Thanks everyone. I know I'm sure having a strange amount of fun writing this, so I'll probably finish it through to the end:) That is, if y'all want me to:)
Title belongs to Black Lab (Spider-Man soundtrack, woo hoo!)
Loren made me promise to give him credit for being my human thesaurus on this chapter. Although I was the one who came up with the word, he did help:)
And now, to deviate completely from the plot of TM...:)
2: If I Should Fall...Fall for You
2002 A.D.:
Sunlight beat mercilessly down upon Evelyn Carnahan's head as she made her down the rickety stepladder to the safe ground. The flight had been interesting, to say the least, and Evelyn would have been perfectly happy to stay on the ground for the rest of her life if it meant she never had to board that plane again. She was never chartering a private flight again. From here on out it was all Concorde supersonic jets with no connecting flights whatsoever. She set her luggage down on the ground and looked around the deserted airport for Jonathan. She was late; he should have been here already.
Evelyn began to get slightly nervous as Captain Havlock gave her a cheery wave and took to the skies once more. As far as she could see, there was not a single soul inhabiting the tiny airport. The bloody pilot seemed to have dropped her off in the middle of nowhere. This was definitely not the D.C. she remembered. She trudged over to a nearby payphone, dragging her suitcases, and searched desperately through her pockets for some form of change. Jonathan had sent her a few coins and bills to get her through 'til she could exchange her pounds for dollars. She inserted a random amount in the slot, waited for the dial tone...
And nothing. Nothing was happening. Evelyn slammed the dead phone into the cradle. This didn't seem to take enough of an edge off her rage, so she decided to kick the pay phone stand as well. It was then, hopping away on one foot in extreme pain, that she heard his voice.
"I didn't think English ladies used language like that."
Evelyn turned to find a tall, scruffy-looking stranger leaning against the driver's side door of his run-down jeep, staring at her with amusement. His messy brown hair, pulled back into a pony tail, complemented the utter chaos that made up his outfit. For his part, he was quite amused to see a gorgeous woman in an impeccable tan suit taking out her frustrations on an innocent phone booth.
"Oh?" she replied, and that was all she could think of to say, for upon slightly closer inspection she found that the stranger had quite beautiful sapphire-colored eyes.
He waited a moment for her to continue. "Is that all? 'Oh?'"
"Um...no."
"Articulate, aren't we?"
"Are you going to insult me or are you going to help me carry my luggage?"
"Where would I be carrying it?"
"Your car, of course."
"Moving a bit fast, aren't we, lady?"
"Oh, for heaven's sake, I just need a ride. I've been abandoned me in the middle of nowhere and the phone doesn't work. I'll pay you."
The man sighed. "I think I'm going to regret this."
Evelyn put on her most bright smile. "Of course you won't. Unless you try anything, and then, I must warn you, I've got a can of mace and a mean right hook."
He put up his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. "Likewise, lady."
With Evelyn's luggage safely settled in the back, the man removed a ring of keys from his pocket and started the car. "Rick O'Connell," he offered. "Put your seatbelt on, these roads aren't great."
"Evelyn. Pleased to meet you."
"Just Evelyn?"
"Yes, just Evelyn."
"If you say so. What brings to you to D.C.?"
"Oh, thank God. I was beginning to think the bloody pilot had made a wrong turn and we'd ended up in Africa or something. Is it always this hot in Washington?"
"Heat wave. Are you always this evasive when people ask you simple questions?"
"My father was a politician, it's hereditary."
"Ah. I see. So are you going to tell me where you're going?"
"That's a nice tattoo, where'd you get it?"
"You'll have to be a bit more specific."
"The one on your wrist. Is that Egyptian?"
O'Connell quickly shrugged his jacket over the wrist in question and changed the subject. "Are you going to let me know where I'm taking you or are we just going to drive around in circles?"
She sighed. If she was to get anywhere, she'd have to tell him. "Well, Jonathan was supposed to pick me up but--"
"Jonathan?" O'Connell asked, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically from where Evelyn was sitting. "Your, boyfriend, husband...?"
"Brother, actually."
"Just clearing things up," he said, and smiled the most wonderful smile Evelyn had ever seen. "Go on."
"Hmm? Oh. Right. Uh...the White House?"
"Was that a question?"
"No."
"So why are you going to the White House?"
"Um...I have...connections there."
"Right. Your politician father."
"In a manner of speaking."
"Well, that'll take us about two hours. Your pilot dropped you in the middle of nowhere, and with traffic..."
"I've got time. I don't meet with the president until later."
O'Connell raised his eyebrows. "You're meeting with the president?"
"Of course. Him and my father...they knew each other."
"I see," he said, with just the right amount of skepticism that Evelyn rose to the bait.
"You don't believe me."
"Sure I believe you."
"No, you don't."
"Yes, I do. You're meeting with the president, what's not to believe?"
Evelyn opened her mouth again, but suddenly thought better of it and said something else. "Fine. I don't care."
"What aren't you telling me?"
"I don't have to tell you anything."
"Fine."
O'Connell concentrated on the increasingly heavy traffic for a moment, watching her out of the corner of his eye as she sunk into the seat. She looked as though she were trying to get as far away from him as possible. A stray curl or two had escaped from her perfect bun, making her look even more frazzled, as well as damn cute. He probably should have kept his mouth shut. Well, at this point there was no harm in escalating the conflict further. She hated him already, anyway.
"So you were born in America, right? What's with the accent? Did you move to England after your father was murdered?"
Evelyn was so shocked she couldn't answer for a few moments, and even when she had calmed down a bit all she could form was gibberish. "What--but--what are you..."
"You're Evelyn Carnahan, right? Daughter of a politician, sister to Jonathan...it added up. I remember my history lessons."
"Well--you--but--how?"
"I'm a private investigator, I pick up on these things. Wait, I shouldn't have said that."
"You're a what?"
O'Connell was given no chance to reply (and indeed, was grateful for the interruption) as the car suddenly swerved violently to the right as he veered into a side street. He gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled fingers, trying to regain control of the car. "What the hell are you doing?" Evelyn screeched, clutching at the door handle to keep from flying through the windshield.
Unfortunately, she'd been too distracted by those damn blue eyes to heed O'Connell's advice on the seat belt.
So of course, when the door swung open, it was only logical that she would tumble right out of the car.
O'Connell resisted the urge to slam on the breaks, tapping them lightly as he threw worried glances back down the alley where Evelyn had landed. After an agonizing wait, the car finally slowed to such a speed that allowed him to throw off his own seatbelt and leap out of the car himself. He barely noted the blown-out rear tire as he rushed by.
Evelyn was sitting up, at least, that was a good sign, although her hair had fallen completely out of its neat bun and her suit would never be wearable again.
"Evelyn! Are you all right?"
"Yes, thank you," she mumbled. He helped her up after a cursory inspection for major injuries. She seemed a little unsteady, so he held onto her as she regained her balance. "What the hell were you doing back there?" she asked.
"A tire blew out."
"Lovely. You can let go of me now."
"Oh. Right. You scared me."
"What do you care if I die?" Oops. She hadn't meant to say that. What is he supposed to say? 'I love you, Evelyn! I would have died too!' Stop thinking such things! It's not like he likes you or anything. Besides, I could never date a man with long hair.
He still hadn't answered her question. After a pause, he took her hand, kissed it, and said, "Don't."
Evelyn was about to respond (although it probably would have been gibberish) when O'Connell's eyes suddenly widened and she found herself pushed to the ground again. "What the--" she started, but was cut short by the look on his face.
The blood slowly spread across the whiteness of his t-shirt as they stared in disbelief at the bullet wound. He tossed her the keys and growled, "Get back to the car."
~*~*~*~
I have a basic plot, but this is mostly being written blindly...I'm more than open to any suggestions you want to toss out:)