Cleo's awakened by the sound of pants ruffling. It takes her out of her peaceful slumber as she groans and sits up to find Marc getting dressed, but even as she steps out of bed, he pays her no mind. He ties his shoes with his head facing the floor, even as she gets up to put on her clothes, he still doesn't acknowledge her. She laces up her boots, and from the corner of her eyes seem him walking towards the door, and decides to get up and put herself in front of him to prevent him from leaving. Marc barely makes any form of eye contact and Cleo examines his. She tries to find any clue as to his behavior, but it won't work unless he lets her in. He tries to reach behind her to open the door, but she side steps to stop him once more. He sighs as he puts his hand back to his side.

And yet, he still remains silent.

" Are we not going to talk about it?" Cleo asks, finding the confidence within to speak up.

" Talk about what?" Marc asks nonchalantly.

" Last night," She says simply.

" What about last night?" He asks.

" What would you call it?"

" Sex."

" Just sex?"

" I mean--"

" Did it mean anything to you?" Cleo questions, cutting him off before he can come up with another excuse.

He blinks a few times, finding himself caught a little off guard.

" What?"

" Did it mean anything to you?" She repeats with more emphasize on her words, " Because it sure as hell meant something to me."

Marc's eyes soften somewhat at her words. His brain lights up at the admittance of her feelings, but it might not be enough.

" I don't know," He sighs.

" You don't know or you don't want to say?" Cleo asks.

" I don't know."

" Would it have been any different if I was another woman?"

" I don't know."

" So last night was just no strings attached and meant absolutely nothing to--"

" I said I don't know, Cleo!" Marc exclaims, then takes a step closer to her, " I.Don't. Know," her eyes stay still, locked in his brooding ones, " I don't know how I feel about last night, I don't know what I want, and I don't know how I feel about you."

And he expects her to buy it. He expects her to believe that last night was a mistake, something that shouldn't have happened. He's been in his head all morning about letting it happen. About letting her get close to him. He knew that he shouldn't have, but the constant battle between duty and love is something that is not so easily won.

" I don't believe you," Cleo says ever so softly as she takes a step forward, " Kiss me."

" What?" Marc asks.

" If you don't know how you feel... kiss me," She whispers.

" Cleo, I--"

" Marc... please... Just kiss me."

He wants to hold back, he wants to fight every fiber of his being telling him to give in... but he can't.

Marc closes the gap between them, gripping Cleo by her jaw and shoving her back against the door as his lips crash against hers, making it increasingly difficult to hide his true feelings. Cleo feels a swarm of warmth in her chest as her lips clash against his, feeling his passion through the kiss, and also feeling him hold back.

Marc pulls away from the kiss, leaving Cleo breathless as he looks into her eyes.

" Tell me again," She whispers, " Tell me you don't know."

" I...," Marc trails, " I can't."

" And why not?" Cleo asks, finally getting closer to some sort of a resolution.

" I can't."

" Why?"

" Because."

" Because, why?"

" Because, I!" Marc exclaims as he removes her body from hers, turning around as he takes a deep breath, covering his eyes with his hand before he faces her once more, " Because I can't do this to you."

" Do what?"

" I can't hurt you."

Cleo takes a few steps forward as she eyes his pained expression.

" You won't hurt me," She whispers as she lifts her hand up to cup his cheek, but he just turns away from her touch, " But you need to let me in."

Marc soon enough turns his head, locking eyes with her. His eyes don't give away much, but they tell her enough.

His eyes say that he is a deeply troubled man, one with extensive trauma and unresolved conflict. And as good as she is at reading people, she's not magic.

" I can't read your mind, Marc," She says gently, " I can't help you if you don't let me in."

Cleo sees the tears well up in Marc's eyes as the memories he's buried deep begin to resurface. He wants so badly to spill all his secrets and tell her. He wants to let her in and he wants to let her help him... but as his eyes flicker over to the mirror to be met with Steven standing with a frown and fiddling with his fingers, he closes his eyes and swallows deeply.

" I can't," Marc says, then opens his eyes to see hers, making his heart clench in his chest, " I'm sorry, Cleo... really."

And while Cleo would normally hide her emotions, pretend like they don't exist and move on, she finds herself unable to do so.

A woman who's so used to simply not having any emotions can't help but let them flow now as her eyes become obstructed with tears, for one of the men her heart yearns for just can't let her in.

Cleo shuts her eyes, letting a few tears drip down her eyes as she regains her composure, all while Marc wants nothing more than to bring her into his embrace. He hates being the reason for her tears, but the truth must stay hidden. He can't let it out, not while Steven can hear, for the truth is the very thing that Marc has been protecting him from for all these years.

She lets out a deep, extended breath before she opens her eyes to reveal that they're no longer glazed over, but now appearing as if their entire conversation never happened to begin with.

" I'll go get us some breakfast," Cleo sighs before she turns around and heads out the door.

The moment he's left alone in the room, Marc takes a seat on the bed. He rests his elbows on his knees and buries his face in his hands, expecting to get a moment of peace, but gets anything but.

" Why are you doing this?" Steven pleads from the mirror, " Huh? Why do you have to push away someone as... as sweet and beautiful and kind and smart as her?"

" You don't understand," Marc sighs, " I'm doing what needs to be done."

" Is Big bird telling you to do this? Does he want to hurt her so she'll be his minion, too?"

" Steven..."

" Is this because you're not over Layla, or..."

" Steven."

" No, Marc. Why are you doing this? Why are you hurting Cleo?!"

" Because of you!" Marc exclaims as he stands up to face the man in the mirror, " I'm doing this... to protect you."

Steven is taken aback at his words as his brain tries to comprehend them.

" No you're not," He scoffs, " You know how I feel about her... if you cared, you wouldn't do this."

And Marc just eats it, for he doesn't have much of a choice. He can't pop Steven's bubble now, after so many years of building it up.

As Cleo returns to the hotel lobby with breakfast in hand, she's greeted by the auntie who's finally put the magazine down.

" Shakhs ma tarak hadha lak (Somewhat left this for you)" The older woman says as she hands her a piece of paper.

" Min? (Who?)" Cleo asks as she holds the paper in her hands.

" La yujad fikratu. ghadaruu qabl 'an 'astadir (No idea. They left before I could turn around)," The auntie says, then promptly turns around to go back to her desk.

Cleo's eyes travel down to the white piece of paper with bold black ink, reading the word 'Senfu' off of it. The handwriting seems ever so familiar, but she can't quite place her name on it.

However, the name Senfu rings a very loud bell in her mind. An ancient Egyptian medjay, one who's sarcophagus is said to contain a very special map, and Cleo has a feeling it could be the exact map that they need. She looks at the auntie's desk and sees she's laid out a pill for her with a glass of water, of which Cleo happily takes.

She travels back up to the room to see Marc half expecting her to yell at him, but is relieved when she holds up the paper.

" Who the hell is Senfu?" He asks as his eyes flicker down to the food in her hands.

" A clue," Cleo states, " One that could lead us to Ammit's tomb."

" Where do we find this guy?" Marc asks.

" Well, he's dead," She says, " What we're looking for is his sarcophagus, more specifically what's inside. And from what I remember... it's on the black market."

" Okay," He says as he eyes the food once more, " So, let's start asking people."

Marc steps forward and tries to grab the food, but Cleo pulls it away before he does.

" That's your plan?"

" You have a better one?"

" Give me some time to contact some... former associates."

" Do I wanna know what that means?"

" Nope."

" Alright, so how bout you do your thing and I do my thing.

" Fine."

" Now can I have the food?"

" Magic word?"

" Please?"

And with a smug smirk, Cleo hands over the bag of food, as if all he had to do was ask nicely to begin with.

Marc soon exits the room, eating his breakfast on the way out of the hotel, and while Cleo really should be getting to work, seeing him fail spectacularly is something she cannot miss. She trails behind him, walking through the city of Cairo and into a part with local vendors. Cleo takes her seat on the bench, watching as Marc thinks he's inconspicuous with his baseball cap.

" Does he think that disguise is fooling anyone?" A familiar voice asks as someone joins her on the bench.

" I would hardly call that a disguise," Cleo comments, " He looks like himself at a baseball game."

Layla hands over a bag of fresh juice, both of their eyes locked on the man who's clearly out of place.

" How come you didn't keep me in the loop?" Layla asks as Cleo sips her juice.

" It was a spontaneous trip," Cleo states, " And it's not exactly a vacation."

" Still wouldn't been nice to know," Layla says, finally turning her head to look over, " I missed you."

" I miss you too, libua (lioness)" Cleo says as she looks at the curly haired woman, " How did you--"

" You know how."

" Were you careful?"

" Yes, I was careful."

" Were you followed?"

" No, 'umiy, I was not followed," Layla states, " Now, should we go help him? Or would you rather sit here and ask me if I took my vitamins and drank enough water?"

Cleo motions towards him, as if saying 'be-my-guest', and Layla stands up to walk towards the man hidden by a baseball cap as Cleo trails not too far behind, watching as the juice man slowly backs away from his question.

" I hope you like attention," Layla announces, causing Marc to turn around, " Right guy, right place, but you're not Egyptian."

" What the hell are you--" Marc starts, but upon seeing Cleo walk up and stand next to his ex wife, he sighs heavily, " You shouldn't be here."

" Why? Because my name pisses off a few people in Cairo? Who cares," Layla proclaims.

" I care," Cleo says, then sips on her juice.

" It's not the locals that I'm worried about," Marc says, his eyes tilted upwards.

Cleo follows his eye line to see the God perched a top one of the buildings, making her internally groan.

" I can help," Layla states.

" We don't need your help," Marc argues, " She has her contacts."

" Actually..." Cleo trails as she gives him a small smile, " Layla is my contact."

" Layla?" He asks as he point to her, " This Layla?"

" Yes, this Layla."

" My ex wife."

" My ex, too."

" Your ex?"

" Sort of."

" You two were a thing?"

" It's complicated."

" How complicated?"

" We didn't do labels."

" So what were you?"

" I don't know."

Cleo gives Marc a taste of his own medicine with a smirk on her pretty lips. His jaw clenches from how annoying it feels to be in her shoes, and to experience the exact same thing that he dishes out.

Layla can't help but smile at the power Cleo has over him, and while not wanting him to suffer completely, does love to see him suffer a little.

From her pocket, Cleo pulls out the folded up paper and hands it over to Layla, all while maintaining eye contact with Marc, who gives her a begrudging look.

" I'll help you find what you need," Layla says as she folds the paper and shoves it into her pocket, " But, we'll need a change of clothes."

" We'll head back to auntie's, then head out," Cleo says, then instantly turns around to lead the way back as the other two stay behind.

" Did she boss you around like that?" Marc comments as he turns his head to face the curly haired woman.

" No," Layla says simply, " Because I actually listened."

Their conversation dulls down as they eventually lose Cleo in the crowd. They walk along the same path to get to the same place, until someone breaks the silence.

" Do me a favor," She starts as she keeps her head straight in front of her, " Don't hurt her like you did me."

Marc reaches out to grab Layla's arm, preventing her from moving so she faces him.

" I never meant to hurt you," He says.

He speaks with full honesty in his heart, and she sees this. Layla knows that he's telling the truth, even if they haven't been married for years.

" One of the few good things that came from our divorce... was her," Layla sighs, " But it wasn't meant to be."

Marc senses a sad twang in her voice, perhaps maybe even senses some unresolved feelings in the mix.

" Do you love her?" He asks, even though he's truly scared by the possible answer.

" I do," Layla nods, " She was there for me during a dark time in my life... and she brought this... this light into my life," and then gives a short lived smile, " But I don't love her the way you do... not anymore."

" I don't love her," Marc insists.

But Layla, she doesn't respond. She leaves him with a raise of her eyebrows as she moves on forward to head back into the hotel, walking through the busy streets of Cairo, both filled to the brim with tourists and locals.

All three make it into the hotel, up the stairs and into the room with one bed that two of them shared the night before. Marc instantly changes his clothes, all while Cleo is still rummaging through her bag to find hers.

" I'm gonna get a coffee," He announces, " You guys want anything?"

" Two black coffees with sugar," Layla says as she pulls clothes out of her own bag.

" Of course," Marc sighs as he opens the door and exits the room, " Of course they have the same drink order."

Once Marc is no longer in the room, the two woman begin to remove their clothes to change into their new ones.

Layla through a tunic over her shoulders, then looks over to see Cleo struggling with her bra. And of course, Layla steps over to help. She grabs the clasp in between her fingers and locks in, then slides the straps up Cleo's toned arms to rest on her shoulders, gently grazing over her aged scar as well. Layla leans closer and presses a kind kiss to the scar, then rubs over the spot with her thumb. She hears Cleo take a shaky inhale as she grabs for her top. Cleo brings the fabric over her head and flattens in against her body as Layla grabs her long, thick hair and pulls it out from underneath, tenderly combing through it as if to be rid any knots. Cleo spins her body around to face the woman who stands just a few inches taller than her as she looks up into her wondrous eyes.

" Thank you," Cleo says softly, attempting to sound confident as she finds herself in yet another intimate moment.

Layla brings her hand up as she eyes a strand of hair out of place and gently tucks it behind her ear and Cleo's breath gets caught in her throat, both once more reminded that their romantic past is just that... the past. Anything that once was can no longer be.

As Layla beholds the beautiful eyes in front of her, her gaze softens as the memories from long ago play in her mind as if it were yesterday.

All of the heavenly moments shared in a time of great pain and loss.

Marc uses the key to unlock the door from the other side and walks into the room to find the two women close... just a bit too close, for jealously springs across his chest as he holds the coffee tray in his hands. Layla clears her throat as she takes one large step backwards, then approaches him to get her drink. The exes lock eyes for just a moment, and yet have an entire conversation with just one look.

" So," Cleo says to break the air clean of silence as she gets handed her coffee, " What's the plan?"

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[ ehehe im so excited for what comes next... but also baahir is coming back so ew ]