Everything
A/N ~ The idea of this story comes from The Mummy Improv, #2 ( http://tmimprov.cjb.net/ ). Also, Buffelyn is partially to blame here…for the first person / present tense stuff (don't keep me waiting on Crisis girl...I'm gonna go mad!) Yes, I'm still working on Bolero and the next Normal Life story, but I needed a bit of a break from those. Let me know what you think...I've not tried the present tense thing before.
Disclaimer ~ I own nothing...
Chapter 1
Find me hereSpeak to me
I want to feel you
~ Everything, Jason Wade
One never knows what they've been missing until they finally find it...and then lose it all over again. Indeed, my world turned upside-down in an instant – the moment Jonathan pulled that key from his pocket, I had little idea what was about to become of my happy, quaint little existence. Made all the happier in a heartbeat. And then...well...I suppose some things just aren't meant to be. But then, who am I to judge what is meant to be? I know quite well that my judgment is clouded by the cold, empty bed I continue to wake up to; hoping every morn that I'll awake to find that arm around me, telling me it had all been but a miserable dream. Not so, I'm afraid. And I do try everything in my power to keep that awful bitterness from consuming me, but having one's heart ripped out and danced upon tends to embitter some. Sadly, I am no exception. All the while, half of me loathes myself for wanting to hate him. That half of me still holds on to a fading pinpoint of hope that perhaps it had all been a misunderstanding. Everyday, that ideal fades more, leaving only the bitterness in the cold London fog.
The British Museum's library is no different from that of Cairo's, except for the great number of books not dealing with Ancient Egypt. And of course, that was the only opening available at the time. They want an expert, one of the Bembridge Scholars, to head up the Egypt collection. Of course, no one believes a word about the Hamunaptra dig, or anything else that had transpired there either. Had I not lived it myself, I too would be skeptical. And though I know otherwise, I don't bother to push the issue. After all, Jonathan and I are the only two respectable people who returned from there alive. And who was going to believe the ramblings of a lush and a woman?
To celebrate our return to the motherland, as Jonathan calls it, he insists on taking me to dinner at a charming little restaurant. Under other circumstances, I might have enjoyed the idea, but tonight is no exception from any other night in the last two months. Despite all of my begging, I find myself sitting at a little table beside the dance floor.
"Isn't this fabulous, ol' mum?" Jonathan asks, swaying to the music. I try to look out the window several tables away, avoiding the site of the happy couples that dance nearby. They laugh and spin, as though to rub in my face what I have so recently lost.
"Yes, fabulous," I reply half-heartedly.
"Would you like to dance?" I glance over at the chipper voice beside my brother. Jonathan grins at me, taking the redhead by the hand.
"Oh, Jonathan, don't you leave me here alone!" I call after him, but he's quickly lost to the sea of dancers. I sigh heavily, resting the weight of my head on my hand. "Bring me here and then leave me to fend for myself," I murmur under my breath.
"Well, you do that well enough." The voice behind me makes my heart stop. I can't breathe, I can't see, I can't speak. All I know is that voice behind me inspires the very heavens to sing and the burning anger in the pit of my stomach to boil over. I finally find the strength to turn around, my eyes narrowing. "Hiya, Beautiful," he says with a lopsided grin.
"O'Connell," I hiss, "what part of 'I never want to see you again' did you not understand?"
"Dance with me," he says, holding out his hand, ignoring my question.
"You think you can just waltz right in here and assume I'm going to leap back into your arms as though nothing happened?" I stand up, grabbing my handbag off the back of the chair. I try to push past him, but he grabs my arm, pulling me back to him. God, he smells wonderful.
What am I thinking??
"Evelyn, just shut up and dance with me," he says quietly, glancing past me. "If you think I came all this way just to dance with you, you'd only be half right." Part of me wants to slap him; the other part wants to turn around to see what he's looking at, but something in his eyes tells me to trust him, for just a moment.
"All right," I say. "You get one dance. And if I'm not entirely convinced by the end of this song, then—" But I can't finish my sentence as I'm dragged out onto the dance floor. He takes my hand in his, looking me in the eyes as he starts to move with the crowd. Of course this song would happen to be slower than the rest have been. I have to slow my breathing, force myself to think straight. The only way this is going to happen is if I avoid his crystalline eyes. "So, then, what did you come all of this way for?"
"There are a couple of men after you," he says finally.
"Oh, are you jealous?" I ask.
"Hardly," he replies. I push him away, infuriated. He grabs my hand, pulling me back. "That's not what I meant, Evy. These guys have intentions of kidnapping you." I glance at him skeptically.
"And just how do you know this?"
"Old connections."
"Old connections, indeed," I reply.
"Evelyn, I'm not playing around. I wouldn't have come all this way for a joke."
"Well, you obviously didn't come all this way for me," I shoot back. This time, it's his turn to push away, stopping in the middle of the dance floor.
"You know, these last two months, I keep wondering what it was that I did to mess up the best damn thing that ever happened to me. Now I'm beginning to wonder if it wasn't just me. Dammit, Evelyn, I came back here to help you and possibly make amends and maybe, just maybe win you back, but if you can't believe me for five minutes, I guess I'll be leaving." I stand there, dumbfounded, watching him make his way through the crowded dance floor. What am I doing? Now I know I've lost my mind as my feet begin to follow him, picking up speed as I lose site of him.
"Rick?" I call, but my timing is awful, as the band finishes, and the crowd clapping drowns my calls. "Rick, wait!" I run out the door, glancing up and down the wet street to see a tall figure walking away briskly. I start to run after him, but suddenly feel myself pulled back. A hand wraps around my mouth as another arm pins my arms down at my sides. Without thinking, I dig my heel into my captor's foot, throwing my elbow back hard. "Rick!" I scream, trying to run, but another pair of hands latch onto me, followed by a sharp pain in the back of my head. I try desperately to hang on to the light, but my vision tunnels and I remember nothing past the ground speeding toward me.