"Mr. Daley!" The new night guard called out after Larry.

Larry did not bother to turn around, or even acknowledge Owen. He was far too miffed and distraught over what had happened that night. After the game had ended, he had spoken with Sacagawea about how Jed had taken to leaving the comfort of his tent and being among the other exhibits again.

The answer had done less than thrill him.

The results of Owen playing in the soccer game had been satisfactory enough: he had played like the other exhibits, and the exhibits he had played with, for the most part, had seemed fine with him. There had been a few spats and some unsportsmanlike conduct, plus Ahkmenrah had become quite upset with the new night guard over something, but other than that, the game had been rather uneventful. If Larry were to be completely honest, the exhibits seemed to be becoming to accept Owen- and Owen was beginning to warm up to the exhibits.

All except for Jed, whom the plan was originally meant for. Larry had spoken to Sacagawea after the game had finished, hoping to hear some good news about the state of the poor cowboy. The news had not been good in the slightest.

According to Sacagawea, Jed had needed to be hogtied and carried into the miniature rc car by his men, and had fought the whole way. He had watched the game, and had spoke, to the Shoshone woman for a while before noticing Owen. From what the night guard could gather from her explanation, she had tried to make herself seem as friendly as possible, to show him that she wanted to take him out to have fun- which she had been trying to do- but the cowboy had found it difficult to let himself enjoy the game. Especially after he spotted Owen. After seeing him, Jed had gotten upset again- albeit less than before- and had insisted on leaving the game. After returning to his exhibit, he had gone back to his usual, moping self.

Deep down, he knew he was wrong and was being unfair, but to Larry, it felt like the problem was Owen. If Owen had not been playing, Jed would not have seen him, and he might have even enjoyed the game. Then again, he reminded himself, if it was not for Owen suggesting they make Jed get out of his tent for a while, they may never have tried.

By the time Owen caught up with the night guard, he was already at the bottom of the steps. He moved to reach out and grab his shoulder, but remembered that he was, after all, his superior, and touching him out of line might not be the best thing to do. Besides, it was clear the old night guard was upset. And Owen did not wish to run the risk of making him angrier. But he needed to know what had happened, he needed to know if hos plan had worked.

"Mr. Daley, did...did everything go as we hoped?" Owen asked quietly, lowering his voice instinctively as he followed Larry down the crowded sidewalk. It was a habit he had begun to pick up on since his first night.

"No," Larry sighed and shoved his hands deeper into his security jacket pockets. "No, Owen, they didn't."

Owen fell silent. That was not at all the answer he had been hoping to hear. "What...what happened?"

"Sac got him out of his exhibit, after some fighting and all that. He sat at the game, saw you play, got upset again, then wanted to leave."

Owen felt a frown form on his face as he listened to the night guard. "But she got him out of his exhibit?"

"More like forced him out, but yeah, she did."

"Then...it was a start." Owen said with a hopeful tone, his frown slowly shifting to a more neutral expression. "We can work with it, surely. Getting him out and back into the museum is a good starting point."

Larry could not help but scoff as he continued walking toward the corner, where he usually met his taxi. "I wouldn't really consider it a 'good start', Owen. Hell, I don't think it's even a start. He wasn't happy with it, and seeing you didn't help him much."

Owen inwardly winced at the night guard's tone. He kept bringing that up…. "Well, whether it went well or not, we still managed to get him out of his exhibit. Perhaps, if you kept trying-"

Larry whirled around to glare at Owen, stopping where he stood on the edge of the street corner. "Why keep trying? Obviously it isn't working."

"You can't just do nothing." Owen argued calmly, aware that people were beginning to stare at then. "He needs help, Larry. The real question is, why won't you help him?"

"All this 'help' seems to be causing him more pain." Larry pointed out bitterly. "Every time you try something, every time any of us try something, he gets worse. Your plan failed last night, Owen. It isn't going to work."

Owen fell silent, thinking to himself as he looked at the cracked concrete of the sidewalk. Larry was right: the plan had not worked the way he was hoping. But, that did not mean he was wrong. The little cowboy, Jed, it would take some time for him to recover- but recovery for him was not impossible. What he needed was someone to keep trying, a friend who would not give up just because the first attempt had done nothing.

"Larry, I know this is just as hard for you as it is for the other exhibits. I know I have no right to be in this museum, and I know that my presence here causes nothing but hurt. Hell, I know I could never truly experience what you and those poor exhibits are going through- especially Jedediah." At the mention of the cowboy's name, Larry sighed and turned away to look at the oncoming traffic. Owen took a quiet breath and continued. "I can tell that I'm the one causing the problems you're trying to fix. This...other exhibit, the one you have lost- I know my presence makes that loss worse. But I also know that I'm the only one trying to help. Or, at the very least, trying to do something other than sit around and hope for a miracle. We failed last night, but there is always tomorrow night. There is always a second chance, another way, a new option or an unexplored path-"

"There isn't another option, Owen," Larry sighed again and punched the bridge of his nose. He was getting tired, and the ramblings of the new guard were getting to him…

Owen glared at the night guard. "There must be. I will not give up on him, even if you and the others will."

"It's not about giving up, it is about trying again!" Owen was barely conscious of the fact that he had raised his voice, which sounded much more imperious and general-like than it had before. All caution was thrown to the wind as he prepared to berate the night guard on his lousy way of dealing with problems and the poor state he had left the museum in. In truth, he knew it was not Larry's fault- he also knew that his arguing might cost him his job. But none of that mattered now. What mattered was getting someone to help the sad little cowboy he had met a few nights earlier. "Jedediah. Needs. Help. One night was not enough. He might need two. Or three. Gods, he might need a whole year! But you must step up and help him! Or let me help him! The whole museum is clearly falling apart and you, the night guard, are doing nothing to stop it! And you dare call yourself a night guard!"

That was the straw that broke Larry's back. Owen might be right, but no one accused him of not deserving his title.

"You think I haven't tried!?" Larry's voice rose just as loud as Owen's, causing the man to take a step back. "I've done everything, EVERYTHING in my power to make this right! I've tried counseling him, I've tried listening to him, I've tried forcing him to come out...but nothing's worked! And you," He jabbed a finger at Owen. "You've caused more damage than you've fixed! All the exhibits are afraid of you, and yet here you are, trying to befriend them and 'get through' to them as you call it. Everything was fine before you got here! Sure, Jed was having a hard time- but you've gone and made things ten times worse!" He paused to inhale sharply, unaware of the fact that people were stopping to watch the pair argue. "Your mere presence alone is causing problems! You shouldn't even be here! Why the hell are you even here!?"

Owen stammered for a response. But what could he say to that? Larry was right: he was the cause of this mess. Whether he understood how it was his fault or not, he knew deep down that it was his very existence that plagued the museum. For the second time in his life, just when he had been thinking he had found a place that would suit him, he had become an outcast.

"Larry, I never meant to-"

"Just shut up, Octavius!"

Larry clamped his mouth shut as soon as the name left his lips. His gaze snapped to the new guard's eyes, which had widened.

Owen stared at the night guard, now realizing why the state of the museum was his fault. He bowed his head and whispered in a quiet voice, "I...I am not Octavius. I am Owen. That is the problem, isn't it?"

Larry sucked in another breath and nodded slowly. "Yeah, Owen, that's pretty much it. You just...you look like him, and you talk like him, you act like him and you say the same damn things he did….you even have the same mannerisms, too. Playing with your laces, always looking out for danger….you even wear red and you're fluent in Latin and you know a lot about the Romans and...and it messes with the exhibits, you know? They look at you, and they don't see Owen- they see Octavius. And that's the problem."

Owen swallowed down his guilt and looked at the sidewalk at his feet. "They...see a living reminder of the person they lost…"

Larry nodded with another sigh. He was now aware that people were staring, so he lowered his voice in response. "It isn't your fault, it's just...fate, I guess. You can't help it. But seeing you reminds us that we lost someone very important to us, someone we took for granted and never really paid much attention to until we lost him. Jed...you know he's broken about it. It's been years and he's still not over it. Sacagawea, Teddy...they're trying, they really are- but they miss him, too. The Huns, the Cavemen, Rexy- they don't know what to make of you. And, Ahk, well...he's mad at you because you remind him that he couldn't save Octavius when he died. He's guilty, Owen. I'M guilty." He paused to rub his eyes tiredly. "I couldn't save him either. I should've been...should've been watching him, should've made sure everyone was inside…"

There was no immediate answer from Owen, the man still looking down at his feet. It was true, then- he was the reason everyone in the museum was upset. In his quest to help them all, to help the cowboy, he had just made things worse.

"...Octavius meant a lot to you all, didn't he?" Owen finally managed to ask, ignoring the bitter sting in his heart. He did not know for sure, but he had a feeling that he knew where this conversation would go.

Larry managed only a small nod, his hand still over his eyes. "Not a day goes by where I don't hate myself for not double checking. To just, we never...I never thought...Octavius, you know, he was always so careful about everything. He always had a backup plan, and he was always asking about how safe something was...he was the last person I'd expect to leave the museum. That's why I wasn't suspicious when he wasn't there that night. I thought he was just...taking care of Rome, you know? And Jed, well, he didn't seem too worried- I thought if he wasn't, then there wasn't much to worry about-"

"But, you still blame yourself for his death. So does the good pharaoh Ahkmenrah and poor Jedediah. All three of you bear the brunt of the guilt, and none of you know how to cope with it."

"That's...yeah, that's it." Larry removed his hand and looked back out at the traffic. "We...we're not doing good, Owen."

"Then you must do something to save the museum before you all fall deeper into despair." Owen decided passionately. "We must try again with Jedediah. We can help him cope. And the others, we can help them disperse their guilt and come to terms with the loss of Oct-"

Larry raised a hand, stopping the new night guard from speaking further. He had already made up his mind: he had to do what was best for the museum. Even if that meant possibly throwing poor Owen into economic debt and crushing his hopes.

"Look, Owen, I'm...I'm sorry, but…"

Owen knew what he was going to day before the words even left his mouth. He braced himself for the crushing blow that was about to follow.

"You can't come to the museum anymore." Larry blurted out in a flood of words.

Owen knew it had been coming. His first instinct was to argue: how could Larry up and fire him like that? But he knew arguing would not change the night guard's mind.

Instead, his voice barely more than a strangled tremor, he stammered with as much dignity as he could muster, "You...you are...firing me…?"

"Yes." Larry snapped the answer like a parent scolding a child. "You're fired, Owen. I'm sorry…"

Despite how hard he tried, Larry could not keep his tone professional, nor could he avoid looking at the new guard's face.

The look Owen gave him felt like a punch in the gut. It was calm, as if to make it appear as if he was indifferent to the decision, but it was also hurt. The hurt was most evident in his eyes, the brown depths filling with what Larry could only describe as a deep sadness. It was then he noticed just how deep those brown eyes were, how many different emotions could fit in those lenses.

Larry had not seen more of Octavius in Owen than he did at that moment. The look he gave the night guard was reminiscent of how the general had always looked when faced with the prospect of defeat. That hopeless, lost, broken look that he, Jed, Teddy, and all the exhibits had learned to fear. It was the look the Roman had only ever given when faced with the most dire situations- or, in very rare cases, when he was tormented by an inner pain.

So startlingly was the comparison that the night guard had to step back from Owen, inwardly cursing himself for making such a painful decision.

"Ah, geez…" Larry scratched the back of his head as he tried to piece together an apology. "Owen, I didn't mean-"

"No," Owen took a step away from the night guard, bowing his head to hide the look on his face. "You...you are right. I am a cause for harm at the museum. You...the exhibits...Jed…" He could not even say the cowboy's name without feeling a stab of guilt. "I'm only causing them more pain. It...I suppose it would be for the best if I left- surely, I can find a job somewhere else, where I will cause less harm…"

"Owen, hold on, maybe we should-"

"No." Owen kept his eyes downcast to hide his face, but he could not hide the tremor in his voice. "No. The decision has been made. You are right; it's better for everyone if I go. Forget about the museum, forget about the exhibits, forget about…" He hesitated. He did not know why he hesitated, but he did. "Forget about Jedediah. I am sure he will be in good hands without me. Just...just say the word, and I'll go."

"Owen-"

"Say it."

Larry swallowed and tried again. "Owen-"

"Just say it, Larry!"

"You're fired!"

Owen clenched his jaw and lifted his head to glare at the night guard. "It was a pleasure working with you, sir."

Larry flinched. "Owen-"

"Goodbye."

Owen forced his way past the night guard, letting his uniformed shoulder hit his.

Larry tried to open his mouth, to say something that would stop him in his tracks, but he could not utter a word. All he could do was watch Owen turn around the corner at the opposite end of the street, and disappear from both his sight, and his life.

For the second time, Larry realized, he had lost Octavius.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Nothing stopped Owen as he speed walked away from the night guard, his jaw clenched so hard he thought it might shatter. He could not be emotional. He could not let himself break in front of people, not in a public place. Home was only a few more blocks away. If he could just hold it all in until he got inside….

Tears were already pricing his eyes as he blinked then open and closed, trying in vain to stop the flow he could feel welling up within him. Why the hell was crying, anyways? It was only a botched job. It was not the first job he had failed at, and certainly it would not be the last. So what was he so upset about?

He tried to tell himself it was just more earthly disappointment. Disappointment that he had blown yet another job. Now he faced falling into debt. His house was going to be taken to him. He would have nothing left and would become a homeless bum living on the streets. A far cry from what he had wanted to be.

Maybe it was the fact that he was leaving behind something brilliant, something amazing that he and only he himself had gotten the blessing of experiencing. He was leaving behind what might have been the greatest experience of his life. Working at a museum where everything came to life- it had been like a dream come true for him. All the history, and the knowledge, the exhibits he had met and Larry-

It was the exhibits he was crying for! That must be it. He had not known them for very long, but he had been growing to like them. Sacagawea, Teddy, Ahkmenrah, Attila, Jed….

Jed. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, the little cowboy was the main reason he felt so guilty, felt so bad at that moment. He could not stop the feeling that because of him, that little cowboy was going to suffer even worse than before. Why did he even care about his plight so much? That cowboy was nothing to him- just another person that needed help. There were plenty of other people like him in the world who needed someone to help them. He was no more special than everyone else. What made him so important to Owen?

Owen could not understand why he felt the way he did, not could he explain why it was so important to him. Something about that cowboy incited a feeling of fear, of guilt, and of a desire to help, and possibly even protect. He had felt the same rush of obscure emotions when he had first met the cowboy a few nights earlier. It was as if he KNEW him, as if, deep down, he knew everything about him and everything that he needed.

And he felt sad. Saddened by the plight of the cowboy. It was as if he could feel his pain- as if Owen himself had the same pain but had kept it hidden for years. He could not explain it, but he felt as if a part of him, a part of his mind, his heart, his soul- as if some secret part of him knew the cowboy and was causing this overwhelming feeling of guilt.

Owen reached the door to his apartment and flung it open, stumbling inside and slamming the door shut behind him. He was safe from the outside world and could now analyze his feelings in peace.

Something inside of him did not feel right. He felt guilty, almost sick with a feeling of terrible anxiety that something bad might happen. Something...perhaps something with the cowboy. A man his state could do any number of things he might later regret. Clearly, despite how noble his intentions were, Larry did not know what he was doing and would not be able to help the cowboy as much as he thought. He certainly would not be able to stop him from doing something terrible. Only Owen could do that.

Again, Owen did not know why he cared so much about the situation- or why he felt that he was the only,one who could really help- but he could not deny the fact that he had to do something. Whatever this strange feeling was, it was clear that it wanted him to help Jedediah. No one else was going to do it.

He decided then and there that no matter what, he was going to help him. He had to. By the gods he just had to!

Owen shakily pushed himself away from his closed door and hobbled unsteadily into the kitchen. He was not hungry in the slightest, but he was aware enough to realize that he would need to eat something on the next hour or so. Rummaging through the cupboard, he half-heartedly took out a box of Cheerios and set them on the counter. He went to the fridge and pulled out a gallon of milk, but did not open it after setting it on the counter. His mind was drifting again.

Jedediah- why does he matter to me? Was the question Owen kept asking himself as he began to pace the hallway outside of the kitchen. Why does he matter and what can I do help him?

He knew the first thing he had to do was understand what his emotions meant and what they said. Emotions had always been important to him- he had no problems admitting that he could be a sensitive man who spent hours mulling over his feelings and nitpicking everything about his relationships with others. It was what made him so good at understanding people, and what led to him often feeling embarrassed when he tried to explain to them how he felt about certain things.

That first time he saw the cowboy, Owen had felt a number of things- sadness, pity, recognition, joy, confusion, loss, a clashing of both fear and happiness, a sense of hope and…..guilt. Guilt was the most prevalent emotion he had felt. Some of the emotions he could chop up to being too empathetic, and yet, the rest were a confusing mess.

Owen recalled that both Larry and the cowboy had spoken about the dead Roman general exhibit, Octavius. It was clear that somehow, someway, Owen reminded them both- reminded all of the exhibits, actually- of their long lost friend. Perhaps that was why the cowboy was so crushed by his presence. But that did not explain why Owen himself felt so...at home at the museum, like he belonged, and it did not explain why he was so sure the cowboy was important.

It was a mystery, and it baffled Owen more than anything else had in his life- more than even the disappearance of the infamous Ninth Legion.

He sat down on his hole-filled couch, watching the sun climb higher into the sky through his thin curtains. His hands were folded under his chin as the image of the sad cowboy entered his mind once again, filling him with the same mixture of guilt and recognition. And he kept particularly remembering the look in his blue eyes….

Help me. Please. Help me.

That was it. Owen made up his mind. Whoever or whatever Jedediah was, he was going to help him. It felt right, and he knew it was the right thing to do.

Owen smiled and made to rise to his feet- then stopped abruptly and sat back down. He had forgotten that he was fired now.

Then again...who was going to stop him? Larry? Not likely.

It was time for Owen to be brave, and it was time for him to be the change that sullen little cowboy needed in his life. He was a night guard, after all- and with his flashlight and his kindness, he was going to bring the light back into Jedediah's life.