A/N ~~ Gee, what can I say about this? It's my first poke at angst and a vignette…I apologize if this sucks ahead of time. If you get confused at any time, just step away from the monitor and breath. ^_~
Excessive cursing…you've been warned!
Disclaimer ~~ I don't own Mummies Alive! or any of its characters. But if I did…muahahahahaha!
On to the fanfic!
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Anniversary
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Your head hurts.
Your head has hurt several times too many in the past. So you know that a headache doesn't hurt much. A part of you is sipping away from you, shredding away. You're unleashing something inside you, but it's more of a relief than pain.
Your head hurts.
Okay, so you should probably stop the room from spinning.
Which also means that you should sit up from the couch, and that requires actual moving of your body, muscles, and all that. And you don't want that right now.
Blink. Open your eyes. Coax yourself to maybe push your body up from the way too comfortable couch. Good. And why not go to the washroom? Wait. The Sphinx doesn't have a washroom. Oh crap. Just let it be then. Lying back, feeling the room spin and your head throb. Sore. There was something, there was something...You can't remember. Oh well. It'll come back if it wants to. If it doesn't, then you don't need to remember.
So. Throbbing.
Crap. Where is everyone? Oh, right. They left with the prince. You're supposed to be doing something. Can't think. Room is spinning. Note to self: ask Rath for remedy for hangovers.
Sit up then. Look for something to stop the throbbing. Anything. A wet bandage? Smelly, old, dirty. Charming. I guess it has to do.
Fresh. So the throbbing stops, at least temporarily. Good. What else now? That's right. I'm supposed to be doing something. Do you even want to, though, to do it? Just stay here then. Anyway, standing up and moving around might be a dangerous idea, seeing that all the broken glass pieces on the floor. It is usually thought to be a bad idea to hold a glass bottle too tightly, to the point it'd break, but you did just that, like a good little hunter you are. Wanted to know exactly how much you could drink without killing yourself. Again. Can you even die once your dead? Ouch. Head hurts again. Maybe it wasn't smart to hold it so tightly. Maybe it wasn't smart to drink that much. Nice. Workaholic and now alcoholic. Nice.
Maybe you should be sleeping in the sarcophagus. Staring at the ceiling for Raknowshowlong doesn't necessarily get classified as 'resting'. The sarcophagus isn't that far off. You don't want to go? Why not?
There was a reason, you just forgot what. Doesn't matter though. There must be a good reason why you can't just sleep right now, so you won't sleep. A few more hours and then the sunlight. Then the others will get here. Then you'll have to fight Scarab again. Maybe you will all go poof this time. Maybe Scarab's plan will actually work. Maybe you'll forget transform, so then you'll be defenseless. It'd be fun. Nefer-Tina. Nefer-Tina will tell you to get your ass in action. Right. Remember I have a responsibility to protect the prince. Yeah, tried that last time. Now I'm dead. Nice.
Very nice. Okay, enough. Maybe some water to wake yourself up. Maybe a cup of tea. How do you make tea? Scratch that. Maybe something else entirely. How about vodka?
You don't have vodka because you don't drink. Four bottles of beer that have stayed in their corner of the white stone sarcophagus until last night, and you are reduced into this. And now you want vodka. Right. Armon. Armon bought the beer. Thank him later. Throbbing. Or not.
This can go only for so long. Maybe your white stone sarcophagus needs some cleaning. You remember its sorry shape. No one ever cleans the white stone sarcophagus. Oh yes. Definitely. Bringing out some old rubber gloves. Scrubbing all the filthy crud with a hard brush for the rest of the night…Exciting, but okay, no.
Maybe you should be categorizing your beautiful collection of artifacts in the Sphinx. Or maybe you should go ride and crash the Hot-Ra. Just for fun. Then Rath can have fun fixing it. No, that's Nefer-Tina's job. Your job is to protect the prince. O Prince. Playing catch. Maybe you want to go playing catch with the prince. Maybe that's what you need. Peaceful, isolated, and silent surroundings with nothing that bothers you. You, the world, and baseballs. Okay, and the prince.
Maybe Rath can teach you the finer points of meditation, so you can control this inner demon thing you have going on here. He'll teach you everything he can, if you only ask. You bet he has some spell or experience in meditation. You know the scribe has a soft spot for you. He does. He pays attention to your orders and always gives his best. Guilt is the demon you two both share. He abandoned Chontra, the love of his life. And I forgot whatever you did. Remember? No. Okay, back on track. Candles. Meditation. Empty your mind. Control your body. Emptying your mind and controlling your body. Okay, both sound impossible to you at this moment. And meditation requires a lot of concentration, which you don't have right now.
Maybe you should clean up the place. You don't like to be messy. The lead huntsman of Pharaoh is never messy. After long, drawn sparring sessions without food or drink, or bathroom breaks you would always go through a ritual of cleaning up, putting everything meticulously in order. But that was the past. It's a habit you picked up from hunting in a desert, where you can't lose anything because everything is so precious and never expendable. You have to remember how to find water, food, and where everything is in order to survive. It's a place where memory is everything. And how much of that life do you still remember now? A lot. The past haunts you.
No. No. No Egypt tonight.
Something else. Find something else to think about. Back to the table. Maybe cleaning up process should start from the table in front of you. Interesting. Lots of stuff on top of it, and you don't remember when they all got there. Mixed papers with scribbled writings, Beefy Burger wrappers, bottles of water and soda, empty cans of coke. Big mess. Do I really want to start there?
Let's try Rath's desk. Other stuff. The usual stuff. Scrolls. Books. Other ancient text. Foreign languages. The power they hold over Rath. You don't know why the scent of old paper excited Rath, but it does. They are always covered with dust, and dust equals a mess.
You'd rather be outside. In the wilderness. Alone. Man alone with nature. At first she found it interesting thinking it was another of your differences from other men. Then she began to think it was adorable. She thought even the face you made when you got frustrated was adorable...Okay, forget that.
You can still picture her face. Every little feature. You don't feel anything now as your mind pictures her. She used to mean something to you more than just a past memory, a reminder of a mistake, didn't it? It used to hurt like hell whenever you would think back to ancient Egypt. You would picture her eyes, the curves of her face, her perfect dark skin, and her chocolate eyes...But now it's just there, an image from your past. A memory.
Memory was everything. Not any more.
Pass. Next. Another picture. Egypt. You were there, remember? It was fun, wasn't it? The tense excitement, the tingles all over your body, just because you were in the heat of battle. You were back in time, zoomed into a great photograph from the history, or they were alive right beside you, living, breathing, feeling the hot air, everything. You closed your eyes for the briefest second, then you could see everything. Your teammates, your friends, unsuspecting. The different, yet the same people. You didn't have any illusion that court had people who were not peaceful and loving, but still, no harm in thinking that way. Or so you thought.
The sky, a little yellowish and hazy under the sizzling sun. The hot, burning air. Your skin practically glowed from the sweat all over. The bugs stung. But you were happy. You could go back time and no one could tell you how you should think about anything. You had the perfect life.
No. It's a trap. The damn thing is trap. We should've known better. We should've brought back up. We should've known better. We should've known better if we were real guardians. Maybe we weren't that good of guardians then. Our faces were tense as we tried to fight Scarab. We failed. Darkness.
And it doesn't last. Now you see, we are reawaken to protect the reincarnated prince.
Here we go again. Now we have powers. By saying the phrase, "With the Strength of Ra!" we become renewed in strength, agility, and even some new magical powers. Now we can fight Scarab and stop his plans.
Scarab. A major pain in the ass. I can't wait until the day we can get rid of him. Send him to his eternal sleep. Then, I'll be able to stop this pain. Kick his tut past the western gate and make sure he stays there. End this incessant fighting. All his plans to split the group up. All his plans to gain eternal life. End them. No more Scarab. Bye-bye. Down the drain. Peace. Then watch him come back alive by some freak curse on us. The fighting begins all over again. I should have killed him back in Egypt when I suspected something.
Oh fuck it. Who cares really? I'm not going to think of Scarab tonight either.
You want to get up? Why? Where are you going? Kitchen. Hungry. Food.
Too far. Wait, there're some unwrapped chocolate bars here on the side table. No need to move. A half-filled coffee mug. Cold black liquid filled with good stuff. Mmm...caffeine. Always a good thing. Snickers. Tweaks. Chew, chew. Chew, or shove it into your throat. Either way, eat. Eating makes you feel better. Energy, right? Energy is good. Armon will say huge juicy meaty fatty stakes are better, but this will do. Chocolate bars. Okay, what's with the fashion magazine? No, don't look at it. It'll bring your memories back. Warm, thoughtful memories that shouldn't mean anything in reality. So, no. No fashion magazine.
Looking up. Ceiling. Nothing but the florescent light bulbs, one of them is flicking madly. Should've changed it. You were otherwise engaged yesterday. Scarab. Which, by the way, you don't want to think about. Avert your eyes. To where? To the walls surrounding you. A window. Night. Dark, but on the verge of the light. Just stick to this for a few more hours. Just a couple of hours, then there will be sunlight. Then this will all go away.
What else? A calendar. Not that you're overly eager to know about dates and stuff, because you'd rather be buried in time, and not like day matters to you anyway since you're dead...but holy, 2001? Already? Ah yes. You did have the bye-bye-this-year-welcome-next-year party with the whole gang, remember? Was supposed to be this big festival for you guys, celebrating a new millennium. Really. You think it'd been nicer if the world stopped right then? Y2K? No, that was a year before. Didn't the prince tell you something about that. Oh, that's right. That possibility only works with 2000 because it has this whole sequence that some computers cannot accept. Technowhatever. Nefer-Tina is the one better at knowing and understanding the modern-day world. Armon was really scared about the whole Y2K ordeal, but she reassured him repeatedly that nothing would happen, but you're thinking now it'd have been fun if the Armageddon happened that day. Just curious about the Armageddon, how would it feel…
What is this? You suddenly want the world to end? Got tired of saving the prince now? Can't take the responsibility and pressure any more? You don't like living in it much so you want everyone to go with you?
You don't mean that. You've seen the world end once. Well, at least it ended for you. And you've been close to it happening one to many times. You know it's not really fun to watch while every single little thing you've known in your life is deteriorating into nothingness.
Oh, nothingness again. Think you're going around too many full circles tonight?
Alright. Back on the track. What was it again? Yes, the calendar. Nothing really remarkable about that, really. A rectangular shape, with pictures on top portion. The pictures of places on Earth. Nice places. Places you've never been to, but nice places. What have you been doing with your life exactly? How old are you again? Old enough. Very old. Somewhere around 3525 years old. Never thought you'd get to this age, did you? What have you got to show for your age now? Certainly you've achieved nothing so far, unless being a reawakened mummy counts for something. Alright, so you've saved the prince a few times from the dangers, which might not have happened at all if you had only fucking killed Scarab when you first suspected--
Again, again, again. You wish he could just get off your mind, huh? Doesn't work that way. He'll stick around until your last waking moment. Oh, that puts a definite new spin on the afterlife, doesn't it? A freshly haunting perspective of future. No-thing.
The constant bombardment of nothingness. You're sick of it. You don't have the energy to face tomorrow. Slit your wrist and be done with it then. Wait, you're already dead. So, how do you kill a dead mummy? Hmm…I bet Scarab has been asking himself that question for years.
Death. Been there, done that.
You're thirsty now. Real thirsty. Not something that a cup of coffee can relieve. What you need is water. Simple, cold, sterilized water, which you don't have. A bottled water, then. Damn. You don't have that within your reach. You have to stand up--careful, don't want to stand on the glass pieces now--move your feet, slowly, good. A little wobbly on your knees, but okay, you're doing fine. Lean on the white stone sarcophagus. Grab the handle. Pull with your hand. Ignore the spinning of the room and the throbbing in your head. The cold air. It feels good on your face, a little refreshing. But that's temporary too. What you need is water.
Damn, damn, damn. No bottled water. Okay, tap water then.
It has to be cold. Cold, icy, cutting water to wake you up. No sleep, remember? Put your head under the tap. Cold. You feel that against your skin? Yeah, dead skin. That's water hitting your skull. Feel the pressure? The cold? You're too dead to get Goosebumps. Oh, well.
You're still dead, but alive. You are. Because you still have to protect the prince.
You're alive, but dead.
Why?
Why the hell are you still dead, but alive? Think of one good reason. One good reason, and you can let this go. Think of one good reason of why you're still alive, but dead--
Because you still want to.
Laughable.
For what? Acknowledgement that you still want to do something good? That maybe there's a good reason why you exist? When did you get so profound and achievement-hungry? Since when did that matter to you anyway? You never did it for the fame or the riches.
Do you know that you lost your wife and son because you followed orders? Do you even care about them like you promised you would? Forever. Well, do you? No, you had to spend most of the day training, protecting, and teaching the prince. You lost a son because of that. In the end, did you not just replace him with the prince. Does the prince look up to you as a father?
Throbbing. Ah hell where were you?
Redemption? Seeking redemption from what? From what you did to your family? By killing one more shabti? What? You can kill every single shabti that's out there with burning vengeance and that'll never bring you close to this thing called redemption. Never? Never. You know that for certain, unfortunately. Then why are you doing this?
You have no idea. That's what this night is all about, isn't it?
Ha. Ha. Ha. You can laugh about this 'til you die, really. But you're already dead and still laughing. Funny. Got to love that. Yes. You remember right? The four of you all went there together as a big happy family. Death.
Sure, it's been fun as mummies. No fear of death. Lots of fun times. Happy memories in the afterlife. Kicking tut here and there. Yeah, real fun. Spending my second chance at life full of regrets. Not Rath. Not Armon. Not Nefer-Tina. Just you.
Oops. The sink is filled already with it, and now it's starting to spill all over to your floor. That's what happens when you don't pay attention. Water beads trickle down from your soaked bandages. Think they're getting wet and sticky against your skin.
But you don't mind. You stopped minding things awhile ago. Yeah, right after the first sip of beer. Just drowning your sorrows in beer.
Now, who the hell cares, really? You spent the greater part of your life as a guardian to the prince. Not a husband. Not a father. Not even a lover. Your life was beyond normal. Just like it is now. Oh great, ain't it?
And when did you start wanting something normal? Not the things that are normal to you, but by general standard? Maybe the family I never got a chance with, maybe--
Damn. You don't care. You don't care. Because caring leads to pain, and you hate pain. It's tiresome just how things could become so painful and you don't like it. If it's there constantly, it's not pain anymore. You can no longer sense it, so it's so natural with you. Death. Pain. Whatever.
If this doesn't bother you, nothing will. So you just make sure it becomes a piece of normalcy that cannot bother you. This is normal to you, nothing else. Don't let yourself to care.
There has to be a good reason why you started all this. Let's try to remember. It's almost 4 A.M. now, isn't it? Look at the clock on the wall. Check it. Nope, five. So two more hours till the others get here. And you've been at this for the entire night.
Why?
Because. You're celebrating.
Celebrating what?
Oh, you're bad. You don't remember, do you?
What?
Why, it's your goddamn anniversary.
It really was destined to be her day from the beginning. You knew it from the moment you woke up today--okay, yesterday. Thinking about her used to be daily occurrence, no, more like every-passing-second thing. But now you have to single out one day to feel guilty. Shouldn't you be feeling something? But no. You don't even feel guilty anymore. You don't even feel guilty about dying and leaving her with a son. Maybe you're in denial. Nope. Happy anniversary.
Tia.
Ja-Kal.
Tia.
Ja-Kal. My husband. I love you.
I love you too.
Wait, no. You lying bastard. Isn't that supposed to be 'I *loved* you'? You don't really love her anymore, or did you forget again? Bad memory. Everything else is in its right place inside your brain, but you still manage to forget that part. There's something else, something else you wanted to remember, or was it to forget?
Another person in your life?
No. You did not think that just now. You don't feel anything. That's not guilt, because it's burnt away long ago. You don't have any left. That's good. Just walk back to the couch. Doesn't matter you stepped on a little piece of glass because, no feeling, remember? You're dead. Lie down a little, close your eyes just for a second.
You wonder, still.
You wonder how long it would have lasted. About a year more, probably? You loved her, of course, but it would've never have lasted longer than that. It just wasn't enough. Your desire to be a guardian was too much, something that even her warm, loving gaze couldn't fill. You wanted, no you needed, to be a guardian. She couldn't understand. She was intelligent, smart, everything you hoped for, but she wouldn't understand. How could she? She lived in a different world. And at the end of that year, no matter how blissfully happy you were, you already started to feel the bits and hints of restlessness. Tell me, weren't you *glad* when the Pharaoh finally came and appointed you a guardian to the young prince? Tell me that you losing your love for her didn't influence your decision?
And the minute you had a chance you took the chance and went to the palace. Oh, you *really* grabbed that chance, and practically left your wife at home. And you had to click with the other guardians and spend your days sparring and training together. They were important. The dark haired charioteer. He knew things. He asked questions. He challenged you. He understood. He showed you so much respect in his dark brown eyes. Your blood pumped up, your heartbeat quickened, and everything was suddenly animated. Oh that excitement you haven't felt for such a long time. Felt like you've finally found water in the desert.
And while you were indulging in your little vanity, your beloved wife and newborn son stayed at home in the palace (You had moved there as part of the job). She worried for you. She was afraid that you would get hurt or even worst. You thought that you had a lifetime to spend with your family. You promised her that you would always be there.
But they were taken away from you. Your promise was broken. You were guilty, guilty of not appreciating what you had and neglecting it. One mistake, and your happiness was gone. You'd thought you would always see them again in the afterlife. Not to worry all would be better.
But no, that wasn't the case at all. Maybe you were glad. Maybe you were glad that you had a chance to be a part of something. You had the chance to make sure the prince did not die this time. To make sure you did not fail your duty. Maybe seeing your family once Scarab was not threat was one of the reasons, but not the most important one. Really, you wanted to make sure you succeeded in your duty to the prince. You were obligated.
That's wrong. Not true. At the time you had nothing on your mind except her. That was genuine. You wanted to reunite with her, that was all. At the time you only thought about seeing her again. The guilt, more palpable, more real, more shattering guilt came later, when you were able to decipher the truth.
That you weren't so hundred percent happy in Egypt.
You figured that out, even though the mask of deception you made for yourself was so thick that you couldn't see through it for a long, long time.
So what?
She's been dead now for hundreds of years.
You are too, yet you are still alive.
You're thirsty again.
You want water. You want her.
She was never yours. You knew that from the minute you saw her. The intelligence, the full lit smile, the familiar against the exotic of Tia, dark brown, such dark brown eyes. Dark brown, kind, affectionate eyes. But it was Pep's, remember? You noticed it when he appeared in San Francisco. The way she looked at him when they admired each others driving abilities. A sparkle of something. Desire? Interest? New meaning? Okay, so it was too early for any other deeper emotion, but it was obvious that the good, eager, intelligent charioteer had Pep's interest. Interest. They have the little pulling thing going on between them. But Nefer-Tina couldn't and wouldn't leave her duty to the prince. She had Rath, Armon, and me.
Me.
This unexplainable feeling surprises you with its intensity. Frightening you is more like it. She's a beautiful, capable woman. Everyone with eyes can see that. With a beautiful, kind, and caring heart. Vulnerability is in the mix too. Vulnerability that she tries to hide in front of everyone else. Maybe she shouldn't have started to trust you so implicitly because then you'd never have begun to think this way, never even dreamed about her little innocent flirting.
You can't help it. Those dark brown eyes. A family that you never had. Even in Egypt, when she was "Nefer" you couldn't quite explain the relationship you had with him, but he cared about you, and you wanted him in your life.
But you want to be of a help to her. So much vulnerability, and so much love behind that tough, hard, charioteer facade. So much pain too. You should encourage her to open her heart, because that's what she needs. She'll just go out one night and come back when the sun is rising. This gets you angry. Maybe a little jealous.
When you found that "Nefer" was really a young woman named, "Nefer-Tina", your anger and irritation rose. Sure, your known to be quite demanding, but she seems to be the only one who can make you just the tiniest bit flexible to understanding. But that doesn't mean you don't like doing that. Because, sometimes, you want to kiss her.
Not in your dreams. This happens very much in reality. The urge comes to you at the unsuspected moments, when you two are a foot too close to each other, definitely invading each other's private space. Or when you're listening to her enthusiastic voice during an argument, seeing her small mouth aimed at you here and there, and you want to know what it'd be like to be with her. Treacherous thought, but you're only human. You know it already. You know that she'd taste like orange and flowers, peach and apricots. You know this you caught her spraying on the scent once. Doesn't remind you of the tantalizingly sweat, musky, and intoxicating scent of your wife, but something else entirely.
So you want to know how it feels like. You want to feel the softness of her skin with the scent of orange under your fingertips so badly that it sickens you inside. It takes a lot of self-control not to do exactly what your desire wants you to do, and it's even more harder to cover yourself with indifference when she glances at your way. Evilness of your heart is way too great, and you don't even have the strength to deny its battle anymore.
Thou shall not lust after. You're only human, so you are allowed a bit of indulgence, your fantasy. You tried it before. Failed, but tried. It doesn't kill anyone. Only if you can contain it to yourself.
Uh, phone.
Phone, ringing. Pick it up instinctively against your better judgment.
Right. Hi Nefer-Tina.
What a timing.
Hang up. Hang up right away after hearing cheerful and reassuring voice saying sorry if I woke you up, but shouldn't you be up by now? One and half-hour before we get there.
You can't listen to her voice. Not right now. Not when your mouth is dry and you want your water that you don't have. That you can't have. Another ring. Pick it up, put it down on the table. Good.
No more rings.
Just the way things should be.
Imagine the picture again. Look! What do you see? You think you can forget? You think you can. No, you can't. Remember it! Remember it and take a good look at the goddamn picture and see her face! Your wife. It's the anniversary. 3505 years. 3505 years since you proposed to her in Egypt. 3500 years since she was taken away from you. 3500 years since you died and left your family. 3505 years since you asked her to marry you and she told you she loved you.
And even for this one-day, you are incapable of grieving only about Tia. Just one day. But no, your mind is numb. You don't want to think about her. Guilt doesn't even enforce to grieve.
And your mind just has to wonder about other possibilities. Something else. Someone else entirely--
Don't think. Just feel guilty. You should. Feel guilty. Chew the chocolate again. You can't live without it. Think. Don't think. Don't.
The thirst almost drives you mad. You want another cup of water. But, no, you chew on the chocolate bar instead. You don't have water. You can't have it. Not yours to take.
The oasis is in front of you, but it's not yours to take. It's a mirage, nothing else.
Not yours to take.
You just may need another beer to get through the rest. Crap. You're out of beer.
But you notice the slightest change in color over the horizon. Bits of orange and yellow. The sun. Rising.
It's morning.
Morning already.
So it's ended. No more beer. No more sleepless, meaningless night. The end of confession.
It's over.
You need to dry yourself now. Your bandages are still wet. Cleaning up has to be done later today, because you're probably going to be fighting Scarab again. You need to dry yourself and somehow think of an excuse for your throbbing headache. You will. You idiotically hit your head on the table while trying to clean. You can already see Rath's frown, and hear his lecture about being more careful.
When you get up from the couch, you find out the room is still spinning.
And you remember. Oh you tried not to remember, but here you are. Now you remember.
Remember why you suddenly broke the bottle.
Oh Ra.
You're falling in love with her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~ FINI ~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A/N ~~ Alright. Step right up and gimme a comment. This was my first wack at this type of fanfiction and I need some feedback. Flames are okay, but will not be accepted into the Banana Club!