Disclaimer: The Mummy is not mine. Alas...

Chapter 10

"You bloody well better be kidding me you little brat!" Arabella Chatham shrieked, her pretentious, posh accent degrading to the street slang of her youth. Davey cringed, a natural reaction to the sound of her grating voice after all these years. Her reddened cheeks matched the red of her hair. "You let that girl get away alive?"

"Arabella--"

"Don't Arabella me, David Edward Chatham! Edwin's been dead for years and nephew or not, I can cut you off whenever I wish. He didn't leave you or your whore of a mother a penny.

"You take that back!" Davey shouted. Allowing emotions to get the best of him, he cocked his fist, ready to punch his benefactor. He had no qualms that Arabella was a woman, or his aunt.

His mother had eloped when she was young with an Italian business man, and was abandoned when she was with child. She now resided in an asylum outside of Rome, her mind lost somewhere with her youth. Davey had been given to Arabella and Edwin, and was sent to boarding schools through his youth. That was, until they'd adopted Elizabeth. Libby was stubborn, Libby ran away, Libby was the reason he was stuck doing their dirty work. Arabella never allowed Davey to forget that he was unwanted in her home, only there because he could be useful in her plans.

Still, Davey stuck around. Power was something he'd never had before in his life. It was close at hand now. Once Arabella revealed to him the location of the seventh scorpion, she was as good as dead. There were still some problems with his plan, of course. No good plan ever came easily. At sixty, Arabella was still a force to be reckoned with. That, and he had no idea how to get to Hamunaptra. Those scorpions were worth nothing without the location of the city.

"I'm sure they've figured out our plan too," Arabella continued berating. "The O'Connell family has always been too smart for their own good. That's how their parents got themselves killed."

"I have men tracking them…"

"Judging from their oh-so-competent work thus far, I'm incredibly comforted by this fact," she snapped.

"I don't know what to tell you, Arabella," Davey sighed. His aunt was insane. The sooner he coaxed the seventh clue out of her, the easier his life would be.

"How about you tell me how you let this disaster happen?"

Davey didn't have an answer.

"That's what I thought. Now I want this fixed, David. We're leaving port tomorrow morning at seven. I want that scorpion in my hand when I walk up that gang plank."

As Davey sulked out of the room, Arabella looked the boy over. Three scorpions in her hand, a fourth found, and the location of two more known. Once Davey had found someone to translate the seventh clue, he was as good as dead.

Do not vomit… do not vomit… Libby chided herself as she rushed to the edge of the ship. The secluded section of the deck on which their rooms were located allowed her to evade the eyes of other travelers for the most part. This was most definitely a good thing, as the heaving sensation in her stomach threatened to overwhelm her again. They'd been on the ship for a day and a half—ironically (or not) the same amount of time she'd spent being sick. Less than an hour was left on their voyage. She was determined to do something other than throw up.

As she leaned over the edge, she allowed the cool Mediterranean breezes to hit her face. Gone were the hot, dry Egyptian winds that burned as they rolled through the Cairo streets. She enjoyed this sensation. There was a whole world outside of Egypt, and now she would finally get to see it.

The door to one of the cabins shut with a slam. "Aunt Libby, are you going to throw up again?" she heard Alex ask.

Pushing aside the urge to snap back at the boy, she nodded quickly. It wasn't his fault she was dying slowly on this miserable death ship.

"Don't worry, I'll go get Uncle Jon!" Alex cried, happy to help. "He's really good at sea-sickness!" The boy sped back into the cabin, dodging a passing steward and ignoring her desperate pleas to find anyone other than Jonathan.

Letting her arms dangle over the side of the boat, her hair forming a curtain around her face, Libby felt her stomach settling a bit. She took in the deep blue of the water, squinting to see if she could find some sort of fish.

"Wouldn't it be lovely if life was always like this, Libby-love?" She jumped in surprise as Jonathan's voice came from behind her, and his hand rested on the small of her back.

Whirling around quickly, she was prepared to berate him for the heinous nickname he'd just bestowed upon her. "What the hell--" she managed to get out before the queasy feeling returned to her stomach.

With a groan, she leaned back over the railing, almost wishing that Arabella would come and put an end to this unfortunate experience. As she prepared to empty her stomach again, she moaned, "Mother of God, get me off this ship."

Jon's hand, which had remained on her back, began moving in gentle circles. "Don't argue," Jonathan said softly as she turned to tell him off. "Alex used to get seasick all the time. It worked for him; it should work for you too."

"Thanks," Libby replied, grateful as she felt her stomach began to settle, being replaced with a tingling sensation moving up her back that was much more pleasant. "But seriously, if I ever hear Libby-Love out of your mouth again, I swear I'll kill you."

"Right. After last night's display I'm practically quaking in my boots," he shot back wryly.

How dare he. It was a joke, and he has to go and insult me like I'm a child. Annoyance in combination with the frustration of being sick became irrational anger. Stepping away from the railing, she retorted, "I'm sorry I'm not a ruthless killer like you and my brother. I actually have a guilt mechanism. I know the difference between right and wrong."

"Is that why you shot Davey and Chatham?"

Her jaw dropped. Slapping him across the face- hard- she turned on one heal, and stalked away. She knew she'd overreacted, she knew she should apologize, but her patience with Jonathan was short and her tolerance for his sarcastic humor was low. Her stomach had settled, but she really didn't feel any better.

Evy says play nice, so you go and bugger it all up. Excellent work, old boy. Really, top notch, Jonathan berated himself. Pushing himself away from the railing, he followed Libby along the deck of the ship.

"Libby, wait!" he called, but the girl ignored him.

I was just joking anyway, why is she taking it so personally? Pig-headed, that's what she is. As he followed Libby, he felt his shoulder connect with another passenger, and stopped to help the man right himself. Dark hair, tan skin, sunken grey eyes looking up at him. Taking two steps away he stopped in his path, recognizing the face he'd just seen.

Slowly, he turned around, hand reaching towards the gun he'd reloaded this morning. Davey was still looking in the direction he'd been going. Maybe Davey hadn't recognized him. Their few encounters had been in dark bars and burning buildings.

Or not. Inconspicuously, Davey was trying to withdraw his own firearm from its holster. Throwing caution aside, Jonathan gave himself a running start, jumping on Davey's back. The other man hit the floor, letting out a gasp of surprise. Two guns slid along the deck, away from the brawl.

Rolling over and shoving Jonathan aside, he heard Davey growl, "They told me you were a drunk."

"Sometimes I surprise people," Jonathan replied, taking the advantage and standing. Pulling Davey up by the collar, he dragged the younger man to the edge of the deck. "Do you know what happened the last time someone attacked me on a boat? I chucked him overboard, my friend."

Alright, a slight exaggeration, Jonathan told himself. Angry Medjai had set the boat on fire and I jumped overboard. The fact was, people were in the water.

With a shove, Davey was over the railing and in the water. "You can pass that message along to your boss!" he shouted down when the man emerged from beneath the water. He turned to continue his quest to apologize.

A muffled voice rose from the sea. "Do it yourself, you limey bastard. She's still on the boat!"

Looking up, he saw on the deck above an older woman, red hair flying wildly in the wind, with a gun pointed directly at him. Arabella Chatham was certainly an imposing woman. Of course, the one time I go in on my own. How does Rick avoid these situations?

A gunshot rang out, and Jonathan closed his eyes, preparing to be hit. No pain. He opened one eye, and then the other slowly. Arabella was now ducking behind the railing, picking up her gun that she'd dropped in surprise.

He felt a hand grasp his wrist, pulling him away. "Jonathan. Run!" Libby hissed. He didn't need to be told again.

"What are you waiting for, get after them!" he heard the woman on deck command.

They entered one of the white-washed hallways, running past rooms full of relaxing travelers. Those people were lucky- they got to get off the boat and return to their normal lives. Jonathan couldn't even remember the last time his life bordered on normal.

Somewhere behind them, he heard heavy footsteps closing in. A utility closet to the side was open. Grabbing Libby, whose plan appeared to be to keep running until there was no where else to run, he pulled her into the closet and shut the door quietly.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, barely getting the words out before Jonathan covered her mouth with his hand. They stood in silence, Jonathan with a broom digging into his back, Libby wedged between Jonathan and the door knob. Outside, they heard the footsteps of Arabella's henchmen passing.

Jonathan removed his hand from Libby's mouth. "Take the gun," she said, shoving it into his hands. "I don't want it."

"Did you shoot Arabella?" he asked.

"No, I think I hit the deck chair. It scared her enough, though." Just seeing how fast the old woman moved had given her sickening satisfaction.

He nodded. "Ermh… I want…" he stuttered, amusing Libby. "I'm sorry… you know, I was just joking with you, old mum. We have to have some fun on these trips. You know, surprise attacks can start wearing on an old man's nerves. And thank you, for... well, you know. "

"Apology accepted, and you're welcome," she replied quietly, leaning her head against the door. Outside she heard thumps on the floor. "They're coming back through. I hear their feet."

The group of men paused outside the door. "Where do you think the girl went?" she heard one ask.

"Dunno. How hard could it be to find her? Arabella says she isn't the strongest, she should be easy to take down," came the voice of a second.

"Hey… hey boys. Utility closet. You think she's hiding in there?" a third asked.

Libby heard herself groan slightly, knowing they were caught.

"Do you trust me?" she heard Jonathan ask.

"Uh, not really."

"Could you trust me for all of five minutes?"

Footsteps were approaching the closet; she felt the knob twisting on her hip. "Fine."

Grabbing her around the waist, Jonathan pushed her into the back of the closet and kissed her hard on the lips. She squeaked in surprise, her fists hitting his back as his hands weaved into her hair, tilting her head back. The door swung open.

Jonathan stepped away from her, pushing her into the corner and blocking her face from the intruders with his body. "Bloody hell mate, can't a chap get a moment alone with his girl on this bloody vessel?"

The men stepped away, attempting to act embarrassed, but Libby could tell they were impatient to find her. As their footsteps faded away, Jonathan turned back to her. "It got them to leave," he stated, making his excuse.

Though she'd been tempted to hit him again, she realized he was right. They were still alive. "Jonathan, it's fine. Can we just find Rick and Evelyn?"

This day cannot get any worse… She started out of the closet, brushing against him as she tried to pass.

"Wait!" Jonathan said.

"Now what?"

"Why did you shoot Davey and Chatham? There's more to this story. They didn't just want the key, did they?"

She sighed. Maybe if she told him what he wanted to know, he'd leave her alone. "When I'd run away from the Chatham's, I'd taken one of Edwin's guns. That night, they were talking downstairs. They wanted the box, and they wanted me dead. I did what I had to do. Can we please just go find Rick now? They need to know what happened."

Jonathan followed her quickly back to the rooms where the rest of the family was relaxing. They might be alive, but things with Libby were most definitely going to be awkward from now on.

Rick stood at the door of the family's room, gun drawn. Two knocks. "Open the damned door, Rick!" He'd never been happier to hear the familiar British accent. He let them in, and almost immediately Alex was clinging to Libby, and Evy to Jonathan. He couldn't lie, they were both in once piece, and that relieved him more than anything.

Prying Jonathan out of Evelyn's arms, he pulled him aside. "I heard the shots. Ardeth's already seen the captain. We're gonna get off the ship last. They may get a head start, but we can make it up. I'm not risking the three of them."

Jonathan nodded his understanding. "Oh, we most definitely can make the time up! They have to wait for their pal Davey. He's busy taking a swim."

Rick's mouth opened, then closed. Shaking his head, he replied, "You didn't."

"I did." Jonathan smiled triumphantly.

Rick joined his wife and son on their bed, ready to relax just a short while longer before they faced the dangers that waited. Ardeth sat on the desk, examining his gun carefully. Jonathan sat on the second bed, eyeing Libby carefully. Rick couldn't help but observed. Something had happened since he'd seen them both. They'd stop arguing, but they'd stopped talking. It was strange.

He watched as his brother-in-law walked up to his sister, whispering something in her ear. Standing, she decked him, straight in the nose. She stood and announced, "Don't dare bother me until we reach Italy."

The bathroom door slammed, and locked. Rick silently asked Jonathan what had happened. The only answer he got was a smirk.

Hehe... I think I'm pretty happy with how this chapter came out. I actually changed things around a lot from the original plan, but isn't that the purpose of a plan? As always, thanks to all of you for continuing to read this! Special thanks to Lindsay, Lark lover, Alexandria Halliwell, Charmedbabywyatt, Lucky Fannah, Pottergirls, and RileyPoole'sLittleWhiskyGirl for your kind reviews! You all bring smiles to my face! Next chapter will be at the Circus Maximus, trying to find what Caesar and Cleo did with the scorpion! And, we'll find out what exactly Jonathan said to Libby! Please leave a review! Criticism is always appreciated! Best wishes to all! Jac