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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The pain was unlike anything he had experienced before.  Certainly, he had been hurt worse. . .the fight with the mummy warrior on the London bus came immediately to mind, and that pain had been excruciating.  But this was. . .different.  Ardeth curled into a ball on the bed, after Celia and O'Connell left the room together.  And even the haze of pain still tying his insides in knots couldn't dampen his hearing.  Ardeth allowed himself a tiny smile.  To use a Western phrase, Celia was truly giving Ardeth's old friend hell.

He closed his eyes, sighing a little as the pain continued to ease.  He really would have to be more careful in the future.  It had never been his intention to frighten Celia. . .which was exactly what he had done.  He had seen her standing there, so very still, her small body trembling. If he had been able to see her face, he would have never touched her.  He should have called her name at first, before touching her.

Would have, could have, should have.  Sometimes, it seemed like those six words made up the bulk of Ardeth Bey's life, from the moment he had become the Med-jai chieftain, sixteen years earlier.  And that fact alone made his head swim.  He was still a young man. . .but he had been leading his people for almost half his life.  On the other hand. . .on the other hand, when he looked back, it did seem as though most of his worst mistakes had been made in those first ten years.  It didn't occur to Ardeth that they were normal mistakes for someone so young.

He wasn't normal. . .and there was no arrogance in that thought, it was the simple truth.  Or rather, he wasn't normal, as most people understood the word.  He was a Med-jai, and this was normal for him.  For him.  The truth was, even the things that had happened over the last seven years were abnormal, even for a Med-jai.  The Creature rising, twice.

It never occurred to Ardeth that in three thousand years, there had only been two
Risings.  The only thing he saw was that both risings took place during his years as chieftain.  He couldn't fathom the possibility that there was no way Imhotep could have remained undiscovered forever.  Nothing lasted forever.  And if it hadn't been the Americans and Carnahans seven years earlier, it would have been someone else.

And yet, and yet, and yet. . .it had still taken place on his watch.  Both of them.  He couldn't see his way around that.  So many times, over the last seven years, he had gone through and thought about what he could have done differently.  His Med-jai had, to use an American phrase, gotten their asses kicked in the first skirmish with the Americans.  He had called a strategic withdrawal. . .live today, fight tomorrow, as he later told O'Connell.

Should he have gone ahead. . .risked the lives of his men and killed the Americans?  No. No, because there was no guarantee that enough of his men would have survived to make sure that none remained.  And if it hadn't been the O'Connells and Jonathan Carnahan, it would have been someone else.  Someone who wouldn't have stayed and tried to put things right.  Each time Ardeth tried to find a possible solution, he came up empty.

Which left him back at square one.  He had told O'Connell that things had been preordained thousands of years earlier, and he still believed that.  But. . .it was still hard for him to accept.  Ardeth Bey was a man who believed as strongly in responsibility and consequences as he did in the gods.  It was his responsibility to protect Hamunaptra.  He failed to do so.  Twice.  And the second time had very nearly brought about the end of the world.  Again.

Ardeth didn't even realize it, but he was slowly drifting into sleep.  His body still ached, both from Celia's knee to his groin earlier, as well as the tension of learning about Jason Ferguson's plans for his sister.  And he was still so tired from Ahm Shere.  Would he never stop being so tired?  It was that exhaustion which intensified his self-doubt.  He feared that if he accepted what he had told O'Connell, then that would somehow absolve him of what he had done wrong.  A niggling little voice inside his head whispered, but not all of that responsibility is yours to shoulder.  Others must take responsibility for what they did.

Odd. . .how that voice sounded so much like his father's.  When Suleiman Bey had been alive, his younger son did all that was expected of him.  And while young Ardeth would have never admitted it, to anyone much less himself, it often seemed that nothing was ever good enough.  True enough, the adult Ardeth understood that it was necessary. . .the Med-jai way of life was a harsh one.  But that didn't stop the child from wishing his father had loved him.

He did love you, my darling boy, he did love you, an unfamiliar female voice said. More than you can understand.  I know that you were only a boy when he died. . .three years from becoming a man.  I know how hard it has been, since you have become the chieftain of your people, but your father is proud of you.  He is so proud of you, of the boy you were and the man you have become.  Ardeth, my dear child, you have spent your entire life taking care of others. . .it is now time for you to take care of yourself, and allow another to take care of you.  Admit, if only to yourself, how lonely you are.

Yes, he was lonely. . .but that was nothing new.  He was used to being lonely, and whining about it did no good.  The woman said with a sigh, foolish, foolish child.  Brave, and strong, and loving. . .but foolish.  I suppose I should have expected that.  Such foolishness runs in your bloodline.  But you must listen to me, sweet child.  Admitting your loneliness is not a sign of weakness, or of whining.  It is a mark of strength.

Now mostly asleep, Ardeth saw the woman who was speaking.  Strangely enough, though her voice was different, she looked like his mother.  She said, Take the first step.  Reach out again to Celia.  She has the same fears you do, sweet boy.  Fear that she isn't good enough, but you can heal each other.  You may take your time.  But when you awaken, my dearest child, take the first step.  It will be the first of many.

"First of many," he whispered, his eyes now totally closed.  From what seemed like a great distance, he heard Jonathan whispering him to sleep well, then he was being covered up.  A gentle hand rested on his shoulder, and Jonathan added that he would check on Evy, Anatol, Miranda and Alex.  Ardeth was to simply rest.  That was all.  Just rest.  And Ardeth was too tired to resist, so he floated away into dreams of his past, when his brother was still alive and he had not the nightmares which even now tormented him.




.                       .                         .




Jonathan Carnahan closed the door behind him, allowing Ardeth to sleep in peace.  It was little wonder the poor fellow was so tired. . .while Jonathan hadn't been awake at the time, he had heard about Ardeth's nightmares, and falling out of bed, so to speak.  The embarrassment that alone would have caused the Ardeth Bey he remembered from their first meeting to have. . .well, he didn't imagine that fiery young man to have reacted well.

Well now, that was strange.  For him to think that about Ardeth, when he was still young.  Jonathan frowned thoughtfully.  He was what. . .eight, nine years younger than Jonathan?  And yet, it often seemed to the Englishman that the chieftain was older, somehow.  Jonathan didn't hold any illusions about himself.  He was a wastrel, and a coward.  He wasn't nearly as courageous as Ardeth, as determined as Evy, or as nervy as his brother-in-law.

But you saved Ardeth's life at Ahm Shere.  There is more to you, if you would give yourself the chance and stop hiding, came an unfamiliar voice.  For some strange reason, the woman's voice reminded him of his late stepmother, the woman who had gifted him with Evy.  That alone addled his brain for a moment, then he thought about what she had said.  And the implications.  The woman added, And you must not be afraid of responsibility, Jonathan. You speak of the responsibility which Ardeth carries, by being strong and courageous.

Well, yes, there was that.  Certain things were expected of Ardeth, by his people.  And, Jonathan realized, by Rick himself, because of Ardeth's bravery, his determination, his strength.  It was so much easier, being a wastrel rather than a hero.  And to Jonathan, that was exactly what Ardeth Bey was.  A hero.  But as a coward, a wastrel. . .nothing was expected of Jonathan.  There was a comfort in that. . .and pain.

A burden is lessened when many share it, Jonathan.  You know this.  Think back.  Had Imhotep not taken your sister, would you and Rick O'Connell have aided Ardeth? the voice asked.  No.  They would not have.  O'Connell had determined to leave Egypt.  Evy. . .Evy might have stayed, and faced the consequences of what she had done.  She would have likely lost her life.  As Ardeth would have.  The voice said softly, Just so.  Ardeth would have never survived, had he faced Imhotep alone.  Sharing a burden, Jonathan.

"I am afraid," Jonathan whispered into the silence.  It wasn't that he didn't want to help.  In his heart of hearts, Ardeth was as important to the Englishman as Jonathan's own sister.  But he was afraid.  So afraid.  Of being wrong. . .of disappointing people.  He had been doing that his entire life.  Now, he was afraid of disappointing others, not because of the expression in Evy's eyes. . .but because it seemed likely that letting someone down would cost them their lives.

I know you are afraid, Jonathan, the voice said gently, just as I know that Ardeth is afraid.  Afraid to give his heart.  Afraid he will fail his people, just as you are afraid of failing your sister.  The question is not, are you afraid. . .but will you allow your fear to rule you? Jonathan looked back at the closed door, where Ardeth now rested.  Afraid.  Ardeth.  Somehow, the image just didn't want to form.

The woman continued, It is true, Jonathan.  I was with him at Ahm Shere, as you and yours struggled to defeat the Scorpion King.  I felt his fear. . .terror, even.  He was afraid, just as you are.  Afraid that he would disgrace his people.  But he stood and fought.  That is true courage, my dear Nassor. . .not the absence of fear.  Nassor.  She had called him 'Nassor.'  Why?  The voice sighed, Because, in my lifetime, that was your name.  You know this, Jonathan, I've seen it in your dreams.

That statement alone should have made him very afraid. . .that this woman, this spirit could see his dreams.  But he wasn't afraid.  He said softly, "Yes, I do know.  What can I do, though?  What am I supposed to do?  And why is Ardeth so afraid to give his heart?"  There was another sigh, and the vaguest outline of a female could be seen.  He couldn't see her face, just long dark hair and a white tunic-dress like the sort he saw in representations of ancient Egypt.

Because he fears having his heart broken.  I realize that you and your brother-in-law often see him as simply stoic, with no feelings save anger, but there is far more to Ardeth Bey than that.  Something which his Med-jai understand.  They've known him all his life, after all.  Knew him before he had to put up that protective wall to shield himself.  And that's all it is, Jonathan. . .my child feels more than most realize, the voice replied.  Jonathan looked again at the door, and the voice said gently, Celia is checking on her daughter. . .and your brother-in-law is seeing to his son.  You may stay with him, if you wish.

"Don't be silly, he's a grown man, not a little boy, he. . ." Jonathan began.  But then, his voice failed him.  He needs me to watch his back.  The features were still obscure, but Jonathan could tell that the woman was smiling.  Jonathan whispered, "This isn't just about today, is it?  Something's coming. . .and you want. . .and you need me to watch over Ardeth.  This has to do with Celia's brother."

The figure inclined her head.  Jonathan continued, his voice rising ever so slightly in desperation, "But why me?  Why not Rick?  Ardeth is his best friend, after all. . .Rick should be the one watching Ardeth's back, not me!  He'll do a much better job of it!"  Now the woman looked at him sadly, and Jonathan realized that he had done it again.  He had spent his life time disappointing people, and he was still doing it.

If I thought I could trust Rick O'Connell to take care of my child, I would do it.  I cannot.  Mark my words, he is a good man.  Better than he realizes.  But before he would look after my child, he would behave like a petulant child and declare that Ardeth's life or death is not his concern.  I want someone who will not waste my time and his breath, someone to look after my child.  This task will take but a short time, Jonathan, the woman replied.

It was on the tip of Jonathan's tongue, to say that Rick wouldn't do or say any such thing, but he knew his brother-in-law better than that.  This woman had the right of it.  She added gently, And you know Rick will protect your sister, and the boy Alex.  You know that.  All I am asking is for you to protect my child, until he can find the missing piece of his own heart.  Or rather, until he is willing to open his heart.  Can you do that for me, old friend?

Old friend.  Once before, she had called him 'Nassor.'  She had known him, then, in his previous incarnations.  Jonathan whispered, "You called me your old friend, and my name in the past.  You knew me, then?"  The apparition nodded, and though Jonathan still couldn't make out her features, he sensed that she wore a grave expression.  The Englishman continued, swallowing hard, "Was I. . .was I brave, like Ardeth?"

You were one of the bravest men I ever knew.  And we have fought side by side, in so many lifetimes since then.  To put it properly, there has never been an occasion when we did not fight side by side, in protection of someone whom we both loved so much.  Oh, Jonathan, do you not see?  My child had the right of it, when he said that things had been preordained thousands of years ago.  Do you remember that?  On the flying apparatus? the woman asked.  Jonathan nodded numbly.  He did, indeed, remember Ardeth's assertion once Evy remembered her past as Nefertiri.  The woman continued, He was right. . .including Imhotep's risings.  The hom-dai was a terrible mistake, a flawed curse doomed to fail.

"Are you telling me that the Med-jai were never supposed to succeed forever?  Then why cast the hom-dai in the first place?" Jonathan demanded.  He heard a groan on the other side of the door, then mumbling in Arabic.  Wait a minute. . .that wasn't Arabic.  Rusty as he was, he could still recognized ancient Egyptian.  Ardeth was speaking ancient Egyptian in his sleep?  A chill ran down the spine of the Englishman as he pondered the meaning of this.  He looked back at the woman, who was visible, though only for a moment.

Yes.  That is exactly what I am saying.  Jonathan, you must listen to me.  You must clear your mind and accept what you see and hear.  Ardeth will have need of you, and you will not be able to help him if you continue to deny what you see and hear, the woman replied.  Even as he heard the words, Jonathan blocked them out, for he recognized the woman in that split second he saw her. . .and at the same time, he realized whom Ardeth had to be.

"No," Jonathan replied, his voice shaking, "No, I don't believe you!  Ardeth is nothing like him!  It can't be!"  The woman merely regarded him, grief shining in her eyes, and Jonathan continued, "I will watch his back, and I will take care of him, but I will not accept that a man like Ardeth Bey was a homicidal maniac.  I will not accept that!  He's a good man, a better man than I could ever hope to be!"

The apparition sighed and answered, Then you are doomed to failure, Jonathan.  Nevertheless, I will continue to look after you, as I always have.  Search your memories, Nassor.  You know whom I am.  Just as you know whose memories my child carries.  And should you falter, in your protection of my child. . .I shall step in.  If I am allowed to do so.  You see, I must also watch over my reincarnation.

"How. . .how is that possible?  If Celia. . .I'm guessing Celia is your reincarnation at least, but if she is your reincarnation, then you shouldn't even be here," Jonathan replied.  The form of the woman solidified with his words, and for the first time in three thousand years, he found himself face to face with Lady Ardath.  She smiled faintly, looping a dark curl behind one ear, in a mannerism which was so uniquely her own, it took Jonathan's breath away.

She is indeed my reincarnation.  So she carries my memories, and my spirit with her.  However, her soul is her own, because she is shaped by her experiences, just as I was shaped by my own.  Cecelia Ferguson is her own person.  Just as your sister is the reincarnation of Princess Nefertiri, but she is also Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell.  Her own person.  I can look after Celia, and after all of you, because our spirits are the same, but not our souls, came the answer.

Those words had the effect of unlocking the rest of Jonathan's memories of being Nassor, and shattering the illusion which he had created to protect himself.  He looked over his shoulder at the room behind him, almost despairingly, and asked, "And that is how it is possible for Ardeth to be Rameses reborn?  Ardeth has his memories, which have yet to be awakened, and his spirit.  But not his soul?"

Just so, Ardath replied, nodding, but his memories remain hidden from him, Nassor, because the gods fear he is not yet ready to see his past.  My child is a strong man, old friend, you know that as well as I do.  But he takes responsibility upon himself, responsibility that is not his to take.  How then, do you think, he would react to knowing he was Rameses in his previous life. . .knowing, as he does, of the mistakes which my love made?

Well, when she put it like that. . .  Still, Jonathan resisted what he was hearing.  And he couldn't help feeling a little angry with the gods.  Rather foolish, of course, but Jonathan was still on the impulsive side.  And his companion wasn't finished with him.

Lady Ardath took another step forward, her hazel eyes now clear as daylight as she continued almost pleadingly, Think, Jonathan.  You, of all people, know how seriously Ardeth takes his responsibilities and duties as the Med-jai chieftain.  You of all people know how deeply it wounded him when he was unable to prevent Imhotep from rising!  The gods know how often you've made him the point of your jests because of that.

Jonathan started to protest, but stopped.  She was right.  He and Rick both made light of Ardeth's commitment to his people, as well as his struggles to protect Hamunaptra.  Jonathan didn't have much going for him, not like his brother-in-law, but he was honest with himself.  He met the direct gaze of his ghostly companion and nodded his acknowledgment.  But for the first time, he found himself able to think about things from Ardeth's point of view.

Seeming encouraged by this, Lady Ardath stepped forward, asking softly, Might I touch you?  I promise, no harm will come to you.  But with my touch, you can hear and see things from the eyes of my child.  And you will understand him, Jonathan, better than you ever have. Jonathan nodded, swallowing hard, and Ardath put her hand on his wrist.  He gasped, feeling the shame and fury within Ardeth's soul as Imhotep was unearthed a second time.

The anxiety and frustration as he left Egypt for England. . .the anxiety which intensified when he got to London and realized the O'Connells were once more involved.  His fear that he would be too late to save them.  And then the fight, fighting back to back with Evy.  Losing his balance, and the blows which followed during his fight with the man who had kidnapped Alex.  The pain in his shoulder as his flesh was sliced open. . .the confrontation with Rick outside.

Jonathan closed his eyes as vertigo swept over him, but the sensations and memories were there, nonetheless.  And for the first time since his sister's kidnapping, Jonathan understood why Ardeth hadn't fought back.  He blamed himself.  He had allowed Rick to manhandle him and shove him about because he felt he deserved it, for failing to protect Evy.  Waves of guilt and frustration swamped over him.

"But it wasn't his fault," Jonathan whispered as he slowly returned to himself.  Ardath was now standing only inches from him.  He focused on her, repeating, "It wasn't his fault.  There were so many of them, and only one of him.  How can he blame himself for my sister being taken?"  As soon as the words were out, though, he knew the answer to that question.  Because that was whom Ardeth Bey was.

Yes.  And that is why he needs you, Jonathan.  O'Connell is still denying what is true; he is still running away, regardless of what he tells my child.  Please, Jonathan.  I am begging you.  Watch over Ardeth.  Celia will do the best she can, but until my Ardeth lets her into his heart, there is very little she can do, and she must protect her daughter as well.  Please?  In the name of the friendship Nassor once shared with Rameses? Lady Ardath asked.

In the name of the friendship Nassor had once shared with Rameses.  Jonathan stared at the young woman in front of him, as another rush of memories were prompted by those words.  She, alone, had ever known the truth about that particular subject.

Nassor had become drunk one night, and confronted Ardath.  Had told her what he would do to her, if she ever hurt Rameses.  Then he had collapsed, and didn't wake up until the following morning, with the mother of all headaches, and Ardath taking care of him.  She swore that she would never speak of their conversation with anyone, not even Anck-su-namun, and everyone in the palace knew that the Theban concubine was her best friend.

She had kept that promise, and now, she asked Jonathan's aid.  A part of him demanded that he flee from her at that very moment.  After all, he was Jonathan Carnahan.  He wasn't Rick O'Connell, adventurer extraordinaire, or Ardeth Bey, resolute hero of the desert.  He was a wastrel and a gambler, a man who repeatedly failed his sister, though never when she needed him most.  He was the last person Ardath, concubine of Rameses, should be asking.

He was the only person she was asking.  If he denied her this request, she would not simply ask someone else.  She would do this herself.  And Nassor had loved this woman, once an understanding was reached between them.  Nassor, the man he had been once upon a time.  A great general, trusted by the pharaoh.  The pharaoh, the one person who had Nassor's complete and unwavering loyalty.  His love.

That answered that question then.  He looked at Ardath, squaring his shoulders.  He would do his best.  Maybe it wouldn't be good enough, but maybe it would.  It had been good enough in the oasis of Ahm Shere, when he saw that man put his pistol to the back of Ardeth's head.  It had been enough when he distracted Meela. . .or was it Anck-su-namun. . .while Alex resurrected Evy.  That part of him which was Nassor seemed to light up inside, and Jonathan understood.  Lady Ardath was asking nothing of him that was new.  Only to continue to care for those whom he loved.

"In the name of the love which Nassor held for Rameses, you have my word, my Lady Ardath.  I will take care of your namesake, until your reincarnation can do so.  Will that do?" Jonathan asked.  Lady Ardath nodded, her smile brightening the entire second floor.  Jonathan swallowed hard.  He had forgotten what her smile was like, and he whispered in his rusty ancient Egyptian, "Oh, my queen. . .how I have missed you."

Ardath's smile brightened further, and Jonathan gasped, realizing what he had said.  He also remembered that he. . .that Nassor, had, indeed, called Lady Ardath, 'my queen' during their lifetime.  She replied, I highly doubt, old friend, that you missed my pranks, or my habit of turning up where you least expected me. . . much less my temper.  There were times, Nassor, when you almost had a goblet thrown at you!

"That is not true. . .I have missed your pranks, most of all.  Though, I will admit, I do now miss your temper. . .not in the least.  Flying goblets were never my favorite things," Jonathan protested, smiling, still speaking in ancient Egyptian.  He continued, "I have missed your pranks. . .especially the pranks you and Anck-su-namun used to play on Nefertiri and Imhotep."  Anck-su-namun.  For the first time, Jonathan also remembered what she was like before Ardath's murder.  Before everything so terribly, horribly wrong, and she was a human being.  Jonathan asked softly in the same language, "What happened to her, Ardath?"

She sighed, answering, The same thing which happened to my love, Nassor.  The very same thing.  I forgave her, long ago. . .forgiving Imhotep is part of the reason I am here. Jonathan looked at her, and Ardath looked back, her eyes flashing with rage as she continued, I asked him to look after Rameses, after Khaldun took my life.  He promised that he would. . .he failed to keep that promise.  He was too interested in. . .other things.

.                       .                         .



"And that is why you cannot move on!  Because you cannot forgive Imhotep for breaking his promise. . .and that is why you speak as you do of the hom-dai.  So long as Imhotep remains in his limbo, you cannot forgive him, and there can be no closure.  But Ardath. . .my queen. . .what about. . .?" Jonathan asked.  He faltered, remembering Imhotep's suicidal plunge into the Underworld after Anck-su-namun abandoned him.

That is part of what is coming, old friend.  This threat, of which my Ardeth has spoken of, this new partner of Jason Ferguson. . .Imhotep plays a role in the coming battle.  My child saw the barest glimpses of what is to come, when he told your brother in law that events had been preordained thousands of years ago.  But small glimpses only. . .even I, in the afterlife, can only see so much, and I cannot tell you more than I have, Lady Ardath replied.

Jonathan nodded his understanding.  He whispered, "I have missed you, my queen. . .my sister."  A gentle smile lit her face, and a small, nearly transparent hand reached out to grasp his.  Jonathan continued, blinking back tears, "I never told you this, but I always suspected Imhotep dismissed you because he was jealous.  Imhotep, Terumun, Nassor, and Rameses were always friends.  When Rameses met you. . .he didn't listen to Imhotep the way he did once.  And you were his rival for Anck-su-namun's love.  He was jealous of you, and hid that envy under contempt."

Ardath nodded, replying, I realized that, when I reached the Afterlife.  Do not look so shocked, Jonathan.  I was raised by the Israelites, and for that, they shall have my love for all eternity.  But in my soul, I was an Egyptian. . .and so, I spend my time in the Egyptian afterlife.  And in the time between the rebirths, Rameses and I are united, if only for a time.  You must understand, Jonathan, that time passes much differently there than here.  The three years between Ardeth's birth and Celia's is but a heartbeat in the Afterlife.

"Then. . .wait a minute.  You said the time between the rebirths, you were reunited, you were together.  What about all the lifetimes between?" Jonathan asked.  Ardath shook her head sadly, and Jonathan gasped, "But why?  Rameses. . .you were his whole world.  It doesn't make sense, as much as he loved you. . .it was his choice?"  This time, Ardath nodded and Jonathan sputtered for several moments, trying to articulate what he was thinking.  In the end, however, it was not necessary. . .not with his current companion.

Rameses has felt unworthy of me, these last three thousand years.  Something he finally acknowledged during one of our times together.  He has spent the last thirty centuries, trying to make up for what he became after my death.  Trying to make himself worthy of my love once more.  It is only now, as Ardeth Bey, that we have the chance to change his mind.  Part of it will be Ardeth's own responsibility, to accept the love of my reincarnation. . .and Celia will need to be strong enough to pick up the pieces when he does remember, Ardath replied.

Jonathan snickered and replied, "Well, old mum, after what I just saw. . .I scarcely think that will be a problem.  Celia may be quiet and reserved at first, but Rick got her angry just now."  A familiar, impish smile lit Ardath's face, one that Nassor recognized immediately.  The one she always wore when she was getting ready to pull a particularly impish prank on Imhotep or Nefertiri.  By the looks of it. . . probably Imhotep.

Yes, I did notice that, came the playful response, and if your brother-in-law does something so foolish a second time, I believe my reincarnation may just teach him a lesson in manners.  What was it that your sister said, Jonathan. . .the only thing that frightened her was his manners? Jonathan honestly wasn't sure, but that did sound like something Evy would have said when she first met Rick!

"What do you think she would do, my Lady. . .your reincarnation, I mean?" Jonathan asked.  Ardath cocked her head to one side, her hazel eyes growing thoughtful.  Each gesture, each motion, each smile, brought back more and more memories for the Englishman.  It was becoming very hard for him to find the line between his own memories and Nassor's.  Which was particularly strange, since they were so different.

I cannot speak for Celia. . .as I have told you, our experiences have been very different.  Therefore, our actions will be somewhat different.  However, if it were me. . .well, you remember what I did to Terumun when he tried to manhandle me, after Rameses was injured during battle, Ardath replied.  Jonathan just grinned at her, finding that memory without any trouble.  The young concubine continued, He, like Imhotep, probably thought that was Anck's idea.  But you'll notice, he never tried to do that again.

"Yes, well, anyone who spent much time in Seti's court quickly realized that only a fool would cross you. . .whether the retribution came from you, Anck-su-namun, or Rameses himself, it wasn't worth it!" Jonathan retorted and had the pleasure of hearing Ardath laugh.  Jonathan continued more seriously, "You do realize that anytime someone harmed you, Anck dealt with it first, before she would go to Rameses."

I know that she beat the man responsible for my miscarriage to death.  Everyone believed it was a drunken brawl which took his life, but after my own death, and I was reunited with my daughter, I learned that while Rameses and I wept together, Anck found the man and beat him to death.  Nassor, tell me true. . .am I responsible for what she did?  She caused much pain in my name, Ardath asked, looking anxious.

"Absolutely not!  You had nothing to do with the decisions she made. . .nor did you ask to beat that man to death.  She made her own choices, Ardath. . .she made them each time.  You spoke a moment ago, of Ardeth taking responsibility for things which he should not.  You are the same way, Ardath. . .it would seem that bloodline inherited that particular trait from both you and Rameses," Jonathan replied.

Ardath responded with a faint smile, saying, I suppose I knew it. . .I just needed to hear someone else say it.  I named my daughter, did you know that?

Jonathan swallowed hard, as Nassor's grief rose up in his throat.  He remembered the miscarriage.  Ardath had been five months pregnant with her and Rameses' first child at the time.  It was part of an assassination attempt against Seti.  The young concubine had attempted to warn her 'father-in-law,' and was thrown from the balcony by the conspirators.  The healers, including Imhotep, had been lucky to save Ardath's life. . .they could not save her unborn daughter.

Nassor hadn't known that Anck found out who was responsible, and killed him, but it didn't surprise him.  Anck's love for Ardath had verged on the obsessive.  Not obsessive, in that she wanted Ardath to herself. . .but obsessive in what she would do to anyone who caused harm to her sister.  But. . .to be fair, Anck only went over the edge, when Ardath could not defend herself.  Still. . .neither Nassor nor Jonathan were of a mind to be fair.

Nassor, because Imhotep's betrayal had been the final straw for his own friend Rameses, and Jonathan, because the cheap little whore had killed his sister.  Never mind that Evy came back to life. . .that wasn't the point.  In the moment he saw his baby sister crumple to the ground, Jonathan Carnahan's life had shattered with his heart.  Anck-su-namun had taken something very important from him. . .something he couldn't get back.

But Anck wasn't in front of either man right now. . .rather, it was Ardath, one of the few people whom Anck-su-namun had loved.  Someone whom Nassor had loved, just as much as Jonathan loved Evy.  And it was in Jonathan's voice that both men asked, "And what did you name your daughter, my queen?"  His instincts said that she chose a Hebrew name, though logic told him it would be Egyptian.

I named her 'Miriam,' after my foster mother. . .and for the bitter tears I cried when she was taken from us.  You should see her, Nassor.  She is so beautiful. . .she looks just like Rameses, Ardath answered.  Her face tilted, and she sighed, It is time for me to go, old friend.  I have stayed as long as I might.  But if you need me, you have but to call.  You need no spell or chant. . .I will feel when you need me, and I will come.

"It was. . .so good to see you again, my queen. . .my sister," Jonathan said.  Ardath smiled, and began to fade.  The area began to lose some of its warmth. . .the warmth which she had provided with her presence.  No. . .no, it wasn't her presence alone which had provided the warmth, but her love.  Her love for Rameses. . .and, it would seem, her love for Ardeth.  But that was the strange thing. . .he understood how she would love Ardeth, as he was the reincarnation of her love.  But why had she kept calling him 'her' child?

Jonathan looked over his shoulder at the closed door.  Ardeth.  He had sworn to his recently departed visitor that he would look after the stubborn chieftain.  Not the easiest job to undertake, as he and Evy had learned on the bus ride home in London.   They had to keep him still by rather underhanded means.  Not, of course, that Evy had minded using such underhanded tactics, when it was to help Ardeth.  However, it crossed his mind, ever so briefly, that she was gone. . .and what could she do to him, after all?  But that traitorous thought disappeared almost immediately.  He had given his word, and he hoped that still meant something.  Besides, after two encounters with Imhotep, he knew better than to ask what a dead person could do to him.

He rapped lightly on the door. . .when he received no answer, he hesitantly opened the door and entered the room.  The morning sunlight was streaming into the room, highlighting Ardeth's black hair.  The chieftain lay on his side, away from the intrusive light, but Jonathan knew he could roll over easily.  With that in mind, the Englishman made his way over to the windows, carefully pulling down the Venetian blinds.

Once the room was somewhat darker, and the sunlight wasn't in Ardeth's eyes if he rolled back over, Jonathan started to leave the room.  Ardeth's muffled, sleepy, "Shukran, my friend," halted him briefly.  Jonathan whispered, you are most welcome, my friend, then quietly slipped from the room.  He didn't entirely trust Nassor with Ardeth, and since Nassor was a part of him, then he couldn't trust himself.  Instead, he promised himself a check on Ardeth later.  For now, he wanted to see if his brother-in-law was still alive.

.                     .                         .

Rick O'Connell was alive, though he might not stay that way.  Not because Celia Ferguson had any intention of leaving him in a world of hurt, but because his wife was seriously annoyed with him.  Honestly, hadn't Rick learned anything in the last seven years!  Manhandling a woman already on shaky ground, emotionally speaking, was not a wise idea.  There were times when Evy really had to wonder about her husband.

It didn't help that Evy's own emotions were out of control, by virtue of her pregnancy.  Alex had come over to sit with her, after Celia excused herself, and together, they watched Anatol and Miranda.  Or rather, watched Anatol teaching the little girl in a way that wouldn't result in serious injury to the little girl.  Evy could tell, from the expression on the young Med-jai's face, that this was proving to be much more difficult than he originally thought.

So, it was with more than a little relief that Celia reappeared when she did, and Anatol called a break.  Alex took both Anatol and Miranda inside for refreshment, and Evy noticed immediately that Celia seemed terribly upset.  She pulled herself to her feet and walked over to her new friend, asking softly, "What is it, Celia. . .did Ardeth do something?"  It wasn't a lack of faith on her part, but Ardeth was a man, and most men did things without thinking.

"It wasn't Ardeth. . .it was me.  I hurt Ardeth," Celia acknowledged, looking very shaken.  Evy raised her eyebrows questioningly.  How exactly was that possible?  Ardeth was almost a foot taller than Celia, and Evy had no idea by how much he outweighed her friend.  Celia added, her voice dropping, "He startled me. . .and I. . . well. . .I kneed him."

Evy blinked, trying to sort that out in her mind.  The other young woman turned bright red with embarrassment and leaned closer, whispering, "You know?  Getting a man where it counts."  Get. . .oh.  OH!  Evy looked at Celia in astonishment, and again, the other woman blushed.  She whispered, "He startled me. . .I was thinking about...something else.  He touched my shoulder, and I jumped.  And then. . .I. . . oh, are you really gonna make me say it?"

Evy put her hands on the American woman's shoulders, giving a gentle little squeeze as she comforted, "No, not at all.  I'm sure he's not angry with you. . ."  Celia shook her head, and Evy had a feeling that made her feel even worse.  Evy shifted slightly, to put her arm around Celia's shoulders, and led her back to the tree where they had been sitting before Celia excused herself to go into the house.

"No, he's not, and that makes it worse.  He blames himself, for startling me.  And then I yelled at your husband," Celia added as they sat down.  Evy's eyebrows climbed right into her hairline at that.  Celia gave a little shrug, saying, "I don't usually do things like that.  I'm not a lady, that's not been disputed for some time, but I still don't go around snapping at people I just met.  Not even when I'm really angry with them."

"What exactly did Rick do?" Evy asked diplomatically.  As Celia said, it wasn't like her to yell at someone, only a day after she had met that person.  Moreover, Evy knew how. . .abrasive her husband could be on occasion.  She remembered telling him at the entrance to Magic Carpet Airways that he had no subtlety. . .and he didn't.  That didn't make her love him any less, of course, but it was a fact of his nature.

Celia outlined what happened first in the hallway, after Jonathan and Rick came back to help Ardeth, then what happened inside the bedroom Evy shared with Rick.  Evy cringed, especially at Rick's attempt to forcibly drag Celia out of the room.  She had understood it, in England when first she was taken, then Alex.  But there was no immediate threat to this family, and no reason for Rick to behave like such a Neanderthal.

Celia finished the story, looking somewhat miserable.  Evy gently patted her hand, replying, "Now you listen to me, Cecelia Ferguson.  You've done nothing wrong, absolutely nothing, do you understand me?  So you raised your voice to my husband. . .bully for you!  There are times when Rick needs a swift kick in the pants, and this most assuredly was one of those times.  He behaved quite abysmally, toward both you and Ardeth."

This time, it was Celia's eyebrows which shot into her hairline.  The young woman asked slowly, "So. . .you aren't angry with me?  I mean, he is your husband, after all."  Evy gently patted her hand again, trying to figure out how to say what needed to be said.  It wasn't such an easy thing, not without Evy herself putting her foot in her mouth all the way up to her hip.  And it wasn't that she didn't appreciate Celia's consideration, but. . .

But some things, a wife couldn't do.  It was Rick's way to brush off things at times, and Evy knew that if Celia took him to task for something, then Rick would probably have a better chance of remembering that.

After a moment, Evy looked at her friend and said softly, "If my husband does or say something to offend you. . .like he did upstairs, and I don't blame you at all for being offended. . .then you should be the one to tell him.  He's my husband, dear girl, not my son.  I love him desperately, but he can be quite rude when he has no reason to be.  Just as, as much as I love Ardeth as my own brother, he can be overwhelming."

A faint smile touched the corners of Celia's mouth at that as she replied, "Trust me, he wasn't at all overwhelming a few minutes ago, when he could barely walk.  But I take your point.  I'm not homing in on your territory, then?"  Evy shook her head vehemently.  Not at all.  In fact, in a houseful of men, she needed all the help she could get to keep her men in line.  All four of them, and she told her friend that.

"Listen to me, dear friend. . .I am one woman, living in a house of men.  I will take any and all help I can get.  You and Miranda would be welcome for that reason alone.  So if my husband offends you, then please. . .call him on it.  Same with my brother. . .the one I was born with, and the one I discovered seven years ago.  I will ask you to leave discipline of my son to me, but the other three?  Your help would be most welcome," Evy replied.

Celia smiled a bit shyly, and Evy decided now was the time to make one other request of her friend.  She said slowly, all too aware that there were times when she was just as clumsy with her words as her feet had been once, "Celia. . .I know that you lost your job in Chicago.  So, I was wondering. . .how would you feel about staying in Egypt for the next few months?  I'll need help as my pregnancy progresses."

Celia frowned, as she wasn't entirely sure what Evy meant, and the Englishwoman continued, feeling a bit like she was blundering along, "What I mean is. . .my mother died when I was rather young, and I've never really been pregnant. . ." Oh, that was a stupid thing to say, Evelyn!  The young woman shook off her self-disgust and went on, "I don't know what to expect, since this is my first pregnancy, and I do need an ally."

Celia's frown disappeared, along with her confusion, and she replied, "And you'd like someone around who has been through it, knows what to expect, and when to step in, if the boys get overprotective, is that it?"  Evy nodded, relieved that Celia understood exactly what she was asking.  She would need help in the months ahead. . .not just to make sure she didn't overdo it, but to make sure the boys. . . especially Rick and Alex. . .didn't smother her.

"Well. . .like you said. . .I don't have a job to return to in Chicago.  Truth is, Evy, there's nothing really left for me there.  So. . .we'll see how it goes.  If Miranda seems to take to Egypt fairly well, then I'll stay as long as you need me," Celia replied.  Evy hugged her friend impulsively, as that had been more or less what she was hoping Celia would say.  The American returned the embrace, then laughed at something over Evy's shoulder.

The Englishwoman pulled back and Celia remarked, her hazel eyes dancing with barely suppressed laughter, "Although, somehow, I don't think Miranda would have much of a problem with staying here in Egypt." 

Evy looked over her shoulder, to find Miranda and Alex pulling Anatol back outside, Miranda obviously asking the young Med-jai for more lessons.  The young women looked at each other, then burst out laughing.  Anatol shot them a Look, but since Evy had been on the receiving end of far worse Looks from his older brother, it had no effect on her.  On Celia, either, and Anatol's expression changed from stormy to pleading.

"What do you think, Evy. . .should we go rescue young Master Anatol from the terrible toddlers?" Celia asked, her eyes twinkling with laughter.  Evy opted not to remind her friend that at eight, Alex was hardly a toddler, because, of course, that wasn't the point.  The point, rather, was the pleading look on Anatol's face as they dragged him to the practice area.  She was sure she would never see an expression like that on Ardeth's face.

Which is why she looked back at her friend, and said at the exact moment that Celia shook her head, "Not at all!  We'll just let him suffer!"  Celia laughed and nodded her agreement.  The pleading look changed to one that warned both young women that they would pay for this perfidy.  But Evy just laughed harder.  Life had taught her that things rarely stayed this simple and it was best to enjoy yourself when these times passed through your life.  You just never knew what would happen next.

.                     .                         .

Leaving the Afterlife for the mortal world, even as a spirit, was exhausting.  However, in the three thousand mortal years since her death, Lady Ardath, once known as Eavan, had never before asked to travel to the mortal world.  And because of that, she had little trouble convincing the gods that she should go.  They had wiped the memory of Rameses clean, in no small part because they were tired of him denying himself forgiveness and love.

However, the absence of those memories also left his current reincarnation Ardeth vulnerable, and it was for that reason that Ardath had been permitted to seek out the incarnation of her old friend Nassor.  There was another reason.  Though Imhotep had cast himself into the Underworld, after the betrayal of Anck-su-namun, there were those who would see to it that he did not remain there.  Even now, thousands of miles away, an innocent man was being murdered, because of his close resemblance to Imhotep.  A vessel for Imhotep to rise once more.

She had not been permitted to tell Jonathan of that.  It would do no good.  The Med-jai had not failed. . .Imhotep would rise this time because of something totally beyond their control.  And even after three thousand mortal years, it continued to disgust Ardath that the hom-dai had even been cast.

She hated Imhotep for what he had done.  For failing to honor his promise to look after Rameses, and everything else he had done in the five years after her death.  But she also hated Hamadi Bey, for condemning her son and so many other innocent children.  She hated him for condemning a people she had loved from her first meeting with them, right along with Imhotep himself.  Imhotep didn't deserve to live. . .and the Med-jai didn't deserve to be his guardians.

She still couldn't come to a conclusion about how she felt about Anck-su-namun.  She still loved her forever friend. . .that was never in doubt.  But the things she had done. . .oh, the things she had done!  Both as Anck and as Meela!  The knowledge of what her friend had done tore out Ardath's heart all over again.  Not only that knowledge, but also the knowledge that Ardath's own death had prompted Anck's. . . disintegration.

"That is not your fault, my daughter," a familiar voice said.  Ardath looked up as Hathor glided over to her, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder.  The goddess continued, "Anck-su-namun made her decision. . .a decision which had nothing to do with you."  Ardath sighed deeply.  The goddess was right, she knew that. . .but. . .  Hathor, however, would have none of that.  She put both hands on Ardath's shoulders, gently pulling her around to face her, and said, "It was not your choice to make, daughter. . .only Anck's.  Only Imhotep's."

"She is still my sister, still my forever friend," Ardath answered, looking down at the mortals.  Hathor did not release the young concubine.  Rather, she tightened her hands on Ardath's shoulders and said nothing.  Ardath looked back at Hathor, saying softly, "She is still the same girl who shared her secrets with me. . .and kept my secrets safe.  Because you know of the things she did to those who harmed me."

"As did the Med-jai. . .but none ever confronted her about it.  She spared them the trouble of meting out justice to the wrongdoers.  Perhaps that was a poor choice on their part. . .not confronting her, for it led her to believe she could always fool them," Hathor observed softly.  Ardath nodded.  She knew of what her goddess spoke, and the goddess continued, "Mortals make poor choices, my daughter.  But I do not believe that Anck is beyond hope, for even now, she loves you. . .and watches over your reincarnation."

That got Ardath's attention.  She looked at her goddess in surprise, and Hathor continued, "I speak the truth, daughter.  From a place in between, a place that few know of, Anck-su-namun watches over your reincarnation, over Celia Ferguson. . .in part because she does not trust Ardeth Bey to do so."  Ardath grimaced.  That sounded about right.  She looked at the mortals, then at her namesake, still sleeping.

She looked at the tattoos which proudly told of his heritage.  The Med-jai.  How Anck had hated them, even before she became the Pharaoh's concubine, mocking them even as they protected her.  At the same time Ardath herself honored them, for their duty and because they reminded her strongly of her birth father.  While she didn't remember her birth name, at that time, she did remember her birth parents.  Her father had been a Pictish warrior who was banished for marrying an Irish woman, her mother.  And from her mother, Ardath had inherited her light complexion and hazel eyes.

The Picts were called the Painted Ones by invaders, for the tattoos that covered their bodies.  They were more heavily tattooed than the Med-jai, but with the dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin of the Picts, the Med-jai still reminded her of her father's people before he left Caledonia with her and her mother when Ardath. . .or Eavan. . . was but three years of age.  There were few things about that time which Ardath remembered clearly, but she remembered her father's voice, his face. . .just as she remembered her mother's face and voice.

She also remembered the shipwreck which placed them in Egyptian territory, though nothing more until the Israelite slaves found the four year old orphan sitting in a field of flowers, crying.  She didn't remember her name or how she got there, and so she was renamed.  Ardath, the name she had carried into eternity.  Sometimes, when she thought about it, Ardath found it amusing.  She had been born in Caledonia. . .in Scotland. . .of a Pictish father and an Irish mother.

She had been raised by Israelite slaves, and chosen as a concubine for the Egyptian prince.  Her blood was Pict and Irish, but her heart was Egyptian. . .and in the Egyptian afterlife, she spent eternity.  Hathor said softly, "And you are free to go to the Elysian Fields, to Valhalla or to Tir Na Og, my sweet girl, if you so wish it.  You need not separate yourself from your parents."  Ardath looked back at her goddess, smiling faintly.

"Perhaps once this has been settled.  They need help, my goddess.  I did not tell them of the danger coming from the North, by the remaining men of Lock-nah.  They do not know a man has lost his life, to bring Imhotep back into the world.  But they will need me, when the final battle comes.  Evil will try to cheat, as it always does, and I will make sure the balance is kept," Ardath replied.  Hathor removed her hands from Ardath's shoulders, to lightly brush her dark hair back from her face, before cupping her chin.

"No, my child. . .we will keep that balance.  I know of what you speak, and know that your bloodline will not be broken any more than it already has been.  You have my word on that, Ardath," Hathor replied firmly.  The young concubine smiled faintly and Hathor drew her into her arms fiercely, whispering, "Your reincarnation is not mine. . . she belongs to Isis.  But know that Isis will not stand by and allow her child to come to harm."

"I do know that, my goddess," Ardath whispered, "I do know that."  She felt the goddess tightening her arms around her, just as Ardath's second foster mother, Jael, had on the night before Ardath was given to Rameses as a concubine.  Ardath whispered against Hathor's neck as her goddess tried to comfort her, "And what of Anck-su-namun, my goddess?  What will become of her, since she has not yet been judged?" 

It would have been logical, then, to assume that Ardath did not care for her reincarnation.  Logical. . .but erroneous.  Her fear for Anck-su-namun was much stronger. . .as strong as her faith in her reincarnation.  Celia, though seemingly meek, was much stronger than Anck had ever been, and whatever happened, the young woman would survive the trials which faced her.  She would be fine, especially with Ardeth's protection.  Ardath had faith that her reincarnation would finally put things right, for the first time in three thousand years.  And her namesake would prove, once and for all, that the mistakes of Rameses were just that.

Anck, on the other hand, troubled the concubine deeply.  Anck had never been strong, not like Celia was.  Hathor said softly, "Do not fear for her, child.  Anck-su-namun will have her chance for redemption, this I can promise you."  Ardath sighed deeply, trusting her goddess and exhausted more than she could ever remember being in her life.  Her journey to speak with Nassor had taken more energy than she normally used.

Hathor knew this. . .she gently kissed the top of Ardath's head, then pulled away from the concubine.  She kept one arm around Ardath, saying softly, "Come, sweet girl, you must rest now.  Jonathan Carnahan is many things, but he has an honor all his own.  He will watch over young Ardeth.  Now, dear one, you must rest.  Rest, and have faith in the mortals, because in the end, they are the only ones who can do what must be done."