The Mummy - Hospital Visit
By Allyson Dudley
*
(A/N - I don't own any of the characters of the movie though if Jonathon was available I'm sure my sister wouldn't say no. :op)
*
The journey back to Cairo seemed to pass more quickly than their last journey from Hamanaptra. On their return it was agreed that they would meet up for a late dinner after cleaning up from their journey and resting. Though Jonathon was exhausted and his shoes felt like half of the Sahara had taken refuge in them, he knew he would not be able to sleep. After watching Evy and O'Connell head off suspiciously in the same direction, Jonathon made a quick stop at his room to wash the sand from his face and put a clean shirt on, before heading for the nearest bar.
Buying a drink, Jonathon found a quiet corner to sit in. He wasn't feeling up to being sociable with the locals in the bar. Frowning down at his hand, he contemplated the material still wrapped around the wound the beetle had caused. A shiver of revolt ran down his spine as, for a brief moment, he relieved the sensation of the bug crawling under his skin. The nerve - wrenching pain had been replaced by a constant throb with shooting pains whenever he clenched his fist. The cut where O'Connell had removed the beetle had stopped bleeding and ached but his hand still bled.
Now that the adrenaline had stopped flowing after their encounter with Imhotep, the pain seemed to come back with a vengeance. Jonathon took a gulp of whiskey in an attempt to ease the pain. He looked up as a shadow fell over his table, plastering a fixed smile onto his face.
"O'Connell," he greeted, gesturing to the chair in front of him. "Care to join me in a drink?"
O'Connell nodded to the barman before sitting down. "Couldn't sleep either, Jonathon?" he asked, as the bartender thumped a whiskey in front of him before moving back to the bar.
"Good Lord, no," smiled Jonathon. "It's still too early for me. Where's Evy?"
"She told me she was going for a rest, but I have a hunch she's looking through those books of hers; still researching the myths of the City of the Dead," replied O'Connell.
"That's my little sister," agreed Jonathon, glumly remembering the treasure lost under thousand of tonnes of sand and rock. "Won't let anything stay buried."
Both drank in companionable silence until O'Connell noticed Jonathon itching his bandaged hand. In all the chaos of saving Evelyn and fighting with Imhotep, O'Connell had completely forgotten about Jonathon's injury. His eyes narrowed as he took in Jonathon's pasty complexion and the way he held his hand protectively. Standing up, he walked closer to Jonathon.
Jonathon watched him in both confusion and wariness. When O'Connell took hold of his shoulder he couldn't stop the yelp of pain that shot down his arm.
"I say, O'Connell, what are you doing?" he demanded, as he stood, half- pulled up, and moved out of the American's grip.
"You need to go to a doctor to have that bug wound looked at," O'Connell told him, concerned. "Or it will get badly infected and you may lose an arm."
"It's not that bad," protested Jonathon, though he allowed the other man to lead him out of the bar. "It just itches from the sand. Once I put a proper bandage on, it'll be fine."
"Why don't we let the doctor decide?" suggested O'Connell, leading him towards a modest whitewashed building. As Jonathon began to complain again, Rick interrupted him, "Hey, I don't want Evelyn to blame me that you've got hurt because you couldn't keep your hands off shiny objects."
"I'll have you know Evy blames my curiosity all the time," responded Jonathon. "Why should this time be any different?"
O'Connell stopped outside the building and turned exasperated, towards the British man. Then realized his mistake. No longer walking, Jonathon couldn't stop the woozy sway as the scorching heat of the sun and exhaustion finally got the better of him. O'Connell managed to catch his companion before he hit the ground in a dead faint.
*
Evelyn Carnahan was furious at herself and furious with her brother. Why hadn't he told her he was injured on the way back to Cairo? Why hadn't he gone straight to the hospital instead of a seedy bar? Why hadn't she noticed? Yes, she'd seen the bandage and thought it was nothing more than a scrape. It hadn't occurred to her to actually ask what had happened.
Jonathon lay on a hospital bed, his complexion only a shade better than the crisp white sheets he lay on. His hand had been stitched, and along with the wound that Rick had inflicted, had been bandaged up. The Doctor had informed Evelyn the wound, though small, was deep and could take a while to fully heal. Jonathon had developed a mild infection but all would be well once his fever broke and he regained consciousness. After checking his bandages, the Doctor had pulled a screen at the side and in front of the bed for Evelyn's privacy and then continued on with his rounds.
Evelyn didn't know how long she had been sitting there holding her brother's uninjured hand, until she heard someone clearing their throat behind her. Turning, she smiled when she saw Rick O'Connell hovering nervously by the screen. Encouraged by her smile, Rick moved to sit by her.
"Here," Rick, almost shyly, handed her a cup of hot tea. "I figured you'd need this."
"Thank you," responded Evelyn, gratefully, taking a sip of the liquid.
"Maybe you should get some rest," suggested Rick, worried for the librarian. "I can sit with Jonathon until you come back."
"That's very kind of you," replied Evelyn, sincerely. "But I need to be here when Jonathon wakes up. I don't want to leave him alone."
Rick opened his mouth to tell her something but was distracted by a slight movement from Jonathon. Evelyn felt Jonathon's fingers twitch beneath hers and eagerly turned to see if he was awake. Her brother began to move restlessly and they could see his eyes fluttering under closed lids. He began mumbling under his breath before becoming louder for the couple to make out what he was saying.
"Evy! . . . Evy look out . . .!"
"Jonathon?" called out Evelyn, soothingly, stroking his brow gently. "I'm here. Sshh."
"He's dreaming," Rick told her quietly, as Jonathon continued calling out for his sister.
"Anck-su-namun! Evy she's behind you . . . O'Connell . . . help her! . . . My fault . . . can't remember the Egyptian for . . ."
Evelyn couldn't stop the tears welling in her eyes, threatening to spill over. Jonathon was blaming himself after raising the dead guards. Looking briefly at Rick beside her, she could see a tight frown grace his features. He was obviously remembering the events along with both her and her brother.
"Hootash im Ahmenophus! . . . Fa-hooshka Ank-su-namun . . .!"
Suddenly, Jonathon wrenched his hand from Evelyn's loose grip and began single-handedly clawing at his own throat. Alarmed, she realized he was imagining Imhotep trying to strangle him and caught hold of his hand tightly so he couldn't hurt himself.
"Wretched one, you have killed my Eternal Love. I curse you, this day. For as long as I tread this Earth, your mortal soul will be filled with eternal grief and despair. I will make you suffer the agonies of watching the lives of innocent's die. Starting with your companions."
Evelyn and Rick looked at one another startled and confused at what Jonathon had continued to say.
"Imhotep cursed Jonathon?" asked Evelyn, in a surprised whisper, coming to the conclusion that he was repeating what Imhotep had threatened him. "Why?"
"Because Jonathon ordered his girlfriend's death to save you," replied Rick, grimly. "But it was broken when I killed Imhotep. Evy, don't worry, Jonathon's not cursed anymore."
Evelyn still looked shocked and she didn't stop her tears from falling as she heard Jonathon mumble, "Evy, help me . . . O'Connell kill him . . . Evy . . ."
He trailed off back into an uneasy sleep.
*
Evelyn woke up with a start from the light doze she had drifted into. Rick was nowhere to be seen but his jacket was draped over her shoulders in an effort to keep her warm. Looking towards her brother she was delighted to see his blues eyes already open and watching her silently.
"Jonathon!" she exclaimed, kissing his forehead and relieved to find his fever had broken. "How long have you been awake?"
"Hello, old mum," he replied, with a faint smile. "An hour, I think. O'Connell went to find a doctor. He may have lost his way back."
Evelyn smiled at his attempt at humor. "How do you feel?"
"Much better," he assured her. Evelyn seemed to agree with his response as she noticed he didn't look quite so pale as he had when she first arrived at the hospital. "Though I would much rather be in my own bed and not in this hospital."
"Why didn't you tell me about the curse Imhotep put on you and about your injury?" Evelyn broached the subject, trying not to seem too upset about it.
A fleeting haunted look passed through Jonathon's eyes before he gave a dismissive half-shrug, trying not to aggravate his wounded arm. "We had more important things to deal with. Besides, since when did my sweet baby sister start believing in curses, eh?"
Evelyn scowled at him in playful irritation. "Next time, tell me, Jonathon."
"Next time?" repeated her brother, in alarm. "Evy, I'm not going back there and neither will you!"
"Oh, Jonathon! Don't be silly," admonished Evelyn, kindly. Taking hold of her brother's uninjured hand, she promised, "I don't intend on going back. Now just rest and get better. I need my brother up and about and healthy. Do you promise to behave and get better?"
"I promise," replied Jonathon, already yawning.
He drifted back into slumber, safe in the knowledge that his sister was with him and his dreams would be curse free once again.
THE END.
By Allyson Dudley
*
(A/N - I don't own any of the characters of the movie though if Jonathon was available I'm sure my sister wouldn't say no. :op)
*
The journey back to Cairo seemed to pass more quickly than their last journey from Hamanaptra. On their return it was agreed that they would meet up for a late dinner after cleaning up from their journey and resting. Though Jonathon was exhausted and his shoes felt like half of the Sahara had taken refuge in them, he knew he would not be able to sleep. After watching Evy and O'Connell head off suspiciously in the same direction, Jonathon made a quick stop at his room to wash the sand from his face and put a clean shirt on, before heading for the nearest bar.
Buying a drink, Jonathon found a quiet corner to sit in. He wasn't feeling up to being sociable with the locals in the bar. Frowning down at his hand, he contemplated the material still wrapped around the wound the beetle had caused. A shiver of revolt ran down his spine as, for a brief moment, he relieved the sensation of the bug crawling under his skin. The nerve - wrenching pain had been replaced by a constant throb with shooting pains whenever he clenched his fist. The cut where O'Connell had removed the beetle had stopped bleeding and ached but his hand still bled.
Now that the adrenaline had stopped flowing after their encounter with Imhotep, the pain seemed to come back with a vengeance. Jonathon took a gulp of whiskey in an attempt to ease the pain. He looked up as a shadow fell over his table, plastering a fixed smile onto his face.
"O'Connell," he greeted, gesturing to the chair in front of him. "Care to join me in a drink?"
O'Connell nodded to the barman before sitting down. "Couldn't sleep either, Jonathon?" he asked, as the bartender thumped a whiskey in front of him before moving back to the bar.
"Good Lord, no," smiled Jonathon. "It's still too early for me. Where's Evy?"
"She told me she was going for a rest, but I have a hunch she's looking through those books of hers; still researching the myths of the City of the Dead," replied O'Connell.
"That's my little sister," agreed Jonathon, glumly remembering the treasure lost under thousand of tonnes of sand and rock. "Won't let anything stay buried."
Both drank in companionable silence until O'Connell noticed Jonathon itching his bandaged hand. In all the chaos of saving Evelyn and fighting with Imhotep, O'Connell had completely forgotten about Jonathon's injury. His eyes narrowed as he took in Jonathon's pasty complexion and the way he held his hand protectively. Standing up, he walked closer to Jonathon.
Jonathon watched him in both confusion and wariness. When O'Connell took hold of his shoulder he couldn't stop the yelp of pain that shot down his arm.
"I say, O'Connell, what are you doing?" he demanded, as he stood, half- pulled up, and moved out of the American's grip.
"You need to go to a doctor to have that bug wound looked at," O'Connell told him, concerned. "Or it will get badly infected and you may lose an arm."
"It's not that bad," protested Jonathon, though he allowed the other man to lead him out of the bar. "It just itches from the sand. Once I put a proper bandage on, it'll be fine."
"Why don't we let the doctor decide?" suggested O'Connell, leading him towards a modest whitewashed building. As Jonathon began to complain again, Rick interrupted him, "Hey, I don't want Evelyn to blame me that you've got hurt because you couldn't keep your hands off shiny objects."
"I'll have you know Evy blames my curiosity all the time," responded Jonathon. "Why should this time be any different?"
O'Connell stopped outside the building and turned exasperated, towards the British man. Then realized his mistake. No longer walking, Jonathon couldn't stop the woozy sway as the scorching heat of the sun and exhaustion finally got the better of him. O'Connell managed to catch his companion before he hit the ground in a dead faint.
*
Evelyn Carnahan was furious at herself and furious with her brother. Why hadn't he told her he was injured on the way back to Cairo? Why hadn't he gone straight to the hospital instead of a seedy bar? Why hadn't she noticed? Yes, she'd seen the bandage and thought it was nothing more than a scrape. It hadn't occurred to her to actually ask what had happened.
Jonathon lay on a hospital bed, his complexion only a shade better than the crisp white sheets he lay on. His hand had been stitched, and along with the wound that Rick had inflicted, had been bandaged up. The Doctor had informed Evelyn the wound, though small, was deep and could take a while to fully heal. Jonathon had developed a mild infection but all would be well once his fever broke and he regained consciousness. After checking his bandages, the Doctor had pulled a screen at the side and in front of the bed for Evelyn's privacy and then continued on with his rounds.
Evelyn didn't know how long she had been sitting there holding her brother's uninjured hand, until she heard someone clearing their throat behind her. Turning, she smiled when she saw Rick O'Connell hovering nervously by the screen. Encouraged by her smile, Rick moved to sit by her.
"Here," Rick, almost shyly, handed her a cup of hot tea. "I figured you'd need this."
"Thank you," responded Evelyn, gratefully, taking a sip of the liquid.
"Maybe you should get some rest," suggested Rick, worried for the librarian. "I can sit with Jonathon until you come back."
"That's very kind of you," replied Evelyn, sincerely. "But I need to be here when Jonathon wakes up. I don't want to leave him alone."
Rick opened his mouth to tell her something but was distracted by a slight movement from Jonathon. Evelyn felt Jonathon's fingers twitch beneath hers and eagerly turned to see if he was awake. Her brother began to move restlessly and they could see his eyes fluttering under closed lids. He began mumbling under his breath before becoming louder for the couple to make out what he was saying.
"Evy! . . . Evy look out . . .!"
"Jonathon?" called out Evelyn, soothingly, stroking his brow gently. "I'm here. Sshh."
"He's dreaming," Rick told her quietly, as Jonathon continued calling out for his sister.
"Anck-su-namun! Evy she's behind you . . . O'Connell . . . help her! . . . My fault . . . can't remember the Egyptian for . . ."
Evelyn couldn't stop the tears welling in her eyes, threatening to spill over. Jonathon was blaming himself after raising the dead guards. Looking briefly at Rick beside her, she could see a tight frown grace his features. He was obviously remembering the events along with both her and her brother.
"Hootash im Ahmenophus! . . . Fa-hooshka Ank-su-namun . . .!"
Suddenly, Jonathon wrenched his hand from Evelyn's loose grip and began single-handedly clawing at his own throat. Alarmed, she realized he was imagining Imhotep trying to strangle him and caught hold of his hand tightly so he couldn't hurt himself.
"Wretched one, you have killed my Eternal Love. I curse you, this day. For as long as I tread this Earth, your mortal soul will be filled with eternal grief and despair. I will make you suffer the agonies of watching the lives of innocent's die. Starting with your companions."
Evelyn and Rick looked at one another startled and confused at what Jonathon had continued to say.
"Imhotep cursed Jonathon?" asked Evelyn, in a surprised whisper, coming to the conclusion that he was repeating what Imhotep had threatened him. "Why?"
"Because Jonathon ordered his girlfriend's death to save you," replied Rick, grimly. "But it was broken when I killed Imhotep. Evy, don't worry, Jonathon's not cursed anymore."
Evelyn still looked shocked and she didn't stop her tears from falling as she heard Jonathon mumble, "Evy, help me . . . O'Connell kill him . . . Evy . . ."
He trailed off back into an uneasy sleep.
*
Evelyn woke up with a start from the light doze she had drifted into. Rick was nowhere to be seen but his jacket was draped over her shoulders in an effort to keep her warm. Looking towards her brother she was delighted to see his blues eyes already open and watching her silently.
"Jonathon!" she exclaimed, kissing his forehead and relieved to find his fever had broken. "How long have you been awake?"
"Hello, old mum," he replied, with a faint smile. "An hour, I think. O'Connell went to find a doctor. He may have lost his way back."
Evelyn smiled at his attempt at humor. "How do you feel?"
"Much better," he assured her. Evelyn seemed to agree with his response as she noticed he didn't look quite so pale as he had when she first arrived at the hospital. "Though I would much rather be in my own bed and not in this hospital."
"Why didn't you tell me about the curse Imhotep put on you and about your injury?" Evelyn broached the subject, trying not to seem too upset about it.
A fleeting haunted look passed through Jonathon's eyes before he gave a dismissive half-shrug, trying not to aggravate his wounded arm. "We had more important things to deal with. Besides, since when did my sweet baby sister start believing in curses, eh?"
Evelyn scowled at him in playful irritation. "Next time, tell me, Jonathon."
"Next time?" repeated her brother, in alarm. "Evy, I'm not going back there and neither will you!"
"Oh, Jonathon! Don't be silly," admonished Evelyn, kindly. Taking hold of her brother's uninjured hand, she promised, "I don't intend on going back. Now just rest and get better. I need my brother up and about and healthy. Do you promise to behave and get better?"
"I promise," replied Jonathon, already yawning.
He drifted back into slumber, safe in the knowledge that his sister was with him and his dreams would be curse free once again.
THE END.