One morning, Steven wakes up with a particularly large headache. He groan as he steps out of bed, forcing his body to move. He squints his eyes as his hands cup his head, attempting to soothe the headache. He goes about his morning routine on autopilot. He gets dressed and feeds his fish. He makes himself a quick breakfast with some fruit. As he slices a banana, his eyes glance over to the kettle resting on the stove, and his eyes widen. He quickly drops the knife and runs out the door to get two cups of coffee from the shop down the block. He runs back to the building and takes the lift to the 5th floor, then runs up the stairs and knocks on the only door on the 6th floor.

He waits as he catches his breath, waiting with a smile. A few minutes go by, and he knocks again.

" Ellooo, Cleooo?" He calls out as he knocks, " I've got our coffees. You up yet, love?"

Silence. Complete an utter silence.

A frown forms upon his lips, so he pulls his phone out from his pocket and dials her number.

It rings, and it rings, and it rings... but she never picks up. It takes him to her voicemail. His from remains on his lips and his puts his phone back into his pocket. He looks at her door once last time before a sigh escapes his lungs. He turns around and goes to the stairs, for he does still need to go to work.

But Cleo was in her flat. There was someone behind the door, but she is in no shape to answer it. Her mind and body still hold remnants of intoxication within them. The alcohol has not left her system entirely. She wakes up with a groan, the sunrays forcing her out of her slumber. She buries her head in her pillow, feeling as if she had been hit by a truck.

The previous night was spent at a bar with Baahir. He'd insisted on taking her out, as an apology for his actions. He started with shots, but it just kept coming. She did make it home safely, but at what cost.

Without lifting her head, her arm extends to her bedside table and opens the drawer, reaching around for a bottle of pain killers. She finds it and brings to back to her. She opens the bottle and swallows the pill dry, then sets it back on the table. And once she feels like she's not currently dying, she lifts her head up off of the pillow.

Cleo summons the energy to leave her bed to walk into the kitchen, on her way finding her things scattered in the hall. She sees her purse laying by the front door with her phone peering out. She ignores it for now, desperately needing a caffeine fix. She makes herself a cup of coffee and feeds Ana, then sits down in her favorite chair. She turns on the TV as she enjoys her drink, wanting to watch something mindless and funny, so opts for a sitcom. She lets out small bits of laughter whenever jokes about Ross being a paleontologist come up.

Eventually, Cleo gets up to gather her things. She grabs her purse, and in it, she grabs her phone. She opens the lockscreen to see a mix of messages and mixed calls from Baahir and Steven, two completely and insanely different men in her life.

Her thumbs tap along the screen to send a text to Steven.

(Sorry for missing you today. I'm a bit hungover. Coffee's on me next time.)

She sees the typing bubble come up, and moments later she gets a text back.

(How bout I take you out Friday at 7? My treat.)

As her eyes comb over the text, she wonders if it was Steven who sent it, for she truly cannot imagine those words leaving his mouth. But alas, she texts back.

(It's a date.)

She puts down her phone, a smile now dawning her lips. Cleo gets back into her chair, and soon Ana jumps up on her lap and begins to purr. She gently pets the soft black cat as her eyes aimlessly land on the TV in the room, continuing to play FRIENDS.

Cleo slumps into her chair, and without any stimulation, either physical or mental, she finds herself falling asleep. What starts off as a simple nap grows into a deep, dark slumber.

Her dreams taunt her once more, replaying a dream she's had in the past. The very dream she had on her last dig with Baahir. The dream she had in the shrine of Cleopatra.

The dream was farfetched and no where grounded in reality, for it showed her as a warrior. A goddess. Capable of bewildering possibilities. It showed her as a hero.

But, the dream was just that, a dream. A fantasy. A hallucination. Not real.

It taunts her because she craves it, despite her willingness to argue otherwise. Ever since the Battle of New York, heroes went from being a wild idea, to something possible. More and more heroes are emerging, and it's brought Cleo's childhood fantasy to life. Her fantasy of being a hero steamed from all the books she read and the movies she watched as a child. Her fantasy steamed from her wanting to escape her very reality.

She's awakened hours later in the middle of the night by a phone call. It pulls her out of the dream with a heavy gasp. She picks it up without looking and brings it up to her ear.

" Hello?" Cleo asks as she rubs her eyes to get rid of the lingering sleepiness.

" Ready for round two?"

She immediately rolls her eyes.

" No, Baahir."

" Drinks are on me."

" I said no."

" You weren't saying no last night," He says smugly, " You managed to outdrink me... now that's impressive."

" I can hold my alcohol," Cleo says as she pinches the bridge of her nose and tightly shuts her eyes, " But tonight is a no."

" Becoming a homebody?"

" I don't want to go out for drinks two nights in a row. I'm not 20."

" Yes, but you are still young."

" I said no, Baahir."

She hears a heavy sigh from the other end of the phone.

" How's the neighbor?"

" Who?"

" The neighbor. The one you kept talking about after shot number twelve."

Her mind slowly recalls the previous night and begins to piece together yet another puzzle.

" Are you trying to get me drunk for information?"

And he simply laughs. As if she told a joke.

" Oh come on, habibati... Why would I need to get you drunk when all I have to do is ask nicely?"

And with that, she rolls her eyes.

" Goodnight."

She ends the call and throws her phone over to the couch. She lets out a deep breath as she gets up from her chair. Her body takes her to the piano where she sits down on the bench and presses her fingers against the keys to create beautiful music. Not just for Steven, but for herself. To soothe her own nerves and try to bring her focus elsewhere. The notes dance through her ears and she closes her eyes as she continues to play, slowly swaying to the music.

" Cleeeeooooo."

The whisper makes her stop abruptly. Her eyes flicker open and fixate on the golden amulet still resting on the top of the black piano. She shouldn't, she really shouldn't, she doesn't want it to happen again. She stands up and walks around the piano until the amulet is inches away from her body. She feels her heart thumping in her chest, and she gulps audibly. She brings her right hand forward, slowly getting closer and closer to it. Her fingertips touch the cool metal, and it sends vibrations throughout her whole arm. She goes all in and places the amulet in the palm of her hand.

" Cleopatra."

The whisper returns as the amulet sends her back into the same place it brought her the first time, into a trance like state. It takes over her body and mind, a golden glow painting over the entirety of her eyes, leaving absolutely nothing left.

This time, she doesn't see her dream. She sees a vast sandy desert, the sky painted in orange and yellow, giving it a golden effect. Everything is empty, everything is barren. The only thing there is Cleo... and Cleopatra. She sees a spitting image of herself standing in front of her. Every single detail is exactly the same, all except for the clothes. Cleo stands in her pajamas, while the Queen Cleopatra is dressed in jewels and a silky white flowing dress with beads in her hair, eyes painted with black charcoal.

" We need to talk."

Cleo instantly drops the amulet, the golden paint leaves her eyes and brings back her normal ones. The amulet thuds against the wooden floor as Cleo's brain tries to make sense about what it just experienced.

A dream.

It's just another dream.

It has to be another dream.

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