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Dendera had been pleased to follow Silas into the bed, falling asleep rather quickly beside the drowsy vaporeon. When the morning light filled the room through the large window like doors that led to the balcony, the umbreon was unmoved by it, continuing to sleep peaceful with his face pressed into his pillow. But when the warmth that had been there through the night was suddenly gone he squirmed a bit, beginning to rouse from his sleep. At some point he even reach out, only to feel the empty bed. When he sat up, his hair was a mess from the squirming and he pressed an arm against his face, 'wiping the sleep' out of his eyes. "Mm."

The spot beside him was empty and he heard the shower running in the nearby bathroom, he let himself fall back against the pillows. He would have been satisfied to just curl back up under the blankets and have a few more minutes of sleep but, today was a big day. He couldn't take a shower yet, considering that it was occupied, so he decided to go to one of the many restaurants within the hotel and get some breakfast for the two of them before they were to head out to go to the funeral. To be honest, he dreaded the funeral, so many people saying goodbye to Amasis, and he would have to say goodbye as well and offer forgiveness for past mistakes (as was tradition) but really, right now he couldn't think of anything that he would need to forgive at all. He was grateful to the man, and held no grudges for anything he'd ever done - seeing him in nothing but a good light.

The umbreon pushed these thoughts aside now, making room for simple thoughts of getting ready, and pleased with the fact that at the very least he would have Silas with him. He got up, dug into a bag and grabbed a shirt, just a long black tank top and pulled it over his head, just lightly running his fingers through his long hair to make it look somewhat presentable before he left the room, taking the elevator down to go to one of the restaurants. He ordered a few things, typical breakfast items in America and had them all put in to-go boxes and put them in a big bag to carry up to the room, bag on his arm and two orange juices in his hands. He realized that he didn't know what Silas really liked to eat or drink - but he at least took a stab at it and wouldn't care at all if the vaporeon wanted to get some Egyptian pounds off of him to go and buy a different meal.

Once he returned to the room he still heard the shower running and so he set all of the food out at the table and sat down to eat after tying his hair back into a loose and very messy ponytail. Once he was seated he began to eat what he considered to be his share of the food, he would take a shower once Silas was done and Silas could either eat this food or go and get something else. Either way, the two of them would have to leave soon.

Dendera was almost finished eating when he finally heard the bathroom door opening. He slid his chair back just enough to look towards the bathroom, just in time to catch sight of one barely covered vaporeon. He blinked for a moment, almost in disbelief, not that Silas wasn't attractive to him (he most certainly was), it just wasn't a sight that he was accustomed to seeing. But then he just let a wide grin slip over his lips as he watched Silas go from what seemed to be barely awake to alert and dashing to a hiding place. He couldn't stop himself from laughing when he saw the man ducking behind one of the beds, hiding his nearly naked body. "You're crazy." he said as the laughter died down, falling back into that smirk.

He took his time, finishing up his breakfast which only took a minute or two more, and then he used one of the napkins from the small stack he'd brought with the meal to wipe his mouth and hands quickly before getting up from his seat. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his black wallet and setting it on the table before coming around the bed, which he was certain would startle and anger the hiding vaporeon. He reached down, brushing a piece of the other's wet hair from his face before leaning down to place a soft kiss on his pale forehead. "You're so cute." he said softly before straightening up, grabbing some clothes and a ziplock bag from his luggage and soon simply disappearing into the bathroom. It was a phrase that had become very common for him, but he justified that by blaming his companion for having it suit him so well.

Once he'd shut the door behind himself, he began to peel off the clothing that he'd put on to go and buy breakfast, leaving them bunched up on the sink. Then, in the mirror he removed all of his many ear piercings, slipping the discarded golden jewelry into the zip lock bag that he had taken into the bathroom with him. He couldn't wear any jewelry or things of that sort during his 'mourning' time. It wasn't a tradition that he understood but it was just one of those things that was ingrained into him from a young age. After he'd undressed and set all his things around the sink counter top, he turned the water of the shower back on, the fog still filling the room from Silas's shower.

Once Dendera was in the shower he had to go through the tiresome process of washing all of his long black hair, running his fingers through it many times to attempt to make it more manageable when he would have to brush it after exiting the shower. Apart from dealing with his outrageously long hair, the shower didn't take much longer and when he exited the room was filled with warmth and steam. He didn't like to stay in the bathroom for very long after a shower because of the thick steam and humidity, and so after he'd slipped on his underwear and some black jeans and put on deodorant, he slipped out of the bathroom carrying his dirty clothes and clean shirt, along with the bag that held his jewelry.

When he re-entered the room he saw that Silas was already ready to go and sitting on the edge of the bed. The umbreon didn't give much more notice to his companion than that, assuming that he should just get ready to leave and they could chat later if he wanted to. Besides, the Egyptian's mind was becoming filled with predictions of what the funeral would be like, and how if it weren't Amasis then he wouldn't want to go at all, actually because it was Amasis - he didn't want to go. But he knew that he had to do it.

After he'd set aside his laundry and put away his jewelry, the umbreon put on a nice black button up shirt, buttoning it up almost all of the way but didn't bother to tuck it in. This was about as 'formal' as the umbreon ever dressed. His hair was still damp, the length of it being hard to get completely dry but he ran a brush through it regardless, which was a task in itself. As he did such, he settled down on the bed opposite where Silas was sitting and offered a small smile, "I guess you're ready to go." he said, though that much was already obvious and it was unnecessary to point it out.

After a short pause of nothing but running the brush through his hair he spoke again, "I'm glad..that you're coming with me." his red eyes were now down cast on the hair that was in his hands. It was then that he realized that he was finished brushing it and so he got up, putting the brush away and then putting on socks and some shorter boots than he usually wore (his knee-highs were a little too hot for the desert weather). He put his hair up into a ponytail within moments and then the most important thing, he put on the holsters to his guns, soon after sliding the hand guns into the holster's and letting the shirt hang over them, his hair falling into place to obscure them further. After that, he grabbed his wallet and keys and opened the door to leave the room, turning to look at his companion - this was a signal that he was ready to leave now.

Dendera was quiet throughout the trip, but Silas was as well so he didn't feel bad for the silence. His mind was beginning to slip into memories and assumptions of what the funeral would be like. He remembered funerals he had been to in Egypt, they were very big gatherings with most of the community there. He hadn't been to a funeral in America but he'd heard about them and read about them before and knew that they were much different, and that usually only family and friends attended them. He wasn't sure what the vaporeon would think of it all, especially considering that it would all be held in Egyptian Arabic and he was almost 100% positive that Silas didn't speak Arabic.

But for once, his mind didn't linger on his companion for long, his eyes trailing to the gathering people as they came close to the cemetery. The whole area seemed to be covered with people and towards the front he could see military men, lined up, some that he even recognized. When they got out of the car and began to walk towards the front of the group, Dendera being the man's only family, he could see the body guards that stood around the man that had sent him the notice of Amasis's body. The umbreon felt like he was holding his breath suddenly. He'd seen the man a couple of times before, and had received letters referring to his services before, but never had he spoken with him. He knew that he would offer condolences, formally and properly, that he would wait until the end of the funeral, but inevitably the bigger reason for him being there would have to be addressed. And the one thing that Dendera kept thinking was that he wasn't ready.

He knew that Silas was sticking close to him, but what Silas probably didn't realize was that the Egyptian was remaining close to him as well, scared and wanting to cling to something he saw as safe, which was the vaporeon's presence.

The funeral was long, and made up of many prayers and people speaking, all in Arabic. Traditions were followed out and hours went by with everyone there offering their condolences to the only family member of the deceased, Dendera. The umbreon felt so lost in it all, uttering gratitude in his native language out of pure reflex, his body going on auto-pilot as he still tried to settle himself and decide things for himself - still wishing that his soldier could just speak to him once more to let him know what he should do. He stayed close to Silas through the whole thing, and to anyone that asked about him, he told them his name and that he couldn't speak Arabic.

By the end of it all, he wanted to just rush back to the hotel and bury himself in one of the large beds. Before he could even begin to execute that wish though, he was approached by a group of men, and at the middle of them stood a man that he couldn't help but to respect - whether he wanted to or not. He bowed his head respectfully and then the war was brought up, and he began to compliment Dendera on his skills, both with weapons and on the field. The umbreon responded with gratitude, all natural responses but in his head he wanted to flee, and it was all over his face, because he knew that this was all leading to the request that was tormenting him.

Dendera was listening to the President's statements, every word leading up to the inevitable and it was all so obvious, compliments sprinkled throughout telling of the need for talented help, such as the talent that the umbreon could offer. He felt Silas close to him, even brushing against his hand now and then, but even that couldn't settle the umbreon's nerves now. He was still arguing in his head about the decision that had been tormenting him, go back home to the States where he felt at home, with Silas, and keep that promise he persistently made that he would always be there, and be happy as he was before the letter had arrived - but duty and honor, his country, the place that he was born and raised, was asking for his help and Amasis had died trying to help. Could he just turn away from them knowing that, just pretend like it didn't happen and go home? He couldn't sit right with either choice, he wanted to go back to his home in America but it meant turning down a request for help - one that came with a lot of baggage.

Amidst his worrying and the conversation that continued between Dendera and the President, something had changed with Silas's attitude but it went unnoticed by the umbreon - until that outburst. His red eyes went wide as he heard that voice, and those English words, dragging him out of his scared thoughts and decisions. A part of him knew that he had to stop the vaporeon, to calm him down, to keep the peace, but he was frozen there feeling like a child watching adults argue. The more that Silas spoke, the faster it felt like the umbreon's heart beat became, his chest becoming tight.

Before he could realize it or protest he was being led away, back to the car. "Dendera!" called out the very formal man that Silas had apparently realized to be the President. And when he heard his name called out, and the request that followed in a language that the vaporeon that had just attempted to save him from it couldn't understand, he stopped dead in his tracks - easily able to force himself to a stop against Silas's leading. And now it was Dendera that led his companion, taking hold of the wrist of the hand that had grabbed him, and leading him back towards the man that had called to him. "He can't understand Arabic." he said very seriously to the man, knowing that he could speak English and only chose not to, though he didn't know if the President knew that he himself could speak English.

"I am sorry. He doesn't mean to be rude." he said as calmly as possible, though he could feel his breath held in his chest as he took the short apologetic bow. "But I am tired, I need time to mourn." he added, requesting that which was owed to him by their traditions, finally finding the spine that seemed to have fled from him the minute that letter had arrived. "I've served for my country, I am tired, and I have a home to go back to.." it was hard for him, that much was obvious - the words came slowly and the look on his face was pained but he had made his decision. "I have people that care about me...enough to yell at the President of the Arabic Republic." he said with a weak smile, but it was obviously there, "You have many young men to serve you - the University in Cairo taught me and they can teach them." after he finished, he bid the man farewell in Arabic, a traditional goodbye for a funeral. And when he turned to walk away, hand still on Silas's wrist, he finally felt like he could breathe again and had come to realize that the vaporeon at his side cared about him a lot more than he let on.

Dendera led them back to the car, ignoring the stares that he got from the many people that had gathered for the funeral and seen him speaking in English - but it was still obvious that he'd turned down the President's request, even to those that didn't understand his words. But he ignored them completely, the whispers and the stares, he had locked himself back inside of his head the minute he had finished speaking. He was distressed and upset and scared, and the decision wasn't an easy one - and he acted in front of the man a lot stronger and more sure than he was feeling right now. It just wasn't a decision that he could have made either way without any bad feelings.

He only released his companion's wrist when they were within close proximity with the car he'd rented, away from the crowds of people that we're still whispering the rumors of what they'd just seen, and away from the powerful man that he'd left with a denial of his request. The umbreon flinched as he heard the loud clang of Silas's fist making contact with the hood of the vehicle, but he didn't look up. His eyes were downcast and barely visible behind what dark hair hung in his face. He stood silently until the vaporeon finished his outburst, he had seen through the hair that hid his face the tears that fell from the vaporeon's eyes and he could hear the anger in his voice. But as much as he cared for Silas, right now he couldn't feel sympathetic towards him, and he couldn't reach out to hold him and soothe his nerves - he just didn't have the composure or the strength to do that for him right now.

Instead, he looked up finally, with a very harsh gaze held in those red eyes, "Get in the car." the words came slowly and very seriously, anger in his voice but he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He forced them to remain there, forced them beyond all the feelings that begged to just spew forth. His fists were clenched tightly, his teeth ground against his jaws with the force of the powerful emotions that were shaking him to his core. He waited only a moment for Silas to get in before he opened his own door, getting in behind the steering wheel. And the minute that the door closed, he let it all fall down, collapsing against the steering wheel. His dark arms hung over the wheel, his face pressed against them as he shuddered and again he felt that intense desire to just hide himself in bed and stay there until all of those horrible feelings would leave him alone.

Dendera had his face pressed into his arms, wanting nothing more than to ignore the whole world around him right now. He'd dealt with far too much in too short of a time. He was a strong man, and usually made decisions easily with little time for thought, and usually didn't cry, or get angry, or stress. But the situation that he'd be put in all over a death that he'd thought he was done grieving over long was just more than he'd ever been prepared for. His mind was racing through everything, through memories, through decisions, through the things he'd learned, the things he'd come to cherish, and through doubts and heavy guilt. But what reached him, pulled him out of his head, was a soft familiar voice, playing for him a sound that wasn't so familiar.

The umbreon pulled his head up from his arms, long enough to lay his cheek back against them so that his gaze was now on his companion, an intense stare from deep red eyes. As his thoughts settled he started to realize that he didn't even know what emotion he was feeling anymore. It was chilling, and it hurt, a dull pulsing pain, but somehow there was a small comfort in it. The decision was made, he didn't have to worry about it any longer - and he'd kept his promises. Dendera didn't start the car, he didn't even move from that position for what seemed like the longest time. Even after the soft singing had ended he remained still and silent, just watching - still unsure of what to do, think, or say, but somehow that was okay for now.

When everything and everyone else had finally slipped away, out of his thoughts, he finally stirred, sitting up straighter now. The taller male reached out a hand, leaning forward to reach it, to lightly nudge his companion's face to turn towards him. He retracted his hand, once he knew he'd gotten Silas's attention, settling his arms against the steering wheel once more. "I.." he began to speak, his voice rough from the tears that had dried before ever spilling. His eyes down cast for a moment before he found himself able to look back up to the vaporeon, "I would do anything for you." he spoke very seriously, though the words were obviously hard to speak. And he meant it very sincerely, having just done something he still found hard to believe that he could, because he couldn't bring himself to do anything to hurt Silas. And because he needed to be selfish for once, he needed to have something that he wanted just for himself, so he'd turned down a request for help, and gotten to keep the things he'd come to hold dear in return; his life, his home, his freedom, his work, his love.