Author's Note (because you all love'm .):

Ok…two chapters in one day…it's a new record. People, E-mail me with any plotlines you might come up with, because so far, I've got none...which makes for a crappy story, allright? Also, I'm going to have a two-shot Gladiator contest, e-mail me for more info about that…because you people refuse to read my profile page.

Chapter 3

"I want no one going in there, nor is she to come out." Commodus thundered to the guards as he stormed out of Lucilla's room, after yet another rejection. The guards saluted him as he walked past, and nothing more.

As Commodus entered a new room, he paced around it, mumbling to himself about how different she would've reacted to Maximus, among other things.

"You must get these thoughts out of your head, sir." A voice from the shadows gave him a start, and he turned to the darkness to try and see who was there, but to no avail. He did not recognize the voice, though it did sound slightly familiar.

"Show yourself." He commanded, and was relived when he saw Falco emerge from the shadows.

"I mean no harm, Caesar; I did not mean to startle you."

"Well you did." Commodus turned away to resume him mumblings. "Lucius!" he ceased his pacing and turned to look at Falco. "Lucius, where is he?"

"He never left the room, sir. He awaits you." Falco bowed almost apologetically.

"Good….I'll go and see him."

"Yes sir." Falco bowed once more as Commodus passed him to leave the room, unsure of what to expect from his nephew. Anger for killing what might've been his friend? Depression from not seeing anyone? What to expect from such a young boy…?

The young boy jumped, looking up from his papyrus and looking over his shoulder at his uncle. His expression showed neither happiness, nor sadness. What bothered Commodus the most was that he was unable to comprehend what the boy might be thinking as he turned back towards his paper without a word. The silence was deafening, and for once Commodus wanted, more than anything, his nephew to say something.

"Hello, uncle." Was all Lucius would mutter as he continued what Commodus thought to be a drawing.

"How are you, Lucius?" Commodus tried to be as polite as possible, as to not upset the boy. "Are you finding yourself well?"

"Yes, sir." He did not look up as his uncle stood behind him, trying to lean over his shoulder and see what he was drawing. Lucius made sure to lean in his way.

"What is with this 'sir'?" The emperor questioned, straightening up as the young one purposely blocked his view. "Why do you call me this now, when you have never done so before?" His voice was soft, attempting comfort, though he wasn't entirely sure how far he'd gotten with that.

To his comment, Lucius said nothing. Commodus wasn't sure why, though he thought it had something to do with his killing Maximus. The silence dealt him a hard blow, and it hurt the young Emperor to believe that even his own nephew now despised him.

"What is wrong, Lucius?" Commodus pressed for Lucius to respond, but to no avail. He resisted the strong, and still growing, urge to release his temper. The once again deadly silence threatening to take hold, the Emperor wanted to say something, but found no words. The silence grew unnerving, and he thought of leaving Lucius to his drawing. He turned to leave when he was halted.

"Why must I be punished for my mother's wrong doing?" Lucius asked, not looking up. Commodus turned and looked at him. "Why did you have to kill Maximus, and Gracchus, and Gaius?" He now turned to face his uncle, who'd frozen at the mention of his late rival.

"Sometimes you have to do things to protect your throne." Commodus staggered over the words a bit, trying to find how to explain this the right way. "Some people want to take it from you, and you have to protect it."

"If being Emperor means I have to kill innocent people, I don't want it." Lucius found the courage to challenge his uncle, though this wasn't hard. He found saying certain words would pierce his uncle's heart, and these words did indeed cut through him like a knife. Commodus felt the sharp sting and flinched as if Lucius had hit him. Lucius…not wanting to be Emperor? Surely there was some mistake…?

"You don't mean that." Commodus gave a weak chuckle, clearly hoping beyond hope that his nephew was joking with him.

"No, uncle, I don't want to kill people who are guilty of no crime."

"Enough foolery!" Snapped Commodus rather sharply, unable to hold back. Lucius looked hurt as his uncle's tone, knowing he was unpleased.

"It's no foolery, uncle! I'll have nothing to do with it!"

"You don't know what you're saying! Of course you want to be Emperor!"

"Don't tell me what I do and do not want to do!" Lucius cried furiously, now standing and facing his uncle in only a partially threatening matter. Commodus saw a flash of Maximus standing defiantly in front of him, staring him down. For a moment he was scared, but then he realized it was only a flashback.

"You will be a great Caesar!" He challenged weakly, the visions of Maximus making him sick with worry at what might happen with Lucius.

"I won't! I shall have nothing to do with murder!" The small boy flew from the room, racing out the door before Commodus could stop him. He only watched the now empty doorway and covered his eyes with his hands, sitting down on Lucius' bed.

"I'm losing everyone that is dear to me…" He whispered, massaging his forehead. He opened his eyes and looked at the floor where Lucius' drawing had fallen. He reached forward and picked it up, examining it with a kind of horrified shock.

The drawing was of himself and two others; one that had to be Lucius and the other…could it be? No…the other was Maximus, rising out of the ground. The outlines were harsh and shrewd, like most twelve-year-olds' drawings are, but he could clearly make this out. Lucilla stood smiling to the side…and he himself lay on the ground.

Dead.