Time Maze

A Waiting Game

Minutes felt like hours to Tyson as he paced the hall, waiting to see what their fate would be. It made him realize that from all the dangers they had faced, the worst part was that moment, the not knowing.

His friend could be lying dead. Cleopatra could be bathing in his blood, and Tyson wouldn't have been any the wiser. Although he was pretty sure that Elizabeth Báthory was the one who did that (if even that was anything more than a legend), not Cleopatra. It still didn't alleviate his fears.

Wasn't history filled with murder and bloodshed? What guaranteed him that the two of them were immune to it, that any of the Mazers were?

Before he could drive himself crazy with worry and speculations, he saw Marcus emerging from the door to his left. The moment he saw him, Tyson focused all of his attention on him, doing his best to guess what had happened. He needed to know if Marcus was unharmed and the timeline preserved.

Upon failing to notice any injuries on Marcus, Tyson started scrutinizing his face carefully as Marcus slowly approached him with hunched back and slow steps. The expression on his face was that of disappointment, and Tyson could at least judge that they wouldn't have little Marcuses running amok through Egypt.

"Marcus, what happened? Are you alright?" Tyson asked when Marcus came closer so that he didn't have to yell.

Marcus jumped as if he hadn't even noticed Tyson standing there, in the middle of the hallway. His mind seemed to be on other things, utterly distracted by whatever type of encounter he had had with the queen.

"Oh, Tyson, hi. I didn't see you there," Marcus said, sounding like he wasn't all there, as if part of him had remained with Cleopatra.

Tyson pulled him to the side, to a dark corner nearby, hoping that it would allow them some privacy from prying eyes. For the time being, it seemed that everyone was far too busy to worry about two random guys whispering in a dark corner.

"So, what did she want from you?" Tyson whispered impatiently, annoyed with the faraway look in Marcus's eyes.

When Marcus didn't say anything for a few moments, Tyson started snapping his fingers in front of Marcus's face. He expected that it might snap him back from whatever type of hypnosis that had taken over his mind.

Either Marcus managed to gather his thoughts at that moment, or Tyson's idea worked. But something cleared in Marcus's eyes, and he started explaining what had happened.

"So, when the hottest queen of my heart started dragging me away, I thought we would...you know..." Marcus said suggestively.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. But what did actually happen?" Tyson asked, worried that Marcus might have let something slip about who they were.

That seemed even worse than Marcus fathering Caesarian or some other children of Cleopatra's that Tyson couldn't remember the names of.

"Well, she dragged me in her bedroom and..." Marcus started saying.

"Please tell me you didn't start to take off your clothes. Again," Tyson said, feeling the worst case of second-hand embarrassment ever.

"I most certainly did not!" Marcus protested loudly. "I didn't know how to take off this strange dress that we are wearing, but I did try."

His admittance made Tyson want to scream at him, at the world, but instead, he chose to focus on the positive, that Marcus didn't take off his clothes in front of the Egyptian queen.

"I hope you didn't try to touch her," Tyson whispered, thinking that if he had done that, he probably wouldn't have been standing there with all his fingers and toes.