Disclaimer: The concepts and characters from the Night at the Museum that are used in this fanfiction do not belong to me and remain the respective properties of the original films' production company. I am making no profit from this piece of work.

2014 update: After an extended hiatus for personal reasons I have come back to this fic but my writing style has changed for various reasons and as such I've gone back and altered my wording (and a few plot points in the later chapters) in all chapters to date. After asking for advice I have made the decision to delete the previous chapters and replace the first one so that those on alert will still get the information about it. Some things have changed for characterisation sake and also to better suit my current writing style. If you are coming to this, I recommend you re-read the first four chapters as they have been re-written and some important changes have gone into the previous chapter.

Author's Notes: Hey. Thank you for your patience with this. Due to family, illness and work commitments (not to mention freaking great writer's block) this has taken a little while longer, in no small part due to the fact that I had to rewrite a significant amount of this chapter to get it to my standards (Damien was the main thing I wanted to rewrite with this whole reboot thing). I also wanted to start on the next chapter before posting because it's so much easier to continue what has been started. On the other side of things, I have seen NatM 3 two more times. Thank you to everyone reading and reviewing it's so encouraging. Here's the next instalment. I hope you enjoy. - I am posting this late so will go over when I get a chance to pick up any spelling/grammar problems that I can.

Chapter Five: Strangeness at the Smithsonian

Jedediah cried out as he fell forward, landing painfully on his front. He wasn't sure what exactly was happening but he knew it wasn't right. Normally waking up wasn't painful.

It was supposed to be as simple as taking a step forward, but all the feeling had gone from both his legs, and every time he shifted another part of him was aching so eventually he decided that just lying there was a maybe a good idea, even if it was kind of pitiful.

He should stand up. He should show everyone that he was fine even though he felt anything but. He should grow a backbone and suck it up, but lying there and doing nothing felt infinitely better than the prospect of having to move did. So instead he listened to his surroundings and realized kind of quickly that they were too quiet.

Where there was the usual hustle and bustle of everyone else waking up there was only silence and that just wasn't right. Was he alone? Where were the others? Something was definitely wrong here but he didn't have the strength to move and investigate.

Eventually though, he heard scuffling somewhere out in front of him and a flurry of footsteps that were moving towards him.

"Jedediah!" Jed smiled. Octavius. Of course the Roman would be nearby. Still he couldn't let the guy see him like this. Moving his arms, both feeling heavy as horses, he positioned them beneath him so he might try and push himself up and pretend everything was alright. A gentle but still somewhat forceful hand on the back soon stopped that intention.

"You shouldn't move just yet, my friend."

"Why? Worried I might hurt myself?" Jed forced a laugh, although grateful for the excuse to stay still.

"Yes, actually." Octavius' voice was solemn and Jed realised he'd missed something. Reaching back to smack the general's arm away, he pushed himself up with about as much difficulty as he'd had before and once his head was up, he looked at his friend with a grin that soon faded. Octavius was not smiling as the cowboy got to his feet, his friend moving to support him in his attempts to stand, and looking around he saw that no one else was around them, the Old West was deserted.

"Well that ain't good."

There wasn't a cloud in the sky as the sun shone down on the National Mall, throwing its warming beams over the grass near the Smithsonian Institutional Building. There were those who were walking idly by, not a care in the world really; others, parents with children mostly, were sat enjoying lovely picnics or just an afternoon together. Damien watched them with jealous eyes from the doorway of the Castle. Some things just weren't fair.

A few months ago, Saturday meant staying in bed until three in the afternoon followed by meeting up with his then-girlfriend for a quiet meal and a night clubbing with his best mate since high school, Gaz, until the small hours of Sunday morning. Now was a very different story.

He shifted his stance, rolling his eyes as Everyday I Love You Less And Less started to play on the iPod that was tucked into his pocket, the buds causing the wire to hang loosely from his ears.

Two months ago, his girlfriend had admitted to sleeping with Gaz...more than a few times. They'd decided the break up was mutual but it was mostly the betrayal on her part. It wasn't exactly the end of the world but that didn't mean he felt like dancing about it. Naturally trouble piled on top of trouble and a few days later there had been an argument with his parents about responsibility and maturity, 'achieving potential' or rather his lack thereof. He snorted at the memory. That hadn't been the impression they'd given him in high school. Derisive comments about how he couldn't do anything right and was a useless waste of space had never roused him to try hard or believe he had any potential. Now they were worried about it. Too little too late was how it felt.

The first few lines of Take Me Away started playing and Damien pulled out his iPod and shut it off. He didn't need to take that kind of obvious prejudice from a music player.

His parents used to give him some money to help him out after he'd lost his last job job but that wasn't happening any more; he'd been cut off. Which meant that he'd had to jump on the first job he was able to secure and as such Saturdays now meant spending up to 12 hours making sure museum visitors didn't touch and/or damage any of the exhibits on display in order to make enough money to pay bills and buy food so he could survive to next week. Being an adult sure was fun.

Nobody seemed all that interested in coming in today though, no doubt scared away by the recent headlines. He didn't blame them. He didn't believe the headlines himself but it's the kind of thing that would put him off if he was ever actually interested in coming to damn museums in the first place. Boring places full of dead things. Still, here he was stood by the door, being paid to effectively watching the rest of the world enjoying their Saturday and wishing that he was anywhere but where he was.

"Hey. Excuse me?"

Quickly turning to the voice, he saw a man stood a short way off looking at him curiously. The guy wasn't dressed any differently to your average American but there was something about his short black hair and slight face that was kind of familiar.

"Is it open?" he pointed at the doorway that Damien was currently blocking.

"Oh. Yeah." Damien stepped back through the door, holding it open for the man to enter. The guy smiled and nodded his thanks, before walking through it and just powering off down the corridor.

Damien waited until he was sure the guy couldn't see him any more, or at least he was sure that he wouldn't turn around, before turning to his side and gently head-butting the wall in frustration. Why did this guy have to want to take a look in the museum? Why? It was a wonderful day outside, warm and filled with sunshine and laughter. Everybody else was wandering around outside but no, there always has to be one. So much for an easy shift.

It was stiflingly hot inside the castle. Practically none of the windows could open and the ones that could had those safe-guard child locks that you screw over the handles to stop stupid children messing with them. The only real way to get the temperature down was to open all the doors to the castle but they weren't allowed to do that because it left the building vulnerable. That's why Damien was stood in the doorway, so he could keep cool without causing the people in charge to go out their heads. But if there were visitors within the building someone had to be around to keep an eye on them.

Reluctantly, he walked off after the guy, cursing his need for this job and its stupid rules and regulations.

'Hell if I'm following him everywhere.'

Damien stopped trailing him quite quickly, heading straight towards the seat set up that faced towards the main hall. It wasn't supposed to be there but the guards usually left one there for use in certain cases. Tired elderly visitors, injured children or the occasional person or persons who might have need of it while walking round the museum. Though mostly it was for the guards' themselves so they had somewhere to rest if things got a bit tedious, such as now. The key to keeping it from the management was to remove it when your shift ended, put it back in the staff room. If it was found there'd be trouble; you weren't supposed to mess with the museum layout, they got kind of annoyed about that.

He closed his eyes, leaned back and listened to the sound of the guy's feet as he moved around. He wasn't like other visitors, meandering aimlessly around pausing every four feet to look at something of interest. He walked fast and with great purpose, easily navigating the corridors and barely hesitating as he zipped around.

It grabbed Damien's curiosity as the footsteps passed in front of him a few times, each time he opened an eye to watch him curiously as he skittered by but closed again as he moved away. The guy may walk with purpose, but he clearly didn't have a clue where he was going.

A smirk played across Damien's lips. It would be a lie to say he didn't enjoy the confusion of museum visitors sometimes.

"Excuse me?" the smirk disappeared as he sat up, opening his eyes and looking to find the guy part way down the corridor in front of him. With as much enthusiasm as he could muster, which wasn't a whole lot, he sat forward and smiled.

"Yeah?"

"Is the hall closed?" he jerked a thumb at the big hall behind him. There was a giant display stood across the doorway, though it wasn't large enough to cover the entire thing and a velvet rope was clipped across the parts either side that were uncovered.

"What gave it away?"

The guy glanced at the entrance and turned back with a frown. "Why…why's it closed?"

"You didn't hear?" Damien sighed as all he got in response was a look of confusion. Pushing himself to his feet, he began to walk over.

"Closed for renovations." It wasn't. Everybody knew it but that was the official line they were giving visitors. He had been told that if anybody asked he was supposed to feed them the story that no one believed.

The guy's confusion just seemed to increase and he looked over at the hall again before looking back. "Renovations?"

"Yeah, cleaning up some of the exhibits, rearranging and reassessing and...things like that." That in itself held some amount of truth. Though it had been more of an inventory to begin with and nobody had been in there since.

The guard watched this guy's eyes flick to his name badge and braced himself for the potential pleading or prodding at him for information. It wouldn't be the first time a journalist had tried to get information from him, and all of them tried using his name to make him feel like they were his friend. The last thing he needed was an unflattering journalist on this crappy Saturday afternoon.

"Listen, Damien. Can I call you Damien?" the guard just rolled his eyes but the man continued. "I have a buddy who needs my help and it's kind of important that I get into that room to do that. You know it's a life or death kind of thing."

"I'm sorry to hear about your friend, sir." he made no effort to hide the fact he had heard this story five or six times before as he spoke and as such didn't believe a word of it. "But nobody gets into that hall without authorisation."

The man squinted at him. "How do I...Can I get authorisation?"

"No. Museum staff only."

"Well can't you get me in?"

Damien just laughed and pointed at the hall. "I'm not going in there."

"Why not?"

Clearly this guy was trying to trick a story out of him but he was determined not to have it work and though they may not be many, he was going to use every small power he had to keep this guy from it. "Sir, if we're going to have a problem here, I'll have to ask you to leave." He reached out a hand and made as though to herd him towards the exit.

He reached up a hand to stop the herding. "Okay Damien I get how it is. You're the guard, there's pressure on you to follow the rules, keep the line in place. I know the deal. I'm a guard myself. In New York."

Damien decided to halt and at least listen to the guy's crappy story, after all some of them spent a whole twenty minutes thinking of all the lack of detail in them. "Guard in New York huh?"

"Yes actually. My name is Larry." It was obvious that he wasn't impressed with Damien's attitude but still he didn't mention anything. "Daley. I work at the Natural History Museum and I know it doesn't mean a whole lot but I'm just trying to find out some information about that hall back there."

He had of course stopped listening about half a minute into the rant because this guy had finally introduced himself and something about his name seemed kind of familiar. "You're Larry?"

"Yes."

"Larry Daley."

"Yes."

"Larry Daley of New York?"

Larry was staring at him, a little bit of annoyance tainting his features as he glanced around. "I'm sorry am I going a bit fast for you?" it was the same tone of voice people had used on Brandon and truthfully Damien didn't appreciate it but it suddenly twigged where he'd heard the name before.

"Weren't you the CEO of Daley devices? That big gadget company?"

"Yes. Yes actually I was." Larry smiled and Damien clapped his hands before crossing his arms while wearing a big smile. God that had been driving him mad. "You recognise me?"

"Are you kidding me? Before I worked here I lived on a diet of ramen noodles and infomercials." He'd honestly gotten sick of the Super Big Dog Bone one but he figured he'd probably have been more interested if he had a dog. "Man your unloseable keyring is ingenious."

He saw Larry's eyes flick to his belt. "You…er…you have that?"

"Not here." He said reaching for the standard issue keys that were clipped to his belt before gesturing over his shoulder. "Locker room. Use it for my home keys."

Larry smiled and glanced over at the cordoned off hall again. "So, er...why's the hall closed?"

Damien's demeanour had softened somewhat seeing as Larry wasn't a journalist. Besides Larry didn't seem too bad; bit jittery but on the whole he seemed a pretty okay guy, but saying too much could still get him fired. "You really don't know?" When Larry shook his head, Damien was mildly shocked. Though they were mostly based on stupid speculation he'd assumed everyone had read or at least knew of the headlines.

"The truth is I don't know. Something went down a couple months back before I even started here." Glancing around, he moved Larry out of the direct view of the cameras and closer towards the walls before talking in a hushed tone. "All I know is everyone arrived in the morning and things had moved."

"Moved?"

"Statues, figures, exhibits. All of them were in different places, different positions. You heard of the Federal Archives, right?" Larry nodded. "Runs underneath the National Mall. Top security. All sorts of documents and old and expensive artefacts are kept down there but they were moved about too. Some were missing but most of them were found in that room." He pointed behind Larry. "They're trying desperately to keep it on the down low for fear it might be a matter of National Security."

During the explanation, Larry appeared to get paler and paler. "Is there still stuff in there?"

"Nah, clean up was just finishing when I started."

"So why's it closed?"

"Truthfully?" Damien checked they were truly alone before straightening up. "I don't know. I've checked in there myself and it's clear but after Brandon went crazy and got fired no one's allowed in there any more."

Larry raised his hands and tried to slow Damien's explanation. "Whoa whoa, what do you mean fired?"

"I mean he was fired. He was spouting rubbish that peo-"

"So he doesn't work here any more?"

Damien shook his head. "He hasn't worked here in weeks. From what I can gather from the others, he was always on a string any way and when he started to make stupid claims about a possessed exhibit, upper management decided he just had to go."

"What exhibit?"

Damien paused, looking him over. "I've just told you that a former employee got fired for going on about a possessed exhibit and you want to know 'which one'?" It didn't seem the logical leap he'd been expecting.

"Yeah." Larry didn't seem like the happy-go-lucky guy he had a few moments ago and for some reason that worried him. "You don't know?"

"I told you I'm the new guy." Of all the guards, Damien knew arguably the least although given how much of a layabout some of the other guards were, there could be an argument for the other end.

Another silence fell between them as Larry seemed conflicted over something. Damien furrowed his brow. He felt odd enough talking about the hall with a guy who'd been somewhat of a mini-celebrity, but throw in the supposed possessed exhibit and this guy's reactions and this was already pushing beyond the boundaries of what he considered a normal shift.

"But-" he eventually said, the word grabbing Larry's attention, causing him to perk up. "I know how I can find out."