Special thanks to SummerMistedDragon, who helped me write this chapter, and who lets me bounce ideas off her. :)

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Owen sighed to himself as he folded his freshly dry cleaned uniform over his arm. He was exhausted. Not twenty minutes after being fired by Larry, he had received a very curt call from McPhee about returning his uniform. He had never had the pleasure of meeting the curator in person, but the way he had sounded over the phone was enough to ensure that Owen cleaned every speck from his clothes. Besides his uniform, McPhee had also inquired as to why he had been fired in the first place. Owen had not known how to respond, but he had recalled hearing from Larry that McPhee was not in the loop about the museum's magic. So, he lied his way into an excuse, claiming that he had been late all three nights he had worked and that Larry was fed up with him. This had earned Owen a less than friendly huff, and a half-hearted condemnation and scolding.

Even though the near future looked grim through his eyes, Owen was not yet prepared to give up. He had promised himself that he would try again, that he would attempt to break through to that despondent little cowboy, and that he would prove himself a worthy night guard.

In order to keep his nerve, Owen had not told Larry that he was returning for another night. It was better, he thought, to keep his intentions a secret, lest the old night guard kicked him out again. If that happened, his mission would be over before it even began. This meant that he was not expected, and he could take his time running his errand before returning to the museum.

Time was an excuse to think.

Owen had spent most of his night tossing and turning on the couch, dozing on and off while watching a series of soccer matches in Europe, occasionally finding himself awakened by his neighbor's rambunctious children in the next apartment over. He was not the biggest soccer fan, but he was hoping that watching professionals play would help him gain the skills he needed to beat out the exhibits- if he ever got the chance to play with them again. But soccer was not his main concern.

Most of the night had been spent formulating a plan. He did not have much to go off of, but his idea was constructed enough: find Larry, apologize, and beg for a second chance. If that chance was given, the next step would be to find the little cowboy, Jed. Owen could not explain why, but he had a deep motivation to find him and apologize, then see if he could help him. If his help was allowed, then he would go from there.

Of course, none of this could happen until he dropped off his uniform- or pretended to drop off his uniform, anyways.

Owen was so deep in thought that he failed to notice the high-heeled woman clopping her way after him.

"Hey! Owen!"

That familiar voice made his blood boil and his body tense. He was not typically a man quick to anger, but the voice of the woman was enough to grate against his nerves in a way he seldom experienced.

Sighing in no small amount of irritation, he turned, rolling his eyes as the bedazzled and sun-tanned skinned Sylvia approached from a picnic area of Central Park, obviously back from her trip by the looks of her. He wondered, briefly, if she had enjoyed herself...and if she met anyone new along the way.

The woman stepped close enough that he could hear the clack of her high heels on the sidewalk pavement echoing off the trees, while her long legs and tight clothes showed off everything he had once wanted…but no longer could have. Not that she was much of a loss. A body was nothing without a heart to go with it. Still, she was using it to her advantage- much to Owen's irritants.

Before she even took a breath, Owen could tell he was in for hell.

"Hello?!" Her voice was snide and grating as if everything they had been through was now ancient history. In her eyes, he was just another page in her book. "I've been calling you! I need to get my stuff out of your apartment, what are you…" Her baby eyes flitted down to the clothes he held in his arms. "Turning in a uniform?" Her lips twisted into a sarcastic smile. "What a surprise! Fired again, Owen?"

Owen breathed a silent sigh, not willing to deal with her. "Not now, Syllie…"

Sylvia's face twisted into a devilish smile, her innocent-kitten act dropping to reveal the bitch underneath. The sentimental nickname did nothing to phase her- she might as well not have heard him. "Not now? Again, no surprise there. Can't keep a job, can't hold a conversation, how'd you expect to keep a girl?"

What that had to do with anything, he was not sure. All Owen knew was that, if he did not hurry, he was going to miss his chance. He knew she was looking to pick a fight; still, a part of him could not help but take the bait. As much as he wanted to leave her presence, he also wanted to say his piece.

Owen snorted, a wry grin breaking the despondent look on his face. "A woman who disrespects me and throws away all of my hard earned savings is not worth the trouble of keeping? A woman who's caring, kind, considerate, and does NOT steal thousands of dollars from me is a woman worth holding onto."

The snideness in Sylvia's voice only intensified, and a scoff tumbled from her lips. "As if you could land someone like that. You're simple and naive- any woman who doesn't take advantage of you is out of her mind. You have no one to blame but yourself- a good man would have caught on to my lies and ridden himself of me before things got out of hand. You did this to yourself."

"Well," Owen began, his voice acidic and bitter. "If I had known earlier, you would be alone and without all your pretty little skirts and dresses that you bought- with my money!"

Sylvia just sneered, not catching- and not for the first time did she miss things- that Owen was beyond his breaking point and should not be pushed not that she would have cared. The world seemed to revolve around her anyways. Owen and anyone else in her life were mere planets around her sunny self. "I needed that trip- the stress in my life, from my job- it was taking my sanity, I needed to go…" She changed her pitiful tone to one of snorting derision. "Not that you would care about my needs. Besides, what's a little money between friends, huh?"

"That was my money! And you lied to me! You should have told me the truth!"

Sylvia scoffed and glowered at him. "And then what? Would you have helped me!?"

"If I had known that you wished to take a trip, to 'reliveve yourself of some stress'- or even if you had told me you felt the way you did- maybe I would have helped you-"

"I shouldn't have to ask you for permission! You could never help anyone-"

Owen growled, stepping forward and leaning himself in just enough to make Sylvia lean back in intimidation. His voice fell to a dangerous hiss, one that startled even him. "Help? Help?! What would you know of the word? You skimp about at bars begging for tips with flirts and lies, shamelessly throwing yourself at men who could care less about you other than to warm their beds! I cared! I paid for your tuition for two semesters, working the grudge shifts that you turned down so that you could go to class. And I'm the selfish one here? Really? Call me what you like, Sylvia, but at the very least, I have something over you that you can only deign to desire!"

Sylvia snarled viscously, her body recoiling like a serpent, lying in wait to strike him down. "How dare you! You? Better than me? spent four years at Harvard studying law! I was the valedictorian of my class! I worked harder than you at our job and I'm more successful than you-"

This time, the sneer stung like venom in his blood, and the only thing that kept Owen from doing something regrettable was his stony composure.

The wry grin on his face now turned into something historians would later call maniacal, almost mad. But he did not care. He leaned in close to Sylvia's face, his heardened look shaped by struggles and hardships, reflecting a man who never dared to back down from a challenge, even if it stooped low.

Sylvia snorted, holding her ground. "What could you ever have over me?" She demanded, her voice lowered in an attempt to sound menacing.

Owen's grin only grew wider. He knew he had won. "Honor."

Xxx

Owen didn't make it to the museum until after dark. He had been forced to take a slightly circuitous route through Central Park in order to calm himself down. Speaking to Larry in his current state would only make the situation worse.

The front doors were locked by the time he got there; but, luckily, Owen still had his basic keys. He let himself in and carefully secured the entrance once he was inside the building. He noticed that Rexy was already off in the museum somewhere, his notable pedestal empty and the lobby absent of its usual occupants. At least he had not been confronted immediately upon arrival. Roosevelt, too, was not around, and his lack of presence allowed Owen to relax a bit. He let himself relax enough that the military-stiff set to his shoulders faded, allowing him to walk calmly to the side corridor that would lead him to the guard office.

He noticed that some of the exhibits were wandering, and a few of them paused to greet him with half-polite acknowledgements. One of Attila's men even nodded in slight deference to the previous night's soccer victory. But, no one stopped him, and the absence of any leader-type figure was a welcome boon as Owen moved through the semi-quiet halls. He was aware of a nagging feeling in his stomach: a -art of him was ready to give up. What was he truly going to achieve in meeting with Larry again? It was difficult to shake the feeling that he was embarking on a hopeless venture. But the louder part, the part of him he always used to make decisions, told him to keep fighting. What he was doing was right, and there was no denying it.

His feelings affirmed, Owen turned away from the door and set his jaw.

Xxx

Larry rubbed his hands over his face in an attempt to shake off the exhaustion that was quickly becoming a constant for him, even with his days remaining "empty". Nicky had been staying at his mother's house while his father trained the new night guards over the last two weeks. Between going over applications with the day staff and vetting those sent from employment offices, Larry had been on edge for all of the five guard candidates- none of which had worked out. This failure to find a guard left the night guard stressed and frustrated about the Board of Directors and Dr. McPhee breathing down his neck.

It did not help that each new guy had freaked out on their first night, leaving a bad taste in the mouths of the exhibits. Teddy was at the near end of his patience, Attila refused to even speak with Larry himself. Only Sacagawea was of any help to him, playing the part of a resigned mediator. It made sense for her: she always knew how to help them all.

Ahkmenrah was no better off. His mood was tense, causing him to snap at Larry and the others over basic things that most people would simply brush off. The constant strain of having to explain his Tablet, protect it, and control it was heavy upon his shoulders. Now, the pharaoh was slumped on the couch, his face contorted into a grumpy, tired frown.

To Larry, it appeared that he was was almost staring off into…the middle distance…

"Even the glory of Rome had to come to an end."

Larry sighed as he recalled the voice of the Roman, and once again, wished him alive again. Octavius would have known what to do about the new guards. Even though he was only three inches tall, he had a heart worth a thousand times that, and a mind to match. The general would have made strategies to challenge each guard candidate, to test their strengths and weaknesses as he would have done for any of his soldiers. He would have known how to gauge the moods and personalities of each guard, and would have easily decided upon the right exhibits to test them. His skill and knowledge would have been invaluable.

And, more importantly, Octavius would know how to help Jedediah.

His thoughts gradually shifted from the Roman general to Owen and his few nights of chaos.

After informing the Board of Owen's termination, Larry had been given some leeway to choose another guard- albeit not a lot of time. In order to rebalance the museum employee's pay and subsequent staff records, Larry had been given two days to replace Owen before the Board stepped in and chose their own. Thanks to the lack of time, Larry was on edge.

No one wanted to repeat the process again.

Larry hid a yawn behind his fist, flipping through yet another application. He rejected it immediately. He knew it was a college student without even finishing the second page. The student had a scant job history of only a few weeks, jumping from a handful of fast food places- two of which had ended with employment termination. This candidate would not work either. The snap of the papers being shut earned a low sigh from the other occupant in the room.

The office door opened, and Roosevelt entered the room with Sacagawea. Both looked exhausted and defeated, the president's eyelids heavy and the native woman's head bent downward. They had not been planning to speak with Larry that night, but the night guard's summons could not be ignored.

"Lawrence," Teddy inclined his head forward an inch.

"Hey, Teddy," Larry rubbed his eyes tiredly and lifted his head to face them. "Just...have a seat, I guess. You too, Sac."

The two sat beside each other on the empty part of the couch. Ahkmenrah barely noticed them.

"What do we need to speak of?" Sacagawea asked in a low voice.

Larry sighed again, the night guard folding his hands under his chin. "I've got news from McPhee...we've got two days to get a new guy in, and a day to train them. Think we can pull it off?"

The president released a heavy gust of air and pinched the bridge of his nose as he leaned forward to draw the attention of the two around them- except for Ahkmenrah, who did not seem to notice him.

"We can not go on like this, Lawrence…not like it has been. The continuous strain on the museum's inhabitants is intolerable. Half the museum has descended into madness and the other half is near enough to not be above retaliating against anyone new. We cannot keep demanding respect for those who do not give it in return. We…I…cannot go on like this."

Larry let out his own sigh and glanced up just enough at Ahkmenrah to judge his reaction. The pharaoh quickly averted his gaze from the night guard's, but his strong shoulders were hunched over in despair. As much as the young prince tried to hide it, his heart was still torn by grief, and had not yet recovered his royal form. He did not respond.

Larry decided it was his turn to speak again. "None of us can, Teddy, and we're not going to. If I can't find someone to talk to by tomorrow, then I'll fight McPhee and the Board if I have to. We can manage with just one- we've done it for this long."

"Lawrence…" Teddy sighed. "What about spending time with Nicholas? The boy needs his father more now than ever; what, with his age and the emotional needs that come with puberty. You need to spend more time with him. That can only be done if we have a second guard to stand in your place."

Larry only shrugged and set aside two more applications in the reject pile. He picked up the third and began to skim through it. At first glance, he knew it would be a failure. "I don't know, Teddy, I really don't. But I can't hurt you guys anymore with all of this crap, and Nicky loves coming here on the weekends…"

"Lawrence, he needs you on more than just the weekends. Surely, you can see how such a periodic relationship is unhealthy for your son. Did you speak to Miss Erica about changing the custody dates?"

Larry sighed again and lifted his hand to his forehead. It was nice to vent to the exhibits, but when they actually remembered the things he told them, it became an annoyance. "That doesn't matter right now, Teddy. Nicky's fine where he is. Maybe I'll get him over the summer, and we can work it out form there."

Teddy did not bother to respond. He knew there was no convincing the night guard otherwise. Nicky was his son, after all- and, as a father, he knew best. Then again, Teddy himself had been the father of many children in his time...

The silence that followed stretched for several minutes, overwhelming those within the office.

Finally, a single voice broke the silence.

"What are we to tell Jedediah?"