Author's note: [chapter revised in 2019] Even if I love all the characters of TM and TMR (yep, even Beni, but I wouldn't know how to write him!), Jonathan's my personal favourite, I wouldn't hurt him… much :D Anyway, as you maybe know, "Stormy Weather" is a Harold Arlen and Ted Koehler song, performed by the great Etta James, Louis Armstrong, Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald (among others), and I thought the title would fit.

Disclaimer: Stephen Sommers owns and developed The Mummy and The Mummy Returns; the characters, places, some situations are his creation. Some things I did make up, but every character here is fictitious, and doesn't have anything to do with any person, living, dead, or in-between. Who knows.

FAIRY TALES AND HOKUM

Chapter 4: Stormy Weather

Evelyn started to notice the peculiar, ominous feeling as she and Dr Hakim walked swiftly down the stairs to the Akhenaten room to inspect the scale of the disaster. By the time they got into the chamber and met with Abdul, the chief attendant, she was quite certain something was amiss, although she couldn't put her finger on what it was.

While Dr Hakim, Abdul and his aides tidied up the room in search for anything missing, she ran to the various ways in and out of the museum to check the locks. When she was finished, she headed back to the chamber of Akhenaten, the Heretic.

"Doctor?" she called when she ran back into the room. "All the entrances are locked. At least they won't be able to get out that way with anything heavy. What did they take?"

"Nothing," answered the curator in a strained voice, stepping back from a shelf where he and Abdul had put back all the statuettes that had been thrown down. "Absolutely nothing. Not even the ivory figurine of Khufu, which was the smallest in the room and could easily be slipped into a pocket… It seems that they only meant to create a diversion."

A diversion… None of the entrances had been forced. The museum was closed for the day, no visitor or foreign person was allowed entry. Someone had let them in.

A thought struck her and she opened her mouth, her eyes wide. "Dr Hakim – if none of the doors were broken, then they must have had help from the inside. And that means…"

Dr Hakim stared at her, his black eyes flashing. "Carry on, Dr O'Connell. Let's see if your idea is the same as mine."

"That means they would know the exact location of the diamond's chamber," Evelyn completed, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "I believe it's one of the most valuable items you have here… Valuable in certain eyes, of course, since most of the hieroglyphs and statuettes here are inestimable, but…"

She didn't mention the true reason behind that idea – that everything related to Hamunaptra and Ahm Shere had so far brought nothing but misfortune every time it resurfaced. And she had the vague impression that now was going to turn out to be one of these times. Here we go again, as Rick would have said.

Oh, goodness, Rick had been right about the diamond. He would never let her live it down.

Dr Hakim nodded and spoke a few words in Arabic to Abdul, who gave orders to his aides. It was strange to see Abdul in charge – he had been one of the youngest attendants in her time as the museum librarian.

"Come," Hakim told her, as Abdul took out his duty truncheon, the only weapon the three of them owned. As they all but ran towards the diamond's room along the many halls and corridors, the ominous feeling of foreboding turned into a state of near-panic. Jonathan…

"Yā salām!" The curator's voice echoed through the high chamber when he crossed the door, startling Evelyn, who had never heard him swear before. She rushed into the room after him and Abdul, and her blood froze in her veins when she caught sight of the crumpled figure of her brother lying on the floor in front of her. He looked very white, and deathly still.

"Jonathan! Oh my God, Jon, no… please don't be dead, please –" She dropped next to him, shaking, trying hard not to look at the small puddle of blood where his head lay. "Abdul!"

The chief attendant, who had been checking on Tom, came near her. His face was pale.

"The other Englishman lives, but he's been knocked out. Is your brother –?"

"I don't know…" Evelyn choked out the words, tears stinging her eyes. "I can't feel his pulse, my hands are shaking too much…"

Abdul looked at her, his eyes sympathetic, and put two fingers on Jonathan's neck. After a few seconds, he turned to Evelyn with a smile.

"He's alive, Mrs O'Connell. He has taken a nasty blow to the head, but he'll live."

Evelyn closed her eyes, breathing deeply, still shaking. She was aware that a tear or two had rolled down her cheeks, but Abdul was tactful enough not to say anything. She would have been so much more embarrassed had Dr Hakim been there instead. He was a man of such self-control that she would have been ashamed of losing her head so utterly in front of him, she who so often called on cool logic and sensible reasoning.

She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, and looked around. Tommy was lying flat on his stomach a few feet away, sporting a large lump at the back of his head, and the curator seemed to be trying to revive him. Pieces of glass were scattered over the floor on a spot near the wall, and when her eyes followed the wall up to the window, she saw that it had been shattered.

Sure enough, the Diamond of Ahm Shere was no longer lying on its display shelf.

"Dr Hakim? Where is the assistant, Jamal?"

The curator came to stand near her, his face grim and set. "Gone. I believe the thieves would have notified us if they had taken him hostage, so it is more likely that he was their accomplice. We were both right: they had a man inside, and they did come for the diamond." His eyes flickered down to Jonathan, and back to her. "How is your brother?" he asked, in a softer voice.

Evelyn lightly touched her brother's cheek. As he showed no sign of waking, she said, her throat still tight, "Unconscious. Somebody stunned him." Her eyes fell on the sceptre clenched in Jonathan's right hand. His fingers were clutched so tightly around it that she had trouble making him let go. She gave a sad smile, as it occurred to her that he probably hadn't had time to use this makeshift weapon.

"Abdul," said Dr Hakim after a little while, "fetch Ahmed and the others. We will need their help. And a doctor, too, just in case."

Her heart was starting to slow back to its normal rate. She let her fingers run very gently on Jonathan's cheek, looking at his white, still face. It seemed so wrong. It was hard to think he wasn't going to open his eyes, wink at her, and tease her for looking so scared.

Because she hadn't been frightened this badly in a long time. And it would have been so awful if… Stop it right here, girl. No 'ifs'. Things are bad enough already…

Evelyn regretted, now, having started that silly conversation about marriage earlier. At the time it had seemed such a smart idea to take her brother's mind off her suspicions about Tom Ferguson. The matter sounded pretty trite now compared to what was surely to come, what with the Diamond being stolen and what could ensue…

She could use a little teasing to soothe her frazzled nerves, she realised. Even – or rather, especially – if it came from her brother.

Whatever bloody git said that your ears were the first to function when you woke up was so bloody wrong, Jonathan decided. There was nothing he could hear, see, or feel, except for the overwhelming pain that started in his head and extended to the very tips of his fingers. When was the last time he'd got knocked out cold? He couldn't even remember the reason, either, only that the aftereffects hadn't been much worse than a solid hangover.

Not much worse, my foot, as Evy would say.

Evy…

He was beginning to hear something, in fact. Her voice, he was certain of it. Unusually subdued, and he couldn't understand the words, but it was definitely his sister's voice.

What had happened? Oh yes, that blow to his head. Just thinking about it made him want to empty his large stock of curses. If he hadn't been so stupid as to turn round at the sound of the window breaking, he could have actually done something, instead of letting himself be knocked on the head and let the diamond be –

The diamond. Bloody hell!

The shock of the realisation, if he had been awake, would have taken his breath away. Instead, in this state, the effect was that he could at last hear properly.

"How can you say that! Mr Ferguson has just told you exactly what happened – there was no way they could have stopped them from getting the diamond!"

Evy's voice, again. And she sounded angry.

"I am not putting the blame on any of these gentlemen, but we are facing facts here – the Diamond of Ahm Shere has been taken, and we have no idea who has it, or where, or why!"

All right, that was Hakim's voice, as close to genuine wrath as it could get. Well, he had every right to be, after all.

Jonathan worked hard on willing his eyes open. He failed. It felt as if the three pyramids of Giza were sitting on his lids to keep them shut. So his valiant efforts only resulted in more pain. Ouch. Dammit.

A damp cloth was pressed against his temple, and it felt so good that he was tempted, for a moment, to stop thinking at all and sink back into blissful unconsciousness. Then it occurred to him that the hand holding the cloth was probably Evy's, and that she might be worried about him. Now, in any other circumstances, he would have enjoyed being coddled by his sister, but right now didn't seem to be the ideal time. Come on, old boy, you can do better than that.

At the expense of another effort, he managed to open his eyes just a little bit.

For all the fond memories he had of Egypt, there were a few annoying details one simply couldn't push aside. The sand, for one – nasty, sticky thing with the even nastier habit of getting everywhere, and that meant everywhere. Also, the heat, overwhelming, crushing from ten in the morning to ten in the evening. And the fact that such a heat tended to make every kind of stench ten times stronger. You just had to get used to those sorts of things.

But there was also the light. That beautiful, blinding, ever-present bloody light that was one of the reasons why Evy loved Egypt so much. You just didn't get this sort of light in London, even in the middle of August.

And Jonathan had just been painfully reminded of that particular detail.

"Jon! You're awake – it's about bloody time, mate!"

Jonathan winced at the boom of Tommy's voice. Of course, that meant his friend was alive and well, and he was genuinely relieved to hear that, but… for cripes' sake, did he really have to shout?

He opened his eyes fully this time, and a blurry figure came hovering into view. Evy, by the look of it. "Oh, Jonathan, thank God… Are you all right? How do you feel? Do you know what time it is?"

"Do you really want to know, or is it just to check on the state of my head?" How he managed to crack that grin, he didn't know. But he immediately wished he hadn't when the headache threatened to split his head in two. "I don't have a clue as to the time, but to answer your second – was that second? – question, I feel like I've just been dug up from my grave. Next time our mummy pal wakes up again I must ask him for tips."

His vision was clearing swiftly, and he had the pleasure of seeing Evy give a smile, albeit a rather shaky one. When the fourth occupant of the room spoke, however, there was nothing cheerful in his voice.

"Do not jest about the Creature! I realise the blow you received was severe, but we must return to graver matters. The Diamond has been stolen."

Jonathan had figured that out, but couldn't help a pang of remorse. He nodded glumly as Dr Hakim carried on. "As of now, nobody can tell for sure the purposes of the thieves, who they are or who ordered the attack. Whoever they are, they are organised – I think I can safely venture the opinion that things were already set up three months ago, when I hired Jamal Hassan as assistant –"

"Whoa, hang on a sec," interrupted Jonathan, trying to sit up on his elbows and ignore his throbbing head, which wasn't as easy as he'd thought. "You mean Jamal, as in that young fellow who was in the chamber with us?"

"Seems so," answered Tommy grimly. He was sitting on a chair a few feet away, pressing a cloth to the back of his own head, and it was only then that Jonathan noticed that they were in the curator's office. His head had been lying on Evy's folded jacket, and when he turned to have a closer look, he saw the traces of blood on it. No wonder she'd looked so relieved when he had opened his eyes. If it had been Evy lying there, and her blood on that jacket, he would have been scared witless.

It took him a minute for the piece of information about the young assistant to sink in. Then he leaned back with a groan. "Why, that little bugger! If I'd known…"

"If I had known, the diamond would still be there, protected and guarded by us," said Hakim, his jaw clenched. "I will inform my chieftain about it, and the Elders as well. We need a plan."

"Do you really think that this theft might – that the thieves know what the Diamond could achieve and will be using it?" asked Evy anxiously.

"I do not know. Maybe my chieftain will have another opinion, but mine is that we should wait for the next move. We don't know enough to do anything yet."

"How long before Ardeth Bay is informed, do you think?"

Jonathan's eyes darted between Evy and Hakim, and they were back on Evy as he inquired, "Erm, do I really need to ask what the, er, thieves could 'achieve' with that diamond if they used it?"

"Do you really wanna know?" deadpanned Tommy, and Jonathan was glad to hear that he had dropped the posh accent he'd used earlier to get into the curator's good books.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I do – if that can keep me from having my head split open again." He looked at his sister, and something dawned on him as she stared back at him with an expression he knew only too well. "Oh, no. No. Not again – not the whole 'wipe out the world' thing – Evy, dear, it's getting a bit old, don't you think?" And don't you think we're getting a bit old for this, too?

Evy sighed. "Honestly, Jonathan, you know that if I could prevent it from happening – but the fact is, we're involved again, and we can't just leave things as they are –"

"Sure, I know that. Don't ask me to agree with you, but I actually understand your point. But do you really think Rick is going to agree with you as well? Last time he got involved in supernatural stuff was only because that blighter kidnapped Alex – that's what it took to drag him here. And now, the only reason for his being here is that he has your word – your word, Evy! – that nothing will happen. No funny business, no mummies, no Book, and no diamond!" Jonathan impressed even himself by that speech. Of course the diamond being stolen bothered him. But if the price for getting it back was his sister going out to risk her life again and facing afterwards the legitimate wrath of the six-foot-tall heap of American muscle that was his brother-in-law… Then the hell with it. He didn't care tuppence about the sodding thing.

Evy looked appalled, but her brother didn't give her time to retort.

"You didn't get involved in anything, for cripes' sake! It's just been really bad luck that those fellows chose just that very moment to steal that diamond –"

"Excuse me," said Hakim in a cold voice, "but I think that if someone was indeed 'involved' in this, it would be you, not your sister."

Jonathan and Evy both gaped at him, while Tommy began to laugh quietly at the two of them. A minute ticked off before Evy replied, her eyes wide, "Come on, Dr Hakim, you – you can't be serious! As my brother said, he was just unlucky enough to be in the Diamond's chamber with Mr Ferguson and young Mr Hassan – you can't implicate him in this!"

"Oh, he can't 'implicate' me, but you're dying to get involved, aren't you?" said Jonathan, sarcastic. "Typical."

"Just you keep out of it, Jonathan," snapped Evy. "And don't move. The doctor said you should lie down for a moment."

"I feel perfectly fine, thank you very much –" Now this had to be his biggest lie in months. His head felt about to explode. "– And may I remind you of the subject? Meaning your not going off to some godforsaken pyramid on some 'let's save the world and die in the process' mission!"

He regretted the words the second they came out of his mouth, but there was no way to take them back. An eerie hush fell; both Tommy and Hakim were quiet, looking either at the two of them in turn, or at anything else but them. Evy was staring at him, looking both shocked and something else that he couldn't decipher. When she spoke at last, it was slowly and in a low voice, her eyes not leaving his.

"I think we should talk about this sometime, Jonathan."

"Well I don't," he retorted, his voice just as low. "And don't change the subject."

"Far be it from me to interfere in your – family business," said the curator in an uncharacteristically subdued voice, "but I think the best idea would be for you to go back home, and then to England. Technically, your errand here is over."

"Oh, no, it isn't!" exclaimed Evy spontaneously. "We're here to get this diamond to England, and we will get it to England! No, Jonathan, don't say anything," she said sharply, barely turning to him, as he opened his mouth. He shut it with a snap. "I already know your opinion about it."

"Evy, come on…" Jonathan put on his best 'big brother' voice, despite the fact that Evy was generally impervious to it. "All right, so the diamond was stolen. We could – I don't know, go back to England, wait for news, and eventually return if they find it again!"

But Evy's resolve seemed to be made of steel. She didn't accept one word against what she believed was right, and in a way, Jonathan admired this iron determination… Even if he was slowly starting to believe that all this was going down the drain.

For a change.

The muffled sound of a violent row was going on from the ground floor through the floorboards, and even if Jonathan couldn't make out the words, the gist was obvious.

He had thought Rick would be mad. He had been wrong. Rick had gone completely and utterly livid when Evelyn had told him about her decision to stay in Egypt until the diamond was recovered and help, if help was needed. And now they were both going at it, in a very angry, so very uncharacteristic way. The walls rattled from the shouting.

It was so wrong. After all they had been through, it was so wrong to see the two of them fighting so angrily.

There was a faint knock on the door, and a second later, a pair of bright blue eyes was peering across the room. "Uncle Jon? You awake?"

"Yes, Alex, come in," Jonathan called, sitting up in bed and leaning against the pillows. He had crawled up in his room when Evy and him had arrived, and since Rick had come back just after diner he had abandoned any idea of sleeping. There had been some whispers, then the conversation had begun in earnest, and he had been staring at the ceiling for some time now.

Alex slipped into the room, and closed the door quietly behind him. He looked hesitant.

"Mum said I should let you rest, but… well, I can hear everything from my room, so I – I figured that from yours it couldn't be much worse…"

"No harm done. I couldn't sleep anyway. And I think I could use some of your excellent company."

Alex smiled, and came to sit on the carpet beside the bed, the way he would when something bothered him, or when he just wanted to chat. Then he appeared to change his mind and sat on the bed, his back against the bar at the foot of the bed. Jonathan handed him a pillow.

"Thanks," the boy said, putting the pillow behind him and propping his back up against it. He waited a few seconds, then looked at his uncle with a worried expression on his face. "Uncle Jon, you – you look kinda pale, you know."

"That's nothing," Jonathan said with a wave of his hand. "I'm fine. I've been knocked on the head before – takes a lot more than that to get rid of me."

Second smile from his nephew, a little more confident this time. "Yeah, I figured. For all the times Dad said he was gonna kill you…"

"Oh, he almost did, once or twice." Jonathan flashed a grin. "And your mum saved my neck, always. Well, not always – sometimes."

Alex gave a puzzled frown. "What d'you mean, 'sometimes'?"

"Well, remember what I told you about the first time I met your dad?"

"You mean, when you nicked the Key of Hamunaptra from his pocket?"

"Exactly. And you know of course how your mum came to that prison to see the man who owned the blasted thing?"

Alex rolled his eyes with a mock sigh. "The story's been in the family for ages, Uncle Jon – Mum and Dad have told me that hundreds of times." Then he sobered down, and looked at the door. "I'd almost like to hear that one from them again now. It's funny, you know how they get all mushy and kissy? Well, frankly, I prefer them kissing than fighting."

"So do I, son." Jonathan sighed, as the row raged on one floor lower. There was a moment's silence, after which Alex turned his head from the door back to his uncle.

"So, what was the point?"

"The point – oh yes, the point. Well, here's me and your mum, waltzing into that prison – the way it was stinking, you have no idea – and asking to see the American. Too bad we didn't have one of these fancy little cameras they have now. He looked like a caveman." Jonathan refrained from chuckling. "What did Evy say? Yes, 'Filthy, rude, and a complete scoundrel. Nothing to like there at all'."

"Mum said that about Dad?" Alex's face hesitated between amazement and laughter.

"Oh, yes. That wild-looking man behind bars, and my Evy, not remotely afraid as she should have been, went straight to him to talk about that puzzle box. Of course, I'd said something or other about us being adventurers, or missionaries or some similar rot… And your dad, being the smart bloke I didn't know he was, knew me instantly as the chap who had picked his pocket and punched me in the jaw. I can tell you, that hurt – a lot." Alex snorted. "When I came round, first thing I saw was that wild American kissing my sweet, innocent baby sister."

"Did that hurt more?" asked Alex, grinning. Jonathan gave him the deadpan look that was his nephew's favourite.

"The day you have a baby sister, son, you'll understand." A beat. "Then again, I think your dad's jab was what hurt most. That man's fists are iron, I swear."

The noise of the fight seemed to be dying down, on the ground floor. Besides that, the relative silence was comfortable enough.

"I just don't understand Mum," Alex sighed after a little while. "Why does she want to stay? Because that's why they're fighting, isn't it? What happened at the museum?"

There was no escape from telling the whole story to a boy who could look at you that way. Jonathan hesitated a little, then looked at Alex sternly. "Don't tell your mum I told you." Then he sighed. "Well, you know, that mate of mine, Tommy – he sort of specialises in antiques, like your mum, so I saw it as a good idea to take him to see the diamond. Evy was very nice, talking that dragon of a curator into it, and there we went. We got to the chamber, through some sort of maze of corridors, and two minutes later, this assistant, Jamal, ran into the room and told us there's been some funny business going on in another room.

"We stayed in the diamond's room for its protection, him, Tommy and I – what are you laughing for, honestly? And a few minutes later, we started to hear some weird noise at the door. So the three of us came in front of it, ready to defend the diamond –"

"And the bad guys broke in through the window!" Alex finished, laughing. Jonathan shook his head with a sheepish smile.

"Ah… not quite. Someone did break the window, so we turned to see what was going on – that's when the door opened with a bang. I didn't have time to turn back, and then nothing. Complete blackout. And the diamond was stolen." He winced. "Bit pathetic, eh?"

To his surprise, Alex did not joke this time. He seemed to think it over, and looked back seriously at his uncle. "No, I don't think you're pathetic. I mean, you can be at times, but –" Good Lord, if the boy is getting the same sense of humour as his father… "– But you're my uncle, and if some guy says you're pathetic I'll land him one on the nose." And he grinned.

Something swelled inside Jonathan's chest. He had never heard Alex say something like that to him, and he found himself very proud of being worthy of such praise. Especially since it came from his nephew, who was not prone to making compliments.

In the silence that followed, they both could hear something quite unexpected – complete silence. Occasionally broken by whispers, or bits of phrases, but it seemed that the row was over. For the moment.

Alex looked up at the ceiling with a sigh of relief. "You know, back at school, nobody has a mum who's an Egyptologist, and a dad who's fought mummies, and –" there he grinned at Jonathan "– an uncle who's a great bus driver… I wonder what the other parents fight over."

Jonathan had to smile at that. The boy had a point.

"Still…" he continued thoughtfully, "I wonder what it's like to live a normal life. Nobody believes me when I tell them about Imhotep, Lock-Nah and the rest."

"Nobody?"

"Well, not quite. There's Edgar – Edgar Jacobs, he's in my history class. He's a bit bossy, but he's fun to hang around with. And he knows his Egyptian history for sure."

"And his parents don't fight?"

"I don't know. We don't talk about things like that." Alex puffed up his chest slightly. "We're lads, you know how it goes."

"Yes, I know." Some things would never change, it seemed.

Alex gave a noncommittal shrug, then seemed to hesitate a bit, before asking, his voice a little unsure, "Uncle Jon, my grandparents… You and Mum's mum and dad… Did they fight at all?"

This took Jonathan entirely by surprise. He blinked, then looked over at Alex uncertainly. "I don't know. Maybe they did, but never in front of us. Our mother had quite the quick temper, Evy takes that after her, so I guess there must have been some times when they didn't agree…"

Alex's eyes didn't leave his face. "What were they like?"

Jonathan was silent for a little while, gathering his memories. It had been a long time since he had last talked about John and Salwa Carnahan. "Well… Father was tall, with a long face and nose. He had blue eyes, you can't see that on the photos, of course. Smiled often enough, but didn't laugh much. I reckon I look a little like him, minus the moustache."

"Was he nice?"

"That was – that's not the best way to put it. He was always very calm, serious, sort of noble-looking… That I know I didn't inherit from him. He could be very kind, whenever he wanted to, but most of the time he was very busy – we didn't see that much of him. But I always thought he must be very brave, venturing into those big dark pyramids in search of dead people."

He smiled Alex, who was drinking in his words, his blue eyes wide in childlike curiosity. "Then there was our mum. Whenever Father spoke about mummies, funeral rites and fantastic discoveries for science, she told us about all the myths and the legends of Egypt. 'The Land of Living Sand', she called it. That was my favourite part – I didn't care much about the dynasties and things Evy was so keen about. She taught me every part of Egyptian mythology that I know, the stories of all the gods and everything – I've forgotten half of it now, but some stuff's still fixed in my mind. She had a really vivid way to tell those stories."

Alex gave a smile. He sat hugging his knees, his eyes shining. "Is it true, that Mum looks just like her? I've seen a picture of her on Mum's locket. She looked pretty."

"Yeah, she really was…" Jonathan stared into the distance for a few seconds, the beat of his heart changing ever so subtly. "She was, er… She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. And I don't say that just because she was my mum." As he went on, he hoped that his smile wasn't too shaky. His forte was joking and obfuscating; this was getting dangerously close to awkward and maudlin. "She had – she had long, black hair, skin darker than ours, bright eyes and a bright smile… It's true that Evy looks a lot like her. She really does. Of course, there're some differences, but – you get the gist." Alex nodded enthusiastically. "She was the one who'd sit at our bedside, when Evy and I used to sleep in the same room, and tell us stories. There was a war between Evy and me, to see who would stay awake longest. I made a point of winning, because I was the older brother – but she often beat me. You know your mum, when she's set her mind on something…"

Alex gave a lopsided smile, and Jonathan grinned back. Despite the apprehension he'd had at first about getting into all those old memories again, in the end, it felt rather good to share them with his nephew. Not to mention the fact that the boy was only too pleased to hear those stories.

Of course, he should have anticipated the question that went next. But a part of him was still hoping that Alex wouldn't ask. A part of him didn't want to answer that particular question.

"How did they die, Uncle Jon?"

Right on target.

Jonathan winced, and inwardly searched for a way to dodge that question. Soon he could see a couple of escapes, but it felt dishonest to leave Alex hanging like this. Nobody could accuse Jonathan Carnahan of being honest, but he'd always made a point of being truthful to his nephew.

"Your mum never told you?"

Alex squirmed slightly against the pillow. "Well, not really. It's almost more difficult to get her to talk about my grandparents than you."

"To tell the truth, partner, I'm not quite keen on the subject."

"Yeah, I noticed that."

"So why don't you go ask your mum, instead?"

Alex gave an annoyed sigh. "Because, right now, I'd like you to tell me about it!"

That took Jonathan aback. He had some difficulties understanding why on earth his word would be wanted more than Evy's. That wasn't the way things went, usually.

"All right, don't fret, I'll tell you… Right. It was a couple of years after the war. Evy had just turned nineteen, and I'd gone back to Oxford to try to finish my degree before Evy finished hers. Our parents had been in Britain during the war, but after the armistice they quickly followed Carter and Carnavon's party back to Egypt. They were planning to work on the Valley of the Kings, you know, they'd dug up a whole lot of pharaohs' mummies down there – something like thirty-five, or close enough. Father had been unsure about going without us, but she had said that Evy and I were adults now, and they could leave us on our own." Hah. Even two years shy of twenty-one, Evy had been more of an adult than he was. "So the two of us stayed in England with that old hag of a housekeeper, Mrs Gladys Pemberton, and our parents were off to Egypt."

Jonathan stopped a few seconds for breath. Alex said nothing, but his eyes demanded the rest of the story. There was nothing Jonathan could refuse his nephew when he was looking at him like that.

"It was in the middle of the summer holidays; mother and father had promised to come home and spend the rest of the summer with us, so we were both waiting for news. I think Evy spent hours waiting outside for the postman, but we were both inside the house when news finally came. There was a thunderstorm raging on outside, and, er –" there he gave a low chuckle "– I can't say I was feeling quite easy. I didn't like storms that much." He never had, even before getting acquainted with the sound of shelling.

"I don't, either," said Alex quietly. Jonathan was quite touched by that confession. Alex was scarcely one to admit a weakness. He nodded in thanks, and carried on.

"So, that night, Evy and I were sitting under the table in the dining room, scaring each other stiff with ghost or mummy stories… Don't ask, we used to do that a lot when we were kids, and it just seemed like the perfect night for it. And then there was a knock at the door. I went to answer – big brother and all that, you know, and Mrs Pemberton had the week off – and this fellow was standing on our doorstep with a gloomy face. I remember that he had a fez in his hand, a white suit, and dark eyes. Must have been an aide of Carnavon's or Carter's, our parents used to know them well. Well, he gave me that big, thick envelope, planted a hand on my shoulder, and walked off like a ghost. And that's weird, because it was not raining. I should've continued to see him till he passed through the gate, with all the lightening going on."

Outside the window, the sun was quickly setting down on Egypt. The sky was streaked with gold and fire, and in other circumstances, Jonathan would have found some interest in gazing out the window if he had nothing to do but wait for the opening of Cairo's bars. But he didn't feel in the mood tonight. Rather weird, that, all things considered. A stiff drink was usually exactly what the metaphorical doctor ordered.

"The letter was from Lord Carnavon himself, telling the two of us that Salwa and John Carnahan's plane had gone down over the Mediterranean an hour after taking off from Cairo. When I reached the end of the letter, I remember Evy calling me, and then nothing at all – total blank. I didn't faint or anything, your mum told me so, but the next thing I knew, I was sitting on the floor against the sofa of the living room, and Evy was curled up against me, crying with her head on my shoulder. I think we remained like that all through the night. It was a living nightmare."

Alex's blue eyes were sad, his face serious – once again, rather too serious for his age. He sat silently, his chin resting on his knees, looking intently at his uncle. Jonathan looked away for a second, then back to stare at the boy, hoping that his face did not give away too much.

"You know, back at that… place – Ahm Shere – when you did what you did with that book… I'm sure your mum and dad must've told you that hundreds of times, so perhaps you'll be sick of hearing it again, but… I'm so bloody proud of you, Alex. I never could've done it myself – and I really wouldn't trust myself with any of these blooming books again. Last time I did, it was the Book of Amun-Ra, and I let it fall into a hole full of revolting stuff. I think your mum might have murdered me if we hadn't been in such a hurry to get out." Jonathan tried hard to put feeling into the smile he gave his nephew. Alex's expression was a weird one, halfway between a grin and fighting to keep a stiff upper lip.

"You never told me that."

"What, that stuff about the Book of Amun-Ra? How much of an idiot do you think I am?"

"No, I mean –" Alex rolled his eyes, and looked back up at Jonathan with a wobbly smile. "Well, thanks. A lot. You know what I mean."

"Not at all, partner." Jonathan grinned and leaned back against the pillow. To tell the truth, he was starting to feel a mite tired, which he normally never did before two or three in the morning. But that was maybe due to his being knocked out earlier. That sort of thing tended to play merry hell with your evening plans.

That must have shown on his face, because Alex looked at him a little more carefully, narrowing his eyes. "D'you want me to leave?"

"Mmh? No, that's all right – stay if you want to. Only I might fall asleep on you at some point."

Actually, they kept talking for a fairly long time, until the sky by the window was pitch black, and Jonathan really couldn't utter a word more. He fell asleep abruptly, while Alex put his head on the pillow, thinking about many things at once.

When Evelyn came in quietly to see if everything was all right, she smiled as she saw uncle and nephew each sharing an end of the bed, one sleeping soundly and the other dozing off. She called Rick for help and the two of them carried Alex to his own bedroom, then got him out of his clothes and into his pyjamas, and tenderly tucked him under the sheets.

Rick was still a little aloof with her, and she heartily hoped that tomorrow would change that. It was not as things should be. Whenever trouble came, she always could rely on Rick's support. When the Bembridge scholars had decided she was too prone to triggering off catastrophes to run the British Museum properly after all, he had stood faithfully at her side. When her evil supervisor Mr Harwood-Miller had made her first few weeks in the Museum a living hell for no apparent reason, Rick had suggested locking him up in Imhotep's sarcophagus with a few flesh-eating scarabs, and when that had failed to cheer her up, to have a little chat with him. An 'O'Connell' chat, of course. And when they had received news from Alex's school that he had had an accident and had been taken to the hospital, her husband had been the one who had kept her from going insane from the lack of news. And the one to wrap her in a bear hug when it turned out that Alex had only had his arm broken after some foolish stunt with friends of his.

The possibility that he could not be there for this diamond thing left her with a cold feeling of defeat. Of course, nothing like the Hamunaptra and Ahm Shere episodes was going to happen this time, but the thought of Rick not being on her side was nothing short of excruciating.

As she changed into her nightdress, she thought about the diamond, and what else it could bring upon her family. Having her brother hurt and her husband on bad terms with her was, in her opinion, enough ill luck.

How could things get worse than that?

Famous last words, old girl, said a familiar voice in the back of her head as she fell asleep in turn.

Notes/Translations:

Yā salām (يَا سَلَام ): oh my God

"What did Evy say? Yes, 'Filthy, rude, and a complete scoundrel. Nothing to like there at all'.": Evy's actual words in the film were "I don't like him one bit" – "nothing to like there at all" is what Jon says to tease her when he catches her staring after Rick. Figured Jonathan's memory would be a little selective, as memory is sometimes.

Re. John and Salwa Carnahan, the Mummy Returns novelization has Evy's and Jonathan's father's name as Howard Carnahan, but I only read it ages after 'John' became my set-in-stone headcanon. 'Salwa' is an Arabic name meaning 'solace'.

Hope you liked this little dive into backstory/headcanon!