Just a Phase



(Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. I am just temporarily, shamelessly and illegally borrowing them. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, so please don't sue me.)



He had money. Lots of money. Rick O'Connell had more money than he had ever dreamed of. More money than he knew what to do with. He could pay off all of his old debts and live a free man. He could create a whole new life for himself—do anything he wanted, go anywhere he wanted. The problem was the only place he wanted to be was within arm's reach of Miss. Evelyn Carnahan. It was more of an obsession than a problem, really. And it seemed to be reciprocated. So what was the problem? The problem was Evelyn was a "nice" girl. Rick had never spent much time with one of them before and wasn't entirely sure how to deal with her.

There were things you just couldn't do with nice girls; things that Rick wanted very badly to do with Evelyn. Not doing those things was something he had never had to do with the kind of girls he had experience with. He had dealt with this problem by regressing into the demeanor of a fourteen- year-old boy whenever he was around her. He never called on her without bringing a gift—either flowers or candy. He become tongue-tied around her and tended to blush a lot. So far, she responded well to such behavior, so there really was no problem at all. Tonight he was bringing two gifts: a bunch of flowers and a tiny box with a diamond ring in it. If he could get the words out, Rick was going to ask Evelyn to marry him.



~*~*~*~*~*~*~



"No! No! Get out of here with that thing!" cried Evelyn. "That is disgusting!"

Cleo, her white cat, had brought her another mouse. It was the third today. Satisfied that her gift had been received and appreciated, Cleo leapt out the window to fetch another.

"No! Don't leave that thing in here!" called Evelyn. No use. The cat was gone and a wet, dead mouse lay at her feet.

"Salla…" The Egyptian maid was missing. She had been completely useless today anyway. She brought Evelyn's tea cold this morning and the toast was burnt around the edges. When they went shopping that afternoon, Salla had been very uncooperative when Evelyn had needed her to help argue with the proprietor of the dress shop who was clearly insane if he thought that he could bamboozle an Englishwoman by charging linen prices for what was obviously a cotton – an inferior grade of cotton at that – skirt.

"Jonathan…" He wasn't here—probably out trying to spend all of his money, the fool. Jonathan had not had the decency to wait for her to join him for lunch today even though she was only half an hour late and the lamb kebabs were appallingly underdone when they arrived.

And now this damned dead mouse was on her carpet. Evelyn took a pair of ice tongs – what use did she have of ice tongs in this fort where the help couldn't even make a hot cup of tea? – And gingerly picked the mouse up by its tail. It wasn't dead. The mouse wriggled, Evy squealed and flung it toward the window. It smacked against the wall with a sickening splat, stuck there for a moment then fell to the floor. Now it was dead.

"Ooooooooh," Evelyn huffed. She stalked over to the mouse, picked it up again with the tongs and flung it out the window… tongs included. She looked out the window just in time to see a small boy pick the tongs up and run away with them. "You there!" she called. "Bring those back this instant!" He didn't obey. He didn't even laugh. He just ran away.

Evelyn slammed the window shutters closed. "See if you get another mouse in here, you horrible cat," she muttered.

It was getting late and Rick would be here soon. He was taking her out for dinner and dancing for the third time this week. Dancing. That meant he would touch her, hold her. She liked that, but today she felt fat. That is why she had wanted to buy a new outfit this afternoon. Nothing seemed to fit this morning and she wanted to look and feel pretty tonight. Rick would stare at her so intently with those blue eyes that she felt he was looking directly into her soul. Sometimes she felt as if she would disappear into a cloud when he looked at her like that. Other times she felt he would see every flaw and run screaming away, never to come back. That is how she felt right now. Maybe she should just cancel tonight. No. If she did, he might think she didn't like him and not come back. That thought was unbearable. She had to go. She had to look good. Evelyn went into her closet and began a frantic search for something to wear.



~*~*~*~*~*~



Rick stopped at the fort's bar for a drink to fortify himself before going to Evelyn's quarters. He ordered a whiskey. When it arrived the thought occurred to him that being a nice girl, Evelyn might not like it if he smelled like liquor. He hesitated. No. He had seen her down nearly half a bottle of Glen Livet a week ago in Hamunaptra. He downed the shot and smiled at the memory. Evelyn was a happy drunk. She'd almost kissed him that night. They had done a fair amount of kissing in the past few days, and he expected more tonight. But as she was a nice girl, that would be all. A nice girl. Was he really involved with a nice girl? Apparently so. Since Evelyn was a nice girl there would nothing much more than kissing, at least until their wedding night. The sooner he asked her the sooner that night would arrive. He paid for his drink and left the bar.



~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She was a cow. An absolute cow. Evelyn sneered at herself in the mirror and turned, trying to figure out from which angle she looked less bovine. There wasn't one. She had had to dig in the back of her closet for her fat dress. At least it was comfortable.

And her hair—horrid. She was usually proud of her thick, curly hair but tonight she could not get it to cooperate at all. Loose, it looked like she'd been caught in a windstorm. She tried a bun but there were so many frizzies that hung out that from a distance it looked as if she had a cloud of gnats swarming about her. For a few minutes Evelyn though about cutting it all off into a bob. That was how many fashionable women wore their hair these days. She'd even taken out her scissors and poised to cut… but that would be like cutting off an arm or a leg. And besides, Rick had mentioned liking her hair just as it was. She put the scissors away and settled for tying her hair back with a ribbon, but the ribbon was a couple of shades off from her dress and she knew it looked ridiculous. The pink ribbon did exactly match the spot that had popped up smack in the middle of her forehead, so she wasn't entirely uncoordinated.

She looked at the clock. It was a couple of minutes before seven. Rick was supposed to be here at seven. Yesterday he had been fifteen minutes late. How inconsiderate! She had things to do. Didn't he know that? Did he think that she just sat around looking pretty waiting for him to come around whenever he felt like it? She had a job, she had friends, she had interests other than looking pretty for some American who just strolled in fifteen minutes late and expected her to jump for joy.

"I can't go out looking like this," Evelyn said to herself in the mirror. She had fifteen minutes. She reached back and untied the ribbon. There was a knock at her door. The nerve! It wasn't seven yet! "Just a minute!" she called. Evelyn hastily tied the ribbon back—it came out lopsided. There was another knock. What a bother he was! "I said just a minute," she called again. There was no use. She looked like a cow anyway. What difference did a lopsided, unmatched ribbon make anyway?

She went to the door and opened it. Rick stood there with that stupid grin on his face and a bunch of weedy flowers.

"Hi," he said. "You look beautiful."

"I don't…" Evelyn protested.

"You do," Rick said. He held out the flowers. She didn't take them. Evelyn turned and stepped back into the room. She didn't invite him in but he followed anyway. "You look very beautiful tonight."

Evelyn stood with her back to him. "And what, exactly is that supposed to mean?" she asked.

Rick was perplexed. What had he said? "It means that you look beautiful tonight…"

She turned. "Tonight? You mean as opposed to some other night?"

"No… you look beautiful every night," he said, and hastily added, "And every day." Evelyn glared at him. Apparently he hadn't been hasty enough. Not knowing what else to do, Rick held the flowers out to her. "These are for you."

"You're lying," she declared.

"No," Rick said. "They really are for you."

Evelyn took the flowers and crossed the room to put them in a vase. "You're lying about me being beautiful every night and every day."

He wasn't. "I'm not," he protested. He had seen her in many different states the past few weeks including soaking wet, first thing in the morning and after a long camel ride through the desert and she had looked beautiful in every one of them.

Evelyn poured water from a pitcher into the flower vase. "Do you have any idea how much pressure it puts on a girl to look pretty all of the time? How much work it takes?" she asked him.

"No," he said. Something had gone terribly wrong and he had no idea what. "For a girl like you it shouldn't take much time at all…" he attempted.

"Really?" Evelyn turned around. The pitcher of water was still in her hand. "For a girl like me?"

This wasn't getting any better, Rick thought.

"And what exact kind of girl am I," Evelyn asked.

"One who's beautiful every night and every day," Rick grinned. "Even when she's angry."

She slammed the pitcher on the table. At least she didn't throw it. She'd thought about it, but remembered what had happened the last time she threw something at him. "Don't patronize me and don't try to weasel your way out of this with compliments," she refuted. "You come here, late one night, early the next, and expect me to be beautiful and don't care or even have any idea what it takes and how hard I try…"

"I can't believe you try very hard…" said Rick.

"What?"

"I mean I don't believe you have to try very hard."

Evelyn started to cry. "Well, I do. I do have to try and when I don't this is what I look like." She turned away and put her hands over her face.

Rick didn't know what to do. He walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She jerked away. "If this is as bad as you can look, then… bad is beautiful on you." He knew that hadn't made sense, and that he was going to pay for it.

"So you admit that I look bad?" Evelyn sniffed.

"No, I've seen you look a lot worse," Rick said and then winced. Why don't I just cut out my tongue? He thought.

"You horrible man!" Evelyn cried. "Go! Go away. I won't go out with you tonight. I won't go out with you any night!" She ran into her bedroom and slammed the doors shut.

Rick had no idea what had happened. The ring in its little box felt like a lead weight in his pocket. He could hear her crying inside her bedroom. He thought about knocking on her door but when he raised his fist to knock, her crying grew louder as if she knew he was going to. Maybe it wasn't a good idea after all. Maybe the ring wasn't a good idea either. Rick left Evelyn's quarters and headed back to the bar.

In her room, Evelyn heard the front door slam shut. What did he think he was doing? Had the man no sense of decency at all? Her bedroom door wasn't locked. He was supposed to force his way in, take her in his arms, comfort her, kiss away her tears and make wild, passionate love to her. Well, she would, of course, have to stop him, but he was supposed to try, anyway. Where was he going? She must really look awful tonight.



~*~*~*~*~*~*~



From his seat facing the doorway, Jonathan saw O'Connell enter the bar. The American had, as predicted, remained in Cairo since their return from Hamunaptra, and spent most of his time sniffing around Jonathan's baby sister. Jonathan sighed. He knew someone would notice her eventually. Evy was a pretty girl, though for a long time she hid it well, keeping her nose buried in books and dusty artifacts at the museum. Though she seemed bookish on the outside, Evy could be a real handful. Battling resurrected mummies was one thing; taking on a willful woman was another. This tall American chap seemed to have what it takes to handle both. O'Connell had proved that a week ago.

Rick took a seat next to Jonathan. He seemed upset. Jonathan offered him a drink. Rick just nodded. A terrible thought occurred. "You haven't been to see Evy, have you?" Jonathan asked.

"Is it that obvious?" Rick replied.

"Ah," said Jonathan. "I tried to find you to warn you this afternoon."

Rick threw back his drink. "Warn me about what?"

"It's the twelfth," said Jonathan.

"The twelfth what?" asked Rick. Did every Carnahan talk in riddles?

"The twelfth of the month, old man," Jonathan replied. "If you are going to spend time around my sister, you need to keep a calendar."

"Why?"

"Why? Why indeed," said Jonathan. "Do you know nothing about women?"

"They all go insane on the twelfth?" asked Rick.

"Not just the twelfth," Jonathan said. "Next month it will be around the ninth, after that the fifth…" Rick stared at him blankly. "They cycle, man. You don't know that? Just like the phases of the moon."

"Oh," said Rick. "Yes, of course, I know about that." In theory. Rick had spent a great deal of what he liked to think of as quality time with a fairly large number of women and he knew something of their anatomy and their inner workings. He had just not spent enough time with any particular woman to have experienced the monthly mood swings that were said to accompany them. So that was what was wrong with Evelyn. What a relief! Now that he knew what was wrong, he could fix it. "So, what should I do…?"

"Run," said Jonathan.

"What?"

"Run," he said. "Hide. Evy's here, she's coming this way. I'll cover for you."

Rick didn't need to be told twice. He ducked into the men's room.

Evelyn hadn't seen him. However, she has seen Jonathan and made a bee-line for him. Jonathan tossed back another drink as she approached. "Hello, baby sis.."

"Have you seen Rick?" she interrupted.

"No, I have not. Sit down. Have a drink."

"We were supposed to go out tonight." Evelyn smoothed back her hair. She looked a bit mussed up. "I think he's upset with me," she said, worried.

"Well, I'm sure he won't be for long…" offered Jonathan.

"He bloody well better not be since this whole thing is his fault," said Evelyn.

"I'm sure it was and I'll be sure to tell him that if I see him."

"Don't you dare!" she hissed. "You just stay out of this, Jonathan. If you do anything to mess things up…"

"Wouldn't dream of it. You are doing fine on your own."

"What do you mean?" asked Evelyn, horrified. "You lied to me! You did see him! He told you he hates me, didn't he?" She burst out crying and buried her face in her brother's shoulder.

Hardly a stranger to scenes with women in bars, Jonathan knew just what to do. He patted her back and said, "There, there. Nothing of the sort. I haven't seen him at all and I'm sure he doesn't hate you. Who could hate a lovely creature such as yourself? You wouldn't want him to see you like this, so why don't you go back to your room, have a nice cup of tea and a good nights sleep and things will be better in the morning."

Evelyn stood up and glared at her brother. "Oh, will it?" she said. "Really? Is that all it will take? A nice cup of tea and a night's sleep? Do you have any more pearls of wisdom for me, my dear, drunken brother?"

"Rick is in the men's room and will be out any minute," Jonathan replied.

Evelyn ran out the door and back to her quarters, this time locking the door.

Jonathan poured another drink for himself and one for Rick. Rick cautiously stuck his head out of the men's room. "All clear," called Jonathan.

"Thanks," said Rick. He took a seat next to Jonathan and picked up his glass. "When will it be safe?" he asked.

"Two days," answered Jonathan authoritatively. "Three at the most."

"Can I trust you with a secret?"

"You can trust me," said Jonathan.

Rick hesitated. "I'll tell you anyway," he said. Someone was going to see that ring tonight. He took out the tiny box, opened it and set it on the bar in front of Jonathan who choked on his drink.

"Is that what I think it is?" Jonathan asked.

"If you think it's an engagement ring for your sister, yes," replied Rick.

Jonathan was appalled. He stood up. "I say!" he said. "I say! You have an awful lot of nerve! You've only known my baby sister for a few weeks and you plan to give her that! What are your intentions, sir?"

Rick was surprised at Jonathan's reaction. "To marry your sister," he answered.

"You want to marry my sister?" sputtered Jonathan. "You were going to ask my sister, my baby sister, who you've only know for a few weeks, to marry you with out asking me for her hand first? What kind of barbarian are you? Have you no decency?"

Rick hadn't thought of that. Evelyn was a nice girl from a nice family. Of course he was supposed to ask the head of the family for permission to marry her. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking," he told Jonathan. "Jonathan Carnahan, may I have your permission to marry your sister?"

Jonathan sat back down but he wasn't going to be that easily appeased. "Well, I don't know," he said. "You seem like a decent fellow, but you are an American and well… what are your intentions for the future? What will you do? Where will you live?"

The future? Rick didn't know. He hadn't seriously planned anything further than the wedding night. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. "What I do know is that I love your sister and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. What we'll do we'll decide together. If she'll have me."

Jonathan knew it wasn't as if he had to worry that O'Connell was after the family money since the three of them had split the treasure from Hamunaptra and each had more than they could ever spend. He knew the American was sincere. He had risked his life to save Evy; he had fought a dozen resurrected mummies for her. He was a good man that would love and take care of her. "Alright," he said. "You may marry my sister—if she will have you. I warn you though—if you ever do anything to hurt her…

"I won't..." said Rick.

"If you do," continued Jonathan with all seriousness, "I have enough money to pay someone to do some very unpleasant things to you."

"I understand," said Rick. He offered Jonathan his hand. Jonathan took it and pulled Rick in for a quick embrace.

"I've always wanted a brother…" Jonathan said.

"Me too," said Rick. He stood up and put the ring box back in his pocket. "How do I look?"

"Fine," said Jonathan.

"Well," said Rick. "I think I'm going upstairs to get engaged…"

"Sit down, you fool," directed Jonathan. "Have you paid no attention to anything I've said? Wait until Tuesday, at least."

Rick sat back down.

"Bartender," called Jonathan. "Another bottle for my brother and me."