Disclaimer: I do not own The Mummy.

Author's Note: Here's a little something I've been wanting to write for a very long time now, but I kept putting it off. This story is intended to be a three-parter, so this chapter is the first out of three.

Strangers

1923

Beni hated Egypt.

He hated every country the Legion came tramping through, but Egypt was the worst. Not a single cloud filled the sky in Egypt. Not even one measly cloud to bring relief from that bright, cruel sun that glared down at him from dawn to dusk. Sure, it was better than the harsh winters he once suffered in Budapest, but it didn't change the fact that Egypt had lousy weather.

He felt stifled beneath his uniform as he trudged down Cairo's noisy streets, hating the stares he attracted from passerby. Nobody liked Legionnaires. There was nothing honorable about being in the French Foreign Legion and Beni eyed up some fabric for sale in one of the numerous little marketplaces that littered the city. He was tempted to steal some clothing so he could blend in better while his garrison was camped at Cairo, but of course he would have no place to hide it. There was no privacy in the Legion.

A bead of sweat rolled down Beni's underarm and he cursed out loud in his native language, voicing all the Hungarian swear words he knew. He was tired of the heat. He was tired of marching. He was sick and tired of Egypt.

"That's very rude of you, sir," somebody said behind him.

The speaker could have been addressing anyone, but Beni immediately knew she was talking to him and him alone because she spoke in his own language. He couldn't remember the last time he heard someone speak Hungarian. It was ages ago, long before he was pulled into the particular brand of hell known as the Legion.

"What do you care?" he said in Hungarian, turning around to face the woman who addressed him. "I'm having a bad day."

"That's no excuse for your choice of words," she said.

She was a young woman who kept her face partially shielded by a wide-brimmed hat and wore her long, dark blonde hair in a braid down her back. Not much to look at, though Beni wouldn't object to having her skirt pushed up and her legs wrapped around him.

"But I guess it doesn't matter," she continued, eagerness creeping into her voice. "It's been so long since I heard anyone speak my language." She pushed back her hat just a little, revealing blue eyes that looked Beni up and down, taking in every detail of his hot, miserable appearance. "You're a soldier. But you're from Hungary, aren't you? What city are you from?"

Beni sullenly kicked at a rock on the ground. "Budapest."

"Oh." She seemed disappointed. "I'm from Vasvar."

Beni was growing increasingly uncomfortable with this encounter. He chose to wander the streets in order to escape his garrison for a while, not make idle chatter with a woman who probably hoped they were long-lost cousins or something. He started to walk away without bothering to reply, hoping to find a bar he could hide out in, but she called him back.

"Wait!" She sounded breathless, overcome with excitement at finding someone who spoke her language, and her words tumbled out in a rush. "You look tired. Hungry, too. Are you hungry at all?"

Beni halted at the mention of hunger. He was starving after marching around all day on nothing but warm, stale-tasting water and food that was just barely edible and did nothing to fill him. And he had to admit, it was kind of nice to converse with someone in Hungarian for a change. He spoke perfectly fine English, but the two Americans in his garrison, O'Connell and Wilcox, never let him forget that he was a foreigner trying to master a language that wasn't his own. O'Connell was too dumb to be malicious about it, but Wilcox always made fun of his accent, which made no sense when Wilcox could barely speak proper English himself. Always said "ain't" instead of "isn't" and dropped the g's from his "-ing" verbs, and yet Beni was the one with the funny accent.

"Yes, I'm very hungry," Beni said in response to the young woman's question. He put an extra whine in his voice and wore his best mournful expression for good measure. "It is my first day in Cairo and nobody around here cares if I starve. That's how it goes in these big cities."

That wasn't entirely true. It was actually his second day in Cairo and he could usually mooch food off of O'Connell, but Beni had spent so much time stretching the truth that the lie sprang to his lips automatically.

"You're lucky I just finished shopping," said the woman, indicating a basket that hung from one arm. "If you follow me, I can get you something to eat."

The promise of free food was the only thing that urged Beni to stay with this woman and follow her through the unfamiliar streets. She wouldn't stop chattering the entire time she walked and seemed to think that Beni was interested in her whole life story. Her name was Emese Barta, she eagerly informed him, and she had been living in Cairo for nearly six months. "I get paid to be a companion to an old German widow," she explained. "I speak fluent German, you see."

"So do I," Beni replied smugly in German.

Emese stopped walking and gazed at him with round eyes. "What about Arabic? Do you speak good Arabic?"

"Of course I do," Beni said in Arabic.

"You're fortunate. My Arabic is terrible."

It wasn't often that Beni impressed people with his knack for languages. Most Arabs were annoyed that he could understand them when they tried insulting him in their native tongue and everyone else found his accent funny, the way Wilcox did. Beni had thought about grabbing the basket that hung at Emese's elbow and making a run for it, but he tucked that idea at the back of his mind and continued to follow her. The crowded streets and market stalls soon gave way to a neighborhood populated by white people, the kind who probably looked down their noses at the thought of sharing a street with Arabs. The house Emese approached wasn't as large as many of the others, but it was a palace compared to the filthy tent Beni shared with O'Connell and a few other soldiers. Emese let herself into the front door and hesitated, standing perfectly still and silent as if listening for something, then beckoned for Beni to follow her inside.

"We have to be quiet," she warned in a whisper.

She removed her wide-brimmed hat and carried it in one hand as she led Beni through the front entrance hall and up a set of stairs. Every few steps she would freeze and listen hard, then continue walking until she reached a door at the very end of a carpeted hallway. It felt like it had been a hundred years since Beni last felt carpet beneath his feet.

"I've never brought a man home before," Emese said as she opened the door and led Beni into a small bedroom. Once they were both inside, she shut the door and lowered her eyes, suddenly shy. "I'm not supposed to bring any men here, but I couldn't leave one of my fellow countrymen on the street. The old widow doesn't speak Hungarian and she's always trying to correct my German."

Beni was only half-listening, tired of her constant chatter about herself. He eyed up the bed, which boasted a real mattress and a couple of small pillows, and sat down on the edge without invitation. "I have been marching all day long," he told Emese, looking at her with pleading eyes. He hadn't done any real marching since yesterday, but she didn't need to know that. "It feels so good to be in a real bed. I normally sleep on the hard ground."

"Oh, that's terrible." It didn't take much to get Emese's pity.

"Yes." Beni swung his legs up onto the bed and sprawled onto his back, leaning his head against the pillows. He could probably get Emese to take his boots off for him without any arguments. "You mentioned food earlier, didn't you?"

"That's right. I have to drop this off first." Emese indicated her basket. "And then I'll feed you, I promise."

She disappeared from the room, her blonde braid whipping behind her as she darted out the door, and Beni breathed a sigh of contentment. Perhaps he could desert from the Legion and hide out in this old widow's house until his garrison left Cairo. It wasn't like anybody would miss him, except O'Connell perhaps. The rest of them would probably throw a celebration once they realized he was missing.

Of course, if he did desert, he wouldn't be able to see Hamunaptra, and Hamunaptra was the only reason he didn't abandon the Legion ages ago. All that wealth buried beneath the sand... How could he pass up that opportunity?

When Emese returned with a cloth bundle in her arms, Beni decided he would make his choice later. He had more important matters to deal with. He sat up in bed and watched with greedy eyes as she set the bundle on a little side table and unwrapped it, revealing bread (fresh, white bread, rather than the hard crusts Beni was used to), a couple of sausage links (how long had it been since Beni had proper meat?), and several pieces of fruit. Beni had no time to thank Emese and snatched up the bread so he could sink his teeth into the soft white dough. It tasted heavenly and he quickly forgot Emese's presence a he enjoyed the first good meal he had tasted in ages. His longing for Hamunaptra grew stronger with every bite. If he had the gold and treasures of Hamunaptra in his grasp, he could buy his own nice house and eat like a king every day, without having to sneak around to avoid the notice of an old German widow. He wouldn't have to deal with people at all, especially a lonely Hungarian woman who was just dying to fill his ears with more chatter the moment he stopped eating.

But Beni wasn't a rich man yet. He did have to sneak around the old widow's house and put up with the lonely Hungarian woman, and when he swallowed his last bite Emese saw it as an invitation to start talking again.

"You really were hungry!" she said, gazing in wonder at the scattering of crumbs Beni had left behind. "Don't you soldiers get fed?"

"Oh yes, we get fed," said Beni. "But the food is no good. You're not allowed to have anything nice in the French Foreign Legion."

The name of the Legion made no impression upon Emese. She had clearly never heard of it, or else she would have demanded to know if he was a criminal, the way some people did. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said. "Can I get you anything else? I have cigarettes, too." She produced a pack of cigarettes from the top dresser drawer. "I'm not supposed to smoke either, but it helps me get through the day."

"I'll smoke later," said Beni. "First, sit down on the bed."

Emese hesitated, then took a few slow steps to the very end of the bed.

"Not there. Sit closer to me."

Emese obeyed and sank down on the mattress, close to Beni. All he had to do was move his arm just a little in order to touch her, if he wanted. "I hear Budapest is interesting," Emese began, determined to fill the air with as many words as possible. She glanced shyly at Beni, then looked down at her lap. "Vasvar isn't terrible, of course, but I've always wanted to see Budapest. How long did you live there?"

The last thing Beni wanted to do was discuss that crowded shithole where he spent his childhood. "I don't want to talk about Budapest."

"The Legion, then. What's that like?"

"You misunderstand me. I don't want to talk at all."

"I'm sorry. Am I taking you away from your duties? I didn't mean to—"

Beni caught Emese by the wrist and held it, silencing her. "No. I want you to stop chattering and..." He whispered the rest of his request in her ear.

Her face turned pink and she stared down at her lap. "I don't know if we should."

"Let me guess. You're not supposed to do that either."

Emese nodded. Still blushing, she raised her eyes to meet Beni's and didn't look away. "We would have to be very quiet."

She was so desperate for someone who spoke her own language, Beni knew she would do anything he asked. "Then we'll be quiet." When he reached a hand under Emese's skirt, she sucked in a breath but didn't pull away.

Maybe Egypt wasn't so bad.

Note: According to most of the sources I checked, the name Emese is pronounced like "ema-sheh."