woman, Vorenus had loved her, he might be as broken as dead anyway. Hadn't he once said as much?

"I need to find him," he realised as he let go of the woman. He would not let his friend down again, he would be there for him. "I need to find him"

III

In an airless room, with nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat to keep him company, he lifted his head and narrowed his eyes against the sun filtering in between wooden slats that did not meet, penetrating the darkness surrounding him in small slivers.

It was a new day, but he did not care. He had sunk to this place when it had been light yesterday and not moved since. Apollo's unremarkable appearance as with every morning did nothing to encourage otherwise.

Lowering his head, his neck stiff as he did, he sniffed deeply at the blanket clutched desperately in his fist. He could smell honey, and almonds, and her. He could smell her as if her head lay on his chest, and rose with every breath he took. His throat tightened, and as he fought to keep control of his emotions, squeezed his eyes against the light.

Sleep would be welcome to him, if he knew he would not dream, but just closing his eyes he was flooded by a hundred images and words that hunted his soul.

"Speak sense whore." "You will not speak to me that way." "It's blood it'll wash!"

Every angry word he had spoken crowded his head until he was forced to snap his eyes open.

He may not have had a chance to use the sharp knife that had played in his hand as he confronted her, and now he would never know if he could have done. She had taken that option from him as her last act of love. But then if she loved him why had she whored herself to another man? His mind began on the same tired argument he had struggled with all night.

So many questions and no answers. What did he do now? Given his standing if he had killed her, he would have been patted on the back and offered his choice of the eligible women in the city as a replacement wife to look after his children. Minus the boy of course. But what was he now? A man who could not satisfy his wife? A man who could not control her? Could not even punish her? What was he? A soldier of the Thirteenth? A Senator? No, nothing but a laughing stock.

Hiding his face he began to dry-sob into the material. His tears had dried up sometime last night, now his eyes just stung red, and his body shook as it went through the motions. His throat was sore, and his chest ached, but he did not care, he could not even feel; his wife was dead.

In the dark, and hiding in a corner, Senator Lucius Vorenus wished to die.


A/N

Well that's it for the first chapter folks, what did ya think? do ya like? Leave me a review and let me know, pretty please with a cookie on top.

T.C.U until next time PP xx

P.s An extra cookie for anyone that can spot the reference to my favourite cancelled series, or more over the film it spawned. S.S xxx