Part one of a two part update. . . .

It was pretty late in the morning, with sunlight streaming in through the large living room bay windows, when I finally woke for the second time. I sat up, scratching the back of my neck as I looked around; I was alone on the sofa, and someone was having a shower, it didn't look like Duro had come home yet so I guessed it to be Tiberius making himself at home in my shower.

That woke me up.

The idea of him, all slick, naked, and wet.

I rubbed at my face, with a lot more aggression than necessary. What the hell was I doing? Dreams or no dreams I'd only met the guy the other day, I knew almost nothing about him! Okay, I knew where he lived, where he'd moved from, I knew his best friend, and I knew about how he'd been adopted.

Huh, I guess I actually knew a fair amount about Tiberius.

Throwing myself forward and up I got my feet under me and stood up to stretch, properly rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I heard the shower turn off, then someone fuss about in the bathroom.

Moments later Tiberius came down the hall, pants on and distractedly drying his hair.

"Oh," He looked at me, sounding just a little surprised. "You're up."

"Yeah, about . . . ." My freak out? Last night? Everything? This morning? ". . . . before. . . ." Seeing him now, my troubling dreams once more a distant memory, I was . . . . embarrassed, to say the least. "I'm sorry. I don't know wha-"

Tiberius cut me off, one handedly pulling me down by the back of my head to kiss my forehead. "It's okay Agron, I get it. Sometimes people have bad nights, you don't have to explain that to me but if you ever want to talk about, I'm here. I'll listen."

Once more I remembered countless night and mornings, where Nasir understood, when he just knew what I needed to hear, where he was the sun that chased away all shadows of pain and loss. That had been hundreds upon hundreds of years ago, a different place, a different time, a very different life. But this moment, this was the same. The understanding, the comfort, the safety; it was the same.

I took his free hand in one of mine, letting my head fall to his shoulder. "Gratitude Nasir,"

He tensed, "Tiberius, my name is Tiberius." He corrected me.

"But you said-"

Tiberius cut me off, "No one has called me Nasir since I was four Agron, it's a little strange to switch now don't you think?"

I had to admit, he had a point.

It was then that Tiberius decided to totally kill the mood.

"Awe fuck!" Tiberius was shouting, racing for my bedroom, and leaving me standing in my living room like a fuck wit in my underwear. "It's almost twelve! Look Agron, I'm sorry but I have to get home, pick up shit and get to the gallery."

"Gallery?"

With crashing and cursing, Tiberius came back down the stairs, his shirt half on. "Yeah, I'm an art student, and I've got some pieces to drop off at a gallery. I'm supposed to have them there in less than a hour."

I couldn't let him leave, not again, not so soon. "I'll drive you!" I offered jumping to grab my keys.

Tiberius, already at the door raised an eyebrow at me, his face saying 'Oh really?' "Might I suggest pants then?"

~~o~~

No one was at Tiberius' and Chadara's apartment, and within 15 minutes Tiberius and I were stuffing a 4 piece collection of covered oil paintings into the back seat of my car.

The drive itself was short while the route was nothing but twisting turns and narrow alleys. The Gallery was some remodeled old house in one of the really old trendy neighborhoods, a place called 'The Villa'.

Up to the Victorian style front porch I followed Tiberius -each of us carrying 2 of the 4 pieces of his art- to the locked door of the Gallery. We weren't kept waiting long when a well rounded man opened the door.

"Ahh Tiberius!" The man grinned ushering us inside. "You're early! Wonderful! We can get you work set up in room B upstairs, I already started bring up some of the collection."

The outside of the place was nice, it was the best kept building on the street, with fresh paint and in no need of repairs, inside any furnishings that might have once called 'The Villa' home had been stripped, from sofas, chairs, and bookcases, to whatever rugs and carpet that had been there were all replaced with light colored wooden floors; everything that couldn't be removed had been painted white, and covered in exhibits.

Following Tiberius and the round man up to the second floor and down a hall to what might have once been a guest bedroom. Now it was just a room with an open closet. a covered window, an open box of ragged fabric, and a pair of covered painting propped against the far wall.

"-so excited," The round man was gushing to Tiberius. He had to been in his 40s at least, round and with a receding line of dark hair, laughing watery blue-gray eyes, over all average, another face in the crowd sort, and just a bit taller than Tiberius but shorter than me. "So you'll be decorating the whole room? I assume your friend is here to help?"

"Yes, he was kind enough to drive me actually." Tiberius was explaining, setting his painting next to the ones already in the room and taking the two I held to add to the growing collection of art. "Agron, this is Livius, the Gallery manager. Mister Livius, my friend Agron." Tiberius introduced us to each other.

"So, Tiberius actually knows people other than Chadara? I'm impressed, pleasure to meet you Agron." Livius said shaking my hand in both of his. There was something in the way he smiled at me, something that flashed in his eyes. But before I could place just what it was, Livius was turning away. "Well, I'll leave you boys to it. The rest is in the usual place, and the room is yours! I'll be in the main room."

With that Mister Livius left us.

I soon learned that the kitchen acted as an office, full of paperwork, cleaning stuff and whatnot. It was also the only room left with colour and not painted white, but the blue and yellow paint was only a few years old and must have been redone with the rest of the house, while it was the shed that acted as a temporary home for any artwork not found on the walls of the gallery.

I followed Tiberius back up to the room, he had gotten the last two paintings of his 8 piece collection, while I had another box of rags he claimed were 'Decorations' and another box of everything we'd need to hang the paintings; from a hammer and nails to a folding step stool.

"I got really lucky," Tiberius was explaining as he torn down the white curtains. "Livius noticed that the first three pieces fit together, then asked if I thought I could pull off a whole room installation. Next thing I know I've got plans to set up an eight piece collection in here."

I really didn't understand what all that meant, he had paintings to stuff in one room? Either way, Tiberius was excited, so it was a good thing? It just sounds like a lot of paint to me.

"You don't mind helping me set up, do you?" Tiberius asked, passing me the curtains and rod.

"It's not like I'm doing anything else." I could feel myself grinning like an idiot. "Jut have to leave by 6, for work."

Flashing me a quick grin, one that made memories of another life flash before my eyes, Tiberius hopped down from the step stool and pulled out a black book.

"Thanks Agron, guess we have to work fast then? Okay look here," Tiberius said, showing me a page of his sketch book. I must admit, I didn't have a clue what I was look at. It was just boxes and numbers to me. "This is the room, painting 5, the really big on, going on the west wall, 7 and 8 go on both sides of the south door with the door, 8 is south-west, 7 is south east." Tiberius explained pointing to the numbered boxes in the sketch in turn. "6 and 4 on the north wall with the window, 6 is north-west, and 4 is north-east. while 1, 2, and 3 fit on the east wall with the closet. 1 will be inside the closet, 3 is north-east, 2 is south-east."

"Why is number 1 inside the closet?" I asked, trying to make myself see how all the pieces of the puzzle fit together.

Tiberius snapped the sketch book shut: "Because I said so."

With the layout of the room already decided by Tiberius all I had to was actually hang the artwork, with each piece numbered on the back and my own copy of the layout in my pocket it should be easy enough. I grabbed painting number five, the largest one that would cover most of the west wall while Tiberius set about covering the doorway with a collection of ragged cloths sewn together.

Taking my my time I measured the area out, used the laser level to check the nails were even and fetched the painting. Pulling off the protective covering I froze.

I knew that sight.

I knew that wall.

Not as well at Nasir would but I knew it.

I knew that chair.

How many times I had sat is such a place in another life?

How many night had I stayed up in that chair sharpening my sword and Nasir's as he watched from the bed before dragging me to join him?

I knew that scene. I know it. I know it as well as I know my own hands but I know it from another angle.

Moving slowly and carefully, as if this were a dream and I would wake at any moment I set painting number Five a side, laying it carefully against the west wall as if it were a cracking pane glass not canvas stretched over wood.

I didn't check the number on the next piece, just uncovered it. It was number eight, one half of the doorway, the next was four, our bench of clothes, then two, a small one of the area by the bed, where we kept our lamp and set aside uneaten food, three fit with four perfectly, completing our collection of clothes and armor. Next I grabbed seven, the rest of the doorway. With each piece I slotted into place our room came together around me, brought to life by Tiberius and his paint brush.

Lost in the reconstruction of our room I didn't notice Tiberius trying to get my attention, I didn't hear him as he stood watching me from the doorway.

I grabbed up the second to last painting, number six, a long, narrow, tall painting of a length of wall with our swords and shields against it as they would have sat in life. As they had sat in my dreams.

Moving like a man possessed I had somehow switched from moving as if each piece I touched would shatter to moving as if I took too long that paintings would run away. In three long strides I was a across the room slotting the last piece into the closet. Painting number one: Nasir's view of my empty half of the bed.

It was our room in the villa on mount Vesuvius.

Our life; minus us.

I wasn't sure what I was about to do. I felt weak and shaky but my heart was pounding like I could run for days. I felt like laughing and crying and getting sick all at once. How? How had Tiberius painting our room in such perfect detail without us, without remembering us?

"Agron?"

Tiberius's voice called my eyes to him, standing in a doorway of rags.

I finally understood his choice of decorations. All of this, eight painting, countless hours, all of it was to remake this room. A room Tiberius didn't even remember, from a life I've only dreamed of.

It was so much. So much of everything.

It was hope that somehow, somewhere deep inside Tiberius might one day remember the life I did.

It was the pain of a life remembered only by me.

It a whole new level of joy that this was proof, solid, real, tangible, proof that it wasn't all in my head, that someone else could see what I had. That someone saw what Nasir had; that Tiberius saw it.

It was also fear that I would forever see such ghosts and be alone in seeing of them.

"Agron, what?" Tiberius had come up to my side without my realizing it, and reached up for my face. "You- You're crying?!"

Taking Tiberius' hand in mine I did my best to smile. "I am fine, it is only. . . . I had not expected. . . . I mean. . . . I am fine."

Tiberius didn't look like he believed me.

"You didn't check the paintings." It wasn't a question, so I didn't answer. "You, you just knew. You do know don't you?"

Unsure what to say, how to explain, I just nodded.

The silence between us stretched as Tiberius stood there, studying my face, the hand I held squeezed mine, and his free hand wiped tears from my cheeks. "Your dreams?" Tiberius asked softly, doubtfully.

I didn't trust myself to speak and just nodded.

"I've been drawing this room, hundreds of times, hundreds of different ways for years; what was it?"

Not wanting to force anything I gave half the answer: "You slept here, after Spartacus freed you and many other slaves from your villa. But this was a different place. A room from the temple on mount Vesuvius, and this was your room in that temple."

"I shared this room didn't I?" Tiberius prodded, watching me much too closely.

I closed my eyes and nodded. The paintings around the room, the rags on the window and doorway, Tiberius. It was all too much like my dreams. "Yes you shared this room."

"I shared it with you didn't I?"

My voice was small: a weak thing, a breaking thing. ". . . . yes. . . ."

"I am not Nasir," I could hear the strain in Tiberius' voice as if he were as close to tears as I felt.

"I know."

Then he kissed me. It was soft, and light, and felt more as if Tiberius were testing something than anything. So I kept perfectly still, until he reached up to pull me closer by the back of my neck.

With a rumble in the back of my throat I pulled Tiberius as close as I could. In my dreams Nasir was sweat and road dust, unwashed and filthy and I loved him all the same. In my real life Tiberius was almond shampoo, mint toothpaste, and only the softest hint of sweat. But here or in my dreams he still had the spice to him that made him Nasir.

"Tiberius," I breathed when we both pulled back to breath. Every nerve ending in my body was on overload, the world was spinning without me, everything seemed to be moving too fast, yet standing still, and I still wasn't over seeing the paintings of our room. "Apologies."

With that I was out the door to work through things the way I best knew how. With physical violence.