The Forever Friends
by LadiSwan

Summary: Evy's American penpal arrives in Egypt with her young daughter and younger brother.  But as she sets foot on Egyptian soil, she becomes haunted by dreams of a past life, of a handsome prince, a young concubine, and the concubine's best friend. . .a beautiful girl named 'Anck-su-namun.'  As an ancient evil arises once more, Anck-su-namun finds herself in a Place-in-Between, and while there, she also discovers a chance at redemption. . .if she can look past Ardeth Bey's Med-jai markings.

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Part One: Cairo Egypt, 1933

He just kept getting further and further away, while she continued to lag behind with their luggage and her daughter.  Celia ground her teeth, but focused her anger on staying upright and staying strong for her little girl.  She swore to whoever was listening that if she and Miranda were captured by brigands and sold, her younger brother would be the first one whom she came back and haunted. . .and then whoever had killed her.

Drat that little fool, did he really think this was Chicago?  Did he think she had asked him to accompany her just because she was the coward he assumed her to be?  Celia knew the answer to that question, course.  Yes.  Jason assumed that every place was like Chicago, and that his sister and niece would be as safe on the streets of Cairo as they would be in Chicago, so long as she stayed out of the way of CERTAIN PEOPLE.

As if hearing her very thoughts, her brother yelled back impatiently, "Hurry up, Cecelia!"  Celia responded with a truly ugly glare, which turned into a vindictive smile when she saw him run straight into a tall, black-clad man.  Did she dare hope this was the meeting party whom Evelyn had promised her?  She quickly cataloged him in her brain. . . all, check.  Shoulder-length black hair.  Check.  Nicely trimmed beard.  Check.  Tattoos on cheeks and forehead.  Check.  Menacingly attractive. . .most assuredly a check.

"It is unsafe for a woman and child to walk the streets of Cairo, unaccompanied," the man stated.  There was no room for compromise, no room for argument as he spoke.  As he did, Celia found herself flanked by two men. . .one looking determined and the other looking nervous.  Her unexpected rescuer continued, slowly backing Jason up until he closed the gap between himself and the two females, "Perhaps that is why you walked ahead?  You wished them to be taken?"

"Laying it on thick, aren't you, old man?" the nervous looking man asked.  The dark eyes flickered back to the man, who flushed and looked away.  By now thoroughly terrified, Miranda had buried her face against Celia's skirt, and the mother put her hand on the child's head.  While she was enjoying her younger brother's obvious discomfort, she also knew that the man in black was scaring her little girl.  The nervous looking man added, "Right, the brother is a rat bastard, but you're scaring the tyke, Ardeth."

Ardeth.  What an. . .unexpected name.  The man inclined his head as he approached and replied, "You have my apologies, Miss Ferguson, it was my intention to frighten your brother, not your child."  Celia smiled, impressed with this man, and the man named 'Ardeth' knelt in front of Miranda, saying softly, "I apologize to you as well, little one. . .I did not mean to alarm you.  Might I see your face?"

Celia felt her daughter turn her face slowly to the stranger.  Then Miranda, with her four year old curiosity, blurted out, "Why do you have those things on your face?"  Celia felt her own face turning bright red with embarrassment. . .right up until she heard the man chuckling, and saw the very genuine amusement in his dark eyes.  Miranda's fear overridden with curiosity just that quickly, she turned to face the newcomer fully and asked, "Do they hurt?"

"Not any longer. . .but they did hurt when I first received them.  Would you like to touch them?" the man asked.  Celia couldn't see her daughter's face, but she did feel Miranda nodded her head so hard, Celia thought it would come off her shoulders.  The man took the small hand, gently guiding it to one cheek and Miranda traced the tattoo with the tip of her finger.  The man said softly, "My name is 'Ardeth,' little one, and what is yours?"

"Jonathan, take the lady's luggage," the blue-eyed man said.  The man named 'Jonathan' started to protest, and the third man just glared at him.  Jonathan immediately began to relieve Celia of the bags, and the man who had just spoken took another bag, throwing it at Jason, adding, "Here. . .make yourself useful.  If I didn't see it, I wouldn't have believed it. . .who are you and what have you done with Ardeth Bey?"

Ardeth Bey looked up with an impish grin, his dark eyes twinkling with laughter, but he said only, "Paid no mind to him, little one.  Would you like to ride on my shoulders. . .so you do not become separated from us?"  Celia didn't have to see her daughter's face to know how Miranda would take that, but the little girl turned a hopeful look at the same time Ardeth Bey looked at the mother questioningly.

"I think that would be just fine. . .but mind what Mr Bey says, Miranda.  Oh!" Celia gasped, finding another tattooed man in black at her side.  He was much younger than Ardeth Bey, no more than twenty-five. . .the same age as Jason.  But there were no other similarities between her brother and this young man, who looked at her with large brown eyes and a solemn expression.  To say nothing of curiosity.

"This is my younger brother," Ardeth Bey said, "he will be making sure there are no attacks from the rear."

He added something in Arabic, or what Celia thought was Arabic, then swept forward, her daughter still held firmly on his shoulders.  Celia noticed that Ardeth still hadn't answered the question, and her companion muttered, "He always does that. . .changes the subject when I ask him a question.  Oh. . .sorry.  I'm Rick O'Connell, Evy's husband, and you're Celia Ferguson.  You've met Ardeth, and this is Evy's brother, Jonathan."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, and thank you for coming to meet us.  I'm terribly sorry, were you waiting long?  I'm afraid. . ." Celia began, and Rick O'Connell put his hand on her shoulder, effectively stopping her.  The younger Bey called out something in Arabic to his brother, who stopped and returned to them, his dark eyes intense.  Celia found it hard to look away from those eyes, but Rick O'Connell's hand on her chin drew her gaze back to him.

"Now you listen to me. . .you were trying to hold onto a four year old girl, drag the luggage along, and make sure you didn't trip over your own skirt.  You've got nothing to apologize for. . .understood?  Ardeth, you tell her," the American said.  Again, Celia's eyes drifted back to Ardeth Bey, who was regarding her with those eyes of his.  Then, her eyes were drawn to her daughter, now perched happily atop his shoulders.

"O'Connell speaks the truth. . .you have nothing which requires an apology.  Come.  We have only a little further to go," he replied.  Celia nodded her understanding, blinking back tears.  It was stupid, to be crying because two handsome men treated you with kindness.  But she was tired. . .it had been a long journey, marked with arguments with Jason, who never failed to throw the most hurtful things in her face.  Her lungs burned from trying to keep up with Jason, carry the luggage and hold onto Miranda.

Now O'Connell put his arm around her shoulders, saying softly, "While you're in Cairo, under my roof, you're family.  Got it?  You being here means a lot to Evy.  She's been a nervous wreck ever since she found out that she's pregnant, and getting things ready for you has helped her a lot."  Celia smiled weakly, but made no answer.  The vacation which had started so badly was starting to look up. 

Hopefully, Jason wouldn't take it into his head to do anything stupid.  She wouldn't put money on it, especially with the way he was glaring at her.  She was surprised when a soft voice behind her said, "He will not be permitted to harm you.  My brother has given his word that no harm will come to you while in Egypt.  My apologies, lady. . .my name is Anatol.  And believe me when I say, as the chieftain of our people, my brother does not make promises lightly."

Two things occurred to her.  First, the young man had spoken English. . .then again, up until now, he hadn't spoken at all.  Two, his name.  She looked at him curiously and asked, "Anatol?  Isn't that a Greek name. . .oh, never mind, I'm just being stupid."  Then something else occurred to her, and she asked, "You say your brother is the chieftain of your people?  Well, that certainly explains it.  He has a very. . .regal. . .bearing."  O'Connell muttered something she didn't understand under her breath, but from the nasty look which Anatol shot him, she didn't think she wanted to understand.

"You are not stupid to ask the question, lady.  Yes, you are correct, Anatol is a Greek name.  Our mother is Greek.  It is a jest, amongst our people, that my mother, brother, and our sisters all have names beginning with 'A.' And my brother does have a regal bearing, does he not?" the young man asked, his eyes shining with pride as he looked at his older brother.  It wasn't the hero worship, blind and adoring.  But genuine pride and affection.

"WHHHHHHHEEE!" Miranda cried with delight, and Celia looked ahead as Ardeth lifted her from his shoulders, flipping her in a neat midair somersault.  Celia was just grateful her daughter hadn't yet eaten, or it might have gotten ugly.  She didn't want to imagine the quiet dignity of Ardeth Bey compromised by the mess her daughter would have made.  That would have been the capping of a truly awful day.

*             *               *




Rick O'Connell had decided three things while he, the two brothers, and Jonathan made their way to the stately manor which was his home in Egypt.  One, Ardeth Bey had been holding out on him.  Again.  Two, Celia Ferguson had a bad habit of underestimating herself.  Hell, he'd been surprised when he heard Anatol's name, and he hadn't even known it was Greek!  Three, he really didn't like Jason Ferguson.

He almost hoped the little jerk did something stupid. . .like, go to Hamanuptra.  On the other hand, they had already fought Imhotep once, the last time just a few months earlier.  Rick had almost lost everything that meant anything to him, in that battle.  And Ardeth. . .Ardeth hadn't walked away unscathed, either.  Rick was willing to bet money that the scars on his friend's chest from the mummy warrior were still healing.  And that wasn't even taking into account the loss of his 'best and most clever friend,' Horus.

Rick's dislike of the young American grew exponentially as Jason whined, "Well, how was I supposed to know Celia and 'Randa might be in danger if I left them alone?  Celia didn't tell me!"  Ardeth looked first at the youngster, then glanced at Rick. . .and rolled his eyes.  Rick struggled against a laugh, especially when Ardeth's dark eyes flickered next to his younger brother, walking behind them protectively.

"I believe that is why your sister asked you to accompany her and her daughter. . .I highly doubt it was for the pleasure of your company," Anatol answered tartly.    Rick's battle against his laughter intensified.  This was the first time he had met Anatol, and Rick was quickly coming to like him.  The chieftain looked at his brother again as he approached the O'Connell manor, and Anatol continued, "I speak the truth, brother. . . I've met more pleasant scorpions!"

"Including the one we met just a few months ago, I wager," Jonathan murmured and Anatol nodded emphatically.  He had been among the Med-jai troops who had fought the Anubis Warriors in the desert surrounding Ahm Shere, or so Rick had just learned.  In a somewhat louder voice, Rick's brother-in-law continued, "I'm glad to see you took heed of my baby sister's warnings, Miss Ferguson.  Evy has been truly looking forward to your visit."

"And I've been looking forward to finally meeting her.  I'm not sure if I ever told her this, but I should have. . .her support to me, over the last five years, has meant a lot.  And I'm really looking forward to helping her with whatever she's working on.  I've been fascinated with ancient Egypt for years," Celia Ferguson answered a bit breathlessly.  Rick shouldn't have been surprised, a small young woman trying to keep up with someone who had several inches on her.

"Ardeth. . .slow up.  Her legs are shorter than ours," Rick called.  Ardeth turned once more, took in Celia's attempts to keep up with them.  The American woman was protesting, telling them that she had a four year old daughter she chased after on a regular basis and she would be fine.  Yeah, Rick knew about chasing after kids. . .but she wasn't fine.  She had been dragging heavy luggage from the ship until they met up, as well as protecting her child.  Now, she was trying to keep up with the man carrying her child on his shoulders, and unless Rick missed his guess, her legs were about to give out on her.

He kept her from protesting further by saying, "You know, Ardeth and I could switch places. . .I could carry your daughter, and Ardeth could carry you."  As expected, her face turned bright red as she blushed to the very roots of her dark brown hair.  She shook her head mutely, still looking embarrassed, and Rick was disconcerted to find himself on the receiving end of a disapproving look from Ardeth. 

The Med-jai chieftain said softly, "There is no need for you to be shamed, Miss Ferguson.  But remember, even the best of warriors need aid from time to time."  It was Rick's turn to look at his friend with a disapproving glare.  That, coming from Ardeth Bey, was downright funny.  Mr 'I won't ask for help unless it's the end of the world' himself.  And then, Rick found himself grinning when Celia looked at him directly, calling him on that statement.

"What of you, Mr Bey. . .do you take your own advice?" she asked.  There was no real challenge in her voice. . .but a question.  She continued, "I have known soldiers, Mr Bey, and you have 'soldier' written all over you.  Can you take your own advice, even when someone needs you?  Can you take your own advice, and take care of yourself?  Ask for help?"  She cocked her head to one side, staring at him intently.

"Not always.  It is not always an easy thing. . .asking for help," Ardeth acknowledged, and Celia nodded her own confirmation.  Ardeth continued, "Perhaps we could remind each other of that."  Now, Celia smiled, her eyes lighting up, and Rick realized it was the first time he had seen her smile since their meeting.  That part of him which once dazzled females (until he met Evy) felt a little put out that it was Ardeth who made her smile like that, rather than him. . .but the feeling didn't last long.  Celia nodded and Ardeth continued, "And we are at the house.  I will trust O'Connell to make sure neither of us. . .renege. . .on our agreement."

"You bet I'll make sure. . .you can't even give me a straight answer when I ask if you're all right!" Rick retorted.  A familiar, steely expression appeared in Ardeth's eyes, and thoroughly enjoying his friend's discomfort, Rick continued, "This is the guy who, when he was injured in a bus. . .accident. . .answered the following way when I asked if he was all right.  'This was my first bus ride.'  You bet I'll be making sure, Ardeth!"

Celia giggled, but it was Miranda who exclaimed, "That's a silly thing to say!"  Rick totally lost it at that point. . .between Miranda's devastating honesty, Celia's giggles, and Ardeth's mock-indignant look at the little girl he had placed back on his shoulders, he started laughing and couldn't stop.  The Fergusons hadn't even been here a full hour, and already, they were turning his life upside down.  Just as long as they didn't bring back Imhotep or the Scorpion King.

.                      .                             .

Anatol Bey was the last born child of Suleiman and Altair, the last of five children.  Three boys and two girls.  As the youngest son of the Med-jai chieftain, he had taken the same oath as his two older brothers upon reaching his manhood.  To watch Hamanuptra and make sure He Who Shall Not Be Named would not rise up and bring about the end of the world.  But the change in Anatol, from fun loving youngster to hardened warrior, had begun long before that day.

He had been only five years old when their father died.  He had barely known Suleiman Bey, so the loss didn't affect him.  However, the death of his oldest brother when he was nine years old was a different story.  It had begun with the rape of his older sister, only days before Ardeth's seventeenth birthday, continued with the chase given by Ardeth and Andreas of the monster who had attacked their sister, and ended with their eldest brother's death.

Anatol had memorized the features of the man who had murdered his oldest brother and attacked his sister.  Had sworn that he would kill that man, if Ardeth did not.  After more than fifteen years and countless battles, his older brother had done just that, in the jungles of Ahm Shere when he sliced open Lock-nah's throat.  Anatol felt a fierce joy and pride in his brother. . .his only regret being that he couldn't have witnessed that event.  He had witnessed his oldest brother's death. . .he should have been able to see things come full circle.

However. . .he was here now, to take care of his elder brother.  Ever since that day, sixteen years earlier, the youngest Bey had grown very protective of his older siblings.  Losing Andreas had devastated him. . .he was a warrior, and knew such things would take place.  However, Lock-nah had harmed his family twice, and that was not easily forgiven.  Now, unlike Ardeth, Anatol had no need to shield his heart.  He had not the responsibility of the entire Med-jai tribe resting on his shoulders.  He didn't even have the responsibility of a single tribe.

No, Anatol's primary responsibility was to his remaining brother, his mother, and his sisters.  Someone had to look after Ardeth, after all.  He loved his brother, and Ardeth had always been the greatest of his heroes.  But as both Ardeth's brother and a Med-jai warrior, Anatol knew the chieftain often took priority over the man. . .or even the brother.  Which meant Ardeth often put aside his own needs for rest and food until everyone else was taken care of.  And ever since Ahm Shere, Anatol had witnessed his brother growing quieter and more withdrawn. 

It was intolerable.  And so was his solution, though Altair had been pleased with her youngest son.  She no more liked seeing Ardeth turning into an old man at the age of thirty-three than Anatol himself did.  Anatol had told the commanders of the Med-jai to deal with their own problems for a while, his brother was taking a holiday.  Immediately.  Many of the older men did not appreciate having their business told to them by a young man of twenty-five, but Anatol was Ardeth's brother, and he was just as stubborn as the chieftain himself.

His brother would have this holiday. . .he would have it, because Anatol wasn't above using bribery or blackmail, or any other kind of deceit.  He planned to use a trick to get his brother away from his responsibility for a time. . .why should the commanders be any different?  Why indeed, his mother had told him when she learned of the confrontation, why indeed!  She had been so proud of him.

And it didn't even take trickery for his brother to leave for Cairo with him. . .the trickery came in keeping him there, until Evy O'Connell spoke of a young woman who would be arriving from the United States with her younger brother and daughter.  Her friend, Celia Ferguson, had been through a difficult time in the last five years.  The father of her daughter had tricked her into bed with a bogus wedding ceremony. . .all in the name of a bet.

Anatol had wanted the name of a man who would treat a woman so shamefully, but Evy didn't know.  Celia never told her. . .she told her about the circumstances of her daughter's birth, and how she was no longer a member of 'polite society' because of the deceit.  But that was it.  Ardeth quietly observed that the young lady probably believed she was somehow at fault for not seeing through the man's deceit.

Evy had agreed, and asked their help.  She received the impression that the younger brother, Jason, was difficult.  Difficult?  More like impossible!  And why did she allow him to treat her like that?  If Anatol or Ardeth ever treated either of their sisters like that. . .well, they would be worse for wear the following morning.  Altair had taught her daughters to defend themselves from an early age.  She, perhaps, saw a day when all of the men would be away, and it would be up to them to repel any invaders.  A battle such as Ahm Shere.

Still, her little girl, Miranda, made Ardeth laugh.  And Miranda's fearlessness reminded Anatol of his own sisters, who had been loved and encouraged by their mother, so there had to be more to Celia Ferguson than what he was seeing.  The young Med-jai looked again at his older brother.  There was a time when he thought his two brothers could do anything.  Then he learned they were just human beings who lived, made mistakes, and died. . .just like everyone else.  There was nothing supernatural about his brothers, unless you counted their stubbornness.

The young Med-jai stifled his laugh. . .there were times when his older sister Acacia, only a year younger than Ardeth, swore that the stubbornness shared by all five children was supernatural.  Then again, Ardeth often wryly observed that Acacia lived up to her name, 'thorny,' though never within her hearing.  Med-jai chieftain or not, older brother or not, she still would have left him in a world of hurt. . .and Ardeth knew it.

Maybe that was why he couldn't understand Celia Ferguson's reluctance to remind her brother than he was younger than she.  Maybe he and Ardeth should take Celia to their village, she and her daughter both.  As the small party entered the O'Connell house, Anatol reconsidered that.  He had seen the way the young women in the village looked at his brother.  And he didn't think Celia could deal with those who had decided they would be the perfect wife for their chieftain.  It wouldn't matter if Celia was Anatol's guest. . .she had access to Ardeth that they did not, and she was an outsider.

"EVY!  Alex!  We're home!" O'Connell boomed out.  Ardeth turned to look at Anatol, and the younger Bey brother caught his breath at the sadness in the eyes of the other.  And then he remembered.  Andreas always greeted them like that, when he came back from a battle.  Not with those words, no, but he would call out as loudly as his voice would allow.  Anatol wondered if Ardeth had been thinking a lot lately about Andreas. . .he probably would, after finally dealing with their brother's murderer once and for all.

Anatol had no more time to think, for even as he carefully closed the door behind him, a small blond rocket catapulted toward them, connecting solidly with Ardeth's waist.  His brother wobbled for a minute, then righted both himself and Miranda.  Before Ardeth could say anything, Miranda asked, "Whozzat?"  Alex O'Connell released Ardeth and stepped back, hearing the tiny voice way over his head.  The younger Med-jai covered his mouth with his hand, seeing the look of pure astonishment on the boy's face.

"Why, that's my son, Alex. . .and you must be Miranda.  Your mum has told me a lot about you," Evelyn O'Connell said, coming into the room behind her son.  Ardeth lifted Miranda from her shoulders, once more somersaulting her in the air, before placing her carefully on the floor.  Evelyn put her hand on her son's shoulder as she gave Ardeth a one-armed hug.  Anatol watched in amusement as his brother awkwardly returned the embrace.  He really had little experience with such affection, except among his sisters.

Then again, he was chieftain at seventeen. . .and when Anatol was seventeen, he had far more opportunity to be a young boy.  Oh, he was a warrior, but he was also still young and he knew himself to be. . .not ugly.  His brother, on the other hand, was totally in the dark about women's reaction to him.  And what Anatol didn't hear for himself, his sister Acacia often told him.  It was quite the education.

A cough returned him to the manor, and Rick O'Connell said, "Jonathan, why don't you and I take these bags upstairs to the room?  Celia, I hope you don't mind, we thought you and Miranda would like to share a room."  The young American woman nodded.  Jonathan Carnahan started to protest, but a glare from his brother-in-law quickly silenced him.

"I will help, too, O'Connell," Ardeth said quietly.  Gently removing himself from Evy's embrace, the chieftain switched to Arabic, adding, "Watch over them, my brother."  Anatol nodded, and Ardeth picked up one of the bags, following O'Connell and Jonathan upstairs.  With his free hand, Ardeth snagged Jason by the collar, practically dragging him after him.  Anatol grinned impishly. . .apparently, his brother liked him about as well as Anatol did.  Not at all!




.                    .                         .




Anatol remained in the front room with the children, while Celia and Evy went into the kitchen for tea.  Evy had decided she liked the younger brother of her friend.  He was quiet and courteous, but with a mischievous streak.  He was the perfect little brother for a serious young chieftain.  Evy waved Celia to have a seat, and the young woman said, "You know, until I saw Mr Bey this afternoon, I wasn't sure how anyone could be menacingly attractive."

Evy laughed, removing the plates from their cabinet.  She had given the staff the day off, once the preparations were finished.  The awkwardness of the first meeting had vanished when the men went upstairs.  She replied, "Yes, well. . .it's rather hard to explain Ardeth Bey.  In some ways, he defies description.  But. . .once he decides you're worthy of his loyalty, you cannot shake him.  He's one of the strongest, bravest men I've ever known."

She sat down beside her friend, adding with a smile, "To say nothing of being one of the most beautiful!"  Celia blushed and lowered her eyes.  Evy grinned, continuing, "I wouldn't give Rick up for anything, but I know a beautiful man when I see one.  And I don't mind telling you, he is very lonely."  Evy thought back to their meeting with the twelve Med-jai commanders, and remembered Ardeth holding Horus aloft and calling him his 'best and most clever friend.'

"As you said. . .he's a beautiful man.  I'm sure he has his share of company," Celia replied softly.  Evy realized she was about to overstep some boundaries, and immediately backed off.  She began assembling the food, and Celia continued, "So, tell me about what you're working on."  Evy rolled her eyes, but began to explain about the cataloging she had begun.  It was a classic Celia ploy, one she had picked up through their letters.  She always did that when she didn't want to talk about something.

However, she had just arrived and Evy wasn't about to make her only true female friend uncomfortable, though she longed to play matchmaker for her two friends.  She hadn't yet received any indication that Ardeth was even interested in Celia.  Then again, until a crisis of earth-ending proportions loomed, it was difficult to tell what Ardeth was thinking.  Even after all these years, he still kept things to himself.  That was part of the reason she liked Anatol. . .it was clear he would take care of his older brother.

"Tell me about Alex," Celia said suddenly, as Evy paused for breath.  She looked up, and Evy left her work to sit with her friend again.  Five years ago, after Celia had learned of that man's deceit, Evy had tried to comfort her by telling her about Alex.  Like Miranda, Alex had been born out of wedlock, though under different circumstances.  Shortly after she and Rick married and returned to England, she received word from a distant cousin.

Marietta's daughter had 'gotten into trouble,' when she discovered that she was pregnant and her lover refused to marry her.  Now Eliza was dying.  Marietta couldn't take care of her grandson and her daughter. . .could Evelyn help out?  She could and she did.  But only three days after eighteen month old Alex came to live with them, Eliza died and Marietta was killed when she ran into the road, right into the path of an oncoming lorry.

It took little effort to adopt Alex as their own child.  And Alex was his name when he came to them.  Eliza had been a bright girl. . .when they were children, and Evy was in England, she would tell Eliza bedtime stories about Alexander the Great and others.  Obviously, Eliza had been inspired to name her son after the conqueror.  Evy said, finishing the story, "In any event, by the time Alex was three years old, we had formally adopted him.  His birth father never came for him. . .apparently, he was married, and didn't need the fuss.  He's been ours ever since."

Celia gave her a vague smile, and Evy let the silence linger.  She was glad Celia had come to Egypt.  Evy had the sense through the last several letters that her friend wanted to leave Chicago, but she had nowhere to go.  She and Jason were the only members of their family left, which was part of the reason Celia put up with her younger brother.  Evy could relate, in a way.  She often was asked why she didn't throw her ne'er do well brother out.

Jonathan was her family, just as Jason was Celia's, and you simply did not turn your back on family.  No matter how much you wanted to.  Celia could no more turn her back on Jason than Evy could turn her back on her husband, son or brother. . . any more than Ardeth could turn his back on his people.  He could put his duty aside for a time. . .as he had when he helped them rescue Alex. . .but he was the Med-jai chieftain, and it was something he never allowed himself to forget.  It saddened Evy.  He was young, highly intelligent, devastatingly handsome and had a gentle soul under the sometimes-gruff exterior. 

That was, she supposed, the real reason she found herself wanting to matchmake for him and Celia.  They were both lonely. . .Ardeth needed someone to take care of him without him realizing it, and Celia needed someone who didn't care about what happened in Chicago.  Well, Rick would tell her that it was none of her business, and he would be right.  She said, turning her attention to something new, "You know, we don't have to get started today."

Celia looked at her questioningly, and Evy continued, "Listen.  You're positively exhausted.  We'll eat, then I want you to take a nap. . .no, don't worry about Miranda, I can take care of her.  Rick told you that I'm pregnant. . .oh, it didn't register with you?  I think the baby is a girl. . .I want some practice at having a daughter."  Evy had only just found out a few days earlier that she was pregnant.  She was still rattled to her very core by the news. . .ecstatic, but shocked.  After Ahm Shere. . .

"When's the baby due?" Celia asked, rising to her feet to hug Evy.  As she released the young matron and stepped back, the American girl almost tripped on her long skirt, but righted herself on the edge of the table.  Evy cringed, ever so slightly.  Celia would end up breaking her neck before too much longer, if she wasn't careful.  The trouble was, Evy had spelled out the dangers which Celia would face and Celia being Celia, had listened to her.

Doubtless, that was why she was wearing a long skirt that reached the tips of her shoes.  Not especially practical for traveling, but Celia was torn between practicality and safety for herself and her daughter.  Daughter.  Celia had asked about her baby.  She replied, "According to the doctor, I'm about twelve weeks along.  Another six months, give or take.  You know how it is."  Celia nodded ruefully, and Evy continued, choosing her words carefully, "How far did you get, after you left the ship, before you met up with my men?"

Celia dropped her eyes and said, "Probably halfway there.  There was. . .a miscommunication. . .between myself and Jason."  Evy gritted her teeth.  She could just bet.  Her impression of Jason Ferguson was of a sullen, self-centered little boy who had never grown up.  He had practically whined when Rick made him carry some of the bags upstairs.  Evy didn't know what happened on the way to the house, but she did know her husband and her brother.  

Neither of them liked Jason Ferguson.  Ardeth, as always, kept his peace, but Evy knew him well enough to know when he didn't like someone.  She also knew him well enough to know when someone had made a favorable impression on him.  Further, Evy had noticed him carrying Miranda on his shoulders.  While Alex adored him. . .had, ever since Ardeth's rather dramatic entrance into their home a few months earlier, Ardeth had never carried the boy on his shoulders.  It was just strange to see Ardeth carrying a child he had just met the way he had carried Miranda.

And Miranda. . .Miranda had thoroughly enjoyed herself.  She was more than six feet off the ground, and six feet higher than she was used to being.  Plus, Evy was sure that the little girl was accustomed to her surly uncle. . .and while Ardeth could be grim and even harsh, she had seen him behaving extraordinarily gently with someone.  That a four year old moppet might be one of those someones surprised her not at all.

Which brought her right back to Miranda's mother, who was now settling herself back into her chair.  A weary sigh echoed out of her as she rested her forehead against her crossed wrists.  Evy regarded her for several moments, then went into the sitting room, where Anatol was watching over the children.  Literally, in fact.  Miranda had crawled up into his lap, and was now tracing the tattoos on his face, much to Anatol's amusement, while Alex told her about Ahm Shere and the mummies.  Oh dear.  She hoped the little girl wouldn't have nightmares.

But, she had nothing to fear, as Alex was telling her about the golden pyramid, and about the gigantic diamond at the top, glossing over the. . .unpleasant. . .parts.  Like her dying and the world almost ending.  She caught Anatol's eye, asking softly, "Is your brother and the other men still upstairs?  Celia's very tired.  She really should be resting."  Footfall alerted her to the men coming down stairs. . .and Jason Ferguson looking very disgruntled.  Good.  It was time he learned the world didn't revolve around him!

"I can take her upstairs. . .you sure she doesn't want to eat first, honey?" Rick asked softly.  Evy took his hand and led him into the kitchen.  Celia was now sound asleep, and Rick murmured, "Whoa. . .guess not.  Okay.  Ardeth, buddy, I need your help a minute here."  The chieftain joined them and Rick carefully eased Celia's chair back from the table, then just as carefully picked her up.  He whispered, "Grab her skirt. . .and be careful, that thing should be registered as a deadly weapon.  She smacks you in the face with it, it'll knock you right over."

Ardeth did as he was asked, but glanced at Evy, rolling his eyes at the same time.  This was so unlike the Ardeth Bey she knew, she almost started laughing. . .until she remembered her sleeping friend.  Ardeth said softly once Celia's skirt was safely out of the way, "It would be better if we carried her together, O'Connell.  There would be less chance of Miss Ferguson sustaining serious injury if you lost your footing and fell if we were both carrying her."

Again, Evy looked at Ardeth, surprised. . .she was even more surprised when he caught her eye. . .and winked.  Rick simply grumbled, "Ha-ha, very funny.  Take her boots, and let's go."  He shifted Celia's sleeping body until he was supporting her shoulders, and Ardeth her legs.  With all the moving around they were doing, it was a wonder the poor girl hadn't awakened.  But she remained asleep as they carried her from the kitchen and up the stairs to her room.  Evy followed along, just to make sure she was settled all right. . .and to observe Ardeth.

Rick wouldn't be happy about her playing matchmaker, she knew, but she loved Ardeth just as much as she loved Jonathan.  She wanted to see him happy.  She wanted his best and most clever friend to be a human being, rather than a bird.  But before any of that could happen, before she could even start figuring out if her two friends were right for each other, she had to see if they were interested.  Unfortunately, where Ardeth Bey was concerned, that was never easy.




.                      .                             .




Jason Ferguson was having a very bad day.  It hadn't started out that way.  He had been busy planning an expedition to Hamunaptra, just as soon as he unloaded his sister and niece with her friends.  Then he ran headlong into a very tall, very annoyed-looking man with very strange tattoos on his face.  At barely five eight, Jason was already touchy about his height, and when he encountered tall men. . . like Ardeth Bey or Rick O'Connell. . .he got even touchier.

Ardeth Bey wasn't just tall.  He was powerful.  And dangerous.  Jason had recognized him somewhere deep in his soul as a man you just didn't anger.  This man's rage would be white hot and ice cold, and if Jason had stopped and thought about the contradiction in that statement. . .But, of course, he didn't.  That wasn't his way.  He wasn't the thinker in the family, or the dreamer.  He wasn't even the doer.  And that was the problem.

His problems with both Bey and O'Connell intensified when both men decided he was a bad brother for not helping his sister with the luggage and her daughter.  Hey, he hadn't thrown her out of his house after she had gotten into trouble, like his buddies thought he should have!  Jason ignored the little voice in the back of his head, telling him that was hardly the mark of a good brother.  It wasn't her fault Carstairs turned out to be the tricky bastard he was.

Lord knew, he wanted to blame her for that.  She was a modern woman, focused solely on her career as an archivist at the Chicago Museum.  Their parents had disowned Celia when she was eighteen and she refused to marry one of their father's business partners.  And up until the time she met Carstairs, she had sworn she would never marry.  By this time, Jason was living with her in the house they had inherited from their grandparents.

And if the truth were known, he blamed himself for not seeing Carstairs for what he was.  It really was more his fault.  Celia, for all her book knowledge and even her common sense, knew very little of men.  She was an innocent, and had fallen right into Carstairs' trap.  When Jason thought about the bet which had led to his sister's problems, he wanted to be sick.  For the making of that bet alone, he would kill Carstairs again.

Yes, he was partially to blame.  His sister had given him shelter after their parents kicked him out of the house when he was sixteen, then picked up the pieces when he was disowned as well.  She had loved him and taken care of him, listened to him.  But she was thirty years old and she should be married.  Unfortunately, no one wanted used goods, and Jason was finding his old maid sister an albatross.  He couldn't marry until she was out of the way.  Unless, of course, he was rich. . .in which case, he wouldn't have to worry about it.

He could set up Celia in the style she deserved. . .allow her to raise her daughter in peace; while he and his wife lived separately.  Or maybe give Celia an apartment in the house.  Or something.  Jason, of all people, knew what he owed his sister.  And he hated her for it.  He hated her for never throwing it back in his face whenever he started in on her.  He hated her for the way her face would pale and her chin would lift, before she left the room.  Once, just for once, he wished she would fight back.

But Jason knew his sister, and how her rage frightened her.  It frightened him, too; which was why he always backed off before he pushed too far.  Like today. . .when he had run off and made her carry the luggage.  The trouble was, he couldn't explain why he enjoyed pushing his sister so much.  She and Miranda were all he had left in the world.  And though he was finding it difficult to marry with his sister around, with his sister's disgrace, he didn't want to lose Celia.

Why would she never fight back with him?  She hadn't hesitated to call Bey on his inability to ask for help. . .so how was he different?  Well, aside from the fact that he was a helluva lot bigger than Jason.  But what was holding her back from tearing into him, the way he sometimes deserved?  An image flashed through his mind. . .he was five years old, trembling in his sister's arms as their father screamed and ranted, breaking things.  He heard Celia comforting him, but he also heard the fear in his then-ten year old sister's voice.  Jason's mouth went dry.  Celia was afraid to fight back. . .was afraid to lose her temper. 

Not because she was afraid it wasn't befitting a lady, as their mother always said. . .Celia hadn't been a lady since she was eighteen years old, in the eyes of many.  Even before her disgrace at the hands of Leslie Carstairs, she wasn't considered a lady.  No. . .no, she was afraid that she would go too far and hurt someone, as their father often had.  Never a member of the family. . .usually a servant girl, who didn't move fast enough.

She was a few inches shorter than Jason, but he knew she could still hurt him, if she became angry enough.  And he was still her little brother. . .he always would be.  But Bey. . .he was almost a foot taller than she was.  Tall and strong, and not easily harmed by a small, slight American woman.  Could it be that despite his fearsome appearance, his older sister actually felt safe with the strange-looking man?

Jason had overheard the conversation between Evy O'Connell and the younger Bey brother while he was on his way back downstairs, heard the rage in the other young man's voice at the idea of someone doing what Carstairs had done.  Honor meant something to this man, then, and evidently to his older brother.  Jason winced, remembering the look he had gotten from the older brother.  Not just a look, but a Look.

Jason was actually thinking of making a break for Hamunaptra, now that he knew Evy O'Connell could look after his sister and Miranda.  It was the Englishwoman who had instructed Celia on how to dress. . .how to keep herself safe in Cairo.  That was actually the reason for one of their arguments.  Celia had asked Jason to stay close to her and Miranda.  Jason had gotten angry, because he assumed she didn't trust him. . .when the truth was, she would need him.

Even after she explained that she needed him to stay close, for safety reasons, he had sulked and steamed, because even after everything he had done for her, she still didn't trust him.  The enormity of what he had done didn't hit home until he heard O'Connell and Bey talking, about women who had been alone in Cairo and were never heard from again.  He had heard the anger in Bey's voice and realized with a sickening thud as his heart hit his toes, that it could have easily happened to his sister and niece, if Carnahan, O'Connell, and Bey hadn't come for them.

He had almost gotten his sister and niece killed, because of his stupid pride.  His sister had asked him to come along, because he could protect her, the way she had protected him from their father's rages; and he had almost gotten her killed.  It didn't do much for Jason's temperament, as he began looking for liquor of any kind to ease the pain.  His sister was asleep, carried to her room by O'Connell and Bey.  Miranda was happily playing with Alex O'Connell and Anatol Bey.  They were both safe. . .no thanks to him.

The self-pity rose up in his throat, almost choking him.  For all his words, he knew that he hadn't done anything for her.  The house where they lived was just as much hers as it was his; their grandparents had left it to them both.  The only thing he had really done was hold her when she realized she wasn't married to Carstairs.  He wasn't even in the house the night Miranda was born.  He was out getting drunk, because his sister's disgrace had become his own.  Their mother had unexpectedly developed a protective streak where her only daughter was concerned, and told him what a failure he was. . .he should have protected his sister better.

She was right, of course. . .but the twenty year old Jason couldn't handle it.  After picking a fight with his sister, eight months pregnant with Miranda, he had slammed out of the house and found one of the few places not shut down by Prohibition.  Another time his selfishness had almost gotten his sister killed.  When he returned to the house, three days later, it was to find his sister fighting for her life, and Miranda in the care of a strange woman.

He had wondered where his now-suddenly protective mother was, and the woman explained that Mrs. Ferguson had been at the house when Celia called her.  But she was hit by a car when she ran from the house to get help for her daughter and granddaughter.  Madeleine Ferguson's death had shattered her husband and when he lost his money in the Stock Market crash of 1929, he killed himself.  He had nothing left to live for, it seemed.

Jason had never told his sister that. . .Celia never even knew their mother was there.  And she had enough of a fight on her hands, recovering from her difficult delivery.  Jason had never told anyone this, either, but it was the letters from Evy O'Connell which had helped to save her life.  He reread the letters from his sister's English friend, and suspected that helped to pull her back.  And now, here they were in Egypt, with the O'Connell family.  They would take care of Celia and Miranda, far better than he ever could, along with those two brothers.  It was time for him to start making plans to go to Hamunaptra.  There he would make his money and his fame.