đHgeocities.com/dataannex2/mummy/happy04.htmlgeocities.com/dataannex2/mummy/happy04.htmldelayedx°qÔJ˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙Č Ąw<OKtext/html`Ę®őKw<˙˙˙˙b‰.HMon, 15 Apr 2002 06:29:06 GMTMozilla/4.5 (compatible; HTTrack 3.0x; Windows 98)en, *°qÔJw<Data Annex (Happy Ever After: Lost)
Data Annex

Happy Ever After:
Lost

© PrincessZeldaBelle

Rating: G

Disclaimer

Anything Stephen Sommers came up with isn't mine. :)

Author's Notes

Sequel to It Can't Possibly Get Any Worse


*Who are you? And who’s the broad?*

*Broad?*

*I’m just a local sort of missionary chap, spreading the Good Word and all. This is my sister, Evy.*

*How do you do?*

*Well, I guess she’s not a total loss…*

*I beg your pardon?!*

“Wha’cha thinking?” I drew in a sharp breath, startled by the voice resounding through the chest my head laid upon. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips as Rick drew in a breath, wrapping his arms around me.

“Nothing much,” I replied, curling into him. The gray light of the morning was just beginning to filter in the large windows of the bedroom, casting pale shadows across the room. “I didn’t think you were awake.”

“Well, I knew you were,” he teased. “With the mindless circling your fingers do when you’re lost in thought, it’s a wonder my skin isn’t numb.” My hand suddenly stopped as I realized I had been doing just that. Picking up my head, I glanced at him with a guilty grin.

“I was just…reminiscing,” I said, resting my chin on his shoulder.

“About what?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

“When we met.”

“Hmm…which part?”

“Before you were dangling from the end of a rope.”

“Oh, good, I liked that part.” A large grin spread across his lips as his eyes danced in the pre-dawn light. “I especially liked this part…” He sat up slightly, placing a soft kiss on my lips.

“Yes, even if it was for a bad reason,” I replied with a light grin.

“No…no it wasn’t,” he said, lying back on the pillow, his eyes tracing the shadows on the ceiling.

“No?” I questioned with a raised eyebrow. “And what would you call it?”

“It’s called ‘I-was-afraid-to-tell-you-what-I-was-really-thinking-so-I-stupidly-said-the-first-thing-that-came-to-mind’… Hence, ‘it seemed like a good idea at the time.’”

“And what were you really thinking?” I asked.

“It’s silly.”

“Oh, come on…couldn’t be any worse than your first reason.” Rick turned slightly, propping himself up on his elbow to face me. He took a deep breath, smiling faintly as he reached up, brushing the curls from my eyes.

“Your confidence is overwhelming,” he said, narrowing his eyes slightly. “I really don’t know how to explain it… I guess I thought that if I could do one thing before I died… one thing I wouldn’t regret…” He lowered his eyes to the pillows before looking at me again, a strange, almost sentimental look in his eyes. “Because at that point, I was seriously regretting that I would have never gotten to know you. Something about you intrigued me from the moment I saw you. I felt like it was…oh, I don’t know…a dying man’s right to kiss a beautiful woman before he is marched off to his death.” His smile broadened as I felt the light flush creep into my cheeks. I had never really thought about it before, but I suddenly began to wonder what would have happened if the rope had snapped his neck like it should have… I would have spent the rest of my life never really knowing what it was to feel whole. I smiled, leaning in close to him.

“It was fate the rope didn’t do its job properly,” I said, sliding my fingers gently along his neck.

“Yeah,” he whispered, as my fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him to me. It was early yet…there was certainly no rush.

 

Rick dozed peacefully as I dressed for work. I smiled as I watched him for a moment, laughing silently at life’s strange twists. The man I had thought to be nothing more than a brash, rude American turned out to be my other half. He completed me in every way…I wondered if he understood that.

I glanced in the mirror for a quick second before stopping cold. My hand went to my throat—my locket was gone. I started searching frantically; on my dressing table, on the floor. I tossed the covers aside on the bed, trying not to wake Rick. But I was so distraught, I failed miserably, as I tossed the pillows on the floor, looking under the sheets.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Rick said groggily, rolling over to face me. The tears had begun to spill over as my search became hopeless.

“My locket,” I said through the sobs, now tearing apart the bed. “I can’t find my mother’s locket.” Rick pursed his lips as I continued. “I know I had it on yesterday…I don’t remember taking it off last night.” He grabbed my hands, gently pulling me down onto the bed, drawing me into his arms. I sobbed into his shoulder, the second time in two days. I was sick of crying, over bad days, over losing things. It just made me feel so pathetic, and I really couldn’t stand the way my eyes stung afterward and felt puffy. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stop, but I stayed in his embrace nonetheless, hoping that this was not a precursor to what I would face today.

“We’ll find it,” he said, stroking my hair. “It’s around here somewhere.” He kissed my hair lightly, sitting me up straight. “Are you going to be all right?” I sniffled, nodding weakly. “Come on, you’re going to be late.” I nodded again, standing slowly. It was going to be a very long day indeed.

 

The halls of the museum were deathly quiet, each click of my heels echoing off in every which direction. The museum was only open half the day, though I would be surprised to see anyone at all. It was the day before Christmas Eve…surely everyone was out madly shopping or making final arrangements for their holiday meals and the like. I had only one gift left to purchase, but it would have to be done later.

I pushed the thoughts of my locket out of my mind as I walked through the Ancient Egyptian exhibit, a small grin passing over my lips as I noticed the treasures from Hamunaptra. My eyes wandered to the line of glass cases housing open sarcophaguses, the mummies lying silently inside. Inwardly, I almost expected them to open the cases and start walking toward me, chanting… I shook the visuals out of my head, pressing on through the exhibit.

“Mrs. O’Connell?” a deep voice resounded off the polished marble. I spun around, finding Dr. Royce coming up behind me.

“Oh, good morning, Dr. Royce,” I said. He glanced at me, confusion shadowing his dark eyes.

“Are you all right? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” I shook my head, stifling the laugh. If he only knew… “How’s your head this morning?”

“Oh, fine, fine,” I said, unconsciously brushing aside the curls catching in the bandage. “A little sore, but fine, thank you.”

“Well, I trust you won’t be staying long. The museum will close at noon today. No point in staying open when everyone is otherwise occupied, eh?” I smiled warmly as we began walking toward the offices upstairs. “Planning a big family gathering?”

“Oh, no. It will just be my husband and my brother.”

“Ahh, good then. Well, if I don’t see you before you leave, have a wonderful Christmas.” He smiled at me before turning to the door of his large office.

“You do the same,” I replied, making my way down the hall.

I found myself walking as quietly as possible as I passed by Annie’s door. Needless to say, I felt rather foolish as soon as I realized I was doing it. After all, what did I have to hide? She was the one that was causing the trouble, not I.

I slipped into my office, closing my door silently. If all went well, I wouldn’t be here long at all. I set my bag down, my eyes stopping on the frame on the desk that housed the wedding photograph. There was a little slip of paper stuck in the border of the frame. I picked up the frame, carefully removing the note, opening it.

If the little librarian wants to play, we can play.

I set the frame down, staring off at nothing in particular. I knew almost immediately who wrote this note. Dropping the message to my desk, my eyes darted to the door. There was a click. I was almost certain I had heard a click at the door…as though someone had locked it… I walked quickly to the door, my hand falling to the unmoving handle. I shook the door violently for a moment before giving up; the door remained closed, locked. Rushing back to the desk, I rummaged through the drawers. My key was gone. “Why that little…” I hissed under my breath. I picked up the receiver of the telephone, but it was dead. Slamming it down, I plopped down in my desk chair. What was the big idea? Lock me in my office for the next three days? As though Rick wouldn’t notice when I didn’t come home? Of course, what could he do? By the time he would realize I wasn’t home, the museum would be closed. I knew he would break in…if he knew I was here. “You aren’t going to win this easily, Annie!” I cried out from my desk. I knew she wouldn’t hear, but it made me feel a little better. Pushing myself out of my chair, I stepped up to the small window. Even if I could get it open, I was three stories up, and the ledge was covered in a sheet of ice. I would break my neck if I didn’t fall to my death first. With such lovely visions dancing through my head (instead of the Sugar Plums that I would have preferred,) I sank down into my chair. Now what? My eyes drifted slowly around my office, the stark, yellowed walls staring back at me as though they mocked me. I sat there, slowly falling into the abyss of despair when my epiphany hit: I wasn’t going to wait around for Rick to rescue me on this one. And that was when my eyes fell on the ventilation cover near the floor beside one of the half-filled bookcases.

I leapt out of the chair, examining the cover carefully, looking for any way to rip it out of the wall. Running back to my desk, I pulled out my toolkit (well, actually Mr. Burns’ toolkit), drawing out one of the larger picks. I made my way back, slamming the pick down in between the wall and the metal cover with a large crunch that surely echoed through the whole ventilation system. Countering my weight, I pulled back, tearing away the cover. Throwing my back over my head so that it hanged across my body, I knelt down, crawling into the air duct. A gentle warm current circled around me as I made my way along the dusty tunnel, my nose tickled by the dust. I held back the sneeze several times, but finally, in the dark of the vents, it exploded out of me, echoing like thunder along the metal tunnel. No doubt everyone in the museum just stopped, wondering what that had been... I continued my trek on hands and knees, ruining my stockings. Annie was going to get an earful for this one.

I turned a corner, catching light up ahead. “Oh, thank God, someone to let me out,” I said softly. As I came to the vent, I crouched down, looking into the office, praying that someone was there. It was none other than Dr. Royce sitting behind the desk beside the vent cover. “Dr. Royce!” I called. He stopped, glancing around at the empty office. “Dr. Royce, down here!” He glanced down to one of the decorative statues on the desk, his eyes growing wide.

“Umm...” he started, picking up the statue. “Are you talking to me?”

“No, Dr. Royce, down here! The air vent!” I answered, knocking on the sharp metal. He nearly dropped the statue, turning toward the vent. As if his eyes weren’t wide enough, they grew even larger, surely ready to pop out of his head.

“Evelyn! What in blazes are you doing in there?”

“I was locked into my office, and this was the only way out, I’m afraid.”

“Well, sit tight,” he said, rummaging through his drawers.

“Well, I’ve really no where to go, so you needn’t worry.”

“I’ll have you out of there in a jiffy.”

It was another ten minutes before he found anything to open the vent with, but soon, I was still in his office, brushing the dust bunnies from my hair as I explained the note and my missing keys.

“Do you suspect anyone?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Only one.”

“That’s what I figured. Well, come,” he said, standing. “You’ve had a rather hellish first couple days. Let me buy you lunch and I’ll take you home.”

When I arrived home, Rick greeted me with a kiss, asking, “So how was your day?” I merely glanced at him, brushing dust from my sleeve, stating, “You don’t want to know.”


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