Title: Countering – Part 3

Author: GIA B

Rating: This is the PG-13 Version of the story

Spoilers: The Mummy

Summary: I always wondered what would have happened had Evy actually kissed Rick during her inebriated excursion… simply, my take on that situation. This is my first "Mummy" fan fiction.

Disclaimer: Do not own the characters, nor the preceding events, but only the situation that follows. These events are mere figments of my imagination, and any resemblance to anything living or dead is purely coincidental. The poetry featured in this story is not my work, and no money is being made. Copyright infringement not intended.

Author's Notes: Okay, so firstly, I feel terribly sorry to those who have no idea why Evelyn became all… crazy-like when Rick said the last line of the Italian poem, and the reason for that being, is because I accidentally left out the last two poems so you had no way of knowing what she was reacting to. My bad, and so I have included them here:

she is a smile
a hope, a flight
into the blue
a rose among the violets
a bright sunflower,
a cricket in the morning sun
the perfume of juniper in the mountains
the chirping of the birds
the twisted olive tree
the caress of the south wind.

And this here was the one where he refused to say the last line, and then she called him a coward:

with bodies, relaxed,
that barely touched
lost among the yellows, the pinks, the red
flower-houses of the little wharf
reflected in the emerald waters,
hidden among the winding streets
perfumed with love
along the footpaths that carried us
towards the sun
among the field flowers I said
I love you.

Secondly (Oh dear, this is certainly becoming a long "Author's Notes"), the rating has changed and it is because the conclusion of this chapter will no doubt include sexual situations. I am also releasing the chapter with a PG-13 rating, for those of you who would rather read that. Anyway, on with the story. Oh wait, I lied, I just had a recent epiphany… In the previous part, I made reference to the Americans… which would be impossible as there would only be one since Henderson was killed. Goodness me, I feel terrible about that, but one can not take back what has already been published. So further more, Henderson is still alive, he joined his friend to fetch the drinks, figuring they wouldn't be long. Done and done. J

***

Countering – Part 3

***

We raced through Cairo streets, heading toward the Museum of Antiquities. Jonathon driving, I in the middle, O'Connell sandwiched between myself and the door, and Henderson and Daniels in the back. 

We had been safe for the most part of last night and straight through today, keeping our cat in the quarters with us, knowing Imhotep had yet to fully regenerate. Two more to go it seemed, and an additional victim to resurrect his dead love: Me. I was terribly frightened of this fact, much like one would be terribly frightened if they knew they were to be guillotined or something. I was shaking, which was a bit pathetic, but it was a scary situation we all found ourselves in.

We had spent the entire day readying ourselves for what was assumed to be a bloody battle. I didn't want to admit it straight away, but I wasn't as anxious about fighting as I let on. I was actually quite petrified that something would go wrong, and we would all die because of me. But that's really what was happening here; we were all going to die because I read the book and brought Imhotep back. We had managed to escape the fort without O'Connell's friend Beni seeing us. The imbecile having slept on the job, gave us the perfect opportunity to leave. So now we were gone and away.

Finally, we arrived at the Museum, and I explained my theory about the books as we headed up the stairs. We were met by the curator and the Medjai, Ardeth Bay who joined us up the stairs.

"If the black book can bring someone back to life," I told O'Connell. It clicked in his head where I was heading with this.

"Then the gold book can take it away," he finished. I nodded solemnly.

"That's the myth."

We were interrupted by loud moaning coming from the driveway of the museum.  We all ran to the window to view the spectacle of death below us. There were hundreds of people swarming the museum, covered in grotesque boils and sores.

Jonathon couldn't help but point out the obvious in that respect, keeping up a running commentary on each of the plagues we had encountered.

"It has begun," Ardeth informed us. I wasn't going to let it end like this, there was far too much left for me to do in this world. By the way, none of which included anything to do with Mister O'Connell. I have closed that chapter of my life, indefinitely. But I still couldn't let him die, or anyone for that matter, and so I declared that we still had a chance.

"Bembridge scholars said that the golden book of Amun-Ra was at the base of Anubis," I explained, searching the hieroglyphics on the stone in the Ancient Egyptian display.

"That's where we found the black book," Daniels chimed in.

"Yes, they mixed up the books… mixed up where they were located. So if the black book was at the base of Anubis, then the gold book is…" I searched as quickly as I could. Reading hieroglyphics always seemed easy, but with the pressure of the entire world being at stake it seemed harder to locate what I was looking for.

Jonathon made this fact known with his complaints.

"Patience is a virtue," I said, in my characteristic sing-song voice. O'Connell, who had been monitoring the mob, turned back towards the group.

"Not now it isn't," he replied, the terror and danger in his voice. I had to keep reading, I had to find that location, I had to save my friends.

"Got it!" I yelped when the location began to unravel, "The golden book of Amun-Ra is at the base of the statue of Horus!" There was a communal sigh heard throughout the room.

"Take that Bembridge Scholars!" I declared, throwing my fist into the air in a 'good show' type fashion. But O'Connell, never one to let any opportunity to complain pass him by, groaned.

"Don't tell me, we have to go back there."

"If we want to kill the creature," Ardeth explained, "Yes."

The crash of the museum door being smashed open, distracts us from our victory. The mob maneuvered its way past the doors and was heading our direction, all the while chanting, 'Imhotep'. Jonathon, my dear, sweet, cowardly, older brother, could not find it within himself to fight alongside Ardeth and O'Connell, and made an excuse to go fetch the car.

It was just as well, since we didn't spend much time fighting them anyway. We ran off down the hall, the curator leading us to a back exit. We exited the building, and raced towards Jonathon's car. Just as we gathered into the automobile, the snake himself Beni shouted to his prince, to bring his attention to us.

"You're going to get yours, Beni, you're going to get yours!" O'Connell announced, and then sat back in the car as we sped down the drive way.

The feeling in my stomach was disgusting. I clutched at it, as though the pressure of my hands would make it go away. I felt another pairs of hands gently squeeze my stomach sides.

"Are you okay?" I heard O'Connell ask. I swiped his hands away.

"Bugger off," I replied. He dropped his hands, and sat stoically beside me. That was rude, I thought. Evelyn, the man was just showing concern about you, you didn't have to treat him so badly. I didn't care at this point; he lost all opportunity to have me accept his concern when he deserted me yesterday. Now, as childish as it sounded, he was going to get my ice.

We lurched forward, when Jonathon immediately pulled the car to a stop. There, before us, was a barricade of Imhotep's slaves. Covered in boils, and posing an immediate threat. O'Connell reacted first, by forcing Jonathon's foot on the gas using his own foot. We sailed through the street, knocking off men as we went. Several managed to hold on to the vehicle, but we dislodged the most of them.

"O'Connell! Henderson!" That was Daniels' voice, as he was pulled to the road by a few of the slaves. We couldn't stop, but Henderson knew he had to defend his friend. He jumped off the side, and ran towards Daniels. We lost sight of them, then, and we continued as quickly as we could.

Until, of course, another obstacle developed. A large stack of rubbish lay in the street, in the most inconvenient spot. We tried to slow down to avoid it, but we were going to fast. Even with the slightly slowed pace, we crashed into the obstacles anyway. We had no time to compose ourselves, as the mob approached us quickly. I stood on the edge of the car, and went to jump. O'Connell held out his hands for me to take, to balance myself as I came to the road, but I pushed them away. He held strong though; he wasn't about to let me get rid of him completely.

We were soon surrounded by the mob, and the threat of death seemed all too real. But they didn't approach us, but rather, spread apart to form a gap, and through this gap stepped Imhotep. 

"He has consummated the curse, now all he need do is raise Anck-su-namun from the dead, then it will be the end of us, and the beginning for them," the curator said. The feeling in my stomach intensified, and suddenly, I wished O'Connell was there to give my some extra help.

He spoke to me, the Hebrew words being translated by his accomplice Beni.

"Come with me, my Princess. It is time to make you mine, forever." Good gracious, did the man know nothing?

"For all eternity, idiot." There's a subtle difference. Imhotep extended his hand toward me, expecting me to take it. He spoke again, and again, Beni translated.

"Take my hand, and I will spare your friends." I had to. If I didn't, they would all die, and their blood would be on my hands.

I glanced toward Jonathon, who did not look at me, then to the curator, who I hoped was thinking 'I can't lose her! She's the only one within a thousand miles who can properly code and catalogue my library!'. I didn't think that was the case, but if I was going to die, I wanted to die knowing I had friends.

It was true; I wanted to die with friends. For the first time in my life, I had a friend who wasn't my brother. I had more then one. I had love from others, and I was giving love… to… others. No, that's not what I meant. I meant that I loved, in the friendly fashion, people other then my own family. None of whom was O'Connell. He denied my love, and therefore did not deserve it, even if I was to die.

But even as I thought this, my head turned to look at him, torch in hand, eyes narrowed, mouth hard in defiance. Ever the hero; ever the foil to my mousy librarian type. What was I giving up, going to Imhotep? Was I sacrificing love, or was I merely defending my friends? I didn't want to dwell to long on this, but I needed a solution.

"Got any bright ideas?" I asked him.

"I'm thinking," he replied, his hand extending a bit over to cover me.

"Well," I said, stepping closer to him, "think faster. Because if he turns me into a mummy," he turned to look at me, and I tried my hardest not to betray myself when I spoke, "you're the first one I'm coming after." With that between us, I stepped forward, towards Imhotep.

"No," I heard him say behind me. My heart sped up, and my eyes held back the tears that threatened to spill from my tear ducts. He cocked his gun, and I had to stop him from making the mistake of shooting Imhotep.

"He still has to take me back to Hamunaptra to perform the ritual," I explained. I wanted to run to him, I wanted to kiss him, because despite myself, I loved him. Despite everything I had built up, and every wall I had erected, he had gotten past them without any effort at all. I let him in, and I fell harder then I had ever fallen before in my life.

So I did.

I ran past Imhotep to O'Connell, pushed his extended arm down, and kissed him. It was fleeting, but electric. I could have kissed him longer, forever, if Imhotep hadn't wrenched me from him, and stalked off.

"Evelyn!" O'Connell cried, and I was so near tears I was sure I would have embarrassed myself royally if I so much as looked behind me.

"Kill them all," Imhotep said, and I translated. My eyes grew wide, and I tried to pull myself free from him.

"No! Rick! Jonathon!" What was I going to do? Tell them to run? Where? There wasn't any place to go. But I had to get away from Imhotep. "Let me go!"

I was pulled harder to follow, and I couldn't see behind me; couldn't see his face beyond the crowd. But I had to believe he made it. I had to believe he didn't die, that he would live, and it would all be okay. Even if he didn't love me as much as I loved him, even if he didn't need me as I needed him, he would be alive, and it would be okay.

I was pulled up into a gust of sand, and I blacked out.

***

My life has never been as eventful as this past week. To sum it up in a few chaste sentences: I resurrected a 3000-year-old mummy; I've run from one side of Egypt to the other, twice! I've been chained to a sacrificial alter, fought hand-to-hand with another 3000-year-old mummy partially resurrected by the former 3000-year-old mummy; and, I fell in love.

Now the latter seems less then eventful, but truly, I must express how rare of an occurrence it is that I not only find someone attractive, but I develop intense romantic feelings for this person. The person in question is an ex-legionnaire, with roguish looks, and a fondness for being the hero to my damsel in distress. Though I wasn't one to admit weakness, when it came to fending off mummies, I was glad to allow another to be the savior.

But he did. He saved me over, and over, and over again. He saved me from being killed so that Anck-su-namun could live, and he got me out of Hamunaptra before I was crushed under the collapse of it. All the while, I was falling harder and faster for him. A terrible state it is: being in love with a man you hate more then you can possibly imagine. But I do hate him, because I surrendered my principles so that I could be with him, and he threw it back in my face.

I kissed him in the streets of Cairo, in front of Jonathon, the Curator, Ardeth, and Imhotep, because I was afraid I would never get the opportunity. Boy do I regret it, because ever since he got me back to Cairo the second time he has had a smug grin on his face.

I have never been more inclined to slap someone in all my life.   

I bet he thinks there will be a repeat performance, but I beg to differ, after all, it was he who pushed me away the other night, and not the other way around. If only he would stop bloody grinning at me, I could get some serious work done.

As it was, we were dating and identifying the treasure we found upon our arrival back to Cairo. Our best guess was it was that greedy rat, Beni, who had filled the saddle bags full of gold trinkets, daggers, rings, and other valuable treasures.

"Just think, Evy," O'Connell said, lifting up a beautiful ruby pear-cut ring to the light, "we can live the rest of our lives never working ever again. You won't have to work at the museum, and I won't have to… be an unscrupulous character," he finished with a chuckle.

"Yes, well, I would much rather live alone, thank you very much and I happen to love working at the museum," I concluded, placing a gold dagger with a curved hilt into the 'sell' pile. He gave me the ever familiar, 'Evelyn-Carnahan-isn't-any-fun' look I used to receive most every day as a child in grade school, when I would rather read in the library, then play outside with Jonathon and his friends. I rolled my eyes, and picked up another artifact and examined it.

It was silent for a while, between us, until, "Evelyn?"

"Yes?" I sighed.

"I'm sorry; I'm sorry for not being able to…" he trailed off, and I was silent as I considered him. Did I really want to approach this topic, or run in the complete opposite direction? Rather then make an actual decision, I simply stared at him. He wasn't looking at me, but was kneading his fingers and knuckles. I dropped my gaze, and looked at the floor. He cleared his throat, and I saw, from beneath my eyelids, him raise his head. "Do you forgive me?"

To this I had an answer, that was easy to convey.

"No." We were silent again, and the silence felt tangible enough to cave in my chest. I could see him shake his head, before he raised his hands to wipe his face. I liked to think he was trying to scrape away his shame, but that was silly.

"Do you even know why I did it?" he asked, after a time. I didn't answer at first, but rather thought if my silence was all he got that he might up and leave, but he stayed, waited for an answer.

"Do I even want to know?"

"Well," he said bitterly, "you seem to think I don't deserve your forgiveness without knowing the logic behind what I did, so I guess not." He stood then, and I took in a deep breath.

"So tell me already," I said just as he reached for the door handle. He turned, but said nothing. He leaned against the door, and slid down it, much the same way I had done that night. He bent his knees and rested his arms on them casually.

"I didn't want you to give it to me. I didn't deserve it."

"It? What are you talking about?" I shook my head, trying to clear it of his nonsense.

"Your innocence," he whispered. I sat there, mouth agape, and chest heaving.

"I beg your pardon," I demanded quietly, after a moment of gathering my composure.

"You heard me; your innocence. I didn't want your first time to be with me… with an unscrupulous character."

"How dare you," I muttered under my breath. Getting louder, I repeated, "How dare you! Who do you think you are? You are not my brother—"

"Well," he interrupted, "if I was, we wouldn't be even having this conversation."

"You do not get the right to choose what is best for me," I continued, as though he hadn't said a thing. "I have known some unscrupulous characters, as you say, but you're right about one thing, you are by far the worst of them all."

My head hurt from all the anger that flooded through my body. But there was another thing, something I couldn't identify, and it only seemed to amplify as the argument and volume increased.

"I just wanted it be perfect!" he countered.

I shook my head, and shouted back, "How do you know it would not have been perfect? You threw it away before we even had a chance to find out."

"It's for the best," he mumbled, "You would have regretted it later, I'm sure."

"Just because you can get away with it from other girls, I'm more then positive that you've been involved with, doesn't mean I will stand for your chauvinistic attitude. I do not appreciate being treated like a child!"

"I'm not treating you--"

"But you are," I cried. My shoulders slumped forward, as the desperation engulfed me. I cried for the injustice of the tears, for the pain that provoked them, and for the love I fought so hard to keep, but struggled to let loose.

I heard him crawl towards me, and felt him wrap his arms around me. I pushed, but he held on, and I pulled at his shirt to dislodge his hands, but he gripped tighter.

"Don't touch me," I commanded, or at least tried to, but it ended up coming out as a plea. He pulled me into his embrace, and I struggled against his strength. "Don't—"

I didn't have an opportunity to finish that order, as my mouth became otherwise occupied

***

When I awoke the next morning, the blankets, which we had neglected more or less the night before, were around me to my chin. I snuggled further in, feeling the warmth on my bare skin. I knew he wasn't there, so I wasn't surprised when I rolled over to take up more room that I didn't encounter his equally warm, naked body.

I opened my eyes slowly, flipped onto my back, and stared up at the ceiling. I ached in places I had no idea even existed, and it made me grin to think how I discovered their existence. But at what cost? I suddenly wondered. Had I thrown away all my principles for what could be coined as being, "One night of bliss"?

No, I had just finally gotten the courage to express how I felt.

But I hadn't said the words, and that was what scared me, to be brutally honest. I didn't think I could possibly love someone, or something, other then my beloved career and what I had left of my family. It scared me, but I did. I had tested the waters that first night, when Mr. O'Connell got me a bit inebriated, and then I couldn't go forward.

I was scared that I was going to give in to someone who couldn't possibly return my feelings, and I was always told love is better when it's reciprocated. So I pulled back, and gave him the cool treatment for a while. He took a few liberties with me a day or so later, in my bedroom, when he commanded I stay there. I felt vibrancy in our kiss that had not existed in the kiss before. A newness that felt ageless, timeless, real, and old all at the same time. I would have given in right then as well, but he had a duty he wanted to maintain, and so it ended, and he sparked my anger once more by not allowing me the opportunity to clean up my own mess like some bloody hero! Then he came back that night, having not brought the Egyptologist with him, and having had a bad run-in with the creature. He crashed in my living room with one of my books, choosing not to play cards with Jonathon and the others. I didn't mind, because soon after, he read me some poetry in Italian. Then we kissed, and I had him at my mercy… at least for a moment or two.

But last night was as perfect as one would hope for, and it was all mine. I didn't have to share him with anyone; I didn't have to give up my soul to have him, though I'm not fully certain I didn't give it to him anyway, and even if it never happens again, I get to keep it with me forever. Or for all eternity, whichever. He left early this morning with Jonathon to sell some of our items to the Museum and some other collectors, and I left him in charge of handling the financial aspects of it, because I could trust him to get it for what it was worth.

Or more!

Goodness, listen to me; he and Jonathon, combined, have really rubbed off on me. I couldn't stand much longer being in my bed alone, so I got up and dressed. I headed for the door, when a piece of papyrus that should not have been there caught my eye, as it lay neatly folded on my desk. Atop the book of Italian Poetry. Coincidence?

I opened the papyrus gently, afraid of tearing its delicate edges. My eyes immediately accounted his sharp cursive:

      I don't really know her, I only know her name. But once she crawls under       your skin you're never quite the same... and now it seems that I'm falling for          her...

I could barely breathe; I just read the words and hoped my heart would continue beating soon.

          You're the reason I live, you're the reason I die, you're the reason I give        when I break down and cry...

          I'll be home soon.

          -Rick

When I finished and started to breathe once again, I couldn't restrain the grin that spread across my face, and I hoped that I could keep this feeling mine as well.

I wish he were here now, and then I could properly thank him. I chuckled at my own audacity. This was a new Evelyn Carnahan, and I had to admit, I liked her a lot.

***

FINISHED PART 3, HOORAY! Now I can sleep… no, that's just silly. It took me like… a lot of days to get this done. Damn you High School and your overly demanding schedules! Damn you love life… and your… non existence! Anyway, read, enjoy, tell me about it.

This isn't done yet, mind you, just ended it non-cliffhanger-like… hope that's okay.

-GIA