Falling, twisting, everything was topsy turvy.
The world was bright then dark, then silent, then-
When Jack awoke, it was to the sound of gunfire. His heart pounded as he grabbed at the sandy floor beneath him.
What the-
It took a moment to calm himself as he remembered.
Oh-right.
It still seemed a surprise every time Jack Harkness opened his eyes and it always took time to recall where he was; The Sahara, 1925.
He'd been here for weeks, yet it still seemed a shock every day that passed. Like Jack really ought to be somewhere else, though he couldn't explain why. The heat, Jack supposed, perhaps the heat was messing with him as it had with so many of his fellow comrades.
Another shot in the distance and Jack grabbed his gun before jumping to his feet. It came back to him, attack, they'd been waiting for an attack. He stared out at the horizon and wiped a hand across his moist forehead. The Sahara, as usual, was a blistering furnace.
The muffled sound of hoofbeats on sand merged with the chilling cries of the advancing horde. Two hundred French Foreign Legionnaires filled the ruins below him. Armed and ready, the men waited in anticipation for the onslaught. Jack stood on what had once been the protective outer-wall of the city of the dead, Hamanaptra's temple complex. His binoculars were tossed to the side. No need for them now.
"I knew this was gonna be a lousy day."
In an ironic or likely more just way, it seemed fitting. Greed had brought them here, greed, not honor. The promise of riches and ungodly amounts of wealth had brought the garrison composed of thieves, murders and adventurers to this legendary city.
And now, Jack supposed, it was likely to be their tomb. The horde coming at them, the protectors of the city and all its wealth, they should have known they would never outrun them.
The slim man next to Jack sighed, what appeared a constant smugness painted his face. Jack knew from the moment he'd met Captain John Hart there something was different about him, "We could always just surrender."
Jack rolled his eyes and held out his palm, "Here, since you're not going to use it, gimme your bandolier."
"Is that really all you want me for, my bandolier?" John huffed, but handed it over. His blue eyes watched as Jack crisscrossed it across his own bandolier. His eyes fell back to the oncoming horde, "Let's run away Jack, just the two of us. Right now, while we can still make it."
"And miss all this fun? Not a chance," Jack repeated the gesture again, palm outstretched, "May as well give me the revolver too."
"And leave myself defenseless? I think not, Jack Harkness." John leaned closer, his breath a shiver at Jack's ear. It was a familiar and slightly erotic gesture, bringing about the thought once again, that something was very off about this man. Jack just didn't know what. John continued, "I've got a better idea. Let's play dead, huh? Nobody ever does that anymore. We can even die on top of each other, tragically, like Romeo and Juliet."
Jack turned and their noses almost touched. His breath whisked across the other man's face and Jack studied his eyes intently. He'd been having inappropriate thoughts about his companion for a while now. The smaller man fit well in his red military coat, and Jack appreciated the view a little more than he should. Not to mention the mysterious man had sort of, kind of, already kissed him awhile back. "Not now," Jack said, moving away to distance himself.
The man followed him up the wall, stopping only when Jack broke open his weapon to check its ammunition.
"You never did tell me, how'd a guy like you end up in the Legion anyways?" Jack asked. It was a breach of etiquette, many of the legionnaires were wanted criminals in their homelands and it wasn't usually openly discussed, but curiosity got the better of him.
The man shrugged from his crouched position, "I got caught robbing a synagogue. Lots of good stuff in those holy places; churches, temples, mosques, and who's guarding them?"
"Altar boys?" Jack guessed.
"Exactly!" John exclaimed with a lecherous grin, "The sweetest little altar boys too. What about you?" He continued tagging after Jack who strode the wall to where he could examine the front line of defense more closely. Legionnaires knelt at the ready as the Colonel paced behind them, contemplating his battle plan.
Jack turned, but the man was trailing so close that they bumped into each other. They almost went tumbling below, but Jack's reflexive embrace saved them. Jack grinned, perfect white teeth gleaming, "Paris. It was spring and I was looking for a way to impress a very delicious young man," He remembered it wistfully, before crashing back to the situation at hand, "Basically, I was just looking for a good time." He left out the part about being drunk.
"Well that makes two of us then."
They both turned at an eerie cry and watched as the cowardly Colonel, their damned leader shook his head at the oncoming enemy. He panicked, throwing his arms in the air and turned tail and ran. Jack stiffened when the realization sunk in, the man had abandoned them.
"Congratulations," The shorter man said with a bland smile. "I think you've just been promoted."
The horizon was no longer anything but a blur of warriors.
"And just in time too."
"Damn it," Jack said to himself. His voice took on as commanding a tone as he could muster. He tried to give the men around him courage, but onward the horde continued. Several Legionnaires took off in fear.
"Steady!" Jack's voice rose.
Hooves pounded the sand and the enemy let loose horrifying screams that turned Jack's blood cold. It was terrifying and unsurprisingly more Legionnaires turned tail and hauled-ass. The warriors were coming in range, raising their rifles and taking aim-
"You're with me right?" Jack asked with a glance back at his friend, still directly behind him.
"Of course," John said, eyes not meeting Jack's.
The black garbed warriors gave another war cry and brought Jack's attention back to the battle.
"Sorry Jack," John murmured. He took one last look at Jack before he disappeared so quickly his feet barely hit the sand below him.
Really, Jack thought with disgust. He didn't have time to dwell on it though. He drew a deep breath, said a small prayer and yelled, "Steady, men. Steady!" What the hell am I doing? He thought. He ought to have taken his friend's lead. Cowardly though it was, he really should have run too.
Jack steeled himself with the rifle in his hands and waited. He waited one more moment amid pounding hoof beats and screams, and then yelled, "Fire!"
The Legionnaires on the ground fired as one, the sound was like an explosion. Gunpowder blew in the air as they blasted dozens of warriors off their mounts. The fallen corpses became an instant barrier and the other still charging horses trampled and stumbled against them, grounding several more riders.
Jack knelt, waiting for his men to reload. He took aim himself this time and repeated the command, "Fire!"
Bullets yanked more warriors from their mounts and both men and horses fell into the sand, creating a cloud of chaos.
The enemy returned fire. The noise of their weapons was a rumbling, snapping, continuous wail that ripped the air. Their robes flowing so they appeared shadows, like horsemen of the Apocalypse riding through the smoke. No matter how brave or how well trained they were, the legionnaires were still two hundred men versus two thousand.
A third of the Legionnaires fell instantly, choking on dust and blood.
"Fire at will!" Jack shouted, retreating towards the temple entry, "Seek cover."
The remaining Legionnaires headed towards the temple, their boots were slowed by the heaviness of the sand, still their bullets rang true as several more warriors spun off their mounts. They took cover in the temple complex, but the enemy and their horses were everywhere.
Jack grabbed the barrel of his rifle and started clubbing riders off their horses. He finally threw his rifle down and went for his guns. He cross-drew one in each hand, and shot several of the riders clean off their mounts. He might never see his family or hell even his country again, this was probably it, but Jack was too busy shooting to really care.
He kept on till the guns finally clicked empty. "Son-of-a-bitch." Jack turned and ran like hell.
Jack spotted a Legionnaire inside the Temple doorway. He was furiously trying to close the heavy sandstone door.
"Hey! Wait up!"
The man appeared not to hear him, or if he did, seemed to have no intention of waiting up. He pushed the door harder at the sound of Jack's voice.
Jack's stomach dropped, "What are you doing?! Wait up!"
He ran even faster, heart pounding till Jack felt it might explode. The unknown man pushed the door even harder. Four warriors charged after Jack, hoofs pounding like thunder behind him.
"Don't you close that door!" He shouted again, he pumped his arms for more speed, but it was still too far. He knew he wouldn't make it. "Don't you dare close that goddamn door!"
"Sorry," The word slipped, a genuinely apologetic look in the man's eye, as the door closed, right before Jack could reach it. Jack's fingers hit the solid stone in a stunned moment of disbelief. That rat bastard. Jack slammed his body into the door. It didn't budge.
Left with no other option, Jack turned and bolted. Running for his life, he weaved through the ruins, hoping against all hell to lose his attackers. Despite his best efforts, they weren't the least bit slowed down. They continued after him, getting closer and closer. The pounding hoofs got louder and louder, till Jack could all but feel the horse's breath on his neck.
Dammit.
Jack finally spun around to face his attackers, unarmed and helpless. The horsemen skidded to a stop right before him, stirring the sand as they raised their shining swords, intent to finish him off.
Jack did the best thing he could at that moment and sneered at them, giving them a very prominent two finger salute.
Suddenly, as if somehow the gesture had worked, all four horses reared up, throwing their riders to the ground. The horses screeched and snorted in fear, whining in a way no animal ever had before, and galloped away as if the devil himself chased them. Their equally spooked riders raced off after their mounts.
Wide eyed, Jack looked down at his raised fingers, stunned.
Something stirred behind him.
Jack felt it. Something was very, very wrong. He turned and watched as suddenly, the sand began to shift. Not tremble as with an earthquake, it was something much stranger, it felt almost-
Evil.
Jack backed away, eyes never leaving the transforming sand. It began to shift; like huge snakes were slithering underneath, it formed lines and shapes, almost like some kind of ghostly hands were drawing a picture.
As the sands shifted a small octagonal gold box revealed itself. Instinctively, Jack scooped it up from the desert floor and dropped it in his pocket.
Riches be damned, he'd had enough of this place. Jack turned and ran and ran across the ruins, moving as fast as he could. He knew he'd never return to the legion, that he'd be assumed dead. He never dreamed he'd ever return to this ungodly place.
The sand stopped moving, and though Jack couldn't see it, the form of a screaming face was drawn on its surface.
A group of riders watched far and away. Jack saw them, their strange tattoos and giant steeds. He watched them for a moment, and then staggered off into the desert.
"He has found Hamanaptra," one of the riders said to their leader. "He must die."
Dark eyes, amid a beautiful face stared after the man so foolish as to brave the cruel sands below them grimly. Her face was set like stone. "The desert will kill him," she decided.
Sometime later:
Deep in the bowels of the International Museum of Cairo, Ianto Jones stood atop a tall ladder between two rows of towering bookshelves. All the books around him pertained to literature on the Antiquities. He leaned against one of the bookshelves, feeling rather bored and a little tired.
The tall, slender man was dressed rather drably in an old suit. His bright blue eyes scanned from title to title to find the right spot for each volume. He bit his plush pink lips in between mumbling to himself as he was oft to do.
As much as Ianto loved this place, he longed for something a bit more exciting than simply being a librarian. Organizing books all day long was hardly an enviable job. Few could rival his skills in the reading and writing of ancient Egyptian and Ianto hoped one day to put those skills to use. To be out there discovering artifacts and learning more about ancient Egypt's sprawling past and not just the proper coding and cataloging of dusty, old books.
Ianto looked down at the books under his arm and sighed. He pulled out a particularly old volume and blew the dust off it, before placing it on a shelf with other books whose titles all begin with the letter "O". He grabbed another book out from under his arm and read the title.
"Tuthmosis?" he wondered aloud. "Now how did you get up here?"
Carefully, so as not to lose his balance, Ianto glanced over his shoulder to the bookshelf behind him, where all the titles begin with the letter "T" belonged. He looked down. A long way down to fall, he thought. Deciding to risk it, he gently set the other books down on the top shelf, then turned and tentatively reached across the aisle with the Tuthmosis book. He stretched, holding the top of the ladder with his fingertips to keep steady.
"What on earth are you doing?" demanded a voice below him.
Ianto grasped the ladder, nearly falling back at the unexpected shout. He looked down at the curator, a one Dr. Bey, with both shock and annoyance, "I was just-"
The curator was a small round man with dark hair deeply receded, a pronounced nose and always dressed in a dark suit. "Just trying to get yourself killed," The man massaged his temples, "I only put up with you because your mother and father asked me to, probably the only two Welsh explorers in the whole of Egypt. Allah rest their souls. How would I explain to them exactly that their only son was killed by his own damned stupidity."
"But I-"
"No excuses, I won't be cleaning up any dead bodies that aren't mummified in my museum. I've got enough problems without needing to fill out any more paperwork. Do it properly or don't do it at all!" Bey bellowed, before he stomped back out.
Ianto glared at his retreating back. Irritated and a bit embarrassed, Ianto climbed down the ladder. He took a few steps before a sound came from behind him.
Ianto turned to look, to see if Dr. Bey had returned, but no one was there. The eerie silence stretched on as it often did in the sprawling, old building. Where rooms upon rooms were filled with coffins and other assorted artifacts all thousands of years old.
It could be a bit spooky Ianto would admit; perhaps he was simply overtired and hearing things?
Nope.
It sounded again. Like someone was walking with a slow shuffle, as if one leg was being dragged behind them. It seemed to come from the gallery across the way.
"Hello?" Ianto ventured. "Dr. Bey?"
Nothing for several long moments and Ianto almost breathed a relieved sigh, before he heard it again. He moved through the connecting room into the area where the treasures from the Middle Kingdom were displayed, where the noise seemed to be coming from.
Ianto peered in a bit nervously. Was someone in there? A prowler? A thief? He should really go get Dr. Bey.
No, Ianto decided. He could handle this.
The gallery was dark and eerily quiet. Filled with treasure and plunder, but little illumination, it seemed even darker than usual. The only light source was a few flickering torches on either end of the gallery. Ianto swallowed as he took another step in, grabbing one of the torches.
Filled with great cases of gold and silver ornaments taken from the tombs of ancient pharaohs, alongside golden amulets, necklaces, and all other fine types of jewelry, there really was plenty to steal.
Ianto moved down the aisle, past a closed sarcophagus.
The noise again, as if feet were shuffling, right near him. He swiftly turned, but nothing.
Ianto moved passed a statue of Anubis and Horus, both staring down at him menacingly. His skin prickled, he continued on, passing from one artifact to another, trying to convince himself it was only his imagination.
On his way further down, he saw something he definitely shouldn't have. One of the sarcophagi, one that had most assuredly been closed before, was now open. Ianto looked around nervously as he peered closer. Nobody was around to have opened it, how then-
A loud screech sounded as the rotted mummy sat up, trying to grab him.
Ianto screamed and dropped the torch. He held his chest as his heart pounded in fear, completely terrified as he nearly crashed into a statue behind him. Then suddenly, from inside the sarcophagus, he heard a man's laughter. His eyes narrowed, he knew that laugh.
Owen Harper crawled out from behind the Mummy, laughing his ass off. His short dark hair was tossed about, sticking every which way and he looked and smelled like he'd been at the bar. Ianto scowled. The other man was obviously shit faced. Owen stumbled around as he tried to climb out.
"You-"
"Drunkard? Fool? Rat-bastard? Please call me something original," Owen finally found his grip and crawled out of the sarcophagus.
Ianto was tempted to slam the lid on Owen's head as he pulled a cigarette out of the mummy's mouth. "Have you no respect for the dead?" He demanded.
Owen grinned drunkenly, patting the mummy like he was an old chum, "Right now, I only wish to join them."
Steaming, Ianto paced, "What are you doing here? The curator's already upset with me as it is, I really don't need you in here making things worse."
Owen lurched forward unsteadily, "Sod that old geezer. The bloody hell does he know anyway? Fired me, didn't he?"
"Yes, for pulling stunts like this," Ianto reminded him. "I wish you'd stop this, before you ruin my career the way you've ruined yours."
Going from a coworker to a friend, Ianto cared for Owen in much the way he would a younger, though in actuality older, brother. An older brother who needed to seriously lay off the bottle.
"My dear, sweet, Ianto," Owen bellowed drunkenly. "I'll have you know that at this moment my career is on a high note." He tried to stay upright, but only managed to half hang off the arm of a nearby statue to keep from falling over.
Ianto raised a brow, "High note? For five years you've been scrounging around Egypt, and what have you to show for it? Nothing."
"Not true," Owen corrected. "I've been on a dig."
Ianto's brow rose. The idea of Owen Harper doing anything but drunkenly overtaking a bottle of bourbon was almost unthinkable, but a dig? To be sure, he repeated, "A dig?"
Owen beamed, "Oh yes, and I found something. It's right here you'll be happy to know," Owen patted around in his jacket, searching for something. "Just a moment if you will-"
Ianto shook his head, "Oh no, not another worthless trinket," he moaned. "Owen, I swear if I have to bring one more piece of junk to the Curator to try and sell for you-"
Ianto stopped when Owen retrieved a small ancient looking box. Curious he grabbed the box and Owen made no show to stop him. He rotated it in his hands, "Where did you get this?" He asked as he continued to scrutinize its golden surface.
Owen watched his antics and gave a mischievous smile, "On a dig, like I said. Down in-" he quickly pulled out a name, "-Thebes."
Ianto rolled the box around in his hands, appreciating its carved surface, mumbling to himself as he translated the hieratics and hieroglyphs covering it.
Owen licked his lips in anticipation, "My whole life I've never found anything. For the love of Allah Jones, tell me I've found something."
Ianto fingers played with the various little slats on the object, shifting them much like a puzzle box, until something snapped in place. Rather suddenly, almost mechanically even, the small box opened, turning itself into what seemed to be an eight sided key. Inside the open box was a folded piece of golden papyrus. Ianto unfolded it and his eyes widened.
A map, Owen had found a map.
"Owen?"
"Yes?"
Ianto grinned, "I think you've found something."
Seated behind his desk in his cluttered office, Dr. Bey stared through a jeweler's eyepiece at the box with mild interest. Ianto hovered behind him. He pointed enthusiastically as he explained how to use the key and pointed out- "See the cartouche there, it's the official royal seal of Seti the First, I'm sure of it."
The Curator seemed unsure, "Perhaps."
"No perhaps about it," Ianto insisted.
Owen smiled from his seat across the desk. He held up two fingers, "Two questions. Who the hell is Seti the First? And was he rich?"
Ianto never knew if it was the drink or Owen really asking such questions. "He was the last Pharaoh of the Old Kingdom, said to be the wealthiest Pharaoh of them all."
Owen nodded, "Alright, good, that's good. I like this fellow, like him very much." He grinned as he leaned near the candle, a rather dramatic glow on his face.
The map was stretched across the curator's desk. Dr. Bey lifted it gingerly to get a better look.
"I've already dated it; this map is almost three thousand years old. And the hieratics over here indicate exactly what's being charted-" Dr. Bey looked up at him and Ianto breathed in deeply, "It's the way to Hamanaptra."
Dr. Bey froze, the map pulled in his white knuckled grip. He looked nervous for a moment, but quickly recovered. He gave a harsh sounding laugh, as if Ianto were a complete fool for even suggesting it, "My dear boy, don't be ridiculous, we are scholars, not treasure hunters. Hamanaptra is a myth."
"Are we talking about the Hamanaptra?" Owen asked excitedly.
"Yes. The City of the Dead. Where the early Pharaohs were said to have hidden the wealth of Egypt."
The candlelight flickered on Owen's suddenly keen face, "Right, right, in a big underground treasure chamber. Everybody knows the story. The entire necropolis was rigged to sink into the sand. On Pharaoh's command, a flick of the switch! And the whole place could disappear beneath the dunes."
Ianto was impressed by Owen's knowledge, "You're Egyptology has really improved."
"Where treasure is concerned, good man, I'm a bloody expert."
"It doesn't matter, none of its true," Bey chuckled; he held the map closer to the candle on his desk. "As the Americans would say: it's all fairy tales and hokum."
Owen raised a hand in warning, "Oi, watch it. You're going to-"
The corner of the map touched the flame and caught on fire. Feigning surprise the curator threw it to the floor, "Dear me, look at that."
Owen dropped to his knees and attempted to stamp it out with his hands. He held up the remains, but only managed to save two thirds of it. "You bloody idiot. You burned it!" he accused. "You burned off the part with the lost city!"
"I am sorry," Bey bowed, looking anything but apologetic, "but it's for the best, I'm sure. Many men have wasted their lives in the foolish pursuit of Hamanaptra, no one has ever found it, most have never returned."
Ianto arched a brow, "My research indicates the temple city may have existed."
Owen still glared, "You killed my map."
"I'm sure it was a fake, anyway, I'm surprised at you, Mr. Jones, to be so fooled. However as for the box-" Dr. Bey reached for the box. "I may be able to offer a modest sum."
Ianto frowned and quickly snatched it before the other man could reach it. "No thank you, Doctor." Something in the man's eyes, how nervous he had seemed, Ianto didn't trust him one bit. "Suddenly, it's not for sale."
Ianto turned on his heel, feeling the Curator's gaze on him as he left.