Part V
June 1999
Cairo Police Station
Interrogation Room C
4pm
"So… it all comes down to this?" Cecelia asked, staring at the paper bearing her confession; unshed tears blurring it into a mass of jumbled words.
She looked up at Bijan, searching for any signs of reassurance, affirmation…confidence that he believed this was the best course of action. "I told you the truth about everything. Yet you ask me to sign a piece of paper that only states half of what occurred. I just don't understand."
Bijan leaned over Cecelia's shoulder, offering her a pen and pointing out the part that needed her signature. Standing behind her…it was easier this way, enabling him to avoid seeing the look of betrayal and sorrow on her face. There were aspects of his career as a detective that Bijan had come to hate; coercing a partial admission of facts and disregarding everything else about her story would plague him for a long time to come.
"Omitting certain details from your experience will make it easier for the magistrate to overlook the misdemeanor charge of disturbing the peace. Your ordeal would be classified as an 'unfortunate incident' that happened in the desert."
"That's what we're calling the murder of Scott and his friends?" Cecelia asked incredulously. "Everything that I've told you has been conveniently reduced to a phrase? My friends and I were attacked for God's sake…"
"An attack that we both agreed could have been initiated by a renegade faction of nomads. The Bedouin rescued you, not the Medjai. They roam the deserts, have no political power and very often their tribal dress dictates the use of dark blue or black facial tattoos," Bijan continued as he walked around the table. Still keeping his gaze averted, he sat down in his chair and stuffed a few papers back into the manila folder. "A group of their men found you, took care of you and brought you back to Cairo. Not wishing to involve themselves with the authorities, they left you in the clinic and disappeared back into the desert."
"The Medjai exist," Cecelia stated stubbornly. "They are all real and…"
"Cecelia," Bijan whispered her name and saw her eyes widen with surprise. He got up and knelt down by her side, gently taking her hand and making it hover over the line for her signature. "There is no Ardeth Bay, no warriors, nothing except the kindness of the Bedouin that helped you escape a fate worse than death. Your signature on this statement will confirm everything that you told me and more importantly, keep you from being sent to an asylum. Unless you desire to be detained longer than necessary for another psychiatric evaluation?"
"No," Cecelia whispered. Her heart felt heavy in her chest and the tears that had gathered in her eyes finally rolled down her face; she felt defeated. Tired. The immeasurable sorrow that came with the realization that Ardeth didn't exist made her want to scream, howl like a wounded animal. Yet somehow, she kept her composure. Once she was home, safely back in the States and beginning the slow process of rebuilding her life, she would crawl into bed and have a good cry.
"There is no such thing as Medjai, Miss Adams," Bijan gently reminded her.
When he saw the slow nod of her head, he reached up and tenderly touched one cheek, wiping away a tear with his fingertip. They stared at one another for a moment. Then Bijan decided to divulge some information, in the hopes it would effectively change the subject and earn Cecelia's complete cooperation.
"I received a message about an hour ago that your friends have been to the police station looking for you. Apparently, you were supposed to meet them at the airport yesterday for a trip to Greece, but when you didn't appear, they came looking for you. They must be good friends."
Cecelia wiped her face and gave Bijan a wobbly smile. "They are the best. We…we'd planned on visiting Greece for a two week vacation after I had finished my assignment with Dr. Weaver."
"You do want to see them again, don't you?" he asked, cleverly manipulating Cecelia into finally making a decision. "You want to go back to your hotel room, take a nice warm bath and change out of those dirty clothes, yes?"
Cecelia nodded her head and tried not to cry even harder.
"Then sign the statement…and you can be released within the hour," Bijan cajoled and flashed a disarming smile. "Your friends will be most likely returning and they can take you out, just in time for dinner."
Cecelia gripped the pen with her hand, determined that her signature come out clear and legible; not scribbled like it was written by a child. Or someone whose heart was breaking. Her full concentration on writing, Cecelia barely heard the cell phone ring and was only vaguely aware that Bijan got up and stood away from the table.
"I told you never to call me here," Bijan spoke into his cell phone and walked out of the room, the door only swinging partially closed behind him.
The first part of her name looking fairly decent, Cecelia continued writing with a child-like tenacity, unconsciously listening to what the detective was saying outside in the hall.
"What do you mean, 'he is gone'?"
She heard Bijan's demanding question as she wrote an "A…"
"Who was watching him?"
Cecelia wrote, "d…"
She wrote the second "a…" and heard Bijan's next question that sounded a little faint, like he was standing a good distance away. Maybe he was pacing. "How long has it been since you last checked?"
She wrote, "m…" and waited in silence, the pen poised in the air. She heard a heavy sigh, more paced footsteps and Bijan's voice sounded closer. "Why did you leave him alone?! Ir-Rahman Allah, do you realize what this means?"
With a flourish, Cecelia wrote, "s…" just as Bijan finally closed the door but she heard his last words quite clearly. "You must find him and quickly. The wound…"
"I'm done," Cecelia called out to no one in particular and leaned back in the chair. Her mind was filled with a thousand chaotic thoughts but she replayed the conversation in her mind over and over again. Was Bijan hiding something and who was wounded?
"…I will be there within the hour. Call me with any news," Bijan clicked the phone off as he opened the door and walked back into the room. He stood behind Cecelia for a moment, trying to unsuccessfully gain control over his emotions. "I apologize for the interruption."
"No problem, I'm finished," Cecelia replied and pushed the statement out towards the middle of the table. "You win." She couldn't help the last sardonic comment and when Bijan came over and sat down across from her, she certainly wasn't expecting the look of fury on his face. He seemed to be keeping his temper controlled, just barely, the muscle twitching in his cheek the only evidence of his inner struggle.
"This was never about anyone winning or losing, Miss Adams. It was about what happened to you and the truth that I feel we should present to my superior," Bijan said quietly and took the statement, folding it in half. "And we have done just that."
"Yes, it's always been about the truth, hasn't it detective?" Cecelia asked with a small smile.
Bijan's ears picked up on the biting tone in how the word 'truth' escaped her lips. And if it weren't for his other concerns, he would have felt far worse about the scorpion's sting contained within her words.
She ignored the startled look on his face and folded her arms across her chest. Gone was any comfort she may have felt in talking to him over the past few hours; his behavior certainly indicated he was hiding something. It had all been a game and she felt the horrible feeling like she had been used.
A moment of tense silence hung over the room, and to Cecelia, she would have sworn the usually unflappable detective looked nervous.
"I thank you for your cooperation," Bijan gave Cecelia a weak smile and inserted the statement into the folder. He saw she wanted to ask another question but he quickly changed the subject, effectively dangling her pending freedom. "I will get this processed as soon as possible. With any amount of luck, my superiors will sign the release forms and you can leave in about an hour. I'll contact your friends so they can come pick you up."
"Thanks," Cecelia replied and watched Bijan as he prepared to leave. He still seemed agitated, glancing at his watch every so often, tugging at the collar of his shirt and stuffing all the papers he had into one briefcase. He was at the doorway when her impulsive statement stopped him from leaving.
"It's too bad, isn't it? The Medjai not being real, I mean. From what I can remember, they all seemed so…honorable. And brave. They cared for Ardeth in a way that made you…"
"Miss Adams," Bijan turned around and instructed her as if she were a stubborn child. "Part of our agreement was that nothing leaves this room; no names or descriptions or directions. The world will never know about what happened to you, what they need to know will most likely come from what will be published in the newspapers. I know I can trust on your cooperation in keeping this vow of silence, yes?"
"Of course," Cecelia replied and swallowed hard against the tears. Forget Ardeth? Not likely. Trying to focus on her anger, she folded her hands as they rested in front of her, a futile effort to stop them from shaking. "But what about Scott's family, and friends? And everyone else's? Surely you don't intend to keep the truth from them?"
"They will be informed that their loved ones perished in the desert, victims of an unexpected tragedy. My country will do everything in its power to bring their attackers to justice, extending diplomatic sympathies and complete cooperation in trying to recover the bodies. Life, as harsh as this may sound Miss Adams," Bijan stopped and offered her a wan smile of assurance, "will go on. I strongly suggest you try and follow that advice."
Cecelia didn't reply as Bijan left the room; mixed feelings of grief, despair and suspicions about his behavior battered her deflated spirit, making speech almost impossible. Why did she feel as if she had lost more than just Scott and her friends that fateful day?
Why did it feel that by returning to this time, she had lost a piece of her heart as well?
~*~
"Will you please stop manhandling her and let me get in a hug?" Jamie Richards stood a few inches over five feet in height but her strong and caring demeanor more than compensated for what she lacked in size. She swatted the shoulder of Eric Hanover and laughed when the young man finally relinquished his hold on Cecelia with a good natured grin.
"Bossy little wench, aren't you?" Eric asked her and then delighted the two women by hugging them both. Standing well over six feet in height, Eric was a tall, athletically well built young man with black hair and vivid green eyes. Charming and friendly, he had known the two women since their college days at the St Joseph's University in Philadelphia.
"Are you two arguing? You both argue so much I'd swear you're a married couple," Cecelia's voice came out muffled since her two best friends were practically smothering her, but at the moment, she didn't care. They were standing outside the Cairo police station, oblivious to the curious stares from passers-by; the joyful reunion thanks to Cecelia's release from custody a few minutes ago. And it was just what she needed. They were both comforting and familiar, reminders of home and family; of a life that used to be normal and routine.
"I don't argue," Jamie giggled and poked Eric in the ribs, laughing at his startled grunt. "Everyone knows Jolly Green Giant here likes to debate everything, so yell at him."
"No yelling, please?" Eric asked and pulled away from the embrace. "It's bad enough all the attractive women in Cairo think you're my girlfriend." He winked at Jamie then turned and held Cecelia at arm's length, examining her appearance with a critical eye.
"Jesus Cece," he whispered, using her old nickname. "What the hell happened to you? You look like you got stuck on the spin cycle of a dryer and they threw in sand, dirt, stones…"
"Pay him no mind," Jamie wrapped an arm around Cecelia's shoulder and the trio started walking back to where Eric had parked the rental car. "His intelligence tends to meander a bit when he's hungry. We just need to get you back to your room and cleaned up. Sometimes a nice, hot shower does wonder for the soul, you know?"
"I need to tell you both something important," Cecelia asked and stopped walking.
She threaded her fingers through her dirty hair and looked at each of her dear friends whilst out of the corner of her eye she saw Bijan leave the police station and hurry across the street.
"I want to tell you what happened to me but more importantly, I need to know…do you trust me?"
Eric and Jamie were taken aback by Cecelia's question but they never hesitated with their answers. "Sure we do but why…" Eric started to ask.
"We need to get to your car and follow that man," Cecelia asked and pointed to the detective getting into a taxi. She pulled Jamie along by the hand. "I'll explain everything on the way but you have to do this for me. Please?"
"Oh goody, just what I like…a mystery," Jamie quipped as she was being dragged along. She glanced back at Eric, saw his reluctant nod of acceptance and turned around, catching up to Cecelia. "Can you give us any hints? I bet it was either the butler or Colonel Mustard."
"Watch out for Jamie, she likes to cheat when playing 'Clue,'" Eric stated with a grin. He ran alongside the ladies and pointed to the car, fishing the keys out of his pocket. "Let me try and guess here. Are we playing 'Cobs and Robbers' now?"
"Actually… we're playing with my sanity," Cecelia muttered.
~*~
The world he had previously known had changed.
The once unspoiled brilliant blue sky was clouded with smoke and dust. The streets of the ancient city were clogged with a teeming populace.
Cairo, it would seem, had not aged well and its inhabitants had paid a steep price.
Children played on the uneven, bumpy roads, often splashing or washing themselves in the dirty sewers. Traffic was thick and heavy as ubiquitous black and white cars darted through the crowded streets for destinations numerous and unknown. The buildings were in various stages of disrepair; crumbling, silent sentinels bearing sad testimony to the ravages of wind, time and neglect.
He had managed to escape from what his fevered mind had deemed his captors and fled into the city, praying for a reprieve from the burning pain that radiated out from the middle of his body. He had hoped to lose himself within the masses and try to find any contacts from his tribe; signs that his people still existed within this new and troubling world.
Instead he had become an object of great curiosity. Hands pulled and pawed at him, searching for anything of value, tugging on the thin blanket that covered his shivering frame. Faces leered at him, looking garish and distorted, and their words were garbled and incomprehensible as they stared at his face, body and hands. He stumbled from one street to the next, desperately searching for the symbol of the Medjai painted on the wall of a home or building. Instead he found confusion and exhaustion; his body was rapidly losing its strength as his faltering steps took him deeper in to the heart of the slums and ghettos.
Hopelessly lost, he cradled one arm against the bloodied bandages wrapped around his midsection, and trudged through the back streets of a neighborhood.
When he collapsed, and was slow climbing to his feet, a kind soul had offered some much-needed aid and directed him towards what he had hoped to be sanctuary.
He never realized that the place of safety would be a police station…
~*~
June 1925
Egypt
The Guardians Citadel "Il Wasi Qal'a"
…early afternoon…
"Has anyone ever told you that your Aunt sounds like donkey?" Kedar softly asked, as he gently swiped a cool cloth over Ardeth's fevered body. He smiled slightly when he heard another screech come from outside the bed chamber and dipped the cloth in the basin of water. He turned back to Ardeth and wiped his face, frowning when he could feel the heat from Ardeth's skin beneath his fingertips.
"Wake up, ya sahib and tell me again she is not of your blood. Argue with me for the love of Allah, you have been asleep far too long."
"Give him time to recover," Raphael spoke up and came around to Kedar's side. He leaned over and peeled back one edge of the fresh bandage that covered Ardeth's shoulder, examining the wound he had cleaned hours ago with an analytical eye. "So far, it would appear I have held off the advance of any more infection. A fresh poultice will help his body as it continues to fight what I was unable to cleanse."
"Time may not be what Ardeth has," Kedar replied as he heard the sound of voices raised in anger. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes almost black with irritation and frustration. "Lady Dareejah has descended upon this room like a horde of locusts, insisting on seeing Ardeth although he has yet to regain consciousness. Even a blind man could see that her desire to visit her nephew does not stem from her concern for him but rather the bag we brought back from the desert."
Kedar's gaze darted across the room, to the small table that stood off to one side. The contents of the pouch Nabil had looked through earlier that morning were strewn across its top; mingled with the papers and books were items such as a wallet, currency and a few unidentifiable objects.
A satisfied smile flashed across Raphael's handsome face and when he saw Kedar's questioning look, he quickly explained. "While I may be only a humble healer, I am not without some authority. It is amazing what a few well-worded phrases can do to motivate the Elders in barring anyone else from entering this room except warriors and healers."
Kedar smirked and shook his head. "Your efforts are appreciated but eventually, even the Elders will cave into Dareejah's shrill demands and allow her access to this room."
"Do you fear for his life?" Raphael asked in surprise. A startling revelation grew in his mind. "Surely she would not be so stupid as to try and harm Ardeth…?"
"Dareejah will use whatever means are at her disposal to push aside Ardeth and claim his position as chieftain of the Twelve tribes. Power can sometimes corrupt and Dareejah had all but a mere taste of it when Ardeth's uncle was alive. And like a succubus, she thirsts for more," Kedar said and resumed bathing Ardeth's face and body. "Upon my oath, she will not extinguish the last flame that struggles to burn for the family of Bay. I shall see her dead first."
"Although unsolicited, you have my support in this matter, warrior," Raphael stated firmly and placed a hand on Kedar's shoulder. "I shall do what I can, meager as it may be."
Kedar's grateful response died on his lips when unexpectedly, the doors flew open and the annoying sound of Dareejah's voice filled the room. Nabil and Solman came in first, carrying between them a semi-conscious Berin with one of his own hands pressed against his bloody side.
Dareejah skirted around them and ran into the room as Jameel walked in next. Despite his apparent exhaustion and leg injury, he helped Dharr with Zaki who leaned heavily against them for support. Fatigued showed in the long, lean lines of his body and Zaki gingerly touched the injured side of his face.
"Get her out of here!" Kedar bellowed, his eyes black with fury as he rushed over to help Zaki. He saw his friend wince and clutch his head but didn't regret his outburst. He guided Zaki to a nearby bed and murmured his apology as he helped the warrior lay down.
Dareejah stood triumphantly in the center of the room, her face contorted with her anger and scorn. "I have every right to be in here as you do, Commander Ishaq or do I need to remind you that family takes precedence over friends in matters such as this?" She sauntered over to the table, one hand idly stirring up the papers and books, her dark eyes glittering with excitement. "Force me to exercise my authority and I shall be ever so happy to comply."
Raphael hurried forward to assist those who needed it the most, yet his natural inclination to act as moderator asserted itself. "Lady Dareejah, perhaps the discussion over the boundaries of your authority could be held later, after I have tended to the wounds of these warriors?" he asked as he quickly assessed Zaki's head injury. "Surely, you do not wish the Elders to learn that you're well-intentioned appearance in the bed chambers of the Chieftain hampered my abilities to take care of Ardeth's most trusted friends?"
"Healer, I would speak carefully if I were you. The thinly veiled threat to inform the Elders of my rightful place by my nephew's side would not go unchallenged," Dareejah snapped and picked up a book. Her eyes widened with surprise and her mercurial mood changed when she read the publication date. It fell back on to the table with a soft thud.
"Enough," Kedar growled.
He held no compunction for social etiquette or clever verbal sparring. He responded based on his lack of patience and the desire to rid everyone of the annoying she-devil. Before Dareejah could react, he stormed over to where she stood, bent down and caught her around the knees. Quickly flipping her flailing body over his shoulder, Kedar carried the now screaming woman out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.
"Should someone else go out and talk to her?" Dharr asked. He frowned when his comment elicited a few chuckles.
"I believe I am speaking for us all when I say no one has any desire to talk to Lady Dareejah," Nabil gave a brief smile. He sat by Berin's side, offering what comfort he could and applying some pressure to the wound.
"I would almost prefer talking to the priest," Solman spoke up, feeling that his comment was important for everyone to know. "I do not like that lady."
Everyone flinched with they heard another one of Kedar's angry bellows, a sound of fury no amount of wood or distance could smother. A moment later, Kedar returned and the door banged shut behind him. He locked it and turned around to find everyone staring at him with a mixture of amusement and horror on their faces. Dareejah continued with her tantrum outside the door.
"What?" he asked and walked over to Zaki's side.
Nabil and Dharr exchanged worried glances. "Was that wise to do, ya ukh?" Nabil asked. "You may have fanned the flames of indignation and hatred even higher."
"I see no harm in what I have done," Kedar replied and helped Raphael clean Zaki's face. "I simply took out the trash."
"I meant no harm by bringing Berin and the others here," Nabil stated worriedly. "I could have taken them to the healer's compound where Makin is staying. My intentions were to keep everyone who had contact with the Outworlder together for the purpose of clarifying our stories. Dareejah will not let this incident go without a full investigation."
"Be at ease," Kedar said to Nabil and glanced over at Ardeth, relieved to see him sleeping comfortably. "A wise decision, especially in light of her past actions but I must ask, what in the name of Allah happened? Did Zayn take the woman back to her own time?"
"Aiwa," Jameel sighed and eased his battered body down onto another bed. "But there was a complication…"
"Where is Sharif?" Solman asked and started to look around for his friend.
~*~
A/N – If I missed any translations, let me know.
As always, thank you SO much for reading and leaving reviews, [they make my day, especially after working another 50 hr week] although the way FF has been acting lately has me worried and baffled. LOL I know Marcher and Marxbros both left me wonderful reviews on the last part but after reading them, I deleted them from my inbox, thinking FF would show them when I logged on. No such luck. L Its past midnight right now and I can hardly remember if I have pants on, let alone what the reviews said…LOL!
So for the shout-outs:
Marxbros and Marcher – Thanks so much for reading and I appreciate the feedback. The general feeling I got from your kind reviews was that I certainly kept you off center with the introduction of Dareejah and a Medjai thrown forwards in time. I hope that this part and the one to follow will leave you exactly the way I want to…wanting more. LOL
Dawn369 – So here's a thought regarding the balance thing…what would happen if Zayn tried to take Sharif back to his time, and the rift didn't open? Oh the possibilities…lol
Deana – Thanks for the review and by the way, have no fear, I'm working on posting more of H4. Would you believe I wasn't happy with a few Ardeth/Rick scenes and need to rewrite them? ~ugh!~ LOL Will you do some more dancing when you read about Ardeth in the next part? LOL
Ladybug – Aw, my sweet friend, thanks for the review. You said to find Sharif some help in the otherworld, well what do you think of Jamie and Eric?
Serena1221 – I'm glad the introduction of Dareejah has made such an impact and be warned; she has a lot more nastiness up her sleeves. You know what I'm fond of saying…"You ain't seen bad but its coming." Thanks for reading!
Patty – Hopefully this part balanced out some things for you, a small taste of Ardeth, and of course, hang in there…as I said to Deana, there is more H4 coming.
Lori – Fifth chapter? You don't need no stinking fifth chapter! LOL Hope you enjoyed reading this one, and I'm glad Thias' inability to control his lust around Dareejah didn't take anything out of the story. As for TV – erm, I'm usually on the computer. LOL
Serena – No need to cry, perhaps someday Ardeth and Cecelia will be reunited. If you were Cecelia, wouldn't you do anything to return to the arms of Ardeth Bay? LOL
Cindy – You asked and shall receive. LOL No, Ardeth's aunt is not a nice person and in the next story, she's brings in an unlikely ally in the form of Ardeth's cousin. But I guess you'll have to wait and see, won't you? Heh heh
Dreamy – High praise indeed coming from you my friend, as I can honestly say I love reading your stories. Hopefully this wasn't too long between updates…
But yes, one more part to go…and then this story is over. But as I said to Cindy, there is a sequel. How can there not be? I have to get Cecelia back to Ardeth or vice versa somehow, right? LOL
