Day turns to night, the air has a slight chill and the water is calm as the boat glides across it with light purple lights dazzling above their heads as up beat music sings to them.

Layla and Cleo sit on one side of the boat, across from Marc. They sit on the far side, away from the other passengers as it takes them to their destination down the Nile.

And while some things have been pre discussed, questions still loom about.

" So what exactly are we gonna do here?" Marc questions.

And Layla can't help but smile.

" It's not pleasant being left in the dark, is it?" She ponders.

Marc averts his gaze as he sucks in his pride.

" Okay," He sighs, " I get that you're not happy about me leaving so quickly and coming to Cairo. I understand."

"Is that your apology?" Layla scoffs.

" Just so we can get through tonight, maybe let's just give our shit a rest for the moment," Marc offers as he motions between them, " and just try to strategize before we get to..."

" Mogart's," Cleo states, her head turned and eyes fixated on the water below.

" Just so you know," Layla starts as she leans forward, " I'm not here to help you. I'm here for Leo and for everyone else who would die if Harrow succeeds."

His brows furrow at her words.

" Leo," Marc mutters as he glances at the other woman, " You guys have nicknames now?"

" We've always had them," Cleo states once more, her head still turned, " This is just the first time you've noticed."

He sighs as he looks down to the wooden floor beneath his feet, biting his bottom lip as he tries to regain his focus.

" So," Marc starts as he brings his head up, " this Mogart guy. He's really gonna have the sarcophagus?"

" Yes," Layla responds as she leans back against the pole and fiddles with her fingers, " I asked around. Mogart's collection is prime gossip for those of us who deal in antiquities."

The music playing and the people dancing from the other side of the small boat draws in their attention and brings to their eyes the sight of locals dancing, smiling and overall having a good time. And yet, Cleo doesn't bother. She finds her mind getting lost in the dark and inky waters. How it moves and how it sounds seems to draw out anything and everything else. It seems to give her a moment of peace. A momentary lapse. Something oh so simple that soothes her and settles her nerves that have been working overtime these past few days.

" I haven't heard that sound since... since that restaurant," Marc says softly in an attempt to catch her attention.

But he doesn't, for while Cleo hears his words, she doesn't truly listen. And it hurts, but he's only receiving a taste of his own medicine.

" You could have told me, you know. What it's been like for you... about Steven," Layla sighs as she makes eye contact, " I may not like you very much right now... but I did back then. I could've helped."

" For what it's worth, I had it under control until very recently," Marc states.

" What happened?" She asks.

And in that moment, Cleo turns her head at the same time that Marc's eyes glance over to her. Their eyes lock, and his breath gets hitched in his throat as he finds himself unable to honestly answer the question presented to him.

" Doesn't matter," He says, trying to shake it off as if it were nothing.

Cleo could see that lie from a mile away, and based off of his body language-- slouched, sweaty palms and fidgeting fingers-- she sees yet another mystery of the mind of Marc Spector, and that's the very thing that brings her attention back into the boat.

" I was there for Steven when he needed help," Cleo starts as she keeps her eyes locked on his, " I can be there for you."

He doesn't know the right words to say, so he says nothing at all. He breaks the eye contact as he continues to play with his fingers, once again showing his closed off nature.

" Hey," She whispers gently as she leans forward and covers his hands with hers, " We can handle this together."

" Yeah," Marc mumbles as he begins to gently play with and trace her palms, an action that sends a chill up her arms, " That's not really what I do, is it? Never been able to just talk about everything."

" It doesn't need to be everything," Cleo says, " Just something."

" I..." He trails, then returns her hands to her lap with one final glance as he leans back in his seat, " I can't really do something."

Marc goes from being semi-vulnerable to cold and closed off with ease as Cleo's skin craves his touch. And it hurts, but she knows that baby steps are important for those with unprocessed trauma. She hides her feelings of sadness with a deep inhale, and in the corner of her eye sees Layla go to put her hair up.

" Daeni (Let me)" Cleo says as she grabs the hair tie.

Layla turns her back towards Cleo so she can wrap up her hair into a ponytail, still feeling little sparks from her touch. Layla turns around and smiles at her, of which Cleo reciprocates, but once they sit straight they're faced with a clenched jaw and brooding eyes that travel back and forth between the two women.

" What?" Cleo asks with a raised brow.

" What exactly happened between you two?" Marc asks.

" Are you jealous?"

" Curious."

" That sounds like jealousy."

Marc bites his tongue as his eyes glare down at hers, as if to signal that he'll shut up and listen.

" We'd been working together for six months."

Layla and Cleo had met accidentally. Baahir was supposed to handle the sale of one of the antiquities, but instead, he sent Cleo. And Layla was the interested buyer. But instead of walking away with just one thing, Layla walked away with a partnership. Cleo would research and find missing pieces of the lost world. And Layla would find their rightful owners. A dream team, so to speak.

But one day in Morocco, Layla received some unsettling news. She and her husband at the time were separated because they knew things weren't working, but that was the final nail in the coffin.

Marc had filled for divorce, and while Layla was already over whatever feelings she had for him, signing it still stung.

But she wasn't alone. Cleo was right by her side. She was there for her every step of the way. She was her shoulder to cry on. And one night, when they went out to celebrate the divorce, things got a little out of hand. Too many drinks, and not a lot of judgement.

Their kiss was innocent, at first, but once they locked eyes it was all over. Layla never thought of herself as being anything other than straight... until she met Cleo. Their lips connected once more, their hands roamed all over, and they barely had enough time to make it to the hotel room before clothes started flying off. Cleo was forced onto her back and had every inch of her body kissed and worship as if she held the same royal status as her name sake, and while Layla had no experience with another woman, she made her feel all too good. And when it came time for Cleo to return the favor, she had Layla clutching the sheets for dear life, her name leaving her mouth like a prayer. Their lips connected yet again as their cores rubbed against each other, Cleo taking control of the reigns just to see Layla's neck strain and back arch.

After that night, things were confusing. Layla's sexuality was still a mystery, and Cleo just plain didn't know how she felt.

Once the divorce was finalized, they agreed to take things slow. To try things out and see how it goes. And for a while, it was great.

Up until Cleo got an offer to work for the British Museum and Layla got word of a finding in Beirut.

They were reluctant to leave, but came to a mutual decision. That they were just having fun, and that it never would have worked, for while they lead similar lives, things are just too different. They decided against long distance and opted for a clean break. No hard feelings, and no strings attached.

Marc's eyes stay trained on Cleo, but they break to glance at his ex wife, who's eyes are stuck on Cleo like glue.

" No strings attached?" He asks.

" No strings attached," Layla confirms as she turns her head.

While the tension between the three may be brewing, the boat soon comes to dock at the private residence of a man with too much money. Layla steps off first and offers her hand out to Cleo to help her onto dry land while Marc handles the bags. He goes to hide them beneath the dock, but something out on the water catches his eyes. A smaller boat with two men, hidden completely by shadows with only their silhouette's visible, and as Cleo and Layla follow his eye line, they see the boat as well.

" Harrow's men keeping tabs?" Layla asks.

" I don't know... could be," Marc ponders, his eyes still on the water while Cleo's back is already turned.

" Let's go," Cleo orders as she begins her trek on the dirt filled road.

Layla and Marc are not far behind and quickly catch up to her as they enter the home of a black market dealer.

" Remember, your name is Rufino Estrada," Cleo comments as they all walk in sync and shoulder to shoulder.

" Right, I'm your bodyguard," Marc states, followed by a scoff, " Like you need one," he glances over to Cleo, " I have a thing for Ancient Egypt and I've been with you since your guys' honeymoon in the Maldives."

" Nice touch," Cleo says.

" Thank you," Layla affirms, " Figured I'd take you somewhere nice."

The three march up to the ring with dramatic fanfare playing and at least a dozen guards in black suits protecting not just the ground, but the stolen black market arts that lie about. Those who are simply here to marvel in the spectacle that takes place in the ring above fade away the closer they get to the armed guards, and one face in particular is all too familiar.

" Bek," Layla announces, shaking his hand as he approaches.

" Layla."

" It's been a while."

" Good to see you," Bek says, his eyes momentarily glancing at the other two, " Right this way," he turns to guide them closer to the ring, " He's looking closer to seeing you. After Madripoor, I'm sure you will have a lot to talk about," he turns back around to face them, " Excuse me for one moment, Mr. Mogart will be with you shortly.

As the guard leaves them, Cleo finds herself standing in the middle, Layla on her left and Marc on her right, and as they wait for Mogart, her eyes scan those beside her. Cleo sees Layla's palms flattened against her legs, ring clad fingers twitching against her jeans and chest gently rising and falling with each breath. Cleo then turns to Marc, who's hands are strained and ever so close to forming fists, his chest hiding his breath and eyes surveying every single inch of the compound as if hidden weapons lie about, for truth be told, they do.

They watch the men on horse back battle one another with sticks, acting as spectators on the sidelines.

" So, what? This joker just puts on El-Mermah games in his backyard for fun?" Marc quips.

" No, he gets private lessons by the best in his backyard," Layla corrects.

" Cool," He says as Mogart dismounts and has a red robe placed over his shoulders, " I like the robe."

" You should," Cleo sighs, " It's mine."

And soon enough, the rich Frenchmen lays eyes upon the three, and a smile creeps up onto his lips.

" Cleo, Layla," He announces, " Come in," the three walk through the open gate, but his attention is only on two, " Such a delight to see you both."

" You too," Layla says as she gives him her hand to kiss.

He turns to Cleo with a smile.

" Always a pleasure," Mogart states as he kisses her hand as well,

" Merci," Cleo replies.

" Thank you for having us over on such short notice," Layla starts.

" Oh, please. I hope you realize you need no excuse to drop by," Mogart smiles, " I hear congratulations are in order."

Layla turns to Cleo with a smile as she brings her hand to hers.

" And this is our bodyguard," Cleo states as she looks over to Marc, " Rufino."

" Nice to, meet you," Marc says as he awkwardly sticks his hand out.

" Pleasure," Mogart replies, taking his time to remove his glove before he shakes his hand, then gestures for them to follow him through the ring," I hope you understand this is more than a collection to me. Preserving history is a responsibility I take very seriously."

" A self appointed responsibility that you alone were able to enjoy, no?" Layla quips as they approach the opposite side of the ring where buildings stand tall.

" Well," He starts, " I prefer to see it as a philanthropic effort at preservation. Now, if I may ask, why such an interest in Senfu in particular?"

" It's all part of a working theory I have--," Cleo starts.

" Actually," Mogart interrupts, then turns to the only other man present, " I'd like to hear it from him."

All eyes turn to Marc, who's wildly under prepared to answer such a question.

" I'd just like to... I would just like to take a look," He answers all too quickly and not very believably.

" Funny man," Mogart comments as he narrows his eyes.

Marc looks over to Cleo, as it to gain some sort of confirmation, a sign, anything, and Cleo looks over to Layla who, in turn, looks over to Mogart for the official go ahead.

" Feel free," Mogart announces.

The three walk into the pyramid museum littered with artifacts, knowing that there are multiple eyes on all of them at all times.

" Alright, Cleo, you're up," Marc sighs.

And Cleo looks at him as if he had just sprouted another head.

" What?" She ponders, " Why me?"

" Why not you?" He asks, " This is your thing."

" What is my thing?"

" Egyptology."

" I'm not an Egyptologist, I'm an archaeologist."

" What's the difference?"

" Steven's an Egyptologist."

" No."

" Marc--"

" I said no."

" Will you just let Steven out before you blow this?" Layla snaps through grit teeth.

Marc sighs as they approach the sarcophagus, allowing Layla and Cleo to bend over and examine it despite their limited knowledge on the tomb in front of them.

" Well, the burial practices are in line with the Studenwachen texts," Layla states as she moves from one side to the other.

" Which is?" Marc asks.

" Funeral texts," Cleo responds.

" Which means?"

" It's legit."

" But all I'm seeing it literature to guide the dead," Layla adds, " There's no location indicated."

And Marc just nods as if he understands, turning his head to face Mogart and his guards, but unknowing to him cast a reflection in the mirrored surface above.

" Because it has to be unlocked. It's coded."

Marc strains his neck to look up at Steven as he speaks, clenching his jaw as he lets out a deep breath.

" Will you give me a minute?" He asks, " I gotta... talk to Steven."

Cleo's heart flutters at the mention of the Britt's name, and her head turns up to face the reflection above, and while she may only see Marc, Steven sees her, and it makes him smile.

" Just keep him occupied," Marc adds.

The two women leave him alone inside of the temple to workshop the sarcophagus with Steven to stand outside with armed guards and a heavy target on their backs.

She can't quite explain her feelings nor her actions, but Cleo seems to be unable to remove her eyes from Marc's back. She watches intently as he converses with Steven who tells him what to grab and where to put it. It's such a strange sensation, something most go through in their early teen years, and yet Cleo has the utmost pleasure of experiencing it in her early 30's.

And it kills her. It gives her something to lose. A weakness. But she can't help it. She can't help how she feels, even if it puts her in danger.

While she drowns everybody out, she doesn't notice her surroundings getting more hostile, for her guard is all the way down, that is until she sees Bek approaching Marc. She gets tunnel vision and follows him in. Bek puts his hand on Marc, who turns around ready to fight. Bek instantly draws his gun, of which Marc snatches and aims it at him.

And Cleo attempts to approach Bek, even with his hands held up, but she's only held back and restrained by another guard.

As Marc holds the gun, he locks eyes with Cleo who struggles in the hands of her captor, and he has to ignore everything in him that tells him to fight and set her free as his eyes meet Layla's, who's hands are held up as even more guns are pointed at her. He knows he's out numbered, and he knows he's messed up.

" Shit," He mumbles as he ultimately lowers the gun.

He hands it off to Bek who, in return, only aims it at him.

" Do you really think I'm a idiot?" Mogart taunts as he enters the temple, " If there's anything I know... it's that Cleopatra Sad Hassan doesn't need a bodyguard," he steps closer, " Get on your knees."

His words only anger Cleo, both from the threat and the mention of her full name as she uses more of her strength to try and wriggle free.

" Get on your knees!"

Marc swallows his pride as he obeys the command, getting down on his knees on the gravel below with his hands resting behind his head as the Frenchmen turns to face the women with a solemn sigh.

" I was so ready to make peace with you," Mogart states as they're brought closer to him.

" You don't understand. We're trying to save many lives," Layla pleads as she keeps her hands held up.

The rich collector turns to the other of the two women, the only one physically restrained. He looks her in her seething eyes as she dawns a scowl on her lips.

" Is this true, mon petit?" He patronizingly asks.

" Qu'est-ce que tu en penses? (What the hell do you think?)" Cleo questions through her grit teeth.

And in an attempt to deescalate the situation, Marc signals over to the sarcophagus, saying Mogart should take a look and see what's inside. Mogart approaches, peering inside the ancient tomb, but Bek leans in to whisper in his ear, relaying information spoken on the com system between the guards. It must be something important, for Mogart's ears practically perk up as he turns to walk out of the temple with his guards shoving the three out to follow.

" It appears we have an interested third party," Mogarts states as the third party conveniently approaches them.

Out comes the cult leader himself, Arthur Harrow with two of Mogart's goons, and behind him stands the man with a sinister grin dressed in all black, Baahir Elsayed. Cleo's only slightly agitated by the man with a cane, but the man behind him makes her blood boil and fists clench.

" I'm sure I can offer you something much more tangible," Arthur calls out as he slowly makes his way over, from his pocket bringing out the scarab and holds it as it floats in the air, " Why settle for a clue when you can have the treasure?"

" Anton... Anton, don't listen to this man. He's trying to stop us from reaching--" Layla starts in an attempt to keep him on their side.

" No, stop."

" He's gonna kill millions, trust me!"

" Are you seriously talking about trust?"

" Please, there's no need to descend into violent accusations," Arthur says as he draws the attention away from them both, speaking eerily calm for a man waging a war on humanity itself, " Each one of you has so much more in common than you know. Layla, you keep thinking that distance will prevent the wounds from your father's murder from reopening, but something stands in the way. Your ex husband didn't tell you the truth," he turns his head, " And Marc, you lie to them both because if you tell them the truth, they'll see you as you see yourself, as unworthy of love."

" You piece of shit," Marc mutters.

But then, Arthur turns his head a final time.

" And Cleopatra," He says to the already tense woman, " You think that by helping Marc and Steven it means it will fill a void that's been around your entire life, eating away at your heart and preventing you from being true with another," he gets within arms reach, " But really... you're scared. Scared of what you've done to countless others happening to you... you're so scared of abandonment that you're willing to get yourself hurts if it doesn't mean being alone. And here you are... with your ex lover and her ex husband, thinking that if you aid Marc on his conquest, that perhaps those dark chapters of your history will be erased."

Cleo's eyes seep into his as they widen like a deer caught in the headlights. She lets her eyes give it all away, for her fear is something she cannot hide, but rather cover with anger. Her entire body feels enraged. She doesn't know what information came from the trapped Goddess and what came from her former partner, but it doesn't matter, it angers her all the same. She tries to lunge towards the man with a cane, but still gets held back by the guard dressed in all black, who's grip tightens around her biceps, and a chuckle from not too far behind Arthur brings the attention to another unwanted guest.

" I tried to tell you," Baahir starts as he holds his hands behind his back," She's a feisty one."

His ill-considered comment is not taken well by the three who stand with guns pointed at their heads.

" Anton, the lore surrounding these relics, I offer proof that it's real," Arthur whispers as he holds up his cane as it glows with purple magic, then turns to face the temple that holds the sarcophagus, " This sarcophagus doesn't belong to anyone."

The lights up above begin to flicker as a cool wind blows by to signal the arrival of the god.

" DO IT. SUMMON THE SUIT. GIVE THEM WHAT THEY DESERVE."

Cleo completely ignores the God as the cult leader begins to chant.

" WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?"

His chant incites the magic to completely and utterly destroy the sarcophagus, leaving nothing left but ash in its wake. Mogart stares, completely astonished by the work, all the while Arthur gives him a simple pat on the back.

" That's just a taste of the godly power I offer."

Arthur leaves them all with shocked expressions on their faces, joining Baahir who smiles smugly at his former partner.

" Until we meet again," He waves, " My beautiful, beautiful Cleopatra."

Baahir's words distract her well enough that she doesn't notice Marc disappear. He vanishes into the night without a sight, and the guards don't even notice until they eye the empty spot between the two women. Layla and Cleo's heads tilt up to the top of the temple, where they find Marc standing tall atop the tip of the pyramid with his armor snugging his body and fists ready to fight as if dramatic fanfare plays in the foreground.

Bek instantly grabs Mogart and runs off to take him to safety as Marc throws a crescent blade to subdue the guard holding Cleo hostage to finally set her free, something she feels she could have done herself.

The other guard tries to take Marc down with his gun and fires it multiple times, but Marc jumps off of the building with his cape billowing and kicks down the guard, effectively scaring the horses and the other guests in the compound.

Layla grabs a fallen gun to fire it at Arthur in a last ditch effort, but it's of no use. A stream of bullets come racing towards them from the other side of the ring, and Marc instantly wraps his cape around Cleo to shield her while Layla hides behind a banister. Cleo ignores her racing heart from just how close together they are, and even though she looks at his glowing eyes through a mask, she still sees him.

" You got it?"

" I got it, baby."

Marc instantly turns around to face the bullets head on, completely oblivious to the butterflies he sent to Cleo's stomach. Layla runs up to her, trying to hand off the weapon, but she doesn't dare take it.

" Still?" Layla groans.

" Yes, Layla, I still don't like guns," Cleo states.

" Fine," Layla sighs as she pulls a very special blade from her back pocket, " Then at least take this."

" Gladly."

Cleo takes the blade and Layla rushes into the temple to grab the remnants of the map as a guard approaches the archaeologist. The guard tries to shoot her, but she unsheathes her blade and uses it to knock the gun out of his hands. She switches it into her left hand as she powers up for a kick. It hits his chest, but he only stumbles back. She goes it for a punch, but he grabs her fist and twists her arm around so she's flipped onto her back. She lands on the ground with a thud, but kicks the gun further away before he has a chance to grab it, then latches her ankles around his legs and brings him down as well. She's so engrossed in the fight that Marc momentarily slips her mind. That is until she hears the sweet voice of her Steven out in the ring.

" That's it. Alright, time out! That's it, time out! Guys, let's all calm down, yeah? We're all worked up. Let's all just like chill the F out and talk for a second--"

His sentence is cut short by a wooden spear being shoved through his back. As pain floods through his body for the first time, Cleo's eyes nearly bulge out of her skull.

" Steven!" She shouts, soon ditching the guard to run at full speed.

And something about seeing Steven ran through a second time sends sand bleeding through her finger tips. It leaves a trail in her wake as she enters the ring. With her running start, she jumps onto the wooden gate of the ring and uses that momentum to knock a guard off his horse. They land on the sand covered ring, the ground a mix of pale white and tan beige thanks to Cleo. She gets on top of the guard as repeatedly punches his face. Her left and right fist become completely drenched in the tan sand as she lands punch after punch. The sand makes it way into his mouth, making him cough as it seeps down into his throat. But she doesn't dare stop, not until she hears the sound of Marc letting out groans of pain. She lifts her head to see Marc with multiple wooden spears stabbed through his body. She sees him on his knees with his masked removed, and when they lock eyes, she seems to forget about the man beneath her, up until he lands a rather strong punch to her jaw. She gets knocked off of him and sent down towards the ground, all in front of Marc.

" Cleo!" He exclaims as he tries to fight through the wooden spears, but it's no use.

The other guards keep him still, holding him in place with the spears as Marc and Cleo are forced to see each other in pain.

Cleo's eyes are still closed, her head still spinning from the punch, that she doesn't see Mogart on horseback grab yet another spear, but Marc does. It feels him with enough rageful motivation to summon his mask and break free of the wooden restraints, using the pieces to stab the guards in the chest and sprint towards her as Mogart gallops on the back of his horse. He reaches her just in time, grabbing her by the waist and tumbling to the side before he lands on his knees and hurdles a crescent blade towards the Frenchmen, who rides off into a cloud of smoke as he falls off his horse.

Marc lowers his gaze to the ground, seeing how Cleo's eyes are still closed and rushes down to her side. He holds her head in his hands as he silently prays to Yahweh that she'll open her eyes.

" Cleo. Cleo... Cleo are you there?" He panics," Cleo, ple--"

He's silenced with a groan and furrowed brows as Layla rushes to them, instantly dropping to her knees.

" What? What is it?" Layla pleads.

Cleo lets out another groan, not even bothering to open her eyes as she responds.

" Advil."

Marc and Layla let out a sigh of relief, and soon enough Cleo opens her eyes, reluctantly. They help her stand up straight, both holding on to her waist to support her weight.

" Did you get it?" Marc asks his ex.

" I got it," Layla confirms as she pants to catch her breath, " We need a car."

And so the former husband and wife help escort Cleo off the ground of the horse ring to gather their bags, and then instantly grab the first car they can find. Unfortunately for them, there is no back seat. Only the driver and passenger with a large trunk. Layla steps into the driver's seat, and Marc dismisses his suit as he helps Cleo into the Jeep, settling her in between his legs. As Layla starts the car, Marc wraps his arms around Cleo, acting as her seatbelt as they quickly drive off into the vast Egyptian desert.

But first, they must leave the city, and as Layla drives across the bridge, Marc examines his clothes now riddled with holes.

" Oy," He sighs, " I really liked that jacket."

" You know what I like?" Cleo questions, " Drugs."

" Alright," Marc says as he reaches into the bag and pulls out a bottle of pills, " Here."

And without asking so much as a single question, Cleo takes two pills from the bottle and pops it into her mouth to swallow it dry. She reluctantly leans forward to allow Marc to change his clothes, but the air just can't stay silent for the time being.

" What was Harrow talking about?" Layla asks as she tightly grips the steering wheel.

" What do you mean?" Marc asks as she slips his shirt over his head and shoves it in the back.

" He said I had a right to know, " She says, " We both did."

" I have no idea," He states as he reaches back to grab another shirt.

And while Cleo is in to mind to ogle at Marc's bare form, she sure doesn't complain about the feeling of his warm chest against her back.

" I never told anyone why I really moved," Layla says as she keeps her eyes on the road in front of her, " I mean, but he knew, he just saw right through me."

" I don't know. He's just trying to mess with you," Marc says to deflect her concern, " You know, he's trying to get in your mind," he brings his arms through the white tunic and brings it over his head, " You know, he's got this idea that he can see the true nature of people or some baloney like that. If that were true, I don't think he'd have a bunch of homicidal maniacs as his disciples, would he?"

" You done?" Cleo groans as she leans her forehead against the dash.

" Yeah, yeah," He tsks as he brings his hands to her waist and gently pulls her to rest against his chest, " This okay for you, your majesty?"

" It will be once you stop talking."

" Are you always this cranky when you're in pain?"

" Shut the fuck up, Spector."

" I'll take that as a yes."

They allow a few moments of silence to pass in order to spare Cleo from further pain, and them to endure her wrath before the conversation picks up exactly where it left off.

" So, it's not true?" Layla starts, " What he said about you and..."

" No, no, it's not true," Marc dismisses, still holding his girl in his arms as he begins an argument with his ex, " No, he's just trying to divide us. Don't let him get in your head."

" Every time," She exhales, " I learn something new about you... I think, that's it. There can't possibly be any secrets left between us. And something else pops up, and it's like I've not known you at all."

" Yeah, you haven't," He states as he turns his head, " You don't. That's why we're divorced, Layla."

She scoffs.

" We're divorced because you never let me in, and I was sick of it," Layla says as she quickly glances over, " And if you do the same to Leo..."

She opts to leave her sentence open ended, letting Marc fill in the gaps like a bizarre version of madlibs. Marc turns his head out the window to gaze into the side mirror, but is met with nothing but his own reflection. He hoped that Steven would appear and say something, anything, but he doesn't. Steven doesn't show up, and it forces Marc to take a good and hard look at himself. To face the vivid and gory truth that he tries too hard to pretend isn't real.

And the one who they thought to be asleep turns out to be anything but. While her eyes may be closed, with the drug soon soothing her headache, it leaves her all too conscious. She truly didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it just sort of happened.

Fortunately for her headache, the rest of the car ride is silence. Hours spent trapped together, and not a single word enters the air. Soon enough, Layla brings the Jeep to a halt, and much to Cleo's dismay, they have to get out. Cleo groans as Marc opens the car door, but ends up climbing out. She rounds to the front of the Jeep, joining Layla at the hood as she brings out the pieces of the map that need to be put together. Marc grabs a roll of clear tape as Layla brings pieces together to see if they're a match.

" Here, try this," Marc says as he hands over a piece of cloth.

And Layla tries it, but it's a no go. The piece doesn't match. Meanwhile, Cleo stands off to the side, staring at the pieces from a distance as she tries to bring them together in her mind. She tries oh so hard to focus, but her mind still feels fuzzy and unable to concentrate.

" I'm not getting any whole constellations. It's just little pieces and fragments," Marc says as he holds up the cloth, then drops it as he pounds his fists against the hood and takes a step back to show his frustration, " This is gonna take forever," he turns his head to Cleo as he leans against the hood, " You gonna help at all?"

" And here I thought you didn't want my help," Cleo states as she crosses her arms and tilts her head.

" Oh my God," Marc groans, "are you really gonna throw that at me right now? I already agreed for you to help me, Cleo."

" Then let me."

" I am!"

" You know what I think would help?"

" What?"

" Steven."

He pauses, staring her down as if to let her finish.

" He helped you decode the map once," She states, " He can help us finish it now."

Marc sighs wearily, dropping his head in his hands, and Cleo takes a large breath of air as she approaches to buckle down her frustration.

" As valuable as you may be, you can't keep undermining him," She says softly, " We need Steven as much as we need you."

He contemplates, thinking over his decision as his hand cups his chin, his brain warps around the idea, almost coming to terms before the God appears.

" I SUMMON THE GODS, YOU SUMMON THE WORM. HE WON'T RETURN THE BODY."

" You call him a worm one more time and you're gonna find sand in your ass crack," Cleo sneers at the bird who sits atop the Jeep.

Ignoring her comment, Marc roughly snaps off the side mirror of the Jeep, gathers all the pieces of cloth and marches over to a spot in the sand further away, but still within the light on the roof. He lets out a sigh, and with it, all of his regrets as he brings the mirror up to his face to give up control.

" Alright, go ahead. You're in."

" Cheers, thanks a lot."

The transition happens almost seamlessly, the transition from Marc to Steven. The brow softens and eyes practically light up with a child like innocence as the British nerd regains control over the body once thought to be his, and his alone. Steven instantly drops to his knees to get to work, but with it comes Cleo's attention stuck onto him like glue. She watched in amazement over their transition from one to the other, and she watches in awe as Steven readily and happily uses tape to put together the pieces of cloth like an easy puzzle. Her legs carry her through the sand to where he's sat, and once she's close enough she kneels beside him, and Steven instantly turns his head and smiles.

" Hiya, love," He waves, greeting her for what seems like the first time in forever.

" Hi, Steven," Cleo smiles, finding herself holding back tears, of which she doesn't know why they're there to begin with, and yet it catches his eye.

" You crying?" Steven asks as he stops what he's doing to hold her hand, " You okay?"

" Yeah," She nods while keeping her smile, " I'm okay. Just... happy to see you."

He gives her hand a gentle squeeze as he leans in close enough to place a gentle kiss on her forehead, then pulls back to lock eyes.

" I'm happy to see you too," He beams, " You wanna see what I'm doin?"

Cleo nods once more, and Steven gets all giddy and excited to show off his progress and knowledge.

" Well, as you know, Egyptians invented modern navigation. There's not a lot of landmarks in the desert. So, they came up with a way to get about using the sun and the stars. It's bloody genius, innit? Et voilà."

Steven presents her with the star shaped map, holding in gently in his palm like it's the most precious thing on earth, but that title is reserved for her.

" That's French," He adds as she holds the map.

" Je sais, ma chérie," Cleo replies as she smiles at the man with near literal heart eyes.

Layla watches from her position by the Jeep with a rather large smile on her face. She's happy for them both, happy that they're able to share such sweet moments like this. There may be a small part of her that wishes the divorce never happened, or that Cleo never got that job offer, but those things both happened, and she's had to live with it. She's strong enough to get by without a lover, but that doesn't mean it doesn't sting. She clears her throat before she walks over to them both, standing behind Cleo who hands her the map to examine.

" So, what do we do with it?" Layla ponders.

" Well," Steven starts, " I'm not sure, but if..." he takes the map out of Layla's hands and holds it up to the light shining down from the Jeep, " You see that? Those little pinpricks?"

" That's a constellation," Cleo observes.

" We should be able to triangulate the stars into coordinates," Layla says excitedly as she pulls out her tablet to scan the map.

" Actually, it's not that simple," Steven starts.

" Not working," She comments.

" Yeah, yeah, you see, Senfu marked that tomb like, 2,00 years ago. And stars drift overtime," He says, " Not as much as stars go."

" But they would be in a completely different place now," Cleo states as she catches on, " Wherever the constellation would be now could be miles away from where we need to be."

" So, unless we know exactly what the sky looked like that night..." Steven trails, " we're buggered."

" I REMEMBER THAT NIGHT. I REMEMBER EVERY NIGHT."

Much to both Cleo and Steven's surprise, the God actually seems like he's going to help them for a change. He appears on top of the sand dune, and Steven is quick to trudge through the sand with the two women not far behind. They make their way to the top and join the God who stares dramatically out towards the vast array of sand surrounding them.

" I CAN TURN BACK THE NIGHT SKY."

" How?" Steven cluelessly asks.

" IT WILL COME AT A COST. I WILL BE IMPRISONED IN STONE."

" Ohh noo," Cleo quips sarcastically.

" STEVEN, WHEN THE GOD'S IMPRISON ME, TELL MARC TO FREE ME."

The wind only grows stronger as Steven's chest and arms lift up into the air to allow for his three piece suit to be summoned onto his body.

" DO WHAT I DO."

The God holds up his hands towards the sky, and Steven copies his movements, and when Khonshu begins to spin the night sky, he copies it too.

It all soon becomes very headache inducing, and yet insanely captivating. The sky begins to spin and swirl around, changing from black to purple and back to black. The stars spin as the moon goes through each of its phases all at once. The galaxy appears even more strange than it normally does as Khonshu and his Avatar manipulate it to bring them back to the one night in question.

The night Senfu made the map.

" THIS IS THE NIGHT."

The sky soon settles above there heads, allowing Layla to scan the sky on her tablet in order to pick up the coordinates. Steven attempts to hide his pain, but his short grunts give it all away. Cleo turns her head away from the marvel in the sky to face him. His mask fades away as the ground rumbles beneath their feet. The God himself falls to his knees as his power begins to weaken.

" I can feel the energy leaving my body," Steven whimpers as he keeps his arms up.

" I got it!" Layla exclaims.

Steven drops his arms and drops to his knees on the soft sand, and Cleo is right there beside him. She watches as the God fades away, he disappears piece by piece, but not before he attempts to utter another word.

" CLEOPATRA, YOUR SOUL IS..."

Unfortunately for them both, the God's ushabti is complete before he can finish. The God disappears, and with it, Steven's abilities. His suit vanishes and his body goes limp. His eyes close as Cleo's blood runs cold. The God's words are of no importance to her as one of the men she's mad for is passed out cold.

" Steven!" She exclaims as she pulls his body close to hers, " Steven, Steven wake up! Marc, Steven, just... one of you wake up! Please, please wake up."

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[ cleo is my favorite OC, I love her sm ]