I write this in honor of Lucky Fannah, a reader who has asked for Jonathan Carnahan. She inspired me, making me think about why Jonathan is so... wanna-be-playboyish. I hope this little bit can make up for not having much Jonathan in "The One Thing He Couldn't Have." This takes place after Mummy II and before my story.

This is a character prologue for the Mummy series... which I do not own, by the way.

...l.o.v.e.a.n.d.l.o.s.t...

The club was jumping. Music called everyone to dance, the beat irresistably enticing. But not him tonight.

It was the usual spot for the guys that liked the gold-digging women and an audience to tell their tales of glory and riches. But not him tonight.

The best drinks in town were served. Every person inside was reminiscing and laughing, their joy brought on easily by the smooth taste of the liquors offered. But not him tonight.

If this were a normal night, any girl would do, any liquor would do. But tonight wasn't a normal night. This was the night. But if the night had stayed true to form, he would be out right now, far more drunk and far more laid than on a normal night. For some reason, today the girls wanted other men, not him.

So, on the night, Jonathan Carnahan walked to Rick and Evie's house, knowing they were still gone to Egypt, probably doing some... dusting in one of the temples or something. A bottle of the cheapest gin in one hand, and his tie and shirt a mess, he walked around the the very back of their home. Sighing, he let himself in through the back door to the kitchen.

The kitchen was dark, of course, as well as a little dusty. He'd have to work on dusting tomorrow after his hangover. Rick and Evie had put him in charge of the house, but why on earth they would trust him, of all people, was beyond him.

Jonathan slammed down the bottle on the table and pulled out a chair, plopping down with a depressed sigh.

"Jonathan?" said a warm voice. He looked over and saw on the counter was a brunette woman in her midtwenties. She was in a white summer dress with a gold ribbon around her waist. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, and her overall appearance was like that of an angel. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight. You're usually out..."

He was glad she didn't tell him exactly what he did when he was "out." Especially coming from her, the guilt was horrendous. Instead of facing her, he tried to ignore her, raising the bottle to his mouth in a quick swig.

Slowly, his mind started to think back... back to what he usually did on the night. Last year it was... the blonde?

He tried to keep it in. He really had. But suddenly it wasn't so easy anymore. Out came the wine in his mouth... through his nose. He was laughing so hard, he forgot that it was the night. It didn't matter, though. Sarah giggled in a high pitched voice, patting his hat on his head. "Come on, why don't you show me your trophies at home...?"

Mindy had an arm around his waist, practically carrying him down the road. He was singing, very loudly and very offkey, mind you, throwing his arms about. "This one, darling," he drawled her, pointing to the correct house.

The bubblebath was ready, the wine set in its ice bucket. Looking in the mirror, Jonathan straightened his tie and shirt, though he knew it wouldn't be on his body long. The door rang and he went to it, inviting Ashley into the home. "You look lovely. Dinner is in the dining room and after... I have a little bubblebath to relax in." She giggled and took his arm. "I could do with some relaxing, and I'm not so sure I very hungry yet..."

Episode after episode of his meaningless life came back to him, no matter how much he drank or tried to block it out. Not that it would have mattered to him, but with her sitting over there, it just made it all the worse.

"Darling," she cooed, getting down from the counter and rushing to his side, wiping the tears he didn't even know he was shedding. Her touch was gentle and sweet, warming his ice cold skin. "Come, let me draw you a bath."

Taking his hands in hers, she lifted him from his seat. But it was too much for him. "No... I can't," he muttered, reaching for the bottle again. Images of yet another girl were sparking in his mind.

Despite his protests, she urged him into the master bathroom, gingerly walking him to the bathtub. She gracefully turned the knobs and let the water into the tub, filling it to the brim, including bubbles. Going under the sink, she pulled out a towel and folded it up and placed it on the edge of the bathtub.

Now, she faced him, him and his slumpy sham of a man. New tears were falling. "But... Allison..."

"Hush, dear," Allison whispered, beginning to take his coat off. He sighed and watched her. She was the same as he remembered her, so long ago... not a wrinkle or a spot to mar her breathtaking appearance.

"Why?" he asked, looking into her eyes as she unbuttoned his shirt. "Why did you choose me?"

Allison's bright eyes, eyes filled with compassion and love, met his own shamed ones. "Because I loved you."

"That's... not an excuse. I know what kind of man I was when I turned twenty. I was a stupid fool," Jonathan said with a sigh, looking around once more for his bottle, but it wasn't there. Softly, he added, "I still am."

Allison pulled his shirt off and paused, looking into his eyes again. "Yes. You were, and are. But, darling," she said, stroking his cheek with her light hands. "I saw what promise you had. I didn't want glory and fame and pretty things... I wanted the kind man I saw once, the one who told me his dreams one night. To own the house by the sea, to have a wife and a children. You made me laugh, and any difficult situation was made better when you started to talk about it with your own light on it. You have a good heart."

"You... saw all that? In me?" he asked, looking down at her and she began to remove his belt and pants.

"I did, though sometimes it was difficult to see," she told him, not looking at his face. He remembered; he had always been out trying to find his next get-rich-quick scheme. But he wanted it for her, so he could have her living as she really deserved to live.

Allison's voice brought Jonathan out of the past and back to their conversation. "And I still believe he's here," she whispered and touched his chest, where his heart was. Its beating quickened. Finally, he was completely undressed and she gently brought him to the bathtub. "Get in, darling."

He turned and looked at her, then at the bath water. "Can you, well, I mean...?"

Her soft chuckle that followed made him smile sheepishly and move to just get into the tub. He submerged himself and then came up, laying back comfortably. Allison placed the towel under his neck and brushed his hair back.

Jonathan took her hands in his and kissed them, looking up at her. She crouched beside the tub and took a sponge her one of her hands, setting to work washing him.

"Allison, why are you doing that?" he asked, taking the sponge from her. She looked at him for a moment and sat back on her heels.

"I should ask you the same thing. You know I'm gone!" she said, her voice now not so kind. "This will only make it more difficult for you in the morning when you're hungover and..."

Jonathan frowned at her. "Then why are you here?" he demanded, wishing more and more she wasn't just a figment of his... drunkeness.

Allison leaned forward and took his head in her hands. Her eyes were sad as she searched his face for something, he didn't know quite what it was. "I want you to know that I believe in you while I was alive. You don't need to waste your life... you can still do something great just by being Jonathan, the man I fell in love with."

"You choose now to come tell me this?"

Little diamonds dripped from her eyes. "There are many things we don't say in life, and sometimes it's too late," she said between tears.

"Shh..." He reached for her, to comfort his crying angel, but she batted his arms away.

"No, listen to me, Jonathan. You have to know that I always believed in you, even when we hit rock bottom. The night that I ran out in the rain..."

Here it came. This was his whole reason for being what he was today. It was his fault. The memory, the one he really wanted to drown, was this one, right here.

"Allison!" Jonathan shouted through the house. "I've got it! We have to pack tonight, but I found a perfect way to..."

Allison came into the room, greeting him in a less than beautiful manner. Her face was dirty, her dress was simple and had stains on it. She crossed her arms and glared at him. "Stop it."

"What?"

"No more, Jonathan."

He seized her shoulders and shook her with excitement, but she shoved him away. "No! I don't want this anymore. I'm going back to my parents."

"Please! I'm so close..."

"But I'm gone. Don't you get that, Jonny?" she asked him, exasperated. They were both silent as they looked at each other, one in sadness, the other in pure anger. Anger that fed the twisted belief that he had ruined her life, that he was the reason for all their troubles.

Allison wreched her arm out of his grasp and ran to the door. A loud thunderclap made her jump but that was the only hesitation she showed. Jonathan was close behind her, calling her name. They ran out in the downpour, soaked through in a matter of moments.

"Ally, please," he said, grabbing her arm again.

"Stop!" she screamed, spinning to get away.

The lights of a bus coming down the road shown through the London rain. And in the lights of the bus and the lightning across the sky Jonathan saw Allison twist away from him harshly. Her fighting pushed her off-blanace and she tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. In a moment of light, he saw his white angel fall in front of the bus. She never hit the ground, not there anyway.

Jonathan's body shook, new tears in his eyes. The water of the tub was no longer warm, or he could no longer feel it. "I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry," he kept mumbling.

Screeching of brakes erupted. He screamed, "Allison!" and ran to the front of the bus. The bus driver was trying to keep people from leaving the bus, while also seeing for himself what the damage was.

Everything was in slow motion. Jonathan reached the front of the bus and saw, in a muddy puddle, his Allison. Falling to his knees, he scooped her up in his arms, hugging her to him, his tears and the rain mixing on his face. They fell down his face, some landing in her hair or on her face, but others also fell into the puddle, mixing with her blood.

Jonathan pushed the hair from her face and looked at her. It was scarred by the road, and red began to cover the white.

Warm hands wrapped themselves around his face, pulling him to look at her. "Jonny," Allison whispered. Her eyes were wise and deep, knowing exactly what ached inside him.

"I get so lonely sometimes. Other times..." he mumbled on, but couldn't finish. Allison wrapped her arms around him and hugged him to her, rocking him a little. "I miss you so much."

"Jonathan, what hurts me most is to see you not move on and waste your life." She pulled away and looked into his eyes again. "I forgive you, dear."

Jonathan felt his heart break completely in half. She forgave him. She let it go. But could he? Before he could really think about it, Allison took his hand and said, "Come, time for bed."

He stood and dried himself off, taking a bathrobe from Allison as she drained the water. In the guestroom, she tucked him into the bed and laid next to him on the otherside of the bed. She propped herself up on her side on her elbow and looked down at him with a soft smile, running her fingers through his wet hair.

With a small sigh, Jonathan looked up at her, silently pleading with her. "You won't stay forever, will you?"

She chuckled softly. "I can't. You'll wake up tomorrow and everything will be as it was."

Allison hummed softly, and sleep was coming easily. He smiled up at her and felt his lids grow heavy. "I still love you, Ally," he whispered.

A soft smile crossed her lips and she kissed his forehead. "Sweet dreams, darling," she whispered. "I always loved you."