Ok, so when I was a kid, I wanted to be Indiana Jones. I have a love for archeology, Egyptology especially, because of six year old me loving Raiders of the Lost Ark. I don't know if there will be more to this. I watched Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade the other night and this popped in my head. I'm honestly trying to finish the stories I already have out there. But I figured writing this would get it out of my system so I can actually focus on those. It was just for fun. I hope you like it! As always, thank you for reading!

Alexandria, Egypt

1935

"Last chance, Grimes. You sure you don't want some of this cut? This thing is going to fetch millions on the black market." Rick ignored the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, and the throbbing pain in his side. It was probably another broken rib, but there was nothing he could do about it as Negan's men twisted his arms behind his back.

Negan himself stood in front of him, gloating at his apparent victory as the 15th century B.C. Udjat Eye amulet that had once belonged to Pharaoh Hatshepsut, sparkled in his hand. Millions wouldn't be enough for the solid gold artifact with the 12 carat sapphire at its center. It was a priceless piece of history, recently been discovered in a tomb outside Luxor, but stolen right out of the case at the Egyptian Museum the night before it was set to go on display.

The Saviors were the only ones who could pull off a heist like that and their leader, Negan, was known for selling priceless artifacts to the highest bidder. Rick had tracked them from Cairo to a flop house on the outskirts of Alexandria, where he waited until dark to sneak in to steal the eye back. Everything had been going fine, until an unfortunate combination of a wine bottle left on the floor in a room full of light sleepers, ignited a fight he was utterly outnumbered in.

Still, his defiance refused to be tapped down even in the face of almost certain death. He smiled through the throbbing pain in his side and growled, "The amulet belongs in a museum!"

Negan's amused, condescending laugh filled the air. "Looks like being a damn boy scout is finally gonna be the death of you." At his nod, Negan's men tightened their grip on him, and tied his ankles and wrists together. "Drop him in the Nile. He'll make a good meal for a crocodile."

He struggled fruitlessly as three men dragged him toward the river and a horrible death. They'd never find any remains, and he'd be considered missing and presumed dead. It wasn't his own death that terrified him. It was leaving his 10 year old son back in Chicago with that uncertainty for the rest of his life. The boy had already lost his mother. Losing his father too would be too much.

Somehow, through the clatter of his thoughts, he heard the rumble of a motorcycle thundering down the road and getting closer to them by the second. The men holding him, paused to see who was arriving to join their little party. The headlight's beam reached them first, but the bike was coming in hot. No one, not even him, realized the rider was aiming a gun at them until they heard the first few shots.

He flinched when a bullet struck one of the men escorting him to his watery grave. Their grip on him loosened, and it was an opening he had to take. He reared his head back and collided it with one of their faces hard enough to cause the sickening crack of bones shattering. Both men let him go, and he dropped to his knees, waiting for the inevitable gunshot. That would be better that the river. At least, there would be closure that way.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Negan yelled, and the men responded by forgetting about what they were told to do, and running to join Negan in the last remaining truck. The motorcycle skidded to a stop, and the rider took off running toward Negan's getaway truck. He tried to see what was happening, but without the light from the bike, the darkness swallowed everything from his position. All he heard was what sounded like the swish of a sword, and the death cries of wounded men.

The truck lurched into gear and pulled out into the road, a sure sign of Negan choosing to save himself rather than his henchmen. Rick watched as the rider sheathed the sword, and moved toward his bike to follow him, but came sliding to a sudden stop a few feet away from where he was curled up on the ground.

It was the first time the rider had even looked in his direction, and he could tell his presence was causing problems for him. The rider turned back to the truck again, which was almost completely out of view, and kicked the tire of the bike. The mysterious person turned back to him again, and began walking his way. It was only then that he realized with much awe, that a woman had saved his ass.

"Damn!" She mumbled, and even though her face was twisted up in disgust, he was struck dumb by her beauty. Her hair was styled in intricate braids that she'd pulled away from her face and into a long ponytail. She wore a leather coat over a white button down shirt and her tan pants were tucked into dusty, brown boots that laced all the way up to her knees. There was a pistol resting at her slender waist, and a sword strapped to her back. Her dark pecan skin was damp with sweat, and her molasses eyes appraised him as she silently approached him.

The look on her face betrayed the fact that she'd rather be chasing down Negan than wasting time untying him. He was already cramping her style and he didn't even know her name. Soon, she was right on top of him; kneeling before him with a knife in her hand to sever his ropes.

"Who are you?" He asked; rubbing his wrists to get the blood circulating again. Even his nearly numb hands and feet couldn't dampen his curiosity over the identity of his beautiful savior.

"Dr. Michonne Samaha," she replied in a rich, slightly accented, contralto, and the name sparked something in his memory. He'd heard stories about a female Egyptologist who taught at the American University in Cairo, who had a taste for trouble that rivaled his own. The woman standing before him was nothing like he'd imagined. He knew he'd been staring too long when she put her hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes.

"And you must be the famous Rick Grimes," she teased. "You're a little bit far from the Oriental Institute, aren't you?"

He shrugged and climbed to his feet, a little too impressed that she actually knew who he was. It was no time to stoke his own ego by telling her that he spent just as much time globetrotting as he did teaching at the Oriental Institute. Besides, he was way more interested in learning about her.

"I'm here for the Eye of Horus, just like you are," he explained.

She folded her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm here to make sure it makes it back to the Egyptian Museum and doesn't end up as a jewel in some wealthy donor's private collection."

Her meaning was clear and he respected it. Too many artifacts had been stolen from Egypt to only end up in private collections or on display in foreign museums. The only thing he cared about was the Eye of Horus not ending up on the black market. The museum it ended up in was of little concern.

"Well then. I guess we're on the same side," he said. "Any clue where they're headed?"

There was a pause before she spoke, and he could almost see her trying to decide to trust him or not. "There's a buyer in Marrakech who calls himself The Governor. He's been buying artifacts on the black market for years, but lately he's ramped up."

"Any idea why?" He asked.

She shook her head. "He's in deep with the Nazis and who knows what they want the artifacts for."

Rick nodded. The Nazis were collecting religious relics and any other valuable artifacts associated with magic. Rumor had it was that the Fuhrer had a strange fascination with all things supernatural.

"They've been collecting rare artifacts rumored to have magical properties. The amulet they just took is Zahrah's Eye," he began, but the incredulous smile that appeared on he lips at the word magical, became a full blown laugh that completely cut off his train of thought.

She interrupted, "The amulet, that according to myth, the god Horus bound the soul of his mortal lover to that has the power to grant eternal life? You don't believe that fairytale, do you?"

Knowing how insane it sounded, he only shrugged. They didn't have time to argue the finer points of mysticism. They had an amulet to retrieve.

"Let's just say that I've seen some interesting shit over the years."

He was used to women rolling their eyes at him, but there was something about the way she did it that made him want to see it again and again.

"Magical or not, it belongs in a museum," she said, and he bit his lip to hide his smirk.

"Agreed," he winced; the pain in his side becoming too persistent to ignore. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing.

"Are you injured?" She asked.

He groaned, "I'm fine...minus a rib or two."

He felt her eyes tracing him from head to toe like she was trying to decide something about him. His nerves were going crazy. He'd never wanted to pass anyone's test more than he did right then. After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, her full lips curved into a sly grin to match the mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"What do you say we tape up that rib, and go get that amulet, Dr. Grimes?" She didn't wait for him to answer. She just turned around and walked back toward her bike like it was a given that he would follow. If he was being completely honest with himself, he'd known he would go anywhere with her from the minute she cut the rope and set him free. He'd never been one for partners, but there was something different this time. There was something different about her.

"Lead the way." He retrieved his fedora from where it had fallen and hurried to catch up with her. He had a feeling that she wasn't a woman who liked to be kept waiting. "By the way, thank you for saving my life. I owe you one."

She looked over her shoulder and winked at him.

"Yes, you do and I never forget a debt."

Notes:

The Oriental Institute is part of the University of Chicago and the premier school for Egyptology in the United States.

Pharaoh Hatshepsut was a badass. There should be movies about her stealing the throne and having herself called Pharaoh, not queen.

Horus was the Egyptian god of the sky. The eye of Horus was often used to symbolize sacrifice, healing, restoration, and protection.

Zahrah's Eye isn't real. It's something I created as part of an original story. I just dropped Richonne in as a prequel to that lol