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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"He's awake."

Celia turned away from her surveillance of the backyard, to look at Evy.  The other woman just smiled at her, and continued, "He's awake and asking for you.  We realized, it wasn't just the head injury causing his prolonged unconsciousness.  It was a combination of exhaustion and starvation.  He hasn't eaten in three days.  You didn't hurt him, Celia."  Jonathan relaxed where he had watching over Celia, then slipped inside.

Some of the tension slipped from her at those words.  She whispered, "I was so afraid I had killed him.  I. . ." She shook her head, closing her eyes as she tried to shut out the image of Ardeth collapsing against Rick.  Celia squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a tear slide down her cheek, then felt two arms wrap around her protectively.  The American gasped out, "I saw him with Rick against the wall, his hands around his throat, and I knew. . .I knew it wasn't Ardeth doing it."

Evy didn't answer, and Celia continued, barely holding back her tears, "I didn't know what to do.  It wasn't until Jonathan said something to me a minute ago, about Khaldun's scream of pain, that I realized.  Khaldun can't tolerate pain.  But I didn't know that at the time, I just knew I had to stop him from killing Rick, because if I didn't. . .  So I picked up that vase you like so well, and I. . .  Rick told him that he didn't deserve to breathe the same air as Ardeth, much less inhabit the same body, and that's when I hit him.  I thought I'd killed him, Evy."

Her friend hugged her again, whispering, "But you didn't.  Instead, you freed him, my dear friend.  Ardeth Bey is too strong to let something as little as a bash on the head kill him."  Celia opened her eyes, a little giggle escaping her at the same time.

She found Evy grinning at her impishly, and the Englishwoman continued, "If scratches from Mummy Warriors, and two airborne crashes with my family can't kill him, then a silly little vase will certainly not succeed where Imhotep has failed.  Twice!"  Now Celia couldn't help but laugh, as she realized that Evy had a point.  But she also knew everyone had a breaking point.  Evy continued, "So. You are going inside, and reassure your daughter that everything is fine, then you'll let Ardeth reassure you that he's fine."

Miranda.  Celia closed her eyes once again, realizing that she had truly failed her daughter this time.  She said softly, opening her eyes once more, "My poor baby.  I just. . .I couldn't face her.  I was having a hard enough time, facing myself.  I didn't know how to face her, and tell her that I hurt Ardeth."  Evy cupped her face in her hands, brown eyes boring into hazel, and Evy's expression grew very serious.

"You lost your focus. It happens.  You got it back.  Miranda has been helping me with Ardeth's soup.  But she needs to know that everything's all right.  Go to her," Evy replied.  Celia nodded and moved slowly into the kitchen.  She was immediately hit with a small body clinging to her.  Miranda was crying into her shoulder, and it took Celia a few minutes to realize that her little girl was trying to reassure her.

Celia whispered, holding her daughter close, "I don't deserve you, 'Randa, but it looks like you're stuck with me.  I'm so sorry, baby. I just didn't know how to tell you I had done something which hurt Ardeth.  I'm so sorry."  Miranda tightened her arms around her, and Celia didn't let go, either.  She whispered, "Do you want to come with me, to see about Ardeth?  Evy says he wants to talk to me."

Miranda nodded her head against her shoulder, whispering, "It's not your fault, Mommy.  It was that bad man.  He hurt Ardeth."  The bad man hurt Ardeth.  Celia closed her eyes, accepting this little bit of absolution from her daughter.  Absolution for shutting down, just when Miranda needed her, and absolution for hurting someone they both loved so very much.  Celia kissed the top of her head, then carried her daughter into the living room.

Ardeth was finishing up his soup and looked up as they entered.  The look in his eyes took Celia's breath away.  He held out his hand to them, and it never crossed her mind to say no.  She kept one arm around Miranda and took Ardeth's hand with her free hand, allowing him to guide her to the davenport.  She carefully sat down beside him, making sure she didn't upset his tray of food.  He whispered, "Shukran, my love.  You saved me."

Celia opened her mouth to speak, but Ardeth silenced her by using one of her own tricks against her.  He kissed her.  When he pulled back, she stared at him, speechless, and Ardeth smiled impishly.  Celia decided once she could think clearly again that she would have to be very careful with this man.  Ardeth's kisses were proving to be as dangerous to her clarity of thought as his scimitar was to his enemies. He said, "Do not interrupt me.  You saved me, Celia.  You drove out Khaldun, and gave your grandmother's bag to me.  I saw her in my dreams.  Annabelle, mother of Madeleine, grandmother of Celia and Jason, great-grandmother of Miranda.  She told me to call her 'grandma,' though she looked no more than nineteen."

Celia laughed in spite of herself, replying, "That sounds like my grandmother."  She looked at him for a long moment, then whispered, "I thought I had killed you, Ardeth.  You just collapsed into Rick's arms, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.  And I just fell to my knees, because it just kept replaying in my head.  And I couldn't figure out which would be more of a reason for Evy to kill me."

"Hardly that.  Celia.  It will take more to kill me, much more.  Although my smell might be enough at the moment," Ardeth admitted dryly.  Celia found herself giggling, partly as a release of tension, and Ardeth grinned, saying, "Much better.  I have always preferred to see you smile.  I love you, Celia.  I have told Mother that you will be my wife, and she has agreed to speak on your behalf to the Elders, after this is all over, of course."

"Of course.  I love you so much, Ardeth," Celia answered.  She felt tears running down her face, but she couldn't have said why.  While she had tentatively found her way to that truth three days earlier, after the stories told in his mother's tent, everything coalesced when she saw Ardeth collapse into a boneless heap.  Any doubts were swept away in the rush of terror, pain, and rage.  She loved this man.  She would fight for him, and she would never be separated from him again in this lifetime or the next.

Ardeth looked at Miranda and asked, "Is that all right with you, Miranda, if I marry your mother?  May I be your papa?"  Celia felt her daughter squirm excitedly in her lap, and saw her nodding hard enough to make Celia dizzy.  But the mother didn't need to see the daughter's face, in order to know her smile was enough to light up the entire Sahara Desert at night.  Their little family complete, Celia now knew that she would allow nothing to stand in their way.

Not her brother.  Not Khaldun.  Not even Imhotep himself.  Lady Ardath and Rameses had finally been reunited, and may the goddess have mercy on the soul of anyone who tried to separate them, or harm their children.  Because neither Celia nor Ardeth would.  This, she knew.  This, she swore.  Ardeth was hers now, hers and Miranda, and she would not allow him to be taken from her again.  It was a resolve which would see her well through the coming darkness.

.                     .                        .

At the same time Celia Ferguson was making her vow to protect that which was now hers, Imhotep, High Priest of Seti, was slowly orienting himself once more to this new time, and to this new body.  He ran his hand over his scalp, having hair for the first time in three thousand years.  He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but decided he could always remove it later.  Right now, there were other things occupying his attention.  Not the least of which were the men who had brought him back from the Underworld.

Imhotep's instincts told him that these men planned to use him, just as Hafez and Lock-nah had used him.  They were both fools, though, and so were these men.  He did not know what purpose he had been brought back, nor did he believe the O'Connells had abducted a child.  They desecrated tombs, but he did not believe that they kidnapped children.  And while he was still confused, he did remember very clearly that Evelyn O'Connell was Nefertiri.  Why then would she kidnap the reincarnation of her niece?  It made no sense.

But what if he was wrong?  He had been wrong about Anck-su-namun, and his heart still hurt from that betrayal.  He owed Rameses and Ardath dearly, and he owed their daughter as well, for being unable to save her.  He would find out what he could from this child, and if she proved his instincts correct, he would make the men pay for using him.  Lock-nah and Hafez had paid for their stupidity, as would these men.

Regardless of their part in this, however, Imhotep swore to protect the little one.  It had given him no enjoyment, to abduct little Alex O'Connell, much less leave him in the hands of someone like Lock-nah.  Imhotep did not take pleasure in causing pain.  Perhaps he demonstrated triumph when he won (which, he acknowledged, was often premature), but he took no pleasure in causing pain, much less causing pain to a child.

Over the next week, he accumulated data about his so-called followers.  And he thought.  A lot. Why, exactly, did he want to control the world?  When he arose the second time, he had been intoxicated by the idea of the power brought by defeating the Scorpion King.  What man wouldn't?  And, with the power of a god, he could love his Anck-su-namun in peace.  And then she had betrayed him.  Everything he had worked for turned to ash.

For this woman, he had murdered his pharaoh, once his friend.  For this woman, he had nearly torn apart a family, as his own family was once torn apart.  True enough, he had no love for the O'Connells.  But if he was truly honest with himself, how could he blame Nefertiri and her Med-jai for wanting to live, when he himself had been robbed of life?  His memories of that last, terrible day remained imprinted on his mind, but there was something different now.  After two defeats at the hands of O'Connell and his wife, Imhotep realized something.

He had known O'Connell in that life.  He had been a Med-jai, and part of the magic circle, oft mentioned by Rameses' concubine.  Terumun.  The voice of reason, he had argued against the casting of the hom-dai.  Even as he struggled in terror and pain, Imhotep had found himself rejoicing that Terumun had stayed true.  The man agreed that Imhotep should be punished.  But not like this, not in a way which would doom their children.

"Terumun," Imhotep whispered, his heart tightening as he thought about his friend, whom he had betrayed.  And even as the hom-dai had been cast, Terumun had not betrayed him.  That counted for something, did it not?  O'Connell looked somewhat differently, though not by much.  Like Lady Ardath, Terumun had come from a far away land.  His hair had been darker in that time, but his eyes were still blue.  Imhotep found himself feeling sick.  Why had he never realized this before? Because, a voice inside his soul whispered, you did not want to see.  You have a chance, Imhotep, a chance to make everything right.

Months earlier, even, Imhotep would have never admitted to doing wrong.  But part of the punishment of the Underworld was seeing, and experiencing, the pain you had caused.  He felt the anguish he caused Rameses when he betrayed their friendship.  Not just once, but repeatedly.  And Seti.  He and Anck-su-namun had hacked Seti to death, in front of Seti's own child, the child who looked so much like her mother.

And now, he was being given another chance, in another body.  Though the soul had moved on, to a better place, Imhotep was sure.  The memories which remained within the body told Imhotep that the man who had inhabited this body before was a good man.  Like Imhotep was, once upon a time.  He was being given a second chance, to make things right with everyone whom he had hurt.  Nefertiri.  Terumun.  Rameses.  Nassor.

He knew the identities of Terumun, Nefertiri, and Nassor in this lifetime.  But there was one person missing: Rameses, Imhotep's best friend and former student.  Imhotep had only been eight years older than Rameses, but his life on the streets of Thebes had taught him much, even before he joined the priesthood.  And Rameses had been so lonely, particularly after the death of his mother.

Rameses.  And again, Imhotep smiled, remembering his dearest friend.  Before the murder of his concubine, the young prince had been a mischievous one.  Lady Ardath and Anck-su-namun (Ammit take her soul) had often played practical jokes, and Rameses actively encouraged the pair.  Imhotep's smile died as he remembered Lady Ardath dying in her prince's arms, and the promise she had extracted from him, to watch over Rameses for her.

He had betrayed Rameses even then, ignoring the way his friend was spinning out of control, even after he tortured Khaldun to death.  After suffering the torment of the hom-dai, Imhotep wished now that he had stopped Rameses.  Khaldun deserved to die, but Rameses didn't deserve the pain which accompanied that night's work.  But at the time, Imhotep himself had welcomed the rage, thinking that it would help him deal with the loss of his concubine.

He should have known better.  But at the same time, perhaps he had.  Had Seti himself not said that Ardath had softened Rameses?  And was not the torture and murder of Khaldun proof that Rameses had not lost those qualities which he needed to rule?  The younger Imhotep had thought so.  But they were not.  They were merely the first sign that Rameses was starting to spin out of control.  And a sign that Imhotep had failed to honor his promise to Ardath.

Three thousand years later, his betrayal weighed heavily on Imhotep.  True enough, he had not liked the woman whom Rameses had loved; and true enough, that dislike was in large part caused by his jealousy of her.  She had replaced him in Rameses' life; before he had met Ardath, Rameses always came to Imhotep first with whatever troubled him.  And Ardath was competition for Anck's attention, or so the self-centered young priest had thought.

Now, Imhotep could see how stupid he had been.  With everything he had been through in the last three thousand years, it sickened him, to remember how much time he had wasted on being jealous of a young girl who had made Rameses so happy. 

And she had!  For those five years they were together, before her murder, Rameses had been the happiest Imhotep ever saw him.  Given the torment of the hom-dai, what was wrong with Imhotep, to begrudge his best friend those five years of joy and laughter?  Especially when Rameses felt unworthy to raise Ardath's final gift to him, their son.  Rameses had named after his lost love, and given him to the young Med-jai Shakir Bey.

With a start, Imhotep realized that Shakir was not there, that night that Imhotep's world came crashing down.  Shakir, he remembered, had been the Med-jai assigned to protect Anck-su-namun, as well as the captain's younger brother.  Why had he never remembered this before? Why was it important?  A voice whispered to him, "Shakir Bey raised Rameses and Ardath's son.  What did Rameses name that son?"

Ardeth.  He had given his son the name of his mother, and changed the spelling.  Ardeth, the boy's name had been.  Imhotep had seen him running around the palace, a beautiful little boy with his mother's hazel eyes and smile, and Rameses' black hair.  Ardeth Bey.  A jolt passed through Imhotep's body at that name.  Where had he heard that name before?  From Lock-nah.  Lock-nah had spoken of Ardeth Bey, the Med-jai chieftain.  But for the life of him, Imhotep could not remember what the Med-jai looked like.  Did he resemble his distant ancestor, for whom else could he be? 

Imhotep didn't know.  But it was time to get answers, and to do that, he would have to allow Lock-nah's remaining men to think he believed them.  He would have to kidnap this little child, whom they said was the reincarnation of Rameses and Ardath's daughter.  If she had indeed been kidnapped by the O'Connells, he could help her find her missing mother.  And if she had not been. . .   Imhotep smiled.  If not, then perhaps it was time to arrange a meeting between these stragglers and the O'Connells.  Then he would know, once and for all, where to stand.

.                     .                        .

Over the next week, Ardeth recovered from his ordeal.  That was how Evy put it, at least, but Jonathan knew their Med-jai friend did not think in such terms.  That was totally alien to him.  However, that was exactly how Jonathan viewed what had transpired at Hamunaptra while he, Evy, Rick, Alex and the Ferguson ladies made their way back to Cairo.  Ardeth had been attacked and violated.  There was no other term for what had been done to him.

Once he and Celia had their Talk, Jonathan had helped Ardeth upstairs to the bathroom so he could bathe.  He had eaten soup, and was probably dehydrated, as well as exhausted.  As it was, Jonathan supported most of Ardeth's weight, being as unobtrusive as possible.  He pretended he didn't hear Ardeth groaning softly from pain and stiffness. 

He pretended that he didn't see, once more, the bruises which mottled Ardeth's bronze skin.  Instead, he set his teeth and gently helped the healing man into the bath which would take away some of his pain, to say nothing of his smell.  Jonathan regarded Ardeth Bey as one of his best friends, but there were no two ways around it.  After three days in the desert and having only camels and horses as company, he smelled terribly.

Once he was certain Ardeth would be fine on his own, Jonathan slipped out of the bathroom, trembling.  He slid slowly down the wall.  What was happening to him?  He didn't know how this could be happening.  He, Jonathan Carnahan, was turning into someone responsible.  And not only that, when he and Rick had examined Ardeth after Celia (good show there) had driven Khaldun from his unwilling body, Jonathan had felt a rage which was only matched by the fury he had felt when Anck-su-namun (or Meela or whoever the hell she was) had killed Evy at Ahm Shere.

"I told you, Nassor, this is the man whom you have always been.  You are right.  There is much responsibility, being this man.  But there are also great rewards," a familiar voice said.  Jonathan looked up to see Lady Ardath kneeling beside him.  Jonathan swallowed hard.  It had been so much easier when he had been just Evy Carnahan's rotter older brother, the one whom no one expected much from.

"You have not been that man for a long time, not since you trained your sights on the man who would have taken my child's life.  Nassor, you cannot be that man again.  I do not doubt that you will try, but I also know you will not succeed.  You cannot.  Listen.  My child once told your brother in law that by denying his past, he had no future.  And if he embraced that missing piece of his heart, he could do anything.  The same is true of you, Jonathan Carnahan, once known as Nassor, trusted general of Rameses," Lady Ardath answered.

Once more, he whispered, "I'm afraid, m'Lady.  I am afraid that I'll let Ardeth down, just like I let down everyone else who matters to me.  And this time, it could cost him his life.  I cannot live with that guilt."  Lady Ardath just smiled at him tenderly, and Jonathan had a moment of vertigo, as a memory flashed through his mind.  Rameses telling Nassor how he only had to see his Ardath smile, and he knew everything would be all right.

Three thousand years later, Jonathan understood exactly what Rameses had meant.  Though the Englishman was not privy to Ardeth Bey's innermost thoughts, he would have agreed with Ardeth's assertion that Celia could seduce him with her honesty, because the same had been true of Lady Ardath.  Not for the first time, Jonathan and Nassor marveled at the similarities between the two women.  It was to be hoped that through each reincarnation, a person learned more, just as a person learned more through the years of their current lifetime.

"You will not let my child down, Nassor.  You did not let him down in Ahm Shere, or even on the bus in London.  Nor did you let him down at the bazaar.  Do you truly believe that you could fail him now?  After being through so much together?" the concubine asked.  Jonathan lowered his eyes, and Lady Ardath continued, "Listen to me.  Once before, you feared that you would fail my child.  But you did not.  And you will not.  He would not trust you as he does, if you did."

"Is that supposed to be reassuring?" Jonathan asked weakly, and a familiar, mischievous grin lit the girl's face.  He had forgotten that she was but twenty years old when she died.  So very young.  Younger than Evy was when they awakened Imhotep.  The Englishman sighed, then added, "I suppose you're right.  But don't expect me to give up easily.  You can't change the way you see yourself over night, you know."

"I do know, why do you think it took three thousand years to reunite two hearts? Three thousand years, plus the gods wiping out memories until this most recent reincarnation?  You know how stubborn Rameses is, Nassor, you of all people should remember that!  So it should not be a great surprise that Ardeth Bey is equally stubborn.  He carries the spirit of my love, even as he carries my name," came the response.

Jonathan could hardly argue with that. . .Ardeth actually was rather stubborn.  He had only to remember their first few encounters, if he did indeed forget.  And his memories of being Nassor told him that Rameses was just as bad.  Jonathan answered at last, "I suppose you're right.  Only. . .Ardath.  Tell me truthfully, this incident today isn't the last time we'll face Khaldun, is it?"

"You know in your heart, the answer to that question.  You know you all must face him, one last time.  All of you.  Not just Ardeth and Celia, but you, as well as the reincarnations of Nefertiri and Terumun.  There is one other, who will join you.  I cannot say whom, or how, but you know the identity of this one as well.  But know this as well, Nassor.  I will be with you.  With all of you, when that day comes," Ardath answered.

She smiled at him one last time, even as he started to ask one more question of her, and then disappeared.  Jonathan stared, dumbfounded, then muttered, "Damnation, she's just as bad as Ardeth, up and disappearing whenever the mood strikes her!"  He heard a soft laugh, and added a bit peevishly, "You were supposed to hear that!"  Jonathan was left with the sound of tinkling laughter, even as sounds inside the privy told him that Ardeth was finished bathing.

Telling himself that he would think about Ardath's warning later, Jonathan called, "Ardeth?  You ready to come out, old man?"  Jonathan stopped and thought about that for the first time.  His habit of calling Evy and Ardeth, both of whom were younger, 'old.'  Then again, they both tended to behave older than they actually were.  Especially Ardeth, though Jonathan had come to realize that was due to his lot in life.

There was a muffled groan inside the bathroom, and Jonathan decided he would rather suffer Evy's wrath than Ardeth's, the latter's prowess with a scimitar aside.  The Englishman opened the door as Ardeth wrapped a towel around his waist, and asked carefully, "Do you need any help?"  Ardeth looked up, his dark eyes filled with pain.  Not just from the bruises which decorated his body, as extensive as those were. 

During their examination of Ardeth, Rick and Jonathan had discovered that their friend had cracked ribs, as well as various other injuries.  There was a nasty looking bruise on his abdomen, where Rick had punched him. . .and other bruises were visible as well.

No, there was another pain in Ardeth's eyes now, and Jonathan realized he would have to be very careful.  He asked softly, "Can you do your. . .um. . .lower half?"  Ardeth nodded and Jonathan continued, "Well.  Good.  Then you sit yourself down on the edge of the tub, and I'll get another towel and do your arms and hair.  Unless you'd prefer that I get Celia?  She's likely to be much more gentle than I am."

"I do not wish for her to see me like this," came the soft reply.  Ardeth carefully lowered himself to the edge of the tub, barely stifling a few groans as he did.  Jonathan looked at him worriedly, and Ardeth continued, "I am well, Jonathan.  Merely. . .oh.  In a little pain."  The Med-jai leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes.  The rage Jonathan had felt only a few hours earlier, as he and Rick had checked over their friend, returned in full force.

"I should say so, you look like a horse trampled you," Jonathan replied as he returned with a towel.  He gently patted Ardeth's shoulders and back dry, before carefully draping the towel around his neck.  Jonathan really felt that Celia should be here for this, as he wasn't comfortable with these actions.  The Englishman asked gently, "Will you be all right to dress yourself?"  Ardeth nodded, his eyes still closed.

"I will be fine.  Jonathan, you have my thanks.  I know you feel Celia should be in here, but I. . .she needs to be with her daughter right now.  You have my thanks for that as well.  For looking after her," Ardeth replied, sounding very tired.  Jonathan swallowed hard, then turned his back to let Ardeth dress in peace.  There was silence for several moments, before a low groan had him turning back around.

Ardeth had managed to successfully pull on a pair of trousers, but he was struggling with his shirt.  His robes were being cleaned, and until they were clean, he was wearing spare clothes that belonged to Rick.  Jonathan had never seen his friend in anything other than the black robes of the Med-jai.  The Englishman said not a word as he helped Ardeth to arrange the shirt properly, then stepped back.   However, he kept his hand on the young man's shoulder, waiting until Ardeth got his breath back.

Once Ardeth opened his eyes and looked up at him, Jonathan asked softly, "Are you ready, then?"  The Med-jai nodded and Jonathan once more stepped forward, helping him to his feet.  He kept a protective arm around Ardeth's waist, helping him from the privy.  Next would come the room he would be using.  It never occurred to Jonathan, as he helped his friend down the hall, and eased him into bed, that he was already making good on his promise to Lady Ardath.  After all, this was nothing.  Wasn't it?

.                     .                          .

Things fell into a pattern for the next week.  Day by day, Ardeth regained more of his strength.  Rick did a double take the first time he had seen Ardeth in the borrowed clothes from the American's closet.  Attired in loose beige trousers and an equally loose-fitting shirt, and barefoot, Ardeth looked younger than Rick had ever seen him before.  Rick bit back a smile, remembering how his friend had shuffled into the kitchen for dinner that first night.

He had looked sleepy, his black hair all but covering his face, and Evy told Rick later that she was reminded of a little boy who had just awakened from a nap.  Rick didn't know if he liked that idea, since both Evy and Celia tended to react the same way to seeing the Med-jai look so vulnerable.  Truth be told, seeing Ardeth like that had threatened to send Rick's world in a tailspin.  He didn't like to admit it, even to himself, but Ardeth was one of his rocks.

It had rattled him, a few months earlier, to see Ardeth looking so sick after their crazy ride through London in the double-decker bus.  He obviously hadn't been all right, his chest, shoulder, and arm all badly scratched.  And that wasn't taking into account the wound in his other shoulder, the one which Rick hadn't even noticed at first, mainly because he was too busy taking out his frustration and worry on Ardeth.

Rick shifted, remembering once again what Khaldun had said.  He could feel the wood of the bookcase pressing into his face as the evil spirit reminded him of past misdeeds.  He could hear the voice coming from Ardeth's mouth, but didn't belong to him, You think so, do you? Why should he believe that? I can see his memories, Rick O'Connell. I can feel the pain in his already aching body when you slammed him into the pillar of stone outside your home.

Just to make sure, Rick looked across the room at the man now sprawled on the davenport, half-asleep.  Ardeth seemed alright, but he of all people knew how the Med-jai could pretend to be just fine, even if he really wasn't.  A soft, accented voice floated from across the room, "Should I be worried about the way you stare at me, O'Connell?"  Rick blinked.  Ardeth's eyes were closed.  How did. . .?

As if hearing his thoughts, the Med-jai continued, still sounding sleepy, "One thing every warrior learns, as he grows more experienced, is the sensation one receives when another is staring at him.  What is more difficult to learn is whether the person staring is a friend or not."  Ardeth opened his eyes, lifting his head from the davenport, adding, "I know you are a friend.  I simply do not know why you stare at me."

"Just making sure you're alright, buddy," Rick answered mildly, wincing when Ardeth's brows climbed almost into his hairline.  The American continued, "Look, I know I can be an ass at times, but you almost died a few times during the last few days, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.  And you know, you could have just asked me why I was staring at you, instead of going into that whole. . ." 

Rick waved his hand, and Ardeth smiled almost impishly.  Okay, this was scary.  Rick worried when Ardeth smiled like that.  The Med-jai replied solemnly, his dark eyes twinkling, "But O'Connell, I did ask you."  Rick growled, reached behind him and threw a pillow at his friend.  Ardeth caught it easily, his smile broadening in a way which made Rick very nervous.

Just to be safe, Rick glanced over his shoulder to make sure that his wife wasn't watching from the kitchen.  Nope.  The American heaved a sigh of relief, even as he was hit by a flying pillow.  Coming from Ardeth's direction.  Rick allowed the pillow to fall into his lap and glared at the other man, who was smirking at him.  Why that. . .!  Just as Rick was getting ready to return fire, Evy called, "Enough, children, don't make me come in there and separate you."

"We're already separated!" Rick yelled back, then yelped as Evy smacked him in the back of his head.  He glared at Ardeth, who was grinning like a loon.  Damn.  Maybe these repeated blows to his head were starting to take its toll on Ardeth!  Rick would swear that his longtime friend was changing right in front of him.  And the other explanation, that the changes in Ardeth were caused by his relationship with Celia, REALLY scared Rick.

"Not enough, obviously.  Are you feeling better, Ardeth?  Very good.  You know, I've noticed that you and Celia haven't had much chance to spend time together, these last few days," Evy observed.  Rick jumped, eyeing his wife cautiously.  Okay, what was she up to this time?  He had to admit, she had been right about the matchmaking thing.  He finally accepted that, without further argument, after the passionate kiss he had witnessed at the Med-jai camp.

So what was she up to?  Ardeth answered quietly, "Miranda has had some. . . issues. . .which required Celia's attention.  I believe she is afraid that Celia will be taken from her once more."  Rick winced, understanding at once.  He was thirty-four years old, and had serious separation issues where his wife and son were concerned, he could only imagine what four year old Miranda was going through, after seeing her mother abducted in front of her.

"Well, Miranda is doing a little better, after a solid week with her mum.  She and Alex are outside, if you'd like to spend some time alone with Celia," Evy replied with a smile best described as pure evil.  A quick glance over his shoulder told Rick that Ardeth's eyes had lit up like a Christmas tree, and Evy continued, "She's upstairs, doing some research.  I think she could probably use a break, to say nothing of a distraction."

"Thank you, Evy," Ardeth said very softly.  He pushed himself a bit unsteadily to his feet, then made his way toward the stairs, before heading up to the second floor.  Rick looked from his still stiff and sore friend, to his wife, to find a gleeful smile now decorating her beautiful face.  She just grinned at him, kissed his forehead, then bounced back into the kitchen.  Rick gave one last glance toward Ardeth, then followed Evy into the kitchen.

"Evy, what are you up to?" Rick asked.  Evy responded with an innocent 'who me' look, which didn't fool him in the least.  After all, he had seen it too many times over the last seven years.  Usually when she was doing something which would end up landing them all in trouble.  The problem with that, in this case, was Rick had no idea what she could be doing which would cause trouble for them.

"I am giving two people who are very important to me time to spend together.  Miranda is four years old, Rick, she's starting to feel more secure that her mother won't leave her.  And Celia had had very little time to spend with Ardeth, even after Miranda goes to bed.  They need this time alone together, Rick, just like we need our time alone," Evy replied.  She stepped closer to him as she spoke, her dark eyes shimmering with conviction.  And something even more sexy.  Which made him very, very nervous.  Because it was another expression she wore when she was getting ready to do something like go running to Ahm Shere or some such place.

And again, Rick couldn't have said why that troubled him so much.  Celia and Ardeth were adults.  In Rick and Evy's house.  Not out gallivanting and attracting trouble (no, Rick admitted silently, Evy and I attract trouble, Ardeth cleans up the mess after it's all over.).  What could possibly go wrong with such a scenario?  Two people who loved each other, who planned to marry after this was all over?

In the years to follow that day, he would decide that question was on the same level as 'what harm ever came from reading a book,' or 'what harm ever came from opening a chest.'  He had forgotten one very important thing.  Where he and his wife were concerned, even something as simple as a lovers tryst could end up becoming a lot worse than it was supposed to be.

.                      .                        .

This was the first opportunity Celia Ferguson had during the last few weeks to do what she had come to Egypt for.  True enough, she and Evy had another six months in which to get their work done, but Celia had missed doing research.  And while this was not part of the plan originally, plans changed.  It was her hope that she could find something that would help them to defeat Khaldun.

More to the point, she was trying to find references to her own means of banishing Khaldun, the chant which had simply popped into her head.  Ardeth had since told her that Horus and Isis were. . .well, the Med-jai belonged to the son and mother.  And Celia herself belonged to Isis.  According to her memories of being Lady Ardath, the young concubine had belonged to Hathor, but none of this answered her questions.

How had she known to say that?  Upon further questioning, Ardeth had explained that Isis and Horus did not choose the Med-jai until his distant ancestor, the first Med-jai chieftain, had called upon them during a battle.  So it was after Lady Ardath's murder.  Celia had to conclude that she had read the chant somewhere.  There was one other possibility, of course. . .according to the folklore, vampires had to be invited into a person's home.  Perhaps Khaldun was a sort of vampire, and since he hadn't been invited into Ardeth's body. . .

ARGH!  Celia shook her head.  She had to stop this, she was giving herself a massive headache.  The trouble was, Celia was a seeker of knowledge.  That was how her grandmother had raised her.  And it was making her crazy.  The rest of the chant be damned, how had she known to call upon Horus and Isis?  She was so intent on finding the answer, she never heard the door open or the quiet creaks of the wood.

"Are you trying to make yourself insane?"

Celia shrieked, jumping a half foot into the air.  Ardeth caught her before she hit her chair again, turning her around to face him.  He was grinning at her impishly, and before she had a chance to answer, he kissed her.  Celia just gave a happy sigh, winding her arms around him as she melted against his body.  While she had spent most of the last week with her daughter, reassuring Miranda even as Ardeth healed, she had managed to steal a few kisses from him during that time, usually while Rick's back was turned.

He always scowled when he did catch them kissing, usually adding, "Would you two get a room????"  Well, that explained where Alex got it.  Between Rick and Jonathan.  Of course, every time Rick said that, Ardeth just smiled and kissed her again.  Not that Celia complained too much, of course.  She loved kissing Ardeth, but then she loved everything about him, from his kisses to the feel of his silky black hair in her fingers.

Ardeth finally broke off the kiss, whispering, "Your kisses can make me forget my own name, my Celia."  The American woman just smiled as Ardeth settled her against the desk, his hands resting lightly on her waist.  He sighed, leaning his forehead against hers in a gesture of affection that made her smile.  Just as his habit of referring to her as 'his' Celia.  Leslie Carstairs never spoke of her with that tone of voice, of her or to her.

"Your kisses do the same to me, my Ardeth," she answered and won a bright grin.  She looked over him, inspecting his current attire.  During the last few days, he wore borrowed clothing from Rick's closet, while Evy continued to get his Med-jai robes clean.  Today, he was again clad in a loose beige shirt, and equally loose trousers.  Even so, he still looked good in black.  However, she was finding out that he looked good in every other color as well.   

Motion out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she watched Miranda and Alex playing.  Celia smiled, absently dropping a kiss on the cloth covering Ardeth's shoulder, as she watched her daughter and the little boy play outside.  Ardeth answered hoarsely, "They do well together.  I have missed you, Cecelia."  The young woman tore her eyes away from her daughter, knowing that Evy was watching Miranda, as was Jonathan.

She smiled at Ardeth, answering, "I love you."  In the days since she had admitted that to herself, Celia often repeated it, if only silently.  Just to get used to saying the words.  Because every time she said those words aloud, the mask which Ardeth wore as the chieftain vanished.  She didn't like seeing that mask.  She wanted to see the real Ardeth Bey when she looked into those beautiful brown eyes, the man she loved.

Leaning forward, trusting in Ardeth to keep her from falling, Celia shifted the loose shirt to one side, pressing a soft kiss to his now-bare shoulder.  First one kiss, then another, against warm flesh and solid bone.  Ardeth moaned, his body trembling as she worked her way toward his neck.  He would have pulled away, but Celia prevented that when she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him closer to her own body.

She pulled back, to see him staring at her dazedly, and she whispered once more, "I love you."  Celia kissed him, pulling away every few seconds to whisper another 'I love you.'  But after the third or fourth time, Ardeth didn't allow her to pull away.  Instead, his arms tightened around her and returned a fervent kiss.  Celia quickly lost control, and had no fear whatsoever.  She clung to him, embracing him with her mouth, with her arms, with her legs.  With everything she was, with everything she had been, with everything she ever would be.

Was it truly possible to love someone this much?  The logical part of Celia's mind said of course not, especially not after only a few weeks.  Then again, that logical part of her mind also told her that Leslie Carstairs was a good catch, and look how badly that had turned out.  Celia firmly told her logical mind to shut up, and returned her attention to kissing Ardeth, which was far more pleasant in any event.

But even Ardeth had to come up for air (damn), and he breathed softly, "I love you, my Celia.  I fear sometimes that you have only been a beautiful dream.  That I will wake up, and. . ."  His voice cracked, alerting Celia to something being not quite right.  She pulled back, still keeping a fierce grasp on him.  She swallowed hard, seeing agony in his beautiful eyes as Ardeth whispered, "You are real?  You will not leave me?"

And once more, there it was, that aching loneliness which had called out to her from the start.  Loneliness and a bone-deep pain which would take much time and much love before she could truly ease it.  She answered, "I will not leave you.  Not even if you want me to."  She managed to get a weak grin out of him at that.  Celia whispered, "I am no dream, Ardeth Bey. I am a flesh and blood woman with flaws and insecurities, with hurts and with pride.  But if you want me, I am yours.  Now and for all time."

"I do want you.  So much.  Celia, I would tell you of my nightmares.  So they will
not frighten you," Ardeth replied earnestly.  She shifted her weight on the desk, forgetting that her legs were still wrapped around his waist until he groaned, his head dropping onto her shoulder.  Celia gently kissed the top of his head, fingers slipping around to the back of his neck.  After a moment, he raised his forehead from her shoulder to look into her eyes.

"Then I shall listen as you tell me.  Are these the nightmares that Miranda overheard?"  Celia asked.  While she knew some of what had happened at both Hamunaptra and Ahm Shere, there were still many missing pieces.  Ardeth nodded, his eyes never leaving her face.  She leaned forward to kiss his forehead, her lips gently brushing against the tattoos, then whispered against his skin, "Tell me, my Ardeth.  Tell me, so I may help."

"I do not know if that is possible.  But I will tell you," Ardeth replied very quietly.  She listened intently as he told her of the dig at Hamunaptra, the one engineered by Meela Nais, and of following the desiccated corpse of Imhotep from Egypt to England.  He told of the battle with Lock-nah and his men, and the flight to rescue Evy from Imhotep.  Celia said not a word as he outlined what had happened in the wild ride from the British museum, followed by Alex's kidnapping.  Of his meetings with the Council once he returned to Egypt, and the race to Ahm Shere.  He told of losing Horus, and the final confrontation with Lock-nah, who had murdered Ardeth's brother, his best and most clever friend Horus, and who had raped Acacia.

And then, the Army of Anubis.  Celia's hands slipped from the back of Ardeth's neck, gently kneading his shoulders, as he tried to describe for her the monstrous dog-headed creatures. But she didn't speak.  She only listened as his voice grew ragged with pain.  The first wave had been easy.  Too easy.  As his young warriors (what did he think he was, old?) celebrated around him, Ardeth had been possessed of a terrible certainty that it wasn't over. 

And so he had raced through the celebrating warriors until he could see what he needed to see, the sight confirming his suspicions.  There were more coming.  So many more, and Ardeth Bey had felt icy water replace his blood in his veins.

He had been afraid before.  Many times, he had been afraid.  When his father had died, when his brother had died, leaving seventeen year old Ardeth to take up the burden of leadership.  But never like this, never like this.  Ardeth had looked first to one side, and then the other, to find eyes on him expectantly.  Trustingly.  His heart breaking, even as he gave the order, Ardeth had roared, 'Til Death!'  And heard his men pick up the chant.

He told of the bone-chilling terror he had felt as that mass of evil had swept over the sand dunes surrounding Ahm Shere.  He did not want to die.  He did not want these boys to die.  But if the O'Connells failed to stop Imhotep and the Scorpion King, then someone had to be there to hold the line.  But the O'Connells did not fail.   Indeed, the dog-headed warriors had disappeared in a shower of black sand which covered Ardeth and his men.  But that had not stopped the nightmares in the months since.

At last, Ardeth was silent, drawing in deep gulps of air.  Celia did not speak at first, then whispered, "In all my dreams when I was a girl, I never thought it possible to gain such a valiant heart.  You are a truly courageous man, Ardeth Bey, and I am proud you have chosen me."  He looked up at her, and Celia removed her hands from his shoulders to cup his face.  She gently stroked his cheekbones with her thumbs, murmuring, "When you have nightmares, after we are married, then I will hold you.  You'll find no judgment in me, Ardeth Bey.  Only love."

With a strangled groan, Ardeth allowed his head to fall forward once more.  Celia enveloped him in a fierce embrace, whispering over and over that she loved him.  She could not tell him that everything would be all right.  That would be denigrating to him.  But she could, and she would, tell him that she would be there to pick up the pieces.  They sat there together, wrapped in each other's arms, for what seemed like an eternity, then Ardeth stiffened.

Before she could ask what was wrong, he whispered, "La, this cannot be possible.  But it is.  He is here!  He is here now!"  Ardeth pulled back to look at her, his dark eyes suddenly reflecting terror and rage, and whispered, "The Creature is here, in this house, Celia."  The American barely had time to accept that, when a shrill scream of terror exploded through the house.  Celia's own blood ran cold as she identified the source, for the scream had come from her child.  It had come from Miranda.

.                      .                      .

This was his fault, all his fault!  If he had been doing his job, none of this would have happened!  That was the constant refrain beating through Ardeth's mind as he raced downstairs after Celia.  Like his beloved, he had recognized the scream as belonging to Miranda. 

There was no reason in the world for Imhotep to take Miranda, but Ardeth knew in his heart and soul that the Creature had come for the little girl.  Why, he didn't know.  How he had been brought back into the world, after he had thrown himself into the Underworld, after the betrayal of Anck-su-namun, that Ardeth did not know, either, and Hamunaptra had not been disturbed since Khaldun's awakening.

But none of that mattered now.  As Celia and Ardeth reached the bottom of the stairs, they saw the Creature throw Rick O'Connell across the room, even as Imhotep tore the American's shotgun from his grasp and sent it in the opposite direction.  Ardeth quickly ascertained that O'Connell had been standing in front of the terrified Miranda, who had just come inside with Alex.  The little O'Connell stood at her side, holding her hand tightly.

And now Evelyn stood protectively between the two children and Imhotep, armed with only her courage.  Thinking quickly, Ardeth whispered to Celia, "I will distract him.  Get Evelyn and the children, and get out of the house."  Celia nodded, looking frightened, and Ardeth added, "I will be fine, my love, but you must see to your daughter.  The Creature wants her, for what I do not know, but he is here for her."

Celia nodded once more, silently telling him to be careful with her eyes.  Then, as Ardeth gave a fierce, wordless cry, she dashed out from behind him, heading for her daughter, Alex, and Evelyn.  The Creature swung to face him, and there was only a moment of shocked fury, before Ardeth found himself engaged in a hand-to-hand battle for his life.  A vicious backhand sent him into the bookcase, but all too aware of the consequences if he failed, Ardeth was back on his feet immediately, even as O'Connell rushed the Creature from the other side.

From the corner of his eye, Ardeth tracked Celia's progress.  She was almost there. . .almost there. . .when Imhotep realized what they were doing.  With a roar, he flung Ardeth high into the air, and the Med-jai grunted in pain as he hit the wooden bookcase.  Again.  Pain flashed through his body and he fought to remain conscious.  His back had taken the brunt of the impact, rather than his head, but as he slid to the ground, Ardeth's body was enveloped in agony.

Miranda's scream of "MOMMY!" cut through the threatening blackness, and Ardeth's vision cleared, just in time to see Celia literally torn around from her daughter, and thrown hard against the wall.  She crumpled to the ground bonelessly, and again, Miranda screamed.  That image, and that sound, galvanized Ardeth into action.  With a cry of rage and grief, fearing that Celia was dead, Ardeth charged Imhotep once more, but the Creature simply laughed and Ardeth found himself flying through the air once more.  This was getting quite tiresome.

He landed with a thud, and the Creature spared just enough time to send a bone-shattering kick into Ardeth's side.  Then sand sprayed the room, and both the Creature and Miranda were gone.  Ardeth groaned, pushing himself to his feet.  He would check for broken ribs later.  Right now, he had to get to Celia.  She was moaning, her head moving from side to side.  Ardeth fought back tears.  For a moment, he had truly been afraid he had lost her, just as Rameses had lost Ardath, and that grief would have sent him to his knees if not for the jobs which lay ahead.

But as he carefully lifted Celia into his arms, ignoring the lancing pain through his side, Ardeth now understood the grief and madness which had consumed Rameses after the death of his beloved concubine.  His wife in all but name.  At the time of Ardath's murder, they had five years together, and a child.  Surely, with those five years, Rameses' grief had to have been even more devastating that what Ardeth had just experienced!

Celia opened her eyes, trying desperately to focus, and gave a soft gasp of pain.  Ardeth reached around to the back of her head, and found the reason.  A rather nasty bump, but as he removed his fingers to look at it, he was relieved there was no blood.  Slowly, her eyes cleared and she whispered, "Miranda?"  Ardeth tried to find the words to tell this woman that he had failed to protect her little girl, and it wasn't necessary.  Celia gave an anguished sob and buried her face in Ardeth's robes.

The Med-jai rocked her back and forth, totally undone.  He should have expected this.  Celia had not wept when her brother betrayed her, and cried only a little when she had been rescued.  A quick consultation with his sister Aleta had informed him that she did not weep, either, when she learned of Jason's fate.  She had been guilt-ridden after striking Ardeth to drive out Khaldun.  And now, she could take no more. 

"Forgive me," he whispered over and over, in English, in Arabic, and any other language he could think of.  He was only vaguely aware of O'Connell moving about the room, of Evelyn and Alex both crying softly.  The only thing important to Ardeth Bey was the woman now weeping in his arms.  Once before, he had done his best to comfort the O'Connells, after Alex's kidnapping, by telling them the Creature could not harm the boy. 

But that was when he knew why Alex had been taken, and he had no words to
offer to Celia, for he had no reason why the Creature would want little Miranda.  Neither Celia nor Miranda had anything which belonged to him.  Ardeth closed his eyes as Celia gave a little wail, only barely recognizable as, "It wasn't your fault!"  But it was.  It was his fault.  He should have. . .Ardeth didn't know what he should have done.  But there had to be something he could have done to protect this woman and this child.

"Uh, people.  You may want to come look at this," Jonathan said in a strained voice.  Ardeth slowly lifted Celia to her feet, and together, they joined the Englishman, taking halting steps.  Ardeth's ribs were really starting to cause him pain now, and he knew Celia was probably dealing with a pounding headache and dizziness.  He had had enough headaches during the last few days to recognize that.

Ardeth himself felt dizzy when he saw what had attracted Jonathan's attention.  Sand.  But not just sand left by the Creature.  Sand which spelled out a message in ancient Egyptian.  Evelyn whispered, "He left us a clue.  Imhotep told us where to find her, where to find Miranda.  Where it all began."  She looked up at them, her dark eyes wide with confusion and concern, as she said, "Where it all began?  Where what all began?"

But Ardeth knew exactly what the Creature meant.  A quick glance at O'Connell told him that the American knew as well, and it was O'Connell who replied, "Hamunaptra.  It all began at Hamunaptra.  He wants us there, but why?  Why take Miranda?"  Ardeth shook his head slowly, his arms still wrapped around Celia.  O'Connell continued, "Oh, and Ardeth?  You might want to have someone take a look at your bruises."

Ardeth responded with a glare, and Celia turned in his arms.  Her eyes widened as she gently touched his cheek where the Creature had backhanded him.  She whispered, "Ardeth.  How badly did he hurt you?  And I haven't felt you take a full breath!"  Oh, he would definitely kill O'Connell for this!  Celia asked, slowly fighting to regain control once more, "All right.  You said he'll take her to Hamunaptra, but we don't know why."

"No, this makes no sense!  He wouldn't try to resurrect Anck-su-namun again, and Miranda is too young for that anyhow.  Neither you, nor she, took anything from Hamunaptra.  You pose no threat to Imhotep, and how did he get out of the Underworld in the first place?" Evelyn asked.  Ardeth shook his head, gasping a little in pain.  Evelyn continued, taking charge as she seemed to often do these days, "Right.  Celia, you and I will take care of Ardeth.  Alex, darling, I want you to help your uncle with the supplies."

"And I will find our weapons and make the travel arrangements.  Sorry, buddy, but it looks like you'll have to fly again," O'Connell said, smirking at Ardeth.  The Med-jai just glared at him, but without any real heat.  Yes, he had assumed as much.  He just wish he knew what the Creature wanted of Miranda.  And then he thought of something else, something which made him smile.  Miranda was ferociously protective of both her mother and Ardeth.  She had seen the Creature attack them both.

Were it not for the Creature's habit of causing trouble for those who mattered most to Ardeth, he would have actually felt sorry for Imhotep for what he had just unleashed on himself.  While Ardeth hadn't heard all about Alex's time in captivity, he did know Miranda well enough to realize that long before he and the others arrived to rescue the little girl, Miranda herself would make Imhotep pay and pay dearly!