Disclaimer: I own nothing from General Hospital, or Assassin's Creed. This is not for profit, but for me to enhance my writing skills and hopefully the enjoyment of readers.

Summary: When Elizabeth Webber is drowning in grief of a tragedy no parent ever hopes to face, memories of a distant past stir across the sands of time of a man and a war that was fought in the shadows. As she navigates the water of sanity and insanity, she starts to realize that the war isn't some distant dream, but one that is being fought right on her front door.

Author's Note: For those who don't know General Hospital but AC fans, the only thing that you really need to know about the show is that it is a Soap Opera. Soap Operas tend to have overdramatic story and exaggerated stories. While I will be taking a realistic approach to these characters as I can, you have to understand that the history of the show and certain characters is over the top in almost every aspect. Affairs, scandals, and more. That being said you AC fans don't have to know the show or it's history. This is an Alternative Universe that I am setting up as opposed to General Hospital cannon. The main reason for this is because my fav, Elizabeth Webber, who the story is centered around has been written poorly by the writers many times through her twenty years on the show. Things that I have felt weren't true to the heart of this character that I loved, so I have edited bits that I just plain didn't like or felt were too OOC in an effort to correct this. I want to write her in a way that I feel is true, and how I wish GH had honored this legacy character. So AC fans don't despair, I will explain the history of the story and universe as it goes along, and if you still have questions, feel free to comment below and I will do my best to clear things up.

For those who are GH fans, but don't know Assassin's Creed, I'll give you a brief synopsis (it's easier to do this for the game, than a show that's been on 55 years): "For centuries, a hidden war has been taking places in the shadows between two fractions. The Templars, who wish to attempt to use Pieces of Eden-objects of significant power that can shape the world and bend humanity to their will-under the guise of protecting the world through order when all they really want is to subvert mankind's free will to rule over the world as Kings or Gods. The Assassins, who wish to stop the Templars heinous plans, by protecting and championing free will so that mankind may find and determine their own fates. They work in the dark to serve the light, and fight the never ending battle with the Templar, and also in efforts to stop the end of the world. (Also any personal history from the games such as characters will be explained as the story unfolds, if they are relevant.)

Primary differences in GH cannon: ***Liz and Ric dated until Ric drugged Carly, making her believe they slept together. Liz didn't do second wedding with Lucky. She was smart enough to know those relationships weren't healthy. No LnL2 reunion in 2009, and no Niz affair in 2010, that also means that Elizabeth's third son is not born. Sorry. Cameron, Elizabeth's first born, father is not Zander, but someone who will revealed later in the story. Any other changes, will be made clear through the story.*** (And obviously since this story is set in 2011, anything thereafter this point will be null and void.)

Warning: Not Character Friendly to Certain GH Characters.

Primary difference in AC cannon: ***Only that the movie and the games are in the same universe, and that Cal Lynch will have a part in this story later on.***

HISTORY FACTS: Did you know that Cleopatra one of the most arguably famous women of ancient Egypt was actually the seventh woman born into the Ptolemy line that born the name Cleopatra? Cleopatra means, Glory of the Father. There were also several different men through the Ptolemy Dynasty tree, named Ptolemy. Even brothers and sisters could have the same name! Apparently the Ptolemies were not very creative with names. Also when pronouncing the word Ptolemy, the P is silent as a mouse.

Nothing is True

By ThroughtheMirrorDarkly

ONE

"Grief is not as heavy as guilt, but it takes more away from you."
― Veronica Roth, Insurgent

March 23, 2011

Port Charles, New York

Webber Residence

The house was still and dark, only the soft creaking of the wood settling was the only noise that broken the deafening silence. A deep and lasting sorrow the kind that only came in the wake of a horrible tragedy filled the air. It was a sharp, so bitter that it was painful feeling and it plagued Elizabeth Webber even as she slept restlessly in her bed. She was slight thing, standing only three inches of five feet tall. Her thin, graceful limbs that gave her a waif-like appearance yet still had gentle womanly curves in all the right places. The waves of dark hair were sprawled out across her pillow, and her generous mouth formed into a deep frown. Her jaw set tight, her brows furrowed together in a knot. She was what one would call a classical beauty with her alabaster skin, high swept cheek bones and small nose that was turned up at the tip ever so slightly. Her eyes clenched shut, and the pulse at her throat started to hammer wildly. An ancient language, a tongue spoken by Egyptians in ages since past, tumbled from her lips and she rolled restlessly across the mattress caught in throes of a vivid and realistic dream.

It was a sunny day. Blinding and bright, the air was hot and smelt of desert sand. It was the Siwa Oasis, a small part of the vast land that was Egypt. The year was 49 BCE, and the Pharaoh Ptolemy III was leading a grand caravan with houdahs strapped to the backs of great elephants that were made of vivid colored silks, and embedded with gemstones that shined like starlight in the sun. This trip through the region as a demonstration of his wealth and power for he was just a boy of twelve years old, whom had exiled his older sister and wife Cleopatra to Alexandria in order to rule the throne alone. A twelve year old boy, and he was the most powerful person in all of Egypt.

Through the great canyons that led down to the valley and to the city of Siwa. The city was cradled between the towering buttes and mountains in the north, and the endless desert to the south. The water—the oasis that preserved the village and allowed it to flourish was set to the west, through thickets of palm trees and light vegetation.

Bayek of Siwa was a tall man with dark skin, and golden eyes that rivaled the sharpness of the sun. His head and face shaved of all hair, enhancing the sensual and masculine planes of his features. His armor and clothing were that of a Medjay, and the badge with the Eye of Horus upon it. The Medjay had come far from the days of old where they were protectors of the pharaoh. Now, the numbers of Medjay had dwindled, and only a few like he served as protectors for all of Egypt. Even with the phylakitai who were to police and hold up the law, the sons and daughters of Egypt still looked to the Medjay to be there as protectors. He walked through the village of Siwa, his home watching the villagers bustle about in excitement of the Pharaoh's arrival.

A cry from an eagle came from above, and Bayek looked up at the eagle that swooped down towards him. He held out his arm, and the great bird landed on it without hesitation. This was Senu—his eyes and his guide through the most treacherous parts of the desert—and he stroked her feathers, with a fond smile playing across his lips. He jolted when something soft tickled the shell of his ear, and he turn sharply to see his beautiful wife, Aya. She twirled an arrow between her fingers, and grinned up at him with a mischievous look on her face.

Her Grecian features were sharp and angular that only highlighted her strong feminine beauty, and her dark brown eyes were the color of honey and just as warm. Her skin had turned golden underneath the desert sun, and her black as night hair was braided with care, pulled out of her face. A flow of pure love and affection ached inside of Bayek's chest upon sight of her, and his eyes sparkled with joy as he reached down to pull her hand in his. He brought her fingers up to his lips for a quick chaste kiss, and the two of them strode through the streets, hand in hand.

They reached the main road that stretched through the city, and Bayek looked to his right to see a small figure climbing the latter. It was a child that was no more than eight years old reached the top, and turned to Bayek. He waved proudly at the Medjay, and Bayek—

Elizabeth cried out in her sleep, her hand reaching up to her chest. A painful ache rippled through her from head to toe, enhancing the heartache that she already felt on a daily basis. Her teeth gnashed together, and her head thrashed back against the pillow. Her breaths came in short and shallow gasp, but even this was not enough to pull her from her dreams.

The ground shook as the elephants stomped through the streets, but there were not screams of alarm, but once of excitement that fluttered through the masses. Bayek and Aya stood beside the priest when the Pharaoh's caravan made up of soldiers and servants marched their way down the streets. Bayek narrowed his eyes against the sunset, to see the young Pharaoh sitting mightily on top the elephant. He looked so young, with a smile upon his face as he waved down the people who eagerly soaked up the attention sent to the by the young Pharaoh whom was all of Egypt's conduit to the Gods. He watched the young Ptolemy's eyes turn towards the priest, and then where the Medjay stood with his wife.

Two figures inside of the houdah with the pharaoh could now be seen. They wore ritual masks that were made out of green stone, and resemble the pharaohs from the Old Kingdom. One of them leaned forward, and whispered something into the young Pharaoh's ear.

Bayek felt a foreboding sensation settle deep in his heart.

The dreams started to flicker and come undone, like a broken reel of film. Images passed by too fast for her to ascertain what they were, and Bayek's screams rang out in her ear drums as clear as if he had been standing beside her. Finally, the dream settled into a new and much darker scene than before.

The inside of the Bent Pyramid was dark and cold. The walls and stone on the inside cannot be touched by the light of the sun, and Bayek walked forward picking up the mask off of the ground. It was the same kind of mask of the ones who stood behind Pharaoh Ptolemy on the houdah that fateful day. Bayek was bloodied and bruised, as if he had been in a great fight for his life. His hair had grown out, shaggy and tied back half-heartedly out of his face. His beard was scraggly and unkempt. Dark circles sat underneath Bayek's golden eyes, and the madness of rage burned deep within the depths of his heart. He looked down at the sniveling and cowardly man, Rudjek, who crawled away from him to the best of his ability. The jewels and precious metals that were sown onto the man's expensive cloth clicked and clanked as he stared fearfully up at the Medjay.

"You are the Medjay from Siwa? I thought Medjays were supposed to protect the pharaoh?" Rudjek gasped, his great jowl waggled in tandem with his body that quaked with fear.

Bayek's upper lip curled in a snarl, and he grasped the arrow stuck into his upper thigh. It hadn't gone deep enough to be fatal, but far enough that pain burned through his muscles as he ripped it out. His cold and deadly gaze swept back to Rudjek. "I am Medjay to no pharaoh," he growled out, his voice rough with exertion and pain. He used the arrow and pointed to a tattoo on his upper right arm. "You see this?"

"I can read my own name, nek!" Rubjek cried out.

Bayek bared his teeth like a wolf, and then he dragged the tip of the arrow across the tattoo. It was a statement, marking out the name as if it had been merely another thing on a checklist in such a painful and agonizing way. A powerful statement that by marking it out, that Rubjek would be marked out and that he would die in this dark, dank tomb with knowing on fear in his last moments.

Rubjek's chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. "We will find you. We will find you, in your sleep!" He reached into his robes, and grasped a small knife. He threw it at Bayek in one desperate attempt to kill the Medjay and save his life.

Bayek reacted, bringing the mask up as a shield. His golden eyes stared at the tip of the knife that was only inches away from his face. If he had not instinctively raised the mask to shield him, the knife would have killed him. The dark rage that coursed through his veins ignited once more, and he strode towards Rubjek with a gait as lethal as a lion. "Sleep? I never sleep. I just wait. In the shadows," he growled out, kneeling down to the other man. He caught the arm that attempted to strike out at him. He held in a vice grip and got satisfaction when Rubjek whimpered in pain and he raised the mask, the knife pointed downward towards Rubjek's face. "And I will kill you all! Everyone who sniffed the air that day in Siwa!"

And he shoved the mask onto Rubjek, the knife imbedded with a sickeningly wet thud into the man's head.

Elizabeth jolted awake at the copper taste that flooded her mouth, and she pressed her palm against her lips only to pull it back to see drops of blood that stood out against her pale skin. She cursed underneath her breath, gingerly reaching into her mouth to feel the side of her cheek that she had bitten down on and wince at the sting of pain that lanced through her face. She hadn't bit clean through it, but it was a harsh enough bite that she would be feeling it for days. Though, truth be told, the pain was a welcomed change to the cold numbness that enveloped most of her day where grief and rage did not. Her heart was pounding wild and untamed against her ribcage, and her mind turned to the bizarre dream.

She could still feel it—the rage, anger and sorrow that beat through Bayek's blood and heart. It echoed the one that was inexplicably tied to her own soul, and she wondered if this strange dream was just a way of processing her grief. With shaky legs, Elizabeth got out of bed and stumbled her way to the adjacent bathroom. She twisted the steel handle, and cold water flowed down in the sink below. She cupped the water with her hands, and then sipped it up. She gurgled the water for a moment, and then spit it out into the sink. Specs of bloody water painted the bottom of the white bowl red, and she watched with a strange fascination as the water washed it all away.

Her eyes then drifted upward to the little toy yellow motorcycle that had been placed beside the soap dispenser. Her heart slammed into the back of her throat, and her knees knocked together as a grief so powerful nearly sent her to the ground. But somehow, someway, she kept on standing. With a trembling hand, she grasped the toy and held it close to her heart as her wide blue eyes grew wet with tears. She sniffled loudly, and pressed her knuckles up to her mouth to quiet the sobs that wracked through her body. I'm so sorry, baby. I am sorry mommy wasn't there. I am sorry that mommy couldn't protect you. My little Jakey, she thought, with scalding tears rolling down her cheeks. I would give almost anything to change that night and get you back.

"Mommy?"

Elizabeth jumped, turning to see her eldest boy, Cameron standing in the doorway to her bathroom. Cameron and Jake, her two boys, were like night and day. Cameron had her dark hair that hung around his face in curls and had brown eyes while Jake had his father's blond hair and blue eyes. The two couldn't be more apart in looks, but they had been inseparable. Jake had been Cameron's little shadow, and idolized his big brother. The fissure inside her heart cracked, and grew wider at the thought of what her oldest son was going through. She drew in a shuddering breath, and hastily wiped away her tears while clutching the toy in a death grip. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Did I wake you?" She asked, her voice raw from the days she had spent screaming and crying.

"No," Cameron shook his head, his dark curls bouncing with the motion. "I…" The six year old boy ducked his head, and shuffled his feet nervously. "I had a nightmare, mommy."

"A nightmare?" Elizabeth asked, walking over to him. She knelt down so she was on eye level with her son, and gently pulled him into her arms. The void in her heart that had been carved out by loss was soothed ever so. It didn't get rid of her pain of losing her youngest son, Jake, but knowing that one of her babies was safe and sound gave her a measure of comfort where well wishes could not. "Do you want to tell me about it? Was it…was it about Jake?"

Cameron nodded, his dark eyes welled up with tears. "He hates me, mommy."

"Oh, baby, that's not true," Elizabeth said, fighting to keep her voice level. Fresh tears stung at her eyes, and she lifted him into her arms holding him tight. "Jake would never hate you, sweetie. He loved and adored you. I don't think there was a person in the world that he loved more."

"H-he…" Cameron hiccupped, his tears falling down his face like a water fountain. "He said that if-f I had j-just came down st-tairs and played with him, he w-would have gone outside! T-that he wouldn't have gotten h-hit by the car!"

Elizabeth heart broke anew. It had been broken so many times, but these new heartbreaks were more painful than anything she had to endure in her entire life. She carried her son downstairs to the living room, and sat him down on the couch. Getting the fuzzy red blanket that he liked the most out, she wrapped him up tight in and let him nestle into her side. "It's not your fault, Cameron. It's not," she told him, stroking his hair gently. "It was just an accident. A horrible accident and it's not your fault. Jake would never blame you for it."

"But my nightmare felt so real!" Cameron whispered, tearfully.

"I know they do, sweetheart. But nightmares are like tricks," Elizabeth said, handing him a tissue while using another to wipe his tearstained cheeks. She struggled with it, finding those words or explanation just like she did when she had to explain to Cameron why Jake was never coming home. There was no guide to grief, no easy way to heal wounds like these, but she had to try to help Cameron heal. Even if she couldn't heal and broke apart, she would strive to make sure her little boy did not. "Tricks are cunning and sometimes really scary. But do you know what the enemy of a trick is?"

"What?" Cameron asked, blowing his nose.

"Time," Elizabeth said, softly. She ran her fingers through his curls, and flipped the blanket that had slipped down just a bit. "Time reveals what a trick really is about. Tricks in time will give away what they really are. Nightmares are tricks, and they don't last. But love…love like the one between brothers, like the one you and Jake shared, that surpasses time itself. It last forever like the light of the stars, it endures. Jake loves you, Cameron. Of all the things that will change in this life, that never will."

Cameron swallowed. "Mommy?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Do you think Jake is flying through the stars, trying to touch them? He always said he wanted to reach them," Cameron said, quietly.

"Yeah," she said, with a watery laugh. The first smile in days crossed across her lips, and she pressed a kiss to Cameron's forehead. "That sounds exactly like something he would be doing right now."

"Do you think we could look at the stars?" Her son asked, suddenly. "Maybe…maybe we'll get to see Jake, if we look at the stars."

Elizabeth felt choked up, and nodded her head. She didn't have the heart to tell him that wasn't how things worked, and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. "Whatever you need, sweetie," she whispered, closing her eyes tightly. "We are going to get through this together, I promise you."

It took a little while, but eventually she got Cameron to fall back to sleep. Sitting there with him in her arms, Elizabeth thought back to that horrible night. After a double shift at the hospital which had been hectic because of a bus accident, she had been so tired and exhausted. But mothers didn't get a break, especially when it was their traditional movie night. She had left Jake on the landing where he happily played with his toys, like he had done so many times before and had went into the kitchen to finish up dinner really quick. The smoke alarm had gone off, blaring and all too loud. She had been in the midst of trying to climb the counter to reach it when she felt a cold draft move through the warm kitchen. The taste of winter air that lingered into March like an unwelcomed guest and instantly she knew something was wrong.

She had abandoned the smoke alarm, and rushed into the living to find the front door wide open. Jake was nowhere to be seen. She could still feel the panic and the fear; even now they lingered in her soul and battered her with every breath she took. She remembered rushing to the door, hearing tires screech across the pavement. The headlights twinkled out of existence by the time she was off the porch, and that's when she had seen her baby. He was lying on the side of the road, bloody and broken, with his yellow motorcycle clutched tight in his hand. Her throat burned with the scream she gave, and she rushed towards him.

He had been so cold and his breaths were so shallow. They had got him to the hospital, and for agonizing hours, Elizabeth clung to hope that he would be alright. And then, all hoped died and in two days' time, she would be burying her son. He would be put into the ground where there was no light, or life. She went over that time so many times, playing it on repeat in her head. She swore when she came inside with the last of the groceries that she locked the dead bolt—the one too high for even Cameron to reach, let alone Jake. She swore to herself, she remembered the feel of the metal beneath her fingers and she remembered twisting the lock, sealing the door tight.

But it was a lie that her mind told herself to absolve the guilt in her heart.

Her baby was dead, and it was all her fault.

48 BCE

Ruins on the outskirt of Siwa

A desert storm raged on.

The sand whirled around in a golden blur, grating abrasively against his skin that was exposed. Bayek had intended to seek shelter in the old ruins from the sand and heat, but his shadow that had pursued him ever since he left Nitria. His plans were dismantled when the towering brute finally had caught up, and launched a violent attack against him. He instantly recognized the man as Hypatos, Rubjek's bodyguard and without a split second of warning the Greek that resembled more of a mountain in his shining and gleaming armor attacked. Bayek cursed himself while he ducked low to avoid his head being removed from his shoulders by the war mallet that Hypatos swung at him with lethal precision. He thought he had lost the man in the sandstorm. His sore muscles ached and pulsed with pain at every move that he made. He had pushed himself to the point of exhaustion, but he could not give up.

Not when there was still so much to do.

"You killed my master, and left me for dead! That was a mistake, Medjay!" Hypatos snarled, his voice held a metallic muffle because of his helm. The ground shook as Hypatos mallet struck it, narrowly missing Bayek who rolled out of the way.

Bayek gripped the pommel of his sword, and held his shield at the ready. His golden eyes narrowed upon the man, and shook his head side to side. "Rubjek deserved his fate!" the Medjay countered, vehemently. "You, however, do not have to die here. I am not without mercy. Let us make a truce, you are not the one I have sworn to kill!"

"I cannot. I am Rubjek's swore bodyguard, and this is a matter of honor," Hypatos spat, angrily. The two circled each other, waiting for the other to make a move. "I have no choice, but to bring my master's murder to justice!"

Blood lust roared in Bayek's ears at the man's defense of the cur he had slaughtered and left dead, abandoned in a that dark tomb. His gaze bled red with rage and he lunged forward with a roar off of his lips. "Your master was a murderer!" His blade clashed against Hypatos, and he slammed his shield as hard as he could into the Greek's face.

Hypatos let out a shout, and stumbled back. The bull of a man retaliated tenfold, and the battle spun onward, violent and spiraling towards death. The clangor of metal against metal that echoed through the ruins, like the beat of a broken song, and blood splattered across the sand, soaking deep into the desert. Sweat dripped off of Bayek's brow into his eyes, every breath that rattled through him as harsh as swallowing sand, and pain splintered through him when Hypatos leveled him to the ground. His shield ripped from his arm, and he had to scramble back to dodge the war mallet.

The mallet struck the stone beneath their feet, and there was a low rumble that followed. Neither man was prepared for the stones to shift, and the ground to give right out from underneath them. The sound of rocks weighing more than twenty men, impacted the ground below with an earth shattering thunder. The fall, nearly a hundred feet, made Bayek's stomach slam up to the back of his throat, and he landed with such force against the sands that it made stars burst across his vision. With a grunt of pain, Bayek rolled himself onto his feet and glanced at his attacker.

Hypatos was trapped beneath a large quarry stone, and was choking on his blood. His hands grasped at his chest, as if to pull the armor away to be able to breath. When he saw the Medjay approach, he reached despite the pain for his mallet that was just out of his hands reach.

"I am sorry that this is the way of things," Bayek told the dying man, with a twist of sympathy on his lips. He only sought vengeance against those that had destroyed what he had held so desperately dear, and despised the fact that men like Hypatos would be caught in the middle of his revenge. But he could not stop, not when he was so close to cutting the head of the Snake. "This was not an honorable death for a warrior such as yourself."

Hypatos growled something intelligible out, blood and spit dribbling down his chin.

"Anubis awaits you," Bayek said, bowing his head. He drew his blade clean across the Greek man's throat. It was a quick and clean death, to spare the man further pain. The Medjay let out a deep breath, one that settled heavy in his chest and he held for a few moments before he released it. His eyes scanned his surrounding, and the opening above. There was no feasible way to climb back up, but these were ruins of a temple. It surely must have some kind of passage that led out of here, and his only hope that it had not fallen in and decayed like his current surroundings.

Picking his shield off of the crowd and slinging it onto the holster upon his back, and sheathing his blade, Bayek began to scan the area with his intense and unwavering gaze. There was a unique ability that his bloodline had been blessed with. It was a heightened perception, his father had said. It allowed them to pick upon things that others would overlook, as if they could see deeper into the world and unravel little secrets. He had never been more grateful for such a gift then he was in this moment, when he felt something off with the far off corner wall. As he stumbled toward it, he saw scarabs—hundreds of them crawling along the wall—and while the beetles were not an uncommon sight, the number of them made his brow arch.

There must be an opening. The beetles can live in small spaces, but for such a great amount they would needed more room than the cracks between the stones, he reasoned, his mind weary with fatigue. Blood soaked into his clothes and made his arm shafted against his skin. His wounds pulsed with pain, but he had to keep going. He pressed his palms against the stone, and bent his knees, using his shoulder as leverage. The stone gave away and lifted it upward, revealing a secret passage. When he felt the stone click into place into the niches designed to hold it open, the Medjay ducked through the small space and crawled through the passageway before it opened up into a hall.

Sand filtered down from the cracks in the ceiling, and the barest trace of sun light illuminated great statues of the Goddess and Gods in the distance, standing watchfully over the entrance. On nearby pillars, depictions of achievements as well as akhu had been painted by steady and thoughtful hands. Bayek always felt in awe at such hidden wonders, but he could not dawdle for long. He was in need of a healer, and the more time that slipped away, the more likely his enemies were to getting away. He walked across the sand, it shifted beneath each heavy step and he grunted with pain, when he had to vault up over a wall that had fallen over.

Steadily, he made his way across the rumble and ruins until he could make out a bit of light in the distance. It seems so far away and half of him wondered if his addled mind from his wounds and the heat from riding relentless through the Great Sand Sea, a vast desert wasteland with no reprieve or water. He made his way through the great threshold, under the eyes of Iset and Osiris, and into grand room that was massive in size despite the fact that it was halfway filled with sand. Whomever this tomb or temple had been dedicated to, they had spared no expense on showcasing their importance and wealth. He carefully made his way down the slope and muttered to himself, "This must have been built centuries upon centuries ago."

The architecture was similar to things he had seen before, but there was a subtle difference. A telltale sign that it belonged to a time afore the one he lived in the hieroglyphs and paintings. He stepped on something that gave a metallic crunch beneath his foot, and he pulled back to see a chest. It had been nearly hidden away by the sand, but the faint gleam of gold coins and intricate pottery just visible. His stomach clenched tightly, and he bent downward. He hesitated for it was a great sin to take from a tomb, no matter how old and broken it was. "Forgive me, great Amun. I have need of this," he whispered, taking only three coins. He would not take more than was necessary to restore his depleted funds, because these treasures had been left here to be used in the afterlife of whoever this tomb belonged to.

Putting the coins in his pouch, he used the pillar that had fallen over and sat up on an incline to get himself up high to have a better vantage point on the room. He climbed over the necking of the lotus style pillar, and jumped across the relatively flat surface of a broken column before he reached the nearby balcony. He made his way towards a passageway to the left, but found himself at a dead end drop off. Wondering what was below, he grabbed a torch off the nearby wall and broke the seal on the oil jar beneath it. The smell of the oil was powerful and pungent, but the seal had held good keeping the oil fresh. He dipped the tip of the torch into the liquid allowing it to soak up, and carefully wiped it off so that none dripped down onto his fingers. He used his piece of flint and his small dagger to create a spark. After two tries, the torch whooshed to life as the spark eagerly became a flame.

He lowered his torch to light the dark room below the best he could, and the vast treasure below glinted in the firelight. "Riches of the ancients," Bayek whispered, shocked by the treasure undefiled by bandits and scavengers. The tomb had been exceedingly well hidden to escape such a fate. It had no further passages below, just solid walls that offered no way out. With a heavy sigh, he turned back around and made his way back to the main room. He walked further to the end of the balcony, and narrowed his eyes towards the glow of light in the distance. He would have to leap across the beams to reach the other area, and the threshold that went further into the temple.

His body cringed at such a thought, but he had no choice. He could not allow himself to wither and die in such a place. No, he had no right to rest when that which he loved most had been denied such. He steeled himself against the pain, and clutched his torch in a knuckle white grip. He broke into a run, gaining as much speed and as soon as his feet hit the edge, he leapt through the air. His feet slapped against the first beam, but he kept moving forward. He needed the momentum to make each jump, and after two more leaps, he was mercifully on solid ground.

With his free hand, Bayek rubbed his bleary eyes. He could feel the vitality of his body draining away and the urge to sink to his knees grew tenfold. He squared his shoulders, and moved forward towards the great effigies of Horus. Behind the depictions of the god's head, light flowed inward in a spot that was just big enough for him to slip through. "By Ra, finally there is light!" Bayek said, abandoning the torch against the sandy floor. He walked up to the sculpture, his eyes scanned it for foothold and handholds in which to scale it. Rolling the tension from his shoulders, he began to climb upward. Each movement had to be sure and one false move could send him flying down to the unforgiving ground, and it only took one unlucky fall to end a man.

He reached the ledge, and rested his head against the cool stone wall. His temples pounded with agony, and his wounds burned like they had been immersed in Greek Fire. He gnashed his teeth together, and stood upright away from the wall. There was a broken piece of the wall that allowed the sunlight through, and with careful maneuvering he managed to squeeze through. He drew in a deep breath of fresh air, relishing in the taste of it and the beautifully feeling of sunlight against his skin. His solace was short lived when he heard the sound of shouts from below.

Opening his golden eyes, he narrowed them on the figures fighting at the temple entrance. "Soldiers. Of course," Bayek whispered, wearily underneath his breath. He climbed down, using the sand to break his fall. He rushed forward, wondering just who the soldiers were battling against.

"Where is your medjay friend?" One soldier demanded, loudly.

Their mysterious opponent gave no response other than to lash out with his sword. The man whipped around, allowing Bayek his first glimpse at his face and his heart jolted with shock. It was his best friend, Hepzefa! A sense of renewed purpose washed over him, and he withdrew his sword from its sheath.

"What was that?" The closest soldier said, turning around. His eyes widened comically at the sight of bloody and mad looking Medjay coming towards him, and barely had time to shout in surprise when the end of Bayek's sword cleaved clean through his neck. "Hepzefa! Watch out!"

Hepzefa dodged the sword, and slashed the soldier through the gut. He turned towards Bayek, a smile split his face. "Bayek! Is that you?"

"In the flesh!" Bayek smirked, sliding his sword away. He gestured to the dead guards at their feet, and stated with a trace of humor in his voice. "I see you have made new friends."

"They were setting up an ambush," Hepzefa said, dropping his old sword to the ground. He wiped the sweat from his brow before he picked up one of the swords the soldiers' had dropped. Checking it over to make sure it was a generic style type of sword with no specialized markings, Hepzefa claimed it as his own. "It is a good thing I came to welcome you, huh?"

Hepzefa put the blade away, and then clasped hands with Bayek, both happy to see one another. "It's been months. Look at that beard. It feels good to get out and fight!" Hepzefa commented, with a wry grin and released his friend. "I am out of practice. In Siwa, everyone defers to the soldiers on pain of death…or worse."

Bayek absorbed that. He supposed he should not be surprised that the soldiers had taken over Siwa in such a manner, especially given the militant rule that Ptolemy had imposed on all of Egypt. His eyes lifted from the desert sands, and he looked at his friend. "I've killed one of the masked ones. Rubjek known as The Heron," he confided, solemnly.

Hepzefa's face grew sober and he bowed his head. "Four more then."

"Yes," Bayek said, hands clenched at his sides. For a brief moment, the pair fell in silence. The tragedy that had left a void in Bayek had also shaken Siwa and its residents to their core. The sorrow born on that day, and the blood shed was a stain that could never be removed.

"Come, it has been a long road," Hepzefa finally broke the silence. "You need rest."

"No, no rest. Not until all the masked ones' guts lie baking in the sand," Bayek replied, watching Hepzefa mount his camel.

Hepzefa smiled, slightly. "Gods, I have missed you my stubborn friend. Where is your mount? Surely, you do not intend to walk all the way to Siwa?" He arched a brow at his friend.

Bayek rolled his eyes, slightly. He made his way to where his camel was tied up, and made sure that no beast or person had harmed him. "Good boy," Bayek stroked the camel's neck, gently. He pulled himself up onto the saddle, and rejoined Hepzefa who waited patiently.

"Let us go, my brother."

The two Medjay rushed through the desert across the warms sands with the sun beating down upon, and the wind roaring past them. Vultures circled lazily in the distance, having found some poor soul to feast upon. "How have you been holding up?" Bayek asked. He had been gone from home, and it was not safe to send or receive word from Siwa given the nature of his hunt.

"It has been difficult, Bayek. Without you, the villagers look to me to keep order. But the soldiers have set up a garrison and they rule over all," Hepzefa informed him, with a deep frown.

"An entire garrison in Siwa?" Bayek was shocked. Siwa was a small oasis town, hardly large enough to assemble a whole garrison at. He wondered briefly if this had something to do with masked ones, and what they desired to unleash all those months ago. Such thoughts spark a fire in the base of his mind, and his jaw set tight.

"Ptolemy wants the entire region kept under heel. I do my best to keep the villagers out of trouble. I could use your help," Hepzefa admitted, on a sigh.

Bayek nodded, without hesitance. "I will do what I can. But do not forget. I have my own justice to pursue."

Hepzefa smiled. "I knew I could count on you, seni."

The vultures that had been in the distance now flew up ahead, and Bayek's stomach lurched when he realized what had drawn a great number of them to the area. The smell of ash and death perfumed the air, pungent and harsh. The small farming village just outside of the main heart of Siwa had been burnt to ashes, with only broken and blackened stone walls remaining. A few bodies that had yet to be collected, burnt beyond all recognition and their features twisted into agony. "By the Gods, what happened here?" Bayek asked, horrified.

"The garrison soldiers are brutal. If they suspect a villager is lying to them, they burn his neighborhood. And worse…much worse," Hepzefa said, in a sorrowful and exhausted tone.

Bayek looked at Hepzefa, and realized that he was not the only who bore heavy burdens. It must be a fine line that Hepzefa walked, trying to protect the villagers the best he could without incurring the garrison's wrath. The two road beyond the devastation in silence, with the beat of the vultures' wings fading into the distance. The road had never seemed so long as it did now, Bayek mused. A never ending stretch to a destination that he both fear and craved to see once more, and his heart beat loudly in his chest as the two men pulled to a halt.

"Welcome home, Bayek. Siwa has missed you."

Bayek did not reply. Too much came at him, too many emotions and memories, and he was at a completely loss at what to feel being back at the start…the start where everything had fallen apart.

Present Day

Webber Residence

Elizabeth awoke to a rapping at her door, and blinked her bleary eyes open. She looked down at the empty spot beside her, the red blanket unfurled and Cameron was nowhere in sight. A blistering panic tore through her heart, and she jumped to her feet, her eyes darting around wildly. Anxiety stole into her lungs and made it very hard to breath. No, no, not again! I can't lose another one of my babies! I can't! The thoughts tore through her mind, wildly and she rushed towards the door. She ripped it open, and pushed back the couple standing there.

"Elizabeth? Elizabeth, what's wrong?" Steve Lars Webber, Elizabeth's brother, asked, worriedly. He was a tall man with sandy colored hair, and hazel eyes. He reached out and touched her shoulder, only to hold up his hands in a surrendering gesture when Elizabeth recoiled away from his touch.

"Cameron? Where's Cameron?" Elizabeth demanded, her eyes flickered to the road. She saw images of Jake's broken body, the blood and how cold he had been burned white-hot in her mind's eye. She couldn't lose Cameron the same way. She couldn't. It would break her so badly, she'd never find all the pieces.

"Elizabeth, he is with Audrey," Olivia Falconeri said, gently. She was Steve's fiancée, and a somewhat friend to Elizabeth. She had bright auburn hair, and big brown eyes, and a distinctive Boston accent. "She is taking him to the zoo today, and picked him up a couple of hours ago."

Elizabeth froze in step, her hands quaked in the air before dropping her sides. Fragments of the morning came back to her and she vaguely recalled Audrey coming into the house. Her and Cameron had fallen asleep on the couch after their talk, and she had gotten him ready. She remembered Audrey telling her goodbye and giving Cameron a hung. She remembered the fear that crawled across her skin to let her son out of sight, and she recalled taking a sleeping pill to slip back into oblivion in order to hide from the growing anxiety. Bayek found Hepzefa and made it back to Siwa, she thought, and then shook her head. The dreams weren't important, she didn't know why they plagued her so.

"I…I can't believe I forgot," Elizabeth whispered, running her hands through her hair.

"Elizabeth, are you sure you are alright? We can do this for you, if you need to stay—" Olivia offered, genially.

Elizabeth cut her off with a sharp shake of her head. "No. No, I have to do this. I need…to be the one that makes the arrangements for the burial," she said, the words tore up her throat like sandpaper. She felt horribly sick to her stomach, and her jaw clenched then unclenched. "I meant to take a shower and be ready by the time you all got here. I am so sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, peanut," Steve said, pulling her into a light hug. "You don't have to be sorry about anything, alright? You just go upstairs and get ready, we'll be waiting patiently. Okay?"

"Okay," she nodded.

Elizabeth trod up the stairs; each step seemed to all her energy and courage. She made it the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and she turned on the shower water to muffle the sound of tears.

Olivia stood in Elizabeth's kitchen, in the silence of the house that usually was so warm and welcoming. It was now so cold and empty, she shook her head slowly at the site of casserole dishes that sat neglected on the counters. "I never really understood the purpose of people showing up with food when someone was going through a terrible loss. It isn't for the person grieving," she said, wrapping her arms around herself. "It's for the other people, so that they can feel like they're doing something, anything in an impossible situation."

"Believe me, if I could make a casserole, I'd be doing it right now. I have tried fielding phone calls, taking care of what Elizabeth needs, but my sister is just in this dark place that I can't even imagine let alone know how to help her out of," Steve sighed, heavily. "I don't know how to help her through this."

"You're taking care of Elizabeth, and believe me, she appreciates it," Olivia told him, turning to her boyfriend. She wrapped her arms around him tight, and leaned her head on her shoulder.

"Jake was a special kid. And I know, I know that's what family members always say, but he really was. He was bright, he was determined. And I think about the hospital and the miracles that happened there every day. Why didn't Jake get one?" Steve asked, with tears in his eyes.

Elizabeth's tears dried up, eventually. She stood there numbly for several moments afterwards, trying to remember just how to breathe. Her hands moved with a mind of their own, pouring the shampoo into her palm and working it into her hair. She didn't even flinch when shampoo ran down her face and got into her eyes, burning painfully. A part of her wanted the pain, it made her feel alive as much as it felt like a fitting punishment for not preventing her baby's death. Washing the shampoo away, the dull ache in between her eyes seemed to grow more intense. There was pounding in her skull, it increased with each heartbeat until it was a migraine of crippling proportions. She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to ease the sudden agony when she felt her eyeballs strain. It was such a peculiar feeling, like stretching out an unused muscle and the world around went grey.

Every one of her sense was punctuated in this grey haze. The sound of the water crashing to the shower door sounded like thunder, the edges of the tiles and shower seemed sharper like she could see them more clearly, and the peach shampoo was overpowering. The shower water against her skin was like being raked raw with a cheese grater, and she pushed her way out of the shower, stumbling over her own feet. Fear pounded through her veins, Elizabeth didn't understand what happened.

She caught herself on the sink, and looked up in the mirror. It was like seeing the world in negative, and her face looked so strangely alien and familiar, with panic etched into every feature. The same twinge filtered through her eyes, and she released a harsh breath when suddenly the world went back to normal. She stood there, shaken and not sure what that was. "It's the lack of sleep," she whispered, trying to convince herself. "It's just the stress. That's all it is."

She couldn't be going crazy.

She just couldn't.

END OF CHAPTER!

I intend to stay a couple of chapters ahead on this, and won't post another until I get chapter four finished. It's a way to help me update better, and to keep myself motivated for a story. I deleted to other stories that I just wasn't working on (non-GH fics) and decided to post this one. I hope to get "She Don't Want the World" wrapped up, and put "completed" until I have all the chapters of the next man (Sesshomaru, Thor, or Ardeth Bey, I haven't decided) for Elizabeth in that story done. And I hope to get Spooks done soon, too. So I'm lightening my workload bit by bit.

Author's Note: From here on out, the scenes from Bayek and Elizabeth will be separated by lines and such. It will not be often that Elizabeth has dream sequences of Bayek like in the start of the story, if ever again. The past and present events will be separate, though we will see the impact of Elizabeth remembering her past life as Bayek. (Bayek's part is actually easier to write because it will overall—aside from dialogue edits sparingly added and certain things to be more realistic than gamey—follow the canon of the game. Elizabeth's and General Hospital is departure from cannon, so I'm literally making it up as I go.)

* Bayek's Fight Scene with Hypatos—in the game, after they fall the fight continues. I get that the point was to have the player get used to the fighting dynamics of the game, but realistically speaking two people falling from a roughly fifty foot drop with large stones that was a ton and are massive, someone was bound to get hurt. **It will not be often that I stray from the Origins script, and events.**

** GH NOTE: One of my pet peeves that will come off in my writing is Elizabeth's disdain for people trying to control and run her life. For years, this character was made from an independent strong woman who survived horrible things, into a doormat for others to walk on. She lost her voice and self in the mess that the writers created and I wanted to give her spine back. As for other GH characters, I am writing them in character as the worst version of themselves that has been seen from time to time on the show and I don't believe in whitewashing or easy redemption stories so I am not going to make light of past mistakes. (AC fans can disregard this, lol)

**AC NOTE: Elizabeth's little incident at the end of the chapter will be explained later, and why I chose to portray that—which you likely have inkling of what it is—and why Elizabeth has it. It will take about five to six chapter for the Modern AC storyline to start to take shape through Elizabeth, so bear with me. I can't explain without revealing bits of the story.

***TERMS AND REFERENCES

1.) A howdah or houdah derived from the Arabic hawdaj means "bed carried by a camel". It also known under the term, hathi howdah, it is a carriage which is positioned on the back of an elephant, or occasionally some other animals such as camels. It was used to carry the wealthy, and was often adorned with decorations, even gemstones to demonstrate the owner's wealth and power.

2.) Ptolemy XIII was the pharaoh of Egypt, and ascended to the throne in 51 BCE at the age of ten. He married his sister Cleopatra, whom was a few years older than him and had been serving alongside of their father as ruler until his passing. This was not done out of affection, and Cleopatra used it as a way to continue to rule and cement her place on the throne she thought was hers. In 49 BCE, Ptolemy exiled Cleopatra for he wanted to rule of Egypt to fall solely to him. Given his age and youth, it was likely that his council had encouraged this choice and saw him as a more pliable puppet than his sister was.

3.) Palm Trees—I actually had to look and make sure that this was a fact. Yes, ancient Egyptian had palm trees, called Date Palm which the fruit known as dates were harvested for food and wine. Egyptians knew how to pollinate such trees by hand, but sadly, the tree itself can no longer be found in Egypt in modern times.

4.) Medjay (also spelled as Medjai, Mazoi, Madjai, Mejay) aswere the elite Egyptian military unit who acted as the ultimate sworn guardians of the Pharaoh and the nation. More than just a police force, at their peak, they were highly esteemed and perceived as the very symbol of true honor and courage.

5.) Phylakitai (or police) were a police force in layman's terms though they did handle more than just police type duties. The term phylakitai is Greek and given the great prejudice in Egypt at the time against born and bred Egyptians who were only allowed to have certain roles in military and other things, I wouldn't think that many would get to be phylakitai. But beyond the in game lore of Assassin's Creed: Origins, I haven't been able to really learn more about them. I will, of course, for the sake of being factual throughout the story as best can be.

6.) Nek is as far as I know a curse word. It either means 'shit' or 'damn' though I can't find any clear translation for it, when I do I will let you all know. From what I have seen and played of the game, it seems to be a universal word that is used to curse something or someone.

7.) Nitria was a town in the Saqqara Nome during ancient Egyptian times. It was named Nitria because the vast amounts of natron—a salt used by Egyptians for the embalming of mummies.

8.) Nome—administrative district or territorial division. This is actually a Greek term, and the Egyptian term is sepat or spAt. Each nome was ruled by a nomarch, an administration official. The number of nomes changed a great many times. At one point there were 22 in upper Egypt and 20 in lower Egypt.

9.) Ahku—spell/enchantment/sorcery.

10.) Lotus Pillars—one of the first style of pillars or columns in Ancient Egyptian. It is called Lotus because of the abacus and echinus (the top parts of pillars and columns) resembled a lotus flower.

11.) Seni—the translation given in the AC Origins script is "brother".

RRs are appreciated. :D