ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Waking with a start, Ardeth stared into the darkness, unable to remember where he was. Nothing felt right. The bed beneath him was too soft. The air around him was too heavy. None of the usual sounds reached his ears. He was not in Egypt. Ardeth felt certain of that. He also felt that there was something important he was supposed to be doing there….wherever he was. The edges of his brain twitched with the urgency of this important thing, yet the memory of it remained just out of reach.
Frustrated, Ardeth shifted to rise, sending pain surging through his body. He sagged back onto the mattress, gulping for the air agony had ripped from his lungs. Slowly, as he forced himself to keep his attempts at breathing slow and even, the wave of intense pain ebbed away, leaving a duller ache in its place. With several more deep breaths, Ardeth found he could once again think about more than simply getting air. He also realized that the sudden onslaught of pain had brought the elusive memories within reach.
He was in England, at the home of the O'Connells. His task had been simple – retrieve the artifacts before blood could be split with them. He had failed. Not only had he failed, he had somehow provoked the very thing he was there to prevent and, in the process, offended his friends. Ardeth sighed. He knew that he must attempt to remedy the situation, although uncertain that it would be enough to redeem him in the O'Connells' eyes. Still, honor and friendship demanded that he make the effort. Ardeth sighed, again. It wasn't going to be easy to force his body to comply with the demand.
Taking a couple more deep breaths to prepare, Ardeth bit his lip and pulled himself up to a sitting position. The inflamed muscles of his abdominal wound screamed in greater protest than he'd expected, forcing him to pause for another breath. As he rested, he registered the slight stirring of a small form next to him. His eyes had adjusted to dim light enough to trace the child's outline as Alex settled again without waking. The Medjai stifled another sigh. It had been one thing to force himself out of the bed, but now he must do so carefully.
Biting his lip again, Ardeth resisted the temptation to quickly swing his legs over the edge, fearing it might bounce the bed. Instead, he moved slowing and gently, straining his abdominal muscles. Tightly clasping the bed sheets tightly, the Medjai managed to touch his feet to the ground without significantly jostling the mattress. Stifling a hiss, he slowly stood, almost. His protesting muscles and spinning head refused to allow him to straighten fully, but it was enough. Taking a couple shaky steps toward the bottom of the bed, Ardeth snatched up his sash. Pulling his robe closed, he carefully, but painfully, secured it, feeling better that he was, once again, properly attired. Trembling from the exertion, Ardeth clung to the bedpost for a minute, before willing his legs to move him away from the bed.
After what seemed an eternity, the Medjai found himself resting weakly against the wall. He'd pushed the cracked door open enough to slip through, once he'd caught his breath. In the light seeping in from the hallway, Ardeth could see Alex sleeping soundly and almost managed a smile. Having failed so miserably in his journey thus far, he found some measure of satisfaction in having been successful at not waking the child. Keeping an eye on Alex, Ardeth slipped out of the room.
Much to his immense frustration, the Medjai found it necessarily to pause again just outside the room. Down the hall, he heard a clock chime four and realized the sun would rise in a few short hours. At the rate he was moving, Ardeth feared the entire household would be up and about before he'd made it to the stairs. He could not continue to rest every few feet. Frustration turned to irritation, and Ardeth set his jaw and stood up straight as he pulled away from the wall. His head spun, his ribs ached, his wounds throbbed and his stomach churned, but the warrior refused to acknowledge any of it. Berating himself for each wobbly step, he determinedly made his way toward the stairs.
Every foot traveled made it harder to ignore his body's distress. After less than a dozen steps, the spinning in his head had increased enough that Ardeth found it necessary to lean his wounded shoulder against the wall as he walked. The pressure sent pain throbbing through his collarbone, into his chest, and down his arm, all the way through to his fingertips, but Ardeth forced himself to continue. He had to find the dagger before the others awoke.
"Ardeth, old boy, you really think it's a good idea to be taking a stroll in the shape your in?"
The Medjai started at the unexpected sound of Jonathan's voice. The sudden movement laid the final straw, and Ardeth's knees buckled as blackness enveloped the world around him. Flattening his back against the wall as leverage against the darkness, he managed, barely, to stay upright.
"There now, see, that's exactly my point," Jonathan quipped, lunging forward to steady the Medjai as Ardeth limply sagged against wall.
Jonathan's voice seemed far away, muffled by the thick fog in Ardeth's head, and the Medjai made no attempt to respond to it. Not that he could have, even if he'd wanted to. It required all his concentration to remain slumped against the wall, instead of collapsing onto the floor.
"Come on. Let's get you back to bed, shall we?" Jonathan suggested, shifting around to tuck a shoulder beneath Ardeth's arm. It surprised him, more than a little, to feel the Medjai resist.
"No…I…must…have…to…," Ardeth struggled to form a coherent sentence. Pausing, he took several slow breaths to force the darkness away. As it faded, his knees steadied enough that he could spare a little attention to focus his thoughts. As infuriating as it was, the Medjai realized his body simply wasn't going to cooperate with him. He would have to ask Jonathan for help. Reluctant, Ardeth took a deep, painful breath.
"Jonathan, I need your assistance."
"Of course you need some help, chap. The shape you're in….it's a wonder you made it out here in the first place. But don't you worry, we'll have you back to bed in no time."
"You misunderstand," Ardeth explained, again resisting the man's attempts to move him. His voice growing weaker by the word, the Medjai worried he wouldn't be able to convince Jonathan to help him. "I do not wish to return to bed…"
"I'm sorry to be the one to let you in on this, Ardeth, but you're really in no condition to be anywhere else," Jonathan interrupted, stating the obvious very matter-of-factly. The Medjai responded with the look indicating his acute awareness of his present state, 'thank you very much, Jonathan.' Letting his glance wearily fall back to the floor, Ardeth sighed.
"I cannot return to bed," the Medjai clarified. "I came to England on an errand that has been too long delayed already."
"Ah, yes. I was afraid of that," Jonathan groused. "Now, I suppose, you're going to explain how you've managed to let that bloody Mummy get loose again. Really, I say, old chap, you do a damned poor job of guarding the bugger."
Ardeth winced, the comment furthering wounding his already battered honor. Rationally, he understood that the Englishman hadn't really intended his words as an insult. However, the Medjai suspected they were a truer reflection of how the man really felt than, perhaps, even Jonathan, himself, realized.
"My business does not concern the creature," Ardeth answered, sighing.
"Oh, well then….," Jonathan let the sentence trail off, feeling like a bit of a heel. Releasing his hold on the Medjai, he moved into the center of the hallway. Fidgeting uncomfortably, Jonathan paced back and forth a couple of steps as he waited for Ardeth to provide more details.
"I was sent to retrieve the cursed weapons of the Devourer."
"Devourer, eh. He doesn't sound like a very pleasant fellow. He isn't hot on your heels, by chance, is he?" Jonathan inquired nervously, reflexively glancing around.
"No. He is long dead," Ardeth informed him. Despite his general state of misery, the Medjai couldn't help but smile at the man's skittishness. He gave his head a small shake, wishing again he could force his body to do what was needed. He did not relish the idea of resting all his eggs in Jonathan's basket.
"Oh, good….good…excellent," Jonathan muttered, the relief obvious his voice. "So what makes these weapons important enough to warrant Medjai protection."
His head growing heavy, Ardeth didn't bother to look at Jonathan. He simply ignored, with resignation, the implied accusation that it had been some sort of failure on the part of the Medjai that had brought the warrior to England again. He could do little about Jonathan's opinion of him and his people, for the moment.
"These artifacts are not under the protection of the Medjai," the warrior explained, no longer able to muster more than a loud whisper. He paused to focus his dwindling strength. The conversation was taking longer than he'd hoped.
"Then, who…," Jonathan began curiously, but Ardeth impatiently cut him off.
"It matters not whose guards them, only that they did not wish to alarm the O'Connells and, so, asked me to retrieve the artifacts," the warrior explained. A humorless chuckle escaped his lips as he considered the poor outcome of that decision.
"These 'cursed weapons of the Devourer' are dangerous, I take it?" Jonathan asked. "You know, 'wipe out the world' sort of stuff?"
Ardeth shook his head slightly. The amount of dizziness that resulted caught him by surprise. Inhaling sharply, as his stomach churned angrily, the Medjai squeezed his eyes shut and prayed he could manage to neither topple over nor vomit.
"Whoa, you all right there," Jonathan asked, anxiously, seeing the warrior list a bit to the left. Reaching a hand out to steady him, Jonathan realized too late that he'd chosen the wrong shoulder to grab. As the Medjai grimaced and a barely audible groan escaped his lips, Jonathan quickly pulled his hand away. "Ooh, sorry…didn't mean…"
Ardeth waved away the apology. "It is not the world that is at risk. It is a single soul."
"Oh, well, hardly worth killing yourself over then, eh," Jonathan quipped, but grew serious as the Medjai frowned, disapprovingly. "Pretty important, is it….this single soul?
"It is," Ardeth stated, simply. He was beginning to suspect he would have accomplished his task faster on his own, after all, and with less energy expended. Ardeth took a slow, shaky breath. It was well past time to get to the point. "I need you to help me find the dagger."
"Dagger?"
"Yes, the dagger I was stabbed with. It is one of the artifacts. The sword, in the crate downstairs, is the other. I must have them both," Ardeth explained.
"Oh well, that's simple enough," Jonathan replied, eagerly. Drawing on what little strength remained, Ardeth glanced up, frowning, uncertain how to take the Englishman's response. Seeing the Medjai's expression, Jonathan elaborated. "I saw it earlier. I'll wager it hasn't gone anywhere since. Wait right there! It'll just take me a second to grab it."
Ardeth nodded, carefully, and let his head droop again. Hearing Jonathan scamper away, he sighed. It seemed too much to hope for that it could be that easy, but then again, possessing the dagger was only the start of a long journey. Ardeth had no doubt there would be much that was difficult before he reached his destination.
Relieved, Jonathan nearly skipped to the approximate area he remembered seeing the dagger. He'd assumed Ardeth would require him to do something that would risk life and limb or, at the very least, the displeasure of Rick and Evy. Instead, all he had to do was pick a bloody dagger up off the carpet and return with it. Simple. Then, he sincerely hoped, the warrior would agree to go back to bed. By the looks of him, it amazed Jonathan that Ardeth managed to remain upright. It seemed impossible he could keep it up much longer. The idea of having to lug an unconscious Medjai back to bed by himself was only slightly more appealing the thought of waking Rick and admitting he'd allowed the injured man to dawdle in the hallway until he passed out.
"There you are," Jonathan muttered under his breath, spotting the dagger and grabbing it. As he pivoted around to return, it occurred to him it might be unpleasant for the Ardeth to see his own blood all over the blasted thing. Stooping down, Jonathan scrubbed it against the carpet, managing to rub away most of the dried blood. "Well, I suppose that'll have to do."
Absent-mindedly flaking away more blood as he wandered back, Jonathan studied the weapon. It was certainly well crafted, and probably worth a pretty penny to any respectable weapon's dealer, but it didn't look like anything worth getting excited. It certainly didn't look cursed, but then what would a cursed dagger look like, he pondered.
"Here we are," Jonathan shouted, wincing at his own voice, as it came out louder than intended. Ardeth also flinched, weakly lifting his gaze. Jonathan noticed how pale and taut the warrior's features were and, once again, hoped the matter would be settled enough that Ardeth would return to bed. "One dagger, delivered as promised. Now lets get you back to bed, shall we?"
"Thank you, Jonathan," Ardeth replied, his appreciation sincere. Taking the dagger, he turned toward the staircase, before Jonathan had a chance to tuck a shoulder under his good arm. Resting his head against the wall, the Medjai forced his feet to move. Too exhausted to think anymore about the pain flaring out from his shoulder, Ardeth focused his quickly dwindling strength into his effort to reach the stairs.
"Whoa! Hold on a minute. What are you up to now?!" Jonathan exclaimed, as Ardeth trudged weakly away from him.
"Must…get…to…the…Abadi…before…it…is…too…late," Ardeth slowly explained, having very little energy or attention to spare for speaking.
"The who? Too late for what? To save the single soul?" Jonathan quizzed, taking the couple of steps necessary to catch up to the warrior. Reaching out, he gently grabbed the Medjai's arm. Too weak to pull away, Ardeth stopped, flattened his back against the wall, and slowly slid to the floor, his strength exhausted. Jonathan sat down next to him.
"Yes, to save the soul, but I do not know how, and there is little time to learn," Ardeth explained, in a weak whisper. Closing his eyes, he let his head drop back to rest against the wall. "The Abadi are the guardians of the curse. I pray that they can tell me."
"If these Abadi are the guardians of the curse, why don't you just let them deal with it," Jonathan reasoned.
"It is my responsibility," Ardeth whispered, remorsefully.
"Your responsibility…?" Jonathan's brow wrinkled as he struggled to piece together the jumble of information.
"Yes. I provoked the use of the weapon; I am honor bound to find a way to…."
"To save the single soul," Jonathan finished for him, beginning to catch on to things. Ardeth nodded, very slightly. "I don't mean to be difficult, Ardeth, but the only thing you're going to find on your own is the floor. You're sure this single soul is important enough to kill yourself trying to save?"
Although effort required seemed Herculean, Ardeth managed to pull his head up and pin Jonathan under an intensely serious stare. "The soul is Evelyn's."
Shocked speechless, Jonathan simply stared at the Medjai.
"You see now why I must go," Ardeth stated, in a weak whisper, his head dropping back again. Jonathan numbly shook his head.
"I don't understand what this has to do with Evy?"
Ardeth sighed. He hadn't considered that Jonathan might not be aware of what had occurred earlier. "It was Evelyn that wielded the weapon."
Jonathan's brow wrinkled as he stared at the Medjai, unable to believe what he was hearing.
"What?! Why?! No, scratch that! Doesn't matter!" He sputtered. "What exactly is this curse?"
"There is not time…," Ardeth mumbled. He could feel himself drifting toward sleep and forced his head up again. "I must go before they awaken."
"Who? Oh, you mean Rick and Evy. Why…" Jonathan's voice trailed off, as a sudden realization struck him. "They don't know, do they!?"
Ardeth sighed. "They do not."
"But why? Evy's the smartest person I know, maybe she knows something you don't about stopping whatever's going to happen….which is what, exactly?" Jonathan asked, again. Ardeth thought for a moment, considering how to condense the explanation as much as possible. Then, he took a painful breath.
"It is forbidden to draw blood with these weapons. Evelyn did so. Now her soul will be destroyed.
"Just like that!" Jonathan exclaimed. "That's a bit extreme, don't you think!"
Ardeth would have shrugged had he been able. "It is not for me to say. However, it is apparently not 'just like that', as you say, for it has not yet occurred."
"Oh, well, that's good. Right? There wouldn't be a grace period if there weren't some way to stop it. Right? Surely, between the four of us, we can figure it out."
"No," Ardeth stated, earnestly. "O'Connell is not the most….diplomatic of men. If told now, I fear he will offend the Abadi, and we will not get the answers we seek."
"Yes, I suppose you're right," Jonathan responded, hesitantly, not fully convinced that the couple should be left in the dark.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Alex O'Connell flinched awake from a dream. Momentarily disoriented, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, before abruptly remembering Ardeth lay next to him…or had, anyway. Feeling around with the hand he'd tossed that direction, Alex realized, with growing alarm, that the Medjai was no longer there.
Sitting up, Alex scanned the empty bed to be certain, then, opened his mouth to shout the Medjai's name. It closed again, silently, as it occurred to him that he might accidentally wake his parents. Considering all that had happened that day between them and Ardeth, Alex decided he'd just look around a bit, first. For all he knew, the warrior had simply gone to the lavatory or something. Smiling at the thought, he crawled of the bed and headed that direction. He changed direction as muffled voices from the hallway caught his attention.
Peaking his head outside the room, Alex saw Ardeth and Jonathan sitting on the floor several yards away. He nearly pulled his head back as it occurred to him they might see him, but they seemed focused on their conversation. Staying as still as possible, Alex concentrated on catching the softly spoken words, hoping to figure out what was afoot.
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Ardeth breathed an unheard sigh of relief when Jonathan bought his argument. He'd hoped he would not have to share he real reason – that he didn't want a black cloud of despair hanging over, possibly, the last few hours Rick and Evy had together. "I swear on my life I will find a way to prevent this, but I must…."
"Reach the Abadi. Yeah, yeah, I get it. So where are these bloody Abadi anyway?"
"They have a room near the airport were they wait for me to bring the weapons."
"They're here! In England! Why didn't you say so!?" Jonathan exclaimed, staring aghast at the warrior. Ardeth didn't respond. "Rather vital piece of information you choose to keep to yourself there."
Again, Ardeth didn't respond. Down the hall, the clock chimed the half-hour, providing a stark reminder that time was passing quickly.
"I must go NOW," the Medjai finally muttered, managing to force a deceptive amount of strength into his voice.
"You won't reach these Abadi people on your own. I'll have to help you," Jonathan announced, grimly, hearing the warrior's conviction. Nothing would stop Ardeth from leaving, but without help, he wouldn't get far.
"I cannot ask you to…"
Jonathan cut him off. "She's my sister, Ardeth. I've been letting her down her my whole life, but never when it really counted, and I'm not going to start now!"
The Medjai studied the Englishman a moment, before nodding. Jonathan returned the nod, but Ardeth didn't notice. Letting his head slip back, the warrior closed his eyes and attempted to pool his meager strength enough to get him to his feet.
"All right, let's get a move on, then," Jonathan stated, determinedly, startling the Medjai by tucking his shoulder under Ardeth's and pulling him to his feet. In his haste, the Englishman wasn't a gentle as he might have been. The movement pulled at the warrior's wounds, provoking a groan.
"You sure about this, Ardeth," Jonathan whispered, as the warrior weakly sagged against him.
"I am fine," Ardeth stated, his drooping head bobbing affirmatively. He'd felt the abdominal wound's few remaining stitches pop, but there seem little value in mentioning it to Jonathan.
Jonathan raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Of course you are."
The Medjai didn't bother to respond, choosing instead to focus on keeping his feet beneath him so that Jonathan wasn't actually dragging him as they walked. They'd only made it a few feet, when the dagger slipped from his weak grasp.
"Perhaps, I'd better hold on to this, at least until we get to the car," Jonathan stated, matter-of-factly, carefully propping Ardeth against the wall long enough to retrieve the weapon.
Ardeth frowned; not at all keen on the idea on the idea of the cursed weapon in Jonathan's hands. He quickly realized, however, that, at the moment, it was no safer in his. Sighing, he watched the Englishmen pick up the dagger and slip it into his jacket pocket.
"Off we go," Jonathan muttered under his breath, as he retrieved Ardeth.
The Medjai felt time rushing past much too quickly as they slowly trudged to the top of the stairs. The slow pace chafed him, but he said nothing, knowing it would be both unkind and unhelpful. He could feel Jonathan straining beneath his weight and knew the Englishman was moving as quickly as he could.
Jonathan paused to catch his breath before tackling the first flight of stair. Ardeth's size made it difficult for the Englishman to keep his balance and walk, stepping down would be even trickier. One of them would have to hold on to the banister to have any chance of making to the bottom in one piece. Jonathan decided it would be better to allow Ardeth the extra support, even though it would require the Medjai to carry more of his own weight.
"Going to switch sides with you, all right," he informed Ardeth, as he carefully eased him around to his other shoulder. "Think you can hold on to the banister?"
"Yes," the Medjai whispered, breathlessly. Both men sighed before taking a deep breath and stepping down.
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Alex raced down the backstairs. At the pace his uncle and Ardeth were moving, he knew he could beat the two men to the car, but Alex didn't want to take any chances. It was a long run to the drive from the back of the house, and he wanted time to hide before the two men reached the front door.
Flying out the door, Alex tried to stay focused, knowing there would be plenty of time to ponder the bit of conversation he'd just overheard. However, despite his effort, it distracted him enough that he lost his balance as he came around the final corner of the house. Alex landed hard on his knees, scraping both, as well as, the palm of the hand that had tried to stop the fall. Quickly rising, he determinedly ignored the stinging and raced on to the car.
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Intently focused on each step, Ardeth didn't realize he'd reached the last one until he lost his balance attempting to take a step that wasn't there. Reflexively twisting his weight onto the hand still holding the handrail, he hissed in pain as the motion wrenched his wounds. The distraction allowed his hand to slide from the banister, and his legs slipped out from beneath him.
Feeling the sudden movement, Jonathan scrambled to shift enough of the Medjai's weight to catch Ardeth before he hit the floor. The effort threw him off balance, and Jonathan stumbled backwards, taking both of them down. He heard Ardeth hiss, but the Englishman had little time to worry about it as he landed on the stairs with a hard thud. He grunted painfully as Ardeth landed squarely on top of him an instant later.
"Ardeth?!" He gasped, acutely aware that a fall was the last thing the wounded Medjai needed. Quickly squirming out from beneath as Ardeth struggled to rise, Jonathan gingerly helped him sit up.
"I…am…fine," the Medjai gasped, in a weak whisper, closing his eyes as he rested against the banister. He battled to force his lungs to expand against the intense stabs of pain that had replaced the dull, constant throbbing of his ribs. His discomfort obvious, Jonathan gave the warrior a skeptical look and prepared to question the answer, but Ardeth cut him off. "Just… need… moment…. catch…. breath."
Shaking his head, Jonathan frowned, dubiously, but simply shrugged, deciding not to argue. Sitting down on the stairs to wait until Ardeth seemed ready to move, he aimlessly glanced around until his gaze fell onto the dry smear of blood a few feet away. Jonathan hadn't considered that the mess would still be there, but it wasn't surprising, really. Rick and Evy had been a little preoccupied since 'it' had happened. Jonathan wondered if he should try to clean it up before Ardeth noticed, but realized that would only draw the Medjai's attention to it. Tearing his eyes away from the mess, Jonathan's gaze fell on the tip of the sword sticking out of the crate. After studying its bloodied tip, he rose to his feet. Ardeth had to pass the crate, but he didn't have to face the sword.
"I'm going to put these weapons of yours in the car, be back in a jiff," Jonathan informed the warrior. Ardeth nodded, his eyes still closed as he focused on forcing the pain back. Not able to spare the breath, he didn't bother to remind the Englishman that they weren't 'his' weapons.
.
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Alex quickly ducked as his uncle abruptly emerged from the house. Holding his breath, he flattened himself against the car and stealthily slid down to a crouch. Peeking underneath the vehicle, Alex watched his uncle's feet as they carried him closer. He heard the rear passenger door open and closed his eyes, praying he wouldn't get caught. Softly releasing his pent up breath, Alex opened his eyes as he heard the car door slam and the sound of receding footsteps.
Carefully poking his head up and watching his uncle through the window, Alex waited, impatiently, for the front door to close all the way. As soon as it did, he quietly opened the rear driver's side door, crawled in, curled up on the floorboards, and made himself as small and inconspicuous as he could. Peering up, he noticed Jonathan had laid a sword across the back seat. Alex breathed a sigh of relief, figuring that meant Ardeth intended to sit in the front. Smiling a little, he closed his eyes while he waited, and quickly drifted off to sleep.
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As he quietly approached, Jonathan studied Ardeth. The Medjai's head still rested against the banister and his eyes remained closed, making it difficult to tell if he were awake. Carefully sitting down next to him, Jonathan wondered whether or not to disturb him.
"You are ready?" Ardeth asked, startling the Englishman. Looking over, Jonathan saw that the Medjai had raised his head and was watching him.
"Um, certainly…all set," Jonathan responded, a little nervously. A shiver ran through him as the warrior's feverish gaze bore into him. Ardeth nodded and glanced away as he reached for the banister to pull himself up.
"Easy there," the Englishman hissed, reaching down to help him up as he noticed the Medjai's uninjured arm trembling beneath his weight.
Ardeth reluctantly accepted Jonathan's help. Despite his expectation of the pain, the warrior had to bite back a groan at the pull on his wounds. However, once on his feet, Ardeth was pleased find that the brief rest had restored a little of his strength. Leaning heavily on the Englishman, he even managed a tolerant smile as Jonathan carefully positioned himself to block the Medjai's view as they maneuvered around the crate. Appreciative of the effort to shield him from the sight of his dried blood smeared across the floor, Ardeth decided not to mention that he'd noticed earlier. Despite the numerous injuries he'd suffered over the years, the sight had sent a shiver down his spine, surprising him.
"Ardeth, still with me?" Jonathan asked, concerned. He'd been blathering on for several seconds with no response from the Medjai.
"Yes, 'still with you,'" Ardeth whispered. Roused from his thoughts, the warrior sensed an increase in the other man's anxiety. Hoping to ease it, he shifted most of his weight off Jonathan to show he felt stronger.
Jonathan dubiously glanced sideways at Ardeth, but said nothing. His muscles had begun to quiver from carrying the bulk of the warrior's weight. Since it wasn't much further to the car, Jonathan figured he might as well accept the respite for as long as Ardeth could manage it. However, he knew that, whatever reserve the warrior was drawing on, it wouldn't last, and kept a close eye on him.
Biting his lip in frustration, instead of pain, Ardeth silently cursed as he felt his strength wane after only a few steps. They were just feet from the door, however, and he was determined to reach it without leaning on the Jonathan, again. Resisting a sigh, he focused on each tile he stepped on, counting down the number that remained until he could rest against the wall.
"There we are," Jonathan muttered. Relieved, he propped the Medjai against the wall while he opened the door. Ardeth, also relieved, softly sighed. Although he remained standing, it was less effort than moving. Closing his eyes, he let his head rest against the cool stone.
"Ready," he heard Jonathan ask and opened his eyes. Nodding, Ardeth pushed himself away from the wall, with a grunt. Jonathan shifted around, pleased, this time, to be able to pull Ardeth's uninjured arm over his shoulders.
"Nearly there," Jonathan muttered under his breath, more for his own benefit than Ardeth's, as the two slowly made their way out the door and trudged the remaining distance to the car. The Medjai happily rested against the vehicle, as Jonathan opened the front passenger door and stood, waiting expectantly.
"I will manage," Ardeth muttered, realizing the Englishman intended to help him sit. Ardeth wasn't yet willing to admit to that degree of dependence.
"You sure?" Jonathan asked, dubiously, as he watched the Medjai resting his forehead on the car.
"I am," Ardeth responded, without looking up. The cool metal felt glorious against his feverish flesh, making him reluctant to break the contact. "Give me a moment."
"Sure, take your time. I'll..uh…I'll just start her up," Jonathan responded, still skeptical. Concerned the Medjai might topple over, he kept his eyes on Ardeth as he made his way slowly around to the driver's side and climbed in behind the wheel. Starting her up, he drummed his fingers as he waited for Ardeth to move. Counting the passing seconds in his head, Jonathan began to worry as they turned into minutes.
"Ardeth, you certain you can manage?"
"Yes," the Medjai answered, softly. Sighing, he lifted his head, but took a few more seconds to enjoy the cool breeze wafting by him, before wrapping his fingers around the frame and gingerly easing himself inside the vehicle. His eyes closed, the warrior sagged wearily in the seat.
"All right?" Jonathan asked, concerned. He frowned, skeptically, as Ardeth nodded weakly. "Do you have an address?"
The Medjai frowned, his brow furrowing as he realized he did not have an address.
"It is near the airport. I will know it when I see it."
Jonathan simply shrugged and eased his foot onto the gas.
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