Author's note: [chapter revised in 2019] Hello there! Real Life is a torture, I haven't watched TM or TMR in months and parents' pressure about exams and whatnot has never been higher, but I'm still cheerful. At least the weather's beautiful, my birthday was exactly 2 weeks ago and my boyfriend has given me the 1st season DVD of Excel Saga, a very, very warped manga. I'm 23 and I'm in love, what could I ask more! Anyway, a very short chapter, with a title courtesy of Janis Joplin. Hope you'll like :o)

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 13: A Woman Left Lonely

The heat had been growing steadily for a few hours now. Despite the fact that the room she was kept in was in a sort of basement, with no other light than the small window that gave onto what she thought was a sunlit corridor, Elizabeth Ferguson was starting to feel very uncomfortable. These were always the hours in the day where she regretted the most her cool, green Dorset, where the end of July meant just enough heat to enjoy a cool house and a fresh drink. The water she was provided with here was tepid at best.

Then again, at least she had something to quench her thirst. If there was something she had learned in this past week, it was to take what was offered and make do with it, no matter how uncomfortable it was. Elizabeth recalled with a wince the first time she had been told that there were no sanitary installations that she could use, except for a chamber pot and a basin of hot water in the morning. At first, she had protested, arguing that in the middle of the 20th century it was an absolute scandal that a woman, even a prisoner, couldn't have access to modern facilities… But after a while, she simply couldn't wait any longer and accepted the pot, humiliating though it was to go through your business while a man outside waited for you to finish so that he might take it away.

She only had the bare necessities. She had not changed her clothes for a week, and in addition to the physical discomfort they were starting to smell. She did have a quick wash every morning, but only to put her old clothes back on. Her work suit looked now long past its best with dust and sweat, and her new stockings were laddered. Elizabeth most regretted the loss of her stockings, as it had been a gift from her husband just before he left for Egypt.

To think that that particular Tuesday had begun so well. The postman had caught her just before she left for work with a postcard from Tom, a lovely picture of pyramids and the Sphinx with a few words on the back that said he loved her and wished she were there. His work at the Antique Research Department was always sending him to exotic places, Egypt in particular, and he always sent her the sweetest postcards.

She didn't notice the long dark-coloured car straight away. She did notice it was parked under a road sigh for Bournemouth when the driver asked her for directions to that very same town. Nevertheless, she approached and answered politely, especially as the gentleman behind the wheel was very civil.

What happened just afterwards, she had no idea. The only thing that stuck in her mind was a violent, dizzying smell that reminded her of hospitals. When she had woken up, she had felt weak and sick, petrified with fear, and prayed that she had remembered to turn off the gas before she left.

Elizabeth had no idea where she was kept, except that it was probably in Egypt – in Cairo, more precisely. Her captors had given her an Egyptian newspaper, dated from the day before her kidnapping, to hold why they took a picture just after she woke up. After that, there had been a boat, a train, a plane, and another plane, always tied up, gagged, and blindfolded.

She had talked with the American – Mr O'Connell – last Saturday. If she went by the rhythm and number of the meals, it was now Tuesday morning.

Keeping track of time was so difficult when you didn't have your usual everyday habits to rely on.

That strange conversation had left her with a profound sense of shock. All she had been told was that Tom had something to do that he was quite likely to refuse, and that the stakes were so high she had been brought here as a guarantee. For days, she had wondered what those stakes could be, and how involved Tom was.

The American's story did answer some of these questions, but in such a way that she almost refused to believe it. How could a simple diamond, big though it was, be so dangerous? If the Research Department wanted it so badly, why couldn't they just buy it from that museum? And – and this was the question that haunted her most – what exactly was the nature of Tom's job? What kind of job could force a man to do such a bad turn to an old friend?

This Mr O'Connell had really sounded angry, almost hurt. Elizabeth herself could hardly believe that, because of Tom, this man had been kidnapped, parted from his wife and his son. That, to her, seemed about the cruellest thing that could happen to a family man. Goodness knew Tom and she had tried, unsuccessfully, to become parents.

What she really had trouble picturing was her husband, her Tom, playing an active part in what looked like a villainous theft and helping to imprison a friend. Especially Jonathan Carnahan.

Those two… Elizabeth couldn't help a smile at the thought of the pair as they were in university, what seemed like ages ago. They had been close, nigh inseparable, and it hadn't taken long for the three of them to grow very close, as well. Years had passed since, and while she and Tom had been lucky enough to meet again afterwards and not let go of each other this time, they had passed without a word to or from her other 'suitor'. After the war, he and his sister Evelyn had moved to Egypt once the latter had finished her studies, and Elizabeth had no idea when, or if, they had come back to England.

How many times had she heard the expression 'Those were the days' from some old toothless granny recalling the golden times of her youth? Now Elizabeth could truly comprehend what they meant. She was perfectly happy with Tom, the both of them earned a living of their own quite decently and she loved their home, but life lacked the excitement of her university years. Enjoying the simple fact of being alive was so easy, back then; it had been a time of freedom, new and wondrous, and a thousand things to see, do, and feel, including a few she had not been warned about in the slightest and had made her blush at the drop of a hat.

Not that she'd been given many reasons to be flustered before she met Tom and Jonathan. She had been diffident and rather withdrawn as a young girl, and had gone unnoticed by nearly all the 'young gentlemen' of Oxford who were looking for a lady friend.

In fact, the only two boys her age who had looked at her – really looked at her – were the two students competing for the worst reputation in their own university. Knowing this had made her quite wary before she'd made their acquaintance properly until her cousin Arthur had assured her they were really decent lads after all. While 'decent' might not have been the right word for it, they had made her laugh, they had bolstered her confidence, and they had been – surprisingly for those who did not know them like she had – unfailingly kind. And yes, they were both funny and a little ridiculous sometimes, yes they liked to brag about deeds and feats of questionable morality, but oh, had they made her feel alive!

Elizabeth shook her head. Those were the days, indeed, but it was no good dwelling on them with regret. She had spent two days turning over the conversation with Mr O'Connell in her mind, in vain. She still had no idea what exactly was going on, and especially why.

From this disheartening situation was dawning a determination such as she had never felt before. This just Would Not Do. She was reaching her breaking point, and the patience that was one of her major traits was wearing off slowly but inexorably. Especially when she thought of Tom: lies or no lies, Elizabeth knew her husband, and she also knew that the people who hadn't hesitated to kidnap her would probably stop at nothing to get what they wanted, and Tom had principles. He was a good man, and she had had all the time in the world to worry about what they might do to him – or her – if things went awry. Problem was, she just could not see a way out.

Unless…

Footsteps began to echo in the corridor just as an idea began to take shape in her mind.

This was madness. There was no way she could pull it off. She was a poor actress, definitely no heroine, and her courage had strict limits. Then again, Elizabeth could see no other way out, and even if the idea seemed downright crazy, she knew she really had to try something, for the sake of the husband she loved as well as an old friend's.

The footfall was coming closer. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and collapsed on the spot, moaning slightly and clasping her stomach, and overall trying to appear in great pain.

From her spot on the ground, she heard the clinking of keys and the creaking of a lock, then saw a pair of big feet almost running at her and a body dropping in a crouching position.

"Jesus," she heard, muttered between clenched teeth. "Er… Ma'am? Are you all right?"

"Don't… don't know," she groaned, hoping fervently that the newcomer would buy it, all the while looking for the weapon he was bound to have somewhere. "Hurts…"

"Where?" he asked with surprising gentleness, a hand on her shoulder and the other on the ground for support. She shook his hand off with the pretence of a coughing fit she managed to pull off despite her shaky breathing.

"Do you want me to call somebody? A doctor?" he insisted with the same awkward sweetness that made her think he must be rather young. She shook her head, trying to calm the pounding of her heart in her chest, and as she looked up her breath caught in her throat. There it was. A big-looking gun was hanging rather loosely from a holster under his jacket, just inches from her!

She pushed on her elbows as though to get up right away, and he did exactly what she hoped he would do. He put both his hands on her shoulders – "Whoa, easy there" – and doing this, uncovered the gun, which tipped to Elizabeth's hand as if it wanted to jump out of its holster. Which was more or less what happened.

Faster than she had thought she would be, Elizabeth stood up in front of the man, his revolver in her hands that felt too small for it. She hadn't held a gun in nearly twenty years.

He just goggled at her, as though he had yet to grasp the reality of the situation.

"Stand up," she said, recalling everything that had happened in this past week for her voice to sound appropriately cold. "And step back."

The man staring at her with wide eyes was probably younger than her by a decade. The flaming red curly hair flying around his freckled face made him look vulnerable, almost friendly. He did what he was told, apparently too shocked to do otherwise. But Elizabeth didn't abandon her wariness; nor did her grip on the gun loosen one bit.

"What's your name?" she asked.

The young man's mouth moved wordlessly for a second, then he replied, "Stephens. B—Benjamin Stephens."

"Well, then, Mr Stephens," she said, speaking slowly and detaching each syllable, "I have a question I'd like you to answer."

"S—sure," Benjamin Stephens stammered, still bemused. "What is it?"

Elizabeth came one step closer, trying to keep her hands from shaking, and locking her eyes onto his, she asked quietly, "Where is my husband?"

It had been obvious, from the moment Evelyn saw Ardeth come back from the Medjai camp last night, that everything had not happened according to plan. Even now, his eyes were flashing furiously and a dark frown was on his face as he sat in a corner of the dirigible pouring over maps and thinking hard. Evy wondered, as she sipped her morning tea, if he had even slept a wink at all last night.

To be honest, she had held a faint wild hope to see him come back with Rick and Jonathan trailing behind, tired and worn perhaps, but alive and unscathed. It had been a disappointment, especially for Alex, who had kept watch until he just could not stay awake any longer. The look on his face as he woke up to find the dirigible still moving and no Dad or Uncle Jon in sight had torn Evelyn's heart, particularly since he fought so hard to keep a stiff upper lip, which was terrible to see in his still-childish face. Her boy was only ten, for God's sake. He shouldn't have to bear things like that.

Right now, he was leaning on his elbows on the rail, staring at the great yellow dunes, flattened under the sun, that moved along under the dirigible. She couldn't see his face, but she could tell that the enduring situation was nerve-racking for him. It was bad enough for her.

She walked over and sat quietly beside him. His ruffled blond hair, darker than it had been when he was younger, flew into his face, reminding Evelyn of his father's whenever a slight breeze stirred.

"Are you all right?" she whispered, her heart in her throat. Alex gave a slight nod.

"Yeah." He said it so absent-mindedly he could as well have uttered 'no'. Evy didn't budge. She knew there would come a moment when he would speak up. Alex had no patience at all for uncomfortable silences.

Sure enough, she was proven right after a short while.

"Mum, what the heck did happen down there? I would've asked Ardeth, but he looks like a dog who's just been stolen a bone from."

She couldn't help a smile at the mental image. "Ardeth doesn't bite, you know."

"Have you looked at him?"

"All right, you do have a point." Evelyn's eyes returned to staring at the dunes as if of their own accord. She loved this landscape so dearly it really felt like an integral part of herself. "Well, it seems that Ardeth and the Medjai went to retrieve both the Diamond of Ahm Shere and your dad and uncle, but that they failed in that. And they lost a few men in the scuffle."

Alex's head swivelled round in a flash, and he looked very white all of a sudden. "Dad and Uncle Jon were all right though, weren't they?"

Evy thought about what Ardeth had told her of the confrontation with Hamilton, and cut to the core of things. "Yes, dear, don't worry. The problem is, for that Hamilton man, they are also hostages on top of having information, and he doesn't seem too keen on letting go of his hostages so easily."

"Oh." Alex seemed to relax slightly. "Still, I wish this nutcase would've chosen somebody else for 'information'." His lips thinned into what would have looked like a pout, were it not for the set, serious expression of his round blue eyes. "I wish Uncle Jon hadn't bumped into Mr Ferguson the other day. I wish we hadn't come to Egypt at all, even."

Evelyn gave a small sigh, refraining from taking him in her arms, only taking the liberty to tuck tenderly a blond lock behind his pink round ear. "Things just don't work like that, sweetheart. There are some things I wish never happened, but they did. Sometimes, some good can even come from the bad. I met your father because I wanted to go to Hamunaptra, and when I – accidentally – raised Imhotep, a lot of terrible things happened. People died, and it looked like the end of the world. But in the end, things got better. Not like they were before – people were dead, and we couldn't do anything about it –"

"Oh, c'mon, you had the Book of the Dead, didn't you, Mum?" Evy sensed the battle was half-won when Alex risked a grin. She smiled.

"We didn't, Imhotep did, and at the time we had done everything to bury him very, very deep in the sand. No, my point is, when bad things happen, the bad doesn't last for ever. And if you look hard enough – God knows that sometimes, you've got to look really hard – you can find that some good comes from it. Has it ever occurred to you that you wouldn't even be there if it hadn't been for Imhotep?"

The boy made a curious face, something halfway between thoughtful and disgusted, and turned to his mother to look her in the eye. "Well," he finally said, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, "I must remember to thank him next time, for sure."

She gave him a bright, genuine smile, and put an arm around him to hold him close. Surprisingly enough, Alex made no move out of the embrace and seemed content to let his mum hug him. They watched the horizon for a little while, until Alex grumbled, "Anyway, whatever good or bad comes from this whole nasty business, I really hope it won't be a little brother or sister."

Evelyn gave a hearty laugh this time, and she was almost certain to have heard a slight chuckle behind her from Ardeth's corner.

Notes:

[2019] I wrote this chapter in 2005; I was 23 and not particularly aware of things like tropes and the Bechdel Test, but I knew I wanted to bring these two women – Evy and Elizabeth – together because, apart from Satiah in chapters 6 and 7, they were pretty much the only female characters of the whole cast at this point and didn't interact at all. At the time it was a subconscious attempt at the Bechdel Test – or at least shifting the focus to women for a change. Evy's and Satiah's conversation in chapter 7 doesn't pass it, either.

Now I'm 37 and a little more… seasoned, I suppose, and also less terrified of any female OC (whatever her role in the story) getting branded as a Mary Sue. There are a few more original characters introduced in the oncoming chapters, some male, some female. Hopefully they all work.