Tempus fugit chapter one

Disclaimer: I don't own Gladiator, believe me, I wish I did. I don't even own a DVD copy… Anyway, all rights go to Ridley Scott and whoever wrote the screenplay – Peter Somebody..? But, hey, if they're offering, I'd love me some Maximus (Sexy Beast!!) *poster girl smile*

Idea/Summary: Maximus travels forward in time just after the battle against Tigris of Gaul.

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The room was dark, a single china lamp illuminating the corner. The cot – the twin bed in the corner, held a man and a form standing over him, encased in shadows performing what looked like a medical procedure. The man was large, six foot, and wore the remnants of a dirty shift – simple sheet cloth with holes cut in it for his various limbs. It was woolen and cheap, synched with a wide leather belt that had three buckles. Armor lay at the foot of the bed, a breast plate of Roman design and a shoulder cuff, both with slightly elaborate but somewhat crude silver designs of horses and winged lions on blackened steel. His sandals were still attached on his feet and legs, laced half way up his calves. They were simple, made of leather thongs tied around wooden soles and were well worn.

The man made no obvious movements, eyes closed, as the shadowed form stood over him, drawing up a long string from his neck that appeared to proceed from a bloody wound. He seemed to be alive, as his chest did rise and fall with a breathing pattern, though shallow.

The form continued sewing up the man's injury, slowly. His body flinched each time the needle entered into his skin, making the large muscles that filled his giant frame tense and tight, showing off powerful strength.

The figure finished its work, taking scissors from a table nearby and knotted the suture, snipping it from his neck. The man whimpered from the tension of the chord and the figure shushed him kindly, stroking his shortly cut black hair.

For a moment, the figure stood still over him, studying his face and body. It cradled the man's chin in its hand for a moment, free from its work now. A smile drew on its features as it marveled at the strong jaw outlined by the short and well-groomed beard. It almost reached out a finger to feel the beard, but paused, hand outstretched in mid air.

"Focus!" The short, sharp curse spewed from its lips and the figure instantly dropped its hands from the man as if his face had burned the small limb. It rushed away from the bed and across the room to the desk as far away as possible where it fussed and fumbled with some bottles, making a clatter. The man started and gave out a small grunt once, but did not wake, and the figure paid no attention to his movements, returning with a tube of ointment and a clean gauze bandage.

Taking a warm sponge from a bowl just off to the side of the scissors on the table, the form wiped the man's neck from the grime and blood that had caked around the wound. He flinched from the touch and moaned softly, and it shushed him, keeping the volume at the same low and almost silent whisper. This time it pressed a finger to the man's lips, and waited for it him to quiet before beginning its work again. "Shhh… Don't cry - I know it hurts." The figure's mouth moved yet again and the words came this time to the beat of a caring coo.

Slowly it began to apply the clear goopy ointment from the tube with a long Q-Tip while stroking the man's hair again. Its work was finished, and the wound was now thickly covered in the oozy ointment as it shone in the light, sparkling like metal. The shadowed figure carefully unwrapped the bandage from its casing and applied it silently, then left, leaving the unconscious man alone.

Hey, it gets more fun from here. Just had to start out with a precursor.