Marc continues with his grumpy attitude on the trip back to the building. He insists against it, but Cleo doesn't listen, she must get her affairs in order. She forces Marc to pack a bag, despite him saying he doesn't need one. She finishes packing her bag and leaves a message for the landlady to take care of her cat while she's away. Marc stand outside of her door while she gets ready, refusing to leave her alone, despite him not wanting to join her in the first place.

Cleo exits her flat and locks the door, leading Marc out of the building and into a cab. Of course, he tries to argue, but he gets shushed, and so he stays quiet for the remainder of the car ride.

The cab drops them off at an airfield, not London City, and definitely not Heathrow. Cleo pays the fare and exits the cab with Marc right behind her. He follows her into the air field, looking around at the dark surroundings to be sure that they're not followed. She then turns around and grabs Marc's wrist to check his watch. She drops his wrist and gives him her bag, telling him to stay where he is. He watches as she walks into one of the hangars, and inside, fast asleep in a cot tucked into the corner, she finds exactly who she's looking for. She shoves the blankets off of the man, and he gasps awake.

" Quién (Who)" He starts, but upon seeing Cleo, he groans, " Ay, no."

" Hola, Diego," Cleo says as she crosses her arms.

" Estoy fuera de horario (I'm off the clock)"

" Necesito un favor (I need a favor)"

Diego sighs as he scratches his chin.

" Dondé? (Where?)"

" Cairo."

Diego begins to chuckle, showing off his white and yellow teeth as he stands up from the cot.

" Ahora? (Now?)"

" Ahora mismo (Right now)"

Diego narrows his eyes at the woman, copying her stature and crosses his arms.

" Cuantos? (How many?)"

" Dos (Two)"

Diego stays silent as he contemplates whether or not he should go through with it or not, but given there history, he obliges.

As Diego prepares his plane, Cleo goes back to get Marc and drags him to the hangar. He's weary, untrusting of the Spaniard stranger, but seeing as Cleo trusts him, he must, too.

Once inside the plane, Diego acts as if he's a commercial airline pilot, and he makes Cleo chuckle. Marc, however, does not. His face remains neutral, his eyes flickering in between the two, and Cleo easily picks up on the tension.

" Are you always this closed off?" She asks.

He remains silent, and while his mouth may not be moving, his eyes give everything away. Cleo looks past his tough guy look, and sees something vulnerable in his eyes. It's similar to the look in Steven's eyes... but slightly different, and it just confirms her theory about them, but she keeps it to herself for the time being.

From her back, Cleo pulls out a book, and Marc lets a scoff slip through his lips. Her eyes meet his, and he still remains silent, and so will she. She turns her attention to her book and opens the pages.

Their roughly 5 hour flight is occupied by Marc staring out the window, embodying the grumpy old man archetype, while Cleo simply reads her book, letting her mind relax, giving her a moment to herself in the chaotic mess she finds herself to be in.

Unfortunately for them, once they arrive in the continent of Africa, they're greeted with a wild heat. The plane lands in the desert just outside of the city, in the middle of the day at the height of the hot weather they must now face.

" Gracias, Diego (Thank you, Diego)" Cleo says as they depart the aircraft.

Marc wipes the sweat off of his forehead, then looks over and sees Cleo putting her bag on her bag with a pair of sunglasses over her eyes. Her sweater sits in her bag, the only clothes on her torso now being a tank top. She takes only 3 steps from her original position before he finally speaks.

" We're walking?" He asks, causing her to turn around and face him.

" Do you see any camels?" Cleo asks with a hint of sarcasm.

Marc clenches his jaw, but comes to terms with the fact that they must walk a mile through the scorching hot Egyptian desert. While Cleo is fairly used to the heat, walking through it is not something she enjoys.

Finally, they reach the buzzing inner city of Cairo, and the first thing Marc does is scan their surroundings for threats, but Cleo pays it no mind. She knows where they need to go, and that's exactly where she takes them. To a hotel in the city, a beautiful one that overlooks the pyramids, and, much to their luck, is still run by someone she knows, for the moment they enter the lobby, a woman rushes out to greet them.

" Cleo!" The elderly Egyptian woman exclaims as she hugs Cleo and kisses the air beside each of her cheeks.

" Marhaban eamati (Hello, auntie)" Cleo smiles.

" Laqad eudt akhyran (You're finally back)" The woman says as she cups Cleo's face in her hands.

" Muaqatan , naeam (Temporarily, yes)" Cleo corrects, " Hal ladayk ghurfatayn lina? khasm eayili? ( Do you have two rooms for us? Family discount?)"

The woman holds up one finger, then goes behind the desk in the lobby and pulls out a room key.

" Ladaya ghurfat wahidat faqat (I have only one room)" The woman states.

Cleo draws in a deep breath through her nose, but graciously accepts the key.

" Tawqituk say' (Your timing is awful)" The woman adds, " laqad 'atayt fi dhurwat mawjat hurin (You came at the height of a heat wave)"

" Mataa yantahi? (When does it end?)"

" Alghad (Tomorrow)"

Cleo internally groans, but gives the woman a smile. The woman smiles back, and then makes her way out of the lobby as Cleo turns back to Marc.

" What'd she say?" He asks.

" Two things. One, there's a heat wave," Cleo starts, " And two... we're sharing a room."

Marc would be lying if he said the idea didn't ignite a spark from within, but he keeps it buried, and he buries it deep. He bites his tongue as he follows Cleo up the stairs of the hotel to their room. She opens the door and he closes it behind them, but once he turns around he sees one very important thing.

One bed.

Cleo sets her bag down on the dresser and opens it as she searches for a hair tie, and Marc just sets his on the floor.

Fortunately for him, the God has been awfully quiet for their journey, but instead of bringing him solace, it only makes him more on edge. He expects the God to show up at any moment, to take him away from Cleo.

Marc glances over to the full length mirror to his left. He sees Steven conflicted with his own emotions. Marc sees that Steven is about to speak, so he grabs a sheet from the bed and drapes it over the mirror to silence him, an action that doesn't go unnoticed. Cleo watches Marc do it, finding him ever so fascinating. And as much as she wants to ask questions about his disorder, she doesn't. She just shakes her head in an attempt to regain her focus.

" I'm gonna... change," She states, " We'll head down to the bar soon."

" The bar?" Marc questions as she makes her way to the bathroom.

Cleo turns on her heel to make direct eye contact with him.

" Do you wanna sit through this heat sober?" She asks.

As much as Marc wants to argue, he can't. She has a point.

Cleo shuts the bathroom door and makes quick word, peeling off her black jeans and boots, opting for something short instead.

As opens the door, expecting Marc to be ready, but she's met with his bare back. She pauses, staying silent as her eyes roam over his sculpted body, watching as he rolls a white t-shirt over his torso and turns around to see her staring at him. What he doesn't expect is her legs. Her toned, tanned, gorgeous legs and how amazing they look in her short white skirt, and how muscular her calves look in those heels. Their eyes both leave each others bodies in sync, making eye contact from across the room.

No words are spoken as they exit the beautiful room and head for the nearest bar, one that also happens to be owned by the auntie. It's small and not as extravagant as some of the others in Cairo, but it provides alcohol, and that's good enough.

Cleo and Marc take their seat at the bar, side by side. She orders a glass of straight vodka, and Marc orders a glass of whiskey. They receive their drinks, and Cleo immediately shoots hers back and asks for a refill. Marc looks at her and scoffs as he slowly sips his.

" You gonna have a problem with everything I do?" She as as the bartender fills her glass.

" I don't have a problem," Marc says, keeping his eyes in front of him as he brings his glass to his lips.

Cleo rolls her eyes as she downs her second glass, then asks for a third. This time, she slowly sips, sitting in silence with the man she hardly knows that wears the face of the man she knows all too well.

And unfortunately for Marc, as he finishes his glass and sets it down on the bar, he catches a glimpse of the reflection.

" Stop being rude!" Steven scolds.

Marc grunts and instantly gets a refill, this time throwing back the drink just as Cleo had done, and this time, it's her turn to scoff.

" You got a problem?" He asks as he turns his head.

" Nope," She pops, " No problem."

The heat, even in the bar with multiple fans, sucks the oxygen from the air, making every inhale just the slightest bit painful.

Cleo ignores the eyes from the other bar patrons. It's something she's had to get used to. Some men don't know how to behave themselves or keep their eyes to themselves. Marc feels the stares, but he knows they're not for him. He turns his head to see a man licking his lips as he stares at the woman sat next to him, and Marc glares daggers at him until he looks away.

It takes an immeasurable amount of strength for Marc's eyes to stay off of Cleo. The woman he's see from afar so many times, now so very close. No more does he see her through Steven's eyes, but no his very own.

He hates it. He hates the effect he has on her.

He hates that she makes him weak.

And he'd die before he admits it.

He can't be weak. He can't have a weakness. Not when Khonshu is constantly lurking over his shoulder, searching for any kind of leverage.

He knows that Khonshu has his eyes on her, and if him staying in servitude is the price for Cleo's freedom, so be it.

The alcohol works its magic, and while not being drunk, they are certainly tipsy. Cleo hiccups as she sets down her empty glass, and Marc takes this time to move her glass away. She glares at him and tries to take it back, but he snatches her wrist before she can as her eyes meet his.

" No more," He utters, " You've had enough."

She attempts to argue, but the only thing that leaves her mouth is another hiccup. Even in her altered state, Cleo realizes his words to be true. As Marc sets down some cash to pay for the bill, Cleo gets up from the bar stool, but as she stands, her balance is lost and she trips. Marc quickly turns around and grabs her before she can fall very far, holding her upright with one hand on her bicep and the other on her hip. His eyes gaze down into hers, the intoxication obvious in them both.

" We should..." Cleo trails.

" Yeah," Marc says, reading between the lines.

They make their way back to the hotel, the heat still present in the darkening Egyptian night sky. Cleo unlocks their hotel room and kicks off her heels, her skin feeling sticky and hot to the touch from her sweat. Marc kicks off his shoes as well, watching Cleo as she pours herself a glass of water and sends it down her throat. She repeats this a few times before she feels hydrated enough and sets down the glass. She wipes the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, feeling her clothes cling to her body uncomfortably tight.

Maybe it's the heat, maybe it's the drinks, but for whatever reason, they can't stand each other.

Every breath Marc takes seem so obnoxiously loud to Cleo's ears, and Marc finds himself rolling his eyes with every gulp of water that Cleo takes. And as she drinks her water once more, the very thin string that's been holding him back snaps.

" Are you finished?" He belittles.

" I'm thirsty," She shrugs.

" More like dehydrated," Marc mumbles under his breath.

Cleo lets out a long, dragging breath, trying her best to keep herself together, but with the weather practically cooking her brain inside her skull, it makes it difficult.

Since he's sweating through his white t-shirt, Marc decides to take it off. He tosses it to the side of the room as his gold star of david necklace bounces on his chest. It catches Cleo's attention and she unintentionally stares for a bit too long.

The fabric of her skirt on her thighs feels unbearable, and so she opts to remove it from her body. She slips it down her legs, and now it's Marc's turn to stare.

" What are you doing?" He questions, forcing himself to keep his eyes on hers.

" What? You can be half naked but I can't?" Cleo scoffs.

" I still have my pants on."

" Then take them off."

Her words catch him off guard. He wasn't expecting it.

" What?" He asks.

" We're adults, and it's hot," Cleo says, stating the annoyingly obvious, " Take them off... unless you're uncomfortable."

Marc lets out a dry chuckle as he stands up from the bed and unbuckles his belt.

" I'm not the one who's uncomfortable," He says as he pants drop to the floor.

Marc is left in his boxers and Cleo is left in a crop top and panties that leave little to the imagination. And yet, they manage to keep a distance between them.

That distance becomes smaller and smaller as they unconsciously move around the room, finding ways to close the gap.

Marc sits on the floor, his back pressed against the foot of the bed while Cleo lays horizontally on the edge of the bed, her thighs a mere inches away from the back of his head. They sit under the only fan in the room in hopes that it will cool down their sweltering skin, but it does so little.

Their sobriety slowly returns, and their moods become more and more hostile as it does. The heat leaves them both sweating, hardly moving as their bodies try to cool them down.

Marc's eyes close, both physically and mentally exhausted. But he can't rest, for every few seconds, Cleo fidgets. She squirms on the bed, finding every position more uncomfortable than the last. And Marc puts up with it, up until her thigh bumps into his head.

" Oh my God, can you stay still!?" He exclaims, eyes opening as he shoves his head back to hit her thigh.

" Oh, I'm sorry. Am I getting in the way of you slumber, Sleeping Beauty?" Cleo taunts, swinging her body so she's sat on the edge of the bed, legs right next to him.

" Is it too much to ask for a little quiet?" Marc retorts.

" You're the one who's screaming," She scoffs.

" I'm screaming because you are so god damn annoying!" He exclaims, getting up from his spot to face her.

He stands on his feet, directly in front of her, making Cleo tilt her head upwards to see him.

" Maybe I wouldn't be so annoying if you weren't such a dick," She says as she stands up as well.

" Really. I'm the dick?" Marc asks, almost offended, " I'm the one who's been trying to protect your ass since you came into Steven's life."

" Right, because I'm the only who needs protected," Cleo says with a dry chuckle, " I'm just the poor, helpless woman. I'm just a damsel in distress who needs a big, strong man to come and save me."

" That's not what I--"

" That's sure as hell what it sounds like."

" God!" Marc shouts as he throws his head back and closes his eyes, " Why are you such a smart ass all the time?"

" Well, one of us has to be smart," Cleo says as she takes a step forward, " And it's obviously not you."

" Are you calling me dumb?" He asks as he brings his head back down, eyes seething as he meets hers.

" I'm not calling you smart," She states as she crosses her arms.

" You are unbelievable."

" And you think you're any better?"

" At least I don't draw attention to myself," Marc says, taking a step closer as well, " Unlike you at the bar."

" Now what? Now you're slut shamming?" Cleo scoffs.

" I'm calling it like it is," He states, months of pent up emotions coming out.

Maybe from the heat, maybe from the alcohol.

" Don't act like you didn't like what you saw," She adds with a gleam in her eyes.

" Excuse me?"

" You heard me."

They pause for a moment.

" I saw you staring," Cleo starts, " I saw how you looked at me."

" And how did I look at you?" Marc questions, giving in to her little game.

" Like you wanted to take off the very clothes you're complaining about," She smirks, stepping closer, almost to the point where their chests touch.

Marc doesn't respond. He bites his tongue as he lets out a dry chuckle, his eyes traveling down before returning to lock with her eyes.

" Like I said," He grits, " You're unbelievable."

" So you're gonna deny it?" Cleo asks with a tilt of her head, " You're gonna say you don't?"

" Don't what?"

" Don't wanna take my clothes off?"

" Just--"

" Just what, Marc. Huh? Just stand here and take your shit because it strokes your ego?"

" Cleo, just--"

" Or maybe that's why you divorced Layla because you couldn't handle a woman who's as strong as you."

With those words, Marc snaps once more. His hand jumps out, wrapping around her throat and slamming her against the nearest wall, his nose almost touching hers as his eyes bore deep into her skull.

" I said..." Marc starts, his tone low and gruff as his chest heaves, " Shut... the fuck... up."

Cleo listens, in part due to the hand on her throat. She watches Marc's blown pupils stay steady, feeling his firm grip that cuts off bloodflow to her head. There's a part of him that doesn't want to move, that doesn't want to remove his hand from her throat. A part of him that wants it, and from the look in her eyes, she wants it too. Cleo's eyes travel down to his lips, watching as his jaw tightens. The woman his mind has been obsessed with for so long is here, under is grasp... and she might just want him as badly as he wants her.

But he doesn't give in. He can't give in, and for one very simple reason.

She fell for Steven... not him.

It's his face she sees, and in his mind that's who she wants... not him

That one thought causes him to pull away, leaving her gasping as he removes his hand from her throat. Cleo brings her hand to rub her neck, eyes being met with Marc's back as he refuses to face her.

" I'm sorry," He says over his shoulder.

" It's... fine," She says softly, " I'm sorry, too."

" It's fine," Marc says quickly.

The silence sets in, neither of them moving from their spots. They're frozen as their minds wrap around what just happened.

The heat. It has to be the heat. It fried their brains... that's all.

And as Cleo lays down on the bed, covers pushed all the way down, her mind can only think of Steven as her head hits the pillow. Her Steven. Her nervous, beautiful, smart Steven. Steven that shares the exact same face and the exact same body as Marc.

And yet, they're so... different.

Her mind knows the difference between the, but her body doesn't. Her body wants them, regardless of who's in control of the body.

And while her mind has become familiar and infatuated with Steven, she'd be lying if she said that she didn't find Marc fascinating. Despite his cold and tough appearance, she's drawn to him. Every time he pushes her away, she wants to get even closer to him.

As Cleo slowly drifts off and falls asleep, Marc steals a pillow from the bed and plops it down on the floor. He lays on his back, his mind unable to think about anything else. He can only think about her.

He thought it was a crush. He thought it was just a little crush. He thought Steven's feelings were spilling into his, combining and unable to be told apart.

But now, not that he's the one in control, now that he's the one here with Cleo, his theory is unraveling. His feelings, once able to be hidden, are becoming increasingly harder to hide.

He has to push them aside. He can't fall. He can't let himself get involved... he'd only put her in danger.

And he can't do that. He can't do that to her. He wants her to be safe, and that means being as far from him as possible.

Part of him is shouting at him to leave, walk out the door right now and finish the mission by himself, but he doesn't. He doesn't listen, for there's another part of him shouting even louder, telling him to stay.

Every time Cleo rolls over in her sleep, Marc's head snaps up, making sure that she's okay. Every footstep in the hallway sets him on edge, and every time he convinces himself that it's an intruder.

His mind doesn't let him rest, it never does.

As the night progresses, a breeze blows in from the window, causing the sheet over the mirror to fall down, revealing Steven's reflection and finally allowing him to speak.

" Marc... give me the body. Please... I-I'm begging you. Just... give me control... Please... please don't take her from me... Please, Marc... I... I... I just... Don't take her."

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[ resisted the urge to have marc kiss cleo first ]