Sand and Tears

Sand and Tears

Disclaimer: Everything is property of Universal Studios, except Laura, and would you please take her off my hands as she keeps swearing and messing up my mind and forcing me to write in a fandom with which I'm not very familiar? /endrant. Kidding. One would think I adore torturing her so… Oh wait… I do…

Summary: The boiling point of our protagonist's dilemma: run or stay? Things can never be as they were. Egypt holds nothing for me now but blood and sand; memories and tears. It's time to move on with my life. I know that. So why can't I do it?

Author's note: There will be a brief companion piece, perhaps, depending on whether or not you want to read it. It will be called Aftermath, from Ardeth's point of view. That is all.

Sand and Tears

Part Three: Seduction

I sleep without dreams, although that's not to say my head isn't clouded with thought even while I am unconscious. Somehow, some part of me has decided that I need to move on, to accept that things can never be as they were. That Egypt holds nothing for me now but blood and sand, memories and tears. But the other part of me argues against this with all its- my- heart and soul and mere logic cannot defeat the two of them put together, even when coupled with common sense. I've never had a terrible lot of that, anyway.

When I awaken roughly two hours later, judging by the position of the stars, it is to the trace scent of spice and sandalwood. The window is open again, and the fragile stem of that damned flower is tucked into my hand. I inhale deeply as I stand , aware that I must be insane to have such realistic, elaborate hallucinations, and reluctantly leave the flower on the desk. Yet, if only to assure myself that he isn't really here, I say, "I've caught you at last, Mr. Bey."

There is the slightest shift of air currents in the room and someone rather substantial for a hallucination wraps his arms around me. I close my eyes, afraid that if I look at him, he will disappear again. "You caught me a very long time ago, Miss Rutherford," that voice answers. My God, his voice. It hasn't changed at all, except it's never been this laden with emotion before. Except for that one time. If I weren't scared and relieved and blissfully uncomprehending, I would be amused that he's decided to play my game- for now.

"I don't know what I am doing, you know," I say, if for the sole purpose of hearing my own voice. "I didn't know what I was doing then, either. And I'm sorry." I sound detached, like someone is speaking through me. It's the damn oracle effect again. I am translating what I really want to say into socially acceptable terms and passing it off as the truth. I am not being true to myself, and I know it.

So, too, does Ardeth. He can always tell when it comes to things like these. But he says, "I know," and we stand there for a moment, awkward as all hell, and me still unable to look at anything other than that damn Calla lily.

"You kept it," I whisper into the silence, and caress it almost reverently as it lies there, fragile as ever. I decide to hell with the risk and turn around into Ardeth's deep brown gaze. It has been too long since I held that gaze with my own eyes. "From the very beginning." I feel something akin to confusion, but it is wrapped in a blanket as comforting as his arms. Then I say, "You knew."

He's known. Right from the beginning, he has known something that I debated constantly with myself for over eight years. So two years ago must have been a rude shock for him; realizing that I did not yet know that I loved him. If I'd known then what I know now, I would probably be pregnant with his third child by now. Frightening, to put it that way, but not so much so as the thought of having to live without him again. I decide that I cannot leave, even if Ardeth disappears again. Egypt is in my blood as much as it is in Evelyn's, for it has seeped through my thick emotional skin and left me addicted, like a drug.

Like I am addicted to Ardeth.

"You didn't," he says quietly, and draws me closer to him. "I should have said something, but I thought that if something was so obvious to me- to everyone…" He doesn't need to finish that sentence.

"Evelyn told you," I realize aloud, not bothering to feel the slightest resentment that she'd revealed what I had pleaded with her to keep a secret.

"She has been known to have something of a loose tongue when she's drunk," Ardeth agrees, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips. "Although I doubt she's told you that particular story."

Certainly not, but I catalogue it in my mind for future reference.

Gradually we become aware that we have not said anything of great significance. I wonder if I've fooled myself into thinking I need him all these years, but his lips descend on mine and the ensuing fire ignites all of me, both of us, and any doubts are burnt and washed away. It suddenly seems unbearably hot in the room as Ardeth's tongue flicks gently across my lips, and my arms can no longer stand to have any space between our two bodies so I wrap them around his neck and hold him tightly for fear of collapsing.

Breathing necessitates that we move apart. I feel as if someone has filled the empty places in me with warm sand, but there is still one thing I need to know and I can't let it go. "Why did you leave?" I ask, making sure he knows that I am not accusing him.

"You were not ready," comes the answer. That much is true. There is a pause. "And as I'm beginning to realize, neither was I."

So are we ready now? I wonder as another of his kisses steals my breath away. Ardeth's hand cups the back of my neck and I feel him run a hand through my admittedly tangled hair. His fingers catch on a necklace and I say softly, "I've never taken it off." This is the truth, as well. I've never even attempted to see how it clasps, although I have been known to fiddle with it constantly when I think of him.

"Good," is his only answer, and then there is no sound no air no room no necklace no anything, just Ardeth and a kiss that tastes of spice and lavender and passion and something that is so basic and fundamentally Ardeth that it makes me want to scream. I feel the back of my knees touch the end of the bed and we collapse on it, so heavy in our desire that we can no longer support our own weight.

It is much later when the oblivion of sleep claims us.

I awaken again this night to the feeling that I am not alone and keep my eyes closed, knowing from the gentle complaining of ill-treated muscles and the lingering scent of sandalwood that this whole ordeal hasn't been a dream. Yet in this state that is neither full awareness nor sleep I find the peace for which I have been searching and I am glad, for this is something I can share with him, and the hardest part of our journey is over.

Extricating myself from the arms of the man I love, I sit up and reach for my glasses so that I can better examine him in the pale starlight. He is unsurprisingly magnificent unclothed, with the sheets around his waist on one side and a good deal lower on the other, exposing well-toned muscle and copious amounts of delicious dark skin. His beautiful hair is in perfect disarray and even though his eyes are closed I know that on some basis he is still alert, still aware of what is going on around him.

He stirs, and I soon discover that he does not relish waking alone. His arm reaches out for me and I move back into his embrace, for feeling is even better than seeing at this point. He also, rather sleepily, removes my glasses and sets them on the bedside table, then pulls me as close as he can. This close, the sandalwood scent mixes intoxicatingly with the delicate smell of his sweat, causing tantalizing flashbacks as he tucks my head under his chin. "You're not going to leave again, are you?" I ask, hoping I know the answer.

"Not without you," comes the reply, and the amazing thing is that he sounds even more seductive when he's just woken up. Somehow I know he'll never cease to amaze me. "And not for good." I wonder if Sleepy Ardeth is just doesn't have the Proud Med-jai Leader switch on and that's why he's so different. I also wonder about the sort of reception his people will have for me. Will they be welcoming, relieved that he's finally found someone? Wary, because I am a Western outsider? Resentful that he didn't marry inside his own culture like is sometimes expected? And what about his maternal grandmother? I snicker to myself as I imagine her reaction. "What," Ardeth asks, his voice somewhat dry and maybe a little irritated, "could possibly be so amusing at this hour?"

If you could see yourself right now, I think to myself, your pride would take a serious beating. I pause in mid-ponder. And if Evelyn could see us now, she would most definitely be snickering as well. "Just thinking about a story you once told me about your grandmother," I answer, unable to stop the teasing smile.

Ardeth regards me blearily for a minute before a smile, a genuine smile, crosses his face and he laughs. I've never heard him laugh quite like that before. It's contagious and soon, I am laughing too. It makes everything all right, somehow.

Outside, the sun peeks over distant sand dunes. With the new day dawns a new life, one that promises to be the perfect merger of two worlds. We lie quietly in bed and watch the sun rise, and for the first time since Sarah died I know that here, in my lover's arms, I am home.

END