You guys, you make my heart soar! *bursts into tears*

Thanks for all the favorites, follows, and reviews! Don't forget to R&R, and let me know what you want to see next!

Also, I'm addicted to, like, ten of you guys' stories. You're all amazing. Thanks for existing. Even you Guests. I was one of you, once ... ;)

Oddments and Tweaks: Thank you so very much! I know, reading over it again, that there were many mistakes, but I'm glad I didn't ruin it! And thanks for my first review! You're super spectacular!

Dominosowner: Thank you! I've always liked Ahkmenrah's character, and I wished he'd have played a bigger role in the movies. It was HIS tablet, after all.

Reidluver: Thank YOU. Your stories inspired me to write this one. You're flap-jacking-fantastic!

Huskygirl1998: Thanks, boo! I will definitely take that into account.

Lady's Secret: *slaps hand* MINE

keacdragon: Awww thanks! You're super neato!

LuckyRosey 12: Ta da!

roseandthorns: Ditto!

ImLostForever: I know; I'm a horrid human being for dreaming this up.

CovenantGirlLoki: I completely agree! But it would be hard for some people to grasp how traumatic an experience this would be for a person, especially in such a lighthearted movie. Good thing we have FanFiction!

megawoman 5210: Your wish is my command ...

READ MEEEEEE: One thing to keep in mind while reading this—Since Octavius and Jedediah are based on real people, but their dioramas depict scenes that would have happened years (probably) before their death, I don't believe they remember a) how they died and b) anything that happened in their lives after what is shown in the dioramas. (Ex: Octavius doesn't know he was father to Augustus) This goes for every exhibit in the museum, save for Ahk.

BIG FAT WARNING—The views of the author are definitely NOT expressed in how Jedediah refers Chinese laborers working on the Transcontinental Railroad (Honestly, I've said nothing "wrong," just not politically correct, like, at all. I was trying to be somewhat historically accurate). Also, I'm from the South and travel a good bit, so I've had my fair share of people poking fun at my apparently *coughs* very strong "accent." I am NOT trying to make fun of anyone's accent, because I know that sucks; I was merely writing in dialect, which proves to be rather difficult (Kudos to Mark Twain).

I know you guys are all awesome and probably wouldn't get upset, but, ya know, let's not take chances. :) I'll shut up now.

Larry had planned on reading his new Markus Zusak book when he noticed Ahkmenrah reading it over his shoulder. He handed the book over so that the young pharaoh could catch up to where he was, but within minutes the boy was so absorbed in it, sitting cross-legged in the swivel chair next to him and completely oblivious to the rest of the world, that the night guard didn't have the heart to interrupt him and ask for it back. He would have to bring some more books for him tomorrow night.

The watchman now found himself milling about the museum purposelessly, avoiding the paths of as many exhibits as he could, not feeling up to conversation. Erica's parents had been in town all week and dealing with them was so draining. Of course, they had to be in the apartment when he went to drop off Nicky, and, of course, they had to invite him (demand he come) to third-wheel at "linner" (as Don had called it, also known as "lupper") with the two of them, and Erica and Don.

From there, he spent the evening being quite less than subtly berated by Erica's father for his every flaw: failing to hold a job, his inventions not be well received, the divorce that was, of course, all Larry's fault. And he could do nothing but just sit and take it, which he was further berated for; "spineless," he had been called. He was finally able to excuse himself for work and had come straight there in a less than wonderful mood. At least he had escaped "lupper."

Larry plopped down heavily onto the observation bench in the Hall of Miniatures. He rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head for no real reason. The bench he was sat on was directly across from the Roman diorama.

Miniature soldiers in red and silver marched about their small training field, and Roman women sat around a fountain folding laundry. A teacher lectured to a group of boys underneath a tiny oak tree. Looking about the exhibit, the night guard noticed that Octavius wasn't there. On a hunch, he walked to the neighboring Wild West diorama. After a moment of searching, his suspicion was confirmed. Jedediah wasn't in his display, either. They couldn't have gotten far, Larry knew, being as small as they were. Although it was also likely that someone brought them the bone-buggy (the name was a work in progress) and they'd driven it off somewhere.

The night watchman hadn't seen them in the lobby, so they must have gone further into the museum. He began to walk down the corridor toward the American History exhibition room.

Larry wasn't sure why he was after the little men, he just was. He didn't think they'd mind.

Before long, the bone-mobile (another option) came into view parked outside a small alcove off the South American hallway. Peeking around the corner, the night guard saw the pair of miniatures sitting across from each other on the windowsill. He had to stay very still to make out what they were saying.

"You've been quiet, Jedediah."

"Yeah?"

"You're never quiet."

"Jus' gotta lot on my mind, Ockie. Did you Romans e'er have flapjacks? I tell you sumthin', Betsy make the best durn flapjacks you e'er taste in yer life! I have her whip us up some later t'night, she won't mind it a bit."

Octavius looked at his friend with unamusement.

"You're changing the subject."

"What if I don't wanna talk about it, Octavius?" Jedediah snapped, crossing his arms and staring out the window.

The Roman was persistent, however, and quite patient, not to mention brave. One had to be, when the general of an army. So the cowboy's hostility did little to faze him. He'd seen much worse.

"I think you should talk about it."

"Funny, I don't really care what you think."

"We both know that is a lie."

Jedediah sighed, pulling his black hat from his head. He ran a hand through his sandy hair, replacing that hat, before speaking to the general.

"Yer gettin' cocky, Ockie." Octavius smirked at him. "It's just ... stupid."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"I miss my girls."

"Your girls?" The general repeated, stunned. "You had children, Jedediah?"

The cowboy laughed heartily. "Me? Havin' kids? Nah, my sisters an' my mama. My girls.

"Laurie, she was my ol'er sister, all thin an' tall. Just 'bout as tall as me. She was married to a friend o' mine, Lil' William O'Brien. Irishman; a good feller. She was taller than 'im. Smarter than 'im, too, but Laurie was smarter than e'erbody. She always wanted to start a schoolhouse fer the boys on the lines who couldn't read er write. Laurie was kind like that. We jus' ne'er had no money fer that. Or'erseer didn't want educated Chinamen, neither. She would'a been a good schoolteacher.

"My lil' sister's name was Kitty. E'erybody alway said we look alike, but it's not true." Jedediah smirked. "She was purdier. Fourteen years old an' she'd already done stole half the hearts o' the men in town. Kitty was a sweet lil' thing, but hell if she weren't opinionated. Made her big brother proud.

"Mama, well, she was Mama. An' she weren't just me an' the girls mama. Mama was e'erybody's mama. She took care o' e'er person in town, when they wanted it or not. She had the biggest heart fer people, even them immer-grants. She'd open up our kitchen shutters e'eryday and stand there handin' out coffee to all the workers. When we had the money, she liked to feed e'eryone, too."

Octavius processed that information. He held in the urge to ask if they were in his exhibit, because they obviously weren't. There were very few people in the Roman diorama that had actually existed at some point in history, so it wasn't too much of a stretch to think it might have been the same in the Western one.

"And what of your father?"

An unreadable look came across the cowboy's face. He spun the spur on his boot with his hand, refusing to make eye contact.

"I dunno. Walked out after Kitty was born. Ne'er came back."

"I ... I am sorry, my friend."

"I don't really care. About 'im. I don't miss 'im. I was grown then, had to be the man o' the house for the girls."

"I understand."

"No, you don't."

"... I comprehend."

Jedediah shook his head.

"You don't get it. It ain't fair."

The general ignored the first part. "What isn't fair?"

"Waking up here like this. No family, the only people I knew was the mayor an' 'is wife. And I wish I didn't know 'em. All these people I didn't know 'spectin' me to lead 'em."

"I do understand, Jedediah."

His next words came out much more harshly than he had intended.

"You done told me before, you didn't have no family. You don't get it, so stop sayin' you do!"

The look of hurt on Octavius' face instantly made the cowboy want to eat his words, but he knew that wasn't possible. The words were gone, and he had already upset his friend. Damn his quick temper.

Octavius didn't give Jedediah the chance to apologize, which would have been his next words.

"Do you really think I don't know exactly how you feel?" the general snapped, dark eyes hard and sharp as his voice. "I did have a life, you know, before the Tablet. You are correct, I had no 'family,' but I did have people I cared about. You aren't the only one, Jedediah. You aren't the only one who woke up alone, who woke up with a group of men who expected you to display leadership. At least you only have those few railway workers, I have an entire legion of men I had to get in line then take care of. How daft could you be to sit there and tell me I don't know your troubles? You must be an absolute idiot."

Jedediah shrunk back, slightly stunned. He had always been one to complain, all the time and about everything, and he hated that about himself. And Octavius was the opposite. He never complained, ever. It was an unfortunate truth: people would always expect more from those who never complained. And that was true of the Roman, so many depended on him and confided in him, Jedediah included, that no one ever considered the hardships the general had to deal with himself. While those people weren't entirely to blame, Octavius really didn't want them to worry about his problems, it was mainly their fault, Jedediah knew that.

"Geez, Okie. I'm an idiot. An' I'm real sorry, pal. I know you got troubles, but ... I don't know, I just talk 'bout my troubles so much that I ferget."

As good natured as Octavius was, he shook the frown from his face, replacing it with his usual smile.

"All is well, my friend. I didn't mean to upset you."

Jedediah started to nod, but froze after the words computed.

"Upset me?"

"... Yes."

"I aughta slap you."

Now the general was throughly confused. He often was when it came to the cowboy.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You said you were sorry for upsetting me."

"I was—I mean, am."

Jedediah could feel his face turning red. He really needed to work on his anger management.

"Dammit, Octavius, why are you sorry for makin' me 'upset?' You can be angry at me, ya know, when I say stupid things that hurt yer feelin's 'cause I cain't control my tongue!"

What in Hades?

"What are you on about? Do you want me to be angry with you?"

"Yes! No. Gahdammit!"

This was exasperating.

At some point in time the pair had leapt to their feet and were slowly advancing on each other, getting right up into each other's faces.

"By the gods, Jedediah, I don't want to be angry with you."

"Why not?!"

"Because I spent fifty-four years being angry at you!"

"Okay, but you're angry right now?!"

"Yes!"

"Then be angry at me!"

"I'm SICK of being ANGRY!" Here came the rant.

"Every night," Octavius began, wagging a finger at the cowboy, "every night, we fought with each other because we were angry and confused, and I don't want that to happened again! We weren't friends then, but we are now, and I want to preserve that friendship so desperately. I don't want our fighting to send us back to that time, which was, literally, a week ago! We could do nothing but offend each other, for five whole decades! No peace treaty or truce ever stood between us, and, ultimately, our people." The general back down, his voice turning weary. "I don't want us to go back to before."

Jedediah nodded, processing the information.

"It's really my fault all the durn treaties turned to shit."

"I played a large role in it as well. I did invade on your land."

"I was real disrespectful to yer people fer no good reason. I said a lot of things 'bout yer religion I shouldn't've."

"I sent far too many spies to your diorama."

"Stole lots of yer swords an' helmets."

"I damaged many of your people's possessions."

"Same 'ere. We're better off as friends."

"I agree."

"Octavius," Jedediah said, pulling his hat from his head. He did so when he wanted to be sincere, the Roman had discovered. "You ain't gotta worry 'bout e'erthing goin' back to the way it was back when we were fightin' an' all. It won't, 'cause we are friends now. That's not sayin' we ain't ne'er gonna fight none whatsoe'er, we will sometimes, but it's not gonna start a war. We're past that."

"I do believe we are." Octavius smiled at his friend, clasping his shoulder. Jedediah mirrored him exactly before the two sat down again, Jedediah replacing his hat.

"Octavius?"

"Yes?"

"You can let off some steam e'ery now an' again. Ya don't 'ave to carry the weight of the world an' e'erbody else's problems 'round all the time."

"I will ... I will try."

"Good."

The pair fell back into small talk. After awhile, a puzzled look suddenly crossed the cowboy's face.

"I know you told me before, Okie, but ... you really didn't 'ave no family?"

The general shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat slightly. He'd been able to avoid any sort of personal questioning thus far, but he couldn't just not answer his friend, and he also couldn't answer dishonestly.

"I ... no, I didn't, not really. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father died when I was fifteen, fighting in Germania. I hardly remembered him, though, honestly, when I got the news. He was almost never around when I was very young and completely out of my life after I was ... I don't know, eight or nine. I joined the army the next year and worked my way up through the ranks. I never married, as far as I know, I just didn't have the time while serving in the Legion, and never had any children. I didn't have any family. Which is why I treasure the one developed with the others in the museum so dearly."

"Yer a good talker, Octavius."

"What?" The Roman frowned. "I meant what I said."

Jedediah grinned, kicking at his friend's boot. "I know, par'ner. You and e'erbody else are my family, too. Just, the way you say what yer thinkin' so well, it's impressive. I cain't do that."

Octavius rolled his eyes.

"Jedediah, you nearly always say everything on your mind."

"True. But not as ... eloquently as you do."

"'Eloquently?'"

"M'hm."

The general smirked deviously.

"I didn't know you knew such big words, friend!"

Jedediah replied with mock enthusiasm, "I know other big words, too, Ockie-face! Like 'jackass.'"

The miniatures laughed; Jedediah's wittiness managing to elicit a breathy chuckle from the night guard around the corner. He really liked the duo.

Despite being small in stature, the little men had very good hearing, and the watchman's small noise did not get by their ears.

"Ya know, somethin', Octavius, I think there's a spy down yonder," Jed said loudly to attract Larry's attention and motioned down the small hallway.

The watchman grinned, rounding the corner. "A spy?"

"But of course!" Octavius exclaimed. "The night watchman is collecting the secrets of those he is sworn to protect. What he could do with that information is unthinkable."

"Really, guys?" the night guard began. "Do you think there'd be much of a reward for the thoughts of three-inch-tall, plastic miniatures?"

"Don't you go on bein' hurtful, Gigantor!"

"I'm not trying to be ... hurtful, Jed. I'm really just trying to get to know everyone better. On a personal level, not just as ... acquaintances."

"As friends?" the general supplied.

"Yeah. Because, after all we've been through, we're friends, now, right?"

"O' course, Gigantor! We're close as kin!" The cowboy slung an arm around the Roman to make his point. "But friends don't gen'rly spy on other friends, do they, Okie?"

"No, Jedediah, I don't believe they do."

Larry rolled his eyes. "I apologize."

"We forgive you, Larry."

"Ish."

"Awesome. Well, I've intruded long enough. I'll let you get back to ..."

"Conversing."

"... Conversing. Right."

"Oh, Larry?"

"Yeah."

"You can come converse with us sometime, too."

"I'll take you up on that."

Larry walked away from the small men, chuckling slightly. He decided to go see how Lewis and Clark were doing with their museum mapping. Sacagawea had suggested it to them a few nights earlier, and it occupied most of their time. It was coming along nicely.

"Octavius?" Jedediah turned to his friend as the night guard left.

"Yes?"

"I'm real sorry. Losin' yer folks so young like that; it's not fair."

The general gave him a small smile.

"Unfortunately, my friend, life isn't fair. But I am alright, now. I wasn't always, but time has managed to turn things around for me."

"Yer way too positive about everythin', you know that?"

"A character flaw, truly," the Roman deadpanned.

"Smartass. I jus' wanna know how you stay so durn happy all the time."

"I make the choice to be happy."

"How?"

"I just ... do. I see no reason to live my life focused on sorrows and difficulties. I believe in spending my energy on finding the good in life. And if I can't find any 'good,' I create it. Why would anyone want to spend their time worrying over what makes them miserable, especially when they can fix the miseries themselves?"

Jedediah smiled crookedly. "I'm a fairly negative person."

"I've noticed."

"An' yer too positive."

"Matter of opinion."

"Shuddup. I'm tryin' to say, we make a purdy good team."

"We do."

The two sat in silence for a moment, before Octavius spoke again.

"Jedediah?"

"Yeah?"

"Whatever happened to all those swords and helmets you stole?"

"I'll ne'er tell."

I apologize for how short this was, but I'm already working on Chapter 3!

Seriously, though, I need help coming up with ideas for what to call the remote control car that Rexy's bone is attached to.