Finding their way to the palace was relatively easy; the structure loomed tall and proud, visible from where they were located. It was as they approached the palace that it soon became clear as to what the challenge would be—slipping past the crowd of tradesmen and guards to get to the interior.

"There're so many people; there's no way we'll get in without anyone seeing us!" Micky said.

"Well, why can't we just go up and tell them that we're friends of Davy?" Peter asked.

"Because our words will mean nothing to them," Mike said, cynically. "They'd probably ask Davy if we were telling the truth. And he could be so out of it that he wouldn't recognize us, or worse—he could be so mad at me that he'd…"

He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"Davy wouldn't do that," Peter said.

"He might not even be himself anymore. It's like Zero said," Mike replied. "Davy was sent hurtling through the Time Vortex by something that he hated—something that I had promised to protect him from. I stand by what I said to Zero—that Davy is too good a person to want to see me hurt or worse. But… in his current state, it's very likely that he wouldn't want to see me at all." He looked to his bandmates. "You guys know that I've known Davy since he was fourteen. I've spent all that time looking out for him, always being there for him, promising that I wouldn't let anything happen to him. Tell me one thing, Fellas—what would either of you do if the other had made a promise to keep you safe from the thing that scared you the most, and then broke that promise, leaving you stranded alone in a strange place where you didn't know anyone or could even communicate with? Left you alone in a desert, exhausted and starving and who knows what else?"

Micky gave Peter a look.

"I wouldn't blame anyone for that," Micky said, at last. "I'm sure Davy knows that you did everything humanly possible."

"But it wasn't enough, was it?" Mike's voice cracked as he continued. "They found him unconscious in the desert—unconscious. He'd probably passed out from the heat. He probably didn't even think he'd make it…"

Peter placed a hand on Mike's shoulder as he trailed off a second time, a tear escaping him again. The Texan took a moment to regain his composure.

"Okay," he sighed. "Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to create a diversion. Once I've drawn everyone's attention, you two sneak inside the courtyard. Make your way inside and find Davy."

Micky cleared his throat.

"Actually, Mike, I think I oughta create the diversion," he said. "I mean, come on—you know me. I can ham it up and hog the spotlight; I love being the center of attention. Just leave it to me."

Mike glanced back at Micky for a moment and nodded.

"Fine," he said. "I'll help you with the diversion; Peter, you go in and find Davy."

"Mike, I really think you should be the one to find Davy," Peter said. "You're going to be beating yourself up about this, and I don't think you should put yourself through that. And once you see Davy safe and sound and happy to see you again, it'll hopefully help you move past that."

"And what if he isn't happy to see me again?" Mike asked, a pained look in his eyes. "What happens then?!"

"Then you show him that you'll always continue to do your best to help him," Peter said. "I'll help Micky with the diversion; it's important for both you and Davy that you be the one to find him."

"I want to, Peter," Mike said. "I want to, but…" He shook his head. Who was he to burden Peter—or any of the others—with his troubles? "Okay, then. I'll go in. But you two make your diversion a good one, got it?"

Micky, who had been looking around at the crowd, gave Mike a reassuring nod.

"Trust me—we've got this," he said, pulling a candy bar from his pocket. "This little thing here is going to be all that we need."

He beckoned Peter to follow as he approached a man carrying a lyre and began to negotiate borrowing the lyre in exchange for the candy bar. Mike arched an eyebrow, as did the lyre player, but Micky's deliberately loud praising of the candy bar was beginning to draw attention to the sweet, which the brunet was waving with the intention of it being seen. Peter got the hint and soon began talking about the candy bar, as well and requesting the lyre player to let them borrow the instrument.

To Mike's astonishment, the crowd was taking interest in this scene. And as Micky and Peter began to draw even more attention, the Texan soon found an opening to slip into the palace courtyard unseen. From there, it was a matter of hiding behind statues until he entered the structure.

Silently thanking the fact that electricity hadn't been harnessed yet, Mike hugged the shadows of the corridors. A couple times, he had to hide from passersby and guards, his heart hammering in his chest.

He soon lost count of how many rooms he had checked as he made his way through the palace; he eventually found himself on one of the upper floors. He froze as he passed one room; someone was awake; a standing silhouette was visible against the moon shining from a balcony window, staring out into the night.

But it was the figure's height that caught Mike's vision most of all.

"Davy…?" he whispered, as he entered the room.

The figure's shoulders went rigid; Mike saw him turn around, sharply. With the moon behind him, Mike couldn't see his face—he had no idea what his expression was.

The Texan steeled himself, now stepping into the moonlight to reveal his face. He heard a gasp of surprise, and Mike knew that he had to speak before he was thrown out.

"Tiny," he said, softly. "I'm so sorry. I know I let you down, and what I did was absolutely unforgivable—"

The words got lost as the figure suddenly threw his arms around him, and Mike soon found himself in the tightest embrace he had ever felt—and he could also feel the figure's frightened trembling.

"Mike…" a familiar voice squeaked. "Mike, are you… are you really…?" The figured shuddered. "Is this… real?"

The Texan felt a lump growing in his own throat, and he now returned the embrace, once again allowing the tears to escape his eyes as he did so.

"You know, I'm asking myself the same thing," he confessed.

Davy tightened his embrace in response.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again…" he said. The way his voice was breaking, it was clear that he was crying, too.

"I didn't think you'd want to," Mike confessed.

"How could you even think that?!" the English boy asked, clinging to Mike as though he was a lifeline.

"I… uh… Zero sorta put the idea into my head, and I was beginning to believe it…"

"You saw him?!" Davy gasped. "Is he here?"

"Back in Malibu—in our time. He wanted to make a deal with me to get you back to us." Mike hesitated. "I did consider taking him up on his offer."

"What—!?"

"You can calm down, Tiny. I turned him down in the end. But let me tell you—I was…" He trailed off; Davy had pulled back in the shock of hearing about the almost-deal, and Mike, for the first time, saw the shape he was in.

Davy had a few bruises on his face and arms, and Mike was sure that there would be more on the rest of him. The Texan felt yet another wave of guilt wash over him.

"Davy, what happened to you…?"

The English boy glanced down at his bruised arms.

"I ended up in the desert after the Angel got me," he said, quietly. "There was a gang of thieves that started after me once I wandered over to their hideout. I didn't have anything except the ocarina, and they thought it was worthless. So when they found out that they'd spent several hours chasing down someone who didn't have anything worth taking, well…" He winced, and Mike cringed in sympathy, as well. "Let's just say that they were rather sore sports about the whole thing. I don't really remember much after that—I woke up here, in the palace. I've had the hardest time trying to communicate, but they've been treating me very well—the Pharaoh himself checked up on me; it's like I'm a VIP or something."

"Ah, yeah—about that…" Mike said, not sure how to break it to him. "There's a reason why they've been giving you the royal treatment; they had a prophecy that—"

A sudden commotion distracted them both; the crowd was chattering loudly, and that was when Micky's voice belted out, struggling to make himself heard as he sang while someone accompanied him on the lyre.

"Take the last boat to Giza, and I'll meet you by the Nile…"

"Micky's here, too? What is he doing?" Davy asked.

"Mick and Pete just couldn't stay away; I expect you knew that, though. We needed a diversion so that one of us could get in. Micky was trying to negotiate borrowing a lyre by trading a chocolate bar—guess the guy went for it."

A grin spread across Davy's face, despite himself.

"Typical Micky," he said. "I guess that's Peter accompanying him? The crowd seems to like it…" He blinked. "How can I understand them now?"

"The El Dorado has a translation thing," Mike said. "I dunno how it works, but I'm not going to question it. Anyway, we need to sneak you out of here and take you home—Professor Song said that if you stay here too long, it'll be a Fixed Point, and you won't be able to leave."

"I don't want that," Davy said, immediately. "Let's go—"

He was cut off by a voice from the hall demanding an explanation for Micky's singing, and Davy gulped.

"Who's that?" Mike asked.

"That would be the Pharaoh. I think Micky just woke him up."

"Oh, boy…"

"You will bring the ones responsible for this disturbance to me at once!" the king was saying. "They will answer for this!"

"Dear One," the queen's voice replied. "They aren't hurting anyone; I found that little performance quite amusing!"

"Nevertheless," the Pharaoh replied, audibly annoyed.

"We have to go out there and help," Davy said. "He seems to have taken a liking to me; maybe I can convince him to let Micky and Peter off."

"Yeah, about that taking a liking to you…" Mike said, but he was interrupted again as Davy headed out of the room.

The Texan followed him, but quickly froze in his tracks as the Pharaoh and the queen noticed him and Davy.

"Who is this intruder?!" the Pharaoh demanded, glaring at Mike. "How did he get inside the palace?!"

"I'm sorry, Great Pharaoh," Davy said, bowing. "But he and the two creating the din outside are my dearest friends."

The Pharaoh arched an eyebrow as he, finally, was able to understand Davy, thanks to the translation matrix.

"You don't have to explain anything," Mike said. "It's up to me." He cleared his throat and bowed, as well. "Look, uh… I'm really sorry for intruding like this, but it's true; I know you've got that prophecy and all that saying that Davy was going to turn up here and help you guys out, but… He wasn't here by choice. He was taken from us by a monstrous creature and left in the desert against a gang of thieves. We've been worried for his well-being; for a while, we didn't even know if we would ever see him again, so we just had to make sure he was okay…" Mike's throat tightened. "It was my duty to protect him, and I failed. I can only thank you for looking after him when I couldn't." He looked up from the bow to make eye contact with the king. "You may punish me in any way that you see fit; I only ask that you do not punish my companions for what was my error."

The room was soon filled with Micky and Peter's protests as they were brought in by the palace guards and taken before the Pharaoh. The king eyed the three of them suspiciously, his glare prompting the two to fall silent as he turned back to Mike.

"You stand there, in my sacred halls without an invitation, dressed in that most offensive woolen headdress, and have the audacity to ask that I listen to you?"

Mike lowered his gaze, hastily removing his woolhat.

"What is your name, Boy?" the Pharaoh demanded.

"Nesmith, Your Honor," the Texan said. "Mike Nesmith."

"Well, then, Nemeseth…"

Mike almost corrected him, but thought better of it.

"…I will grant your request. Those two are free to go or stay here," the Pharaoh said, glancing derisively at Micky and Peter. "As for you—"

"Please!" Davy pleaded, stepping forward now. "You heard what he said—everything he did, he did because he had to make sure I was safe. He has selflessly looked after me for the past four years." Davy hesitated. "I've owed him my life, more than once. And, more than once, he risked his neck to ensure my safety, just as he is doing now. I implore you, Great Pharaoh, to grant him mercy."

The Pharaoh now glanced at Davy with a searching gaze. It wasn't as harsh as the looks he had given to the others, which Davy took to be a good sign.

"Very well, Nemeseth; at the request of our champion, Djonessu, I release you, as well, to do as you wish." He turned to his aide. "See that they have rooms, if they decide to stay."

Deciding to wash their hands of the matter, the king and queen returned to their chamber as the servants opened and prepared rooms for the others. Davy just grinned at the others, hugging them close.

"I can't believe you're all here," he said, overcome. "I really missed you. Glad I could help get you out of hot water, too—it's lucky that they seem to have taken a liking to me."

Micky and Peter, who had been grinning back, quickly sobered.

"You didn't tell him?" Micky asked.

Davy blinked.

"Tell me what?"

"I've been trying," Mike said. "Kept getting interrupted. Davy, there's a reason why they've taken a liking to you; they're got a prophecy that says that you're going to be a hero that'll help them in their hour of need against…"

"Against what?" Davy prompted, as Mike trailed off. "Mike, what are you trying to say?"

"Well… Do you remember how, in Peru, the Forbidden One was going on about how you defeated him once before, but you didn't know what he was talking about?" Mike asked, carefully choosing his words.

"Yeah, I kinda do," Davy said. "He said that we crossed paths three thousand years before, but…" The English boy trailed off, his eyes widening in sudden realization. "This… this is… that!?"

Mike placed a hand on Davy's shoulder.

"After you vanished, Professor Song said that it was a Fixed Point—it had to happen so that you could face the Forbidden One now and seal him in that medallion."

But Davy shook his head.

"No…" he said, looking from each of his friends to the other. "No, I can't do it! I won't do it!"

"Davy…" Peter said, softly. "It's going to be okay. You win, remember? You already know what's going to happen."

"I don't know everything," Davy reminded him. "Bad things could still happen, and I've seen enough—been through enough!"

The guilt returned to Mike, even though he knew Davy hadn't meant it like that. And the look on the younger boy's face as he turned to him with pleading eyes certainly didn't help matters, either.

"Mike, please…" Davy begged. "Please don't make me face him. Please! I… I just want to go home."

The Texan hugged the frightened English boy close.

"It's okay," he said, knowing that he had no right to tell Davy that he had to stay and fight. "You don't have to fight him if you don't want to. Things can change. Time can be rewritten."

Professor Song was going to be absolutely livid, he knew. But he was not going to put Davy through anymore hardship. He was still scared.

"Let's go home, Davy."

"Really?"

Seeing Davy's face brighten up was a relief to the Texan.

"Hey, Mike?" Micky asked, quietly. "Won't this turn everything crazy? We're messing with the timeline…"

Mike gave Micky a look and silently indicated Davy, who had hugged Mike again in relief after hearing that he didn't have to face the Forbidden One again.

"Are you going to tell him he's gotta fight after everything he's been though?" he silently transmitted.

Micky looked to Peter, and they both shook their heads. Davy had been through enough, and he wasn't in any shape to be fighting anyone, let alone a big, manipulative beast like the Forbidden One.

With their decision made, all that was left for the team to do was to wait until things quieted down. Davy spent the majority of the time just hugging his friends close, grateful to have them.

Micky and Peter did their best to cheer him up—and Mike, as well. The Texan was still too guilt-ridden to offer many words of comfort. Davy seemed to have forgiven him without a second thought, but… that didn't change all the suffering the English boy had been forced to endure. And as they causally left the palace to head to where Mike had left the El Dorado, he was trying to figure out how he could possibly make it up to Davy. At the moment, it just didn't seem possible.

But getting home would be a start, he realized, as they entered the El Dorado.

"Okay," Mike said, as he started to work with the settings on the console. "Here's the plan—we're going back to Beechwood Drive, and we're parking the El Dorado back on the beach. And then, we're not waiting for anything—we're going straight into the Monkeemobile and going on the run just like we originally planned."

"We're still leaving?" Peter asked.

"We have to—if Zero finds out that we succeeded in bringing Davy back to our time, he'll try something else. And there's also the fact that since Davy was touched by the Weeping Angel, it's going to be able to track him."

"What!?" the English boy yelped, causing Mike to cringe.

"It's…" Mike was almost about to reassure Davy that he would be alright once they were on the run together, but he stopped himself; his words were meaningless now, even if Davy didn't say so.

"I don't see why we can just go on the run in this thing," Micky said, gesturing all around them. "It's a home in here—we have our own rooms, there's a shower, a pool, a fireplace, a library…"

"Zero will be expecting us to stay here," Mike said. "He knows it'd be the most comfortable way to travel. We have to go low-key about this, and that means doing things the mundane way."

"As if going on the run from the Devil and a stone angel is mundane…" Micky countered, cracking a lopsided smile.

Mike didn't reply; he had attempted to throw the lever on the console to get the El Dorado moving, but frowned as the lever did not budge. His further attempts to move it achieved nothing.

The console whirred and beeped, and Mike froze, looking to Davy with a devastated expression.

"What?" the younger boy asked. "What did she say?"

"She says that she can't take you away from here," Mike said, quietly. "This is still a Fixed Point."

Once again, he had let his best friend down.


Notes: the comment about the "offensive woolen headdress" comes from the fact that the ancient Egyptians considered wool to be impure and that it should not touch the skin or be worn while in sacred places.