Speak Softly
Bound

1935: Ardeth Bay is resurrected from the dead. He awakens to a world vastly different, to familiar faces changing and to the knowledge that he is Egypt's final hope for freedom.

He also finds out just how far love and despair can take him.

~~~~~~~

He was in the dark. He felt as though he had not truly lived in ages. His body felt charged and his senses hunted that which they sensed with a vengeance unlike mortality. It consumed him, these feelings, as he drew himself off of the stone bed and onto the concrete below. The sound washed him like a freezing bath, bringing burning and sensation. His knees buckled and he dropped weakly. He did this alone.

Confused and afraid, he pulled himself up and fought for air a moment, wondering what under the sky had befallen him. The darkness called to him, pawing at his body in a strange lust he had never before been stalked by. He could never recall a time when his emotions had been so unbalanced, so lost and bittersweet. But what was missing from him?

His body trembled and his heart pounded. Everything tingled from head to toe, everything saturating the everything around him. He didn't want to leave this place. Surely outside he would find the gates of hell waiting for him.

Imhotep blinked in the darkness, feeling as if he were both dying and being born at the same time. His footsteps were loud and the scent of the air dusty from not having had movement touch these halls in long years. He felt of his clothes, finding strange things covering his body and a weapon at his side. Was Osiris finally bringing punishment upon his High Priest by driving him mad?

He pressed himself forward and without knowing how, followed the path out of this place without error. The brightness at the door was terrifying, burning his spirit with unfathomable grace. The priest turned away and thought about staying in this place of death forever. Anything to hide the beauty of what he would find out there.

What should he fear? He was Pharaoh, ordained of the gods—a god himself in every respect that mattered to the people he ruled. Yet he could not deny to himself the dread spreading through him. Imhotep forced himself to calm and turned to face the piercing light. He found the exit and stepped into the daylight.

Life screamed around him, clawing at his mind like frantic slaves seeking escape. The world looked barren and dead, but the life that still breathed here was more beautiful than he thought he could endure. He had never felt his spirit so filled, even before the curse. It drew tears to his dark eyes, but he refused to shed them.

Imhotep looked down at his body and saw the clothes of his enemy wrapped around his limbs. He held his hands up and looked—they were his. No long hair fell to his shoulders and his amulet was still where it should be. What insanity was this? Unnerved, Imhotep threw his hands by his side and stormed down from the burial grounds of his enemy, refusing to give in to his fear.

When he reached the labyrinth he cursed, uncertain as to whether his own spell would kill him if he dared place a foot on the deadly stones. Yet what could he do? Remain here? That was not an option. He had to get to the palace and see what awaited him. Was Ardeth Bay now ruler and king?

That curiosity drove Imhotep forward. He took a slow step onto the stone and was relieved to see he still lived. I will not live his life, Imhotep determined within himself, stalking through the maze. He did not know what this was, a vision or hell or worse, but he would conquer and bend it to his will as he had before.

It was that which kept his determination in place and the awful emotions at bay. This world was touching him somehow, bleeding its grace into his empty heart and he could not fathom how or why. He didn't want this, but then again…

The beauty was filling and wonderful. He had never felt this alive. Imhotep wanted his dreams and wishes to be reality, but if life could be this enrapturing, this holy…would it be so terrible to remain a lowly Med-Jai in love with a concubine? Another thought entered his mind at that. Would Ardeth Bay seek to conquer him? Would he suffer at the hands of his own jackals? He would not make the same mistakes Bay had. He would…

Imhotep frowned and pushed these thoughts away. He would go back to his palace and reclaim that which was his—Nefertiri included. He was not Ardeth Bay. He was destined to rule, to conquer and take.

His heart broke. At the threshold of the maze he saw the most beautiful sight he had ever laid eyes on. She shivered and breathed; her blood flowed inside and even outside, marring the white of her skin with red and her life slammed into Imhotep all at once. Instantly he could see her being: beautiful, kind and pure. It brought him down to his knees and the High Priest of Osiris hit the stone wall beside him with his back, weeping at what he saw.

Was this how Ardeth Bay had felt upon his resurrection? Imhotep found himself hard pressed to look at her, so consuming was the life pouring off of her. Yet even with his eyes closed he could sense it, flowing from her spirit onto him, caressing him tenderly like some plague where upon his body. For the first time in his life Imhotep was tempted to crawl away in fear and agony. Yet the woman called to him with her spirit.

The high priest opened his moist eyes and forced himself to view her again as she lay there. I will not live his life, he affirmed in despair, fearing he would want to anyway. Things would be different for him, he would not be Ardeth Bay.

Throwing back the Med-Jai cloak about his shoulders, Imhotep touched Nefertiri's hot cheek. "You live," he whispered, not sure what he should do with her. He could not leave her behind to seek his enemy. Not injured and laying here like a wretch from the streets. Imhotep gathered the sleeping princess into his arms and held to her for long moments, searching within himself for the answers of what should come next.

Then he remembered. In short hours his enemy would come in hunt for them. He had to get her somewhere safe before Ardeth found her and punished them both. Imhotep looked back into the maze, thinking about the coldness in the tomb.

For the time being it would serve. Imhotep would take her up there and plan their escape.

Awakening was harsh and lonely. Imhotep did not physically need rest, but welcomed it all the same, for the days would be too long if he did not. Far too long. Besides, it felt good to let go for a few hours and allow himself the pleasure of living life unburdened. Usually, that was, but not this time. Imhotep's breathing came hard now and his nude body was moist with sweat as he laid there a few moments, letting reality sink back in and his haziness fade. The darkness pawed at him, causing him to move from the comfort of his soft bed when he could bring himself up and stumble through his room to where the light switch was.

Illumination filled the room, proving he was still on the boat to Nefertiri's home. The nightmare had passed, the echo of life did not fill and consume him with its shaking ferocity and he was bound once again to the reality that he had created. He felt so empty now, as he always had, but more intensely. Imhotep sank down into a navy colored chair and rubbed his temples, uneasy and confused by this. He had not been plagued with one dream since the curse. Not all those 3,000 years he had been locked away in his sarcophagus, not in the years he had conquered and ruled this earth. This nightmare was not a natural event.

Just as in the dream, he had not even a vague hint as to why this might be troubling him, but knew it was tied into his enemy. At first he had not noticed the change, so pretty and pure, but then a few nights ago something occurred to him, something he questioned the very possibility of. He could feel Ardeth Bay's life. He could sense it moving in the world, fading away as the distance separated the two enemies. He had even gotten a hint of those sad, brooding emotions that filled the long off Med-Jai. The idea made him frown, for surely if he experienced this then it was possible the other had the same ability. He did not want his mind invaded, least of all by that infernal Med-Jai. Yet if he could turn this to use somehow…

Imhotep swallowed and stood, reaching to extinguish the light once more. He would not let this stop him or stall him. He would not be ruled by fear.

Yet he found that he did not want to return to his empty bed, for though he was determined, he still felt weighed down. On principle he should force himself to remain, if only to make him face his fears head on, but did it really matter? The king's eyes fell upon his linens in the small light bleeding through a full moon behind Eternal Sorrow. It looked cold and uninviting, driving his eyes away from the vision of loneliness. It was weakness, he knew, but right now he could not care less. After all, he was king. He would have whatever his heart desired, be it companionship or the very world. Imhotep turned away from his bed, threw his discarded shorts on and let his gaze take him to the glass door belonging to the bedroom adjoining his. In there Nefertiri slept and the thought of curling into her warm flesh stole him from the choice of remaining here.

A part of him feared going in there, though, as if the dream had somehow been real. Would the vision of her bright life consume him? He reluctantly thought not and decided he would endure it even if it did. He did not wish to be alone—his days were far too filled with that terrible reality and he could stand it no more. Not tonight. So Imhotep went to the door and pushed it open quietly, thanking Osiris that a gust of light did not blind him. Inside she hugged a pillow to her head, facing the center of her large bed, and looked tantalizing to his eyes when he drew close enough to look down on her.

His student. Sometimes he was reminded of that fact, sometimes he saw her as Evelyn Carnahan. Both women stirred his wrath. Both women stirred his lusts. She had a beautiful form, pleasant and feminine, ladylike despite the shameful clothing he made her wear that she understand what Ancksunamun had lived through. Before knowing his love he would never have harmed Nefertiri, never forced sex on her as he did now, now that he knew how cruel she could be, how bitter life could be. There had been a time when he would have taken this creature and taught her the ways of men if she had but hinted at interest in such things from him, but she had not and after all, she was just a child and at the time he was not so ruthless in his wants. She was a distraction, nothing more.

But he had learned how wrong that was. Nefertiri had become his damnation. For love he had risked everything, had taken a split second opportunity to dare do something for his heart instead of duty, and his little distraction-no-more had become an oversight. She had seen him murder her father and in all honesty, he would have understood it if she had sentenced him to death. Imhotep was no fool. He had deserved that fate, he knew. But instead, she had taken her revenge to a level he had thought not possible for one so gentle as she.

She cursed him. Rameses, he would have believed this of, but Nefertiri? He had taught her the most important lessons of life and the world and she forsook it all and condemned him to the vilest of all curses, the most damning, the most terrifying. She had robbed him then of everything, much more than his mere life. She had taken away his salvation, his relationship to Osiris and any hope of redemption. He prayed now prayers he knew were never heard. He would never see the afterlife; his soul would blacken and corrupt over the ages if he failed to withstand the great evil. That day, under the hold of three Med-Jai, he had listened to her bitter voice, heartless and grief-stricken, proclaiming his fate was to be the darkest fate of all history. And even still it shocked and angered him, for she had taken lightly something abominable to the gods in her anger and hate. The creature of beauty had turned into a snake.

Nefertiri, that day, had become a child no more to his eyes. Evelyn was a not a child. She had been the first night, untaken and pure, but he had stolen that from her finally, after 3,000 years of it haunting the back of his mind, buried beneath a love fate would not allow him to own. For what she had done a part of him now took great pleasure in forcing his blackness upon her, drawing her deeper into his net of desire, filling this spiteful woman with the same trembling he had felt when the Hom-Dai had been done upon him. His lust was a violation of her just as the curse was of him, but in his vengeance, he did not care. He was justified by ages of knowing sorrow greater than any mortal.

Imhotep exhaled and stared hard into her face, but the anger would not remain heated. After that first night it never did. How sweet it had been, to touch innocence again. What was good now drew him as a moth to a flame in the hope of filling the ever-present emptiness in his soul. As odd as it sounded to his heart, Imhotep believed that while taking Evelyn's innocence he had lost some of his own, what little he had left. It caused him to be compassionate to her. But even if the anger did not remain and cause him to take her more violently, the coldness was still there and would keep her from ever being free. He wanted repayment, justice for what he suffered and if the gods would not give him Ancksunamun, they seemed willing enough to gift him Nefertiri.

Would this be the seventh time he visited his passions on her? Imhotep finally pulled back the silk sheets and slid into the warmth, drawing close to her silken-clad body. Beneath the blankets his hand sought after her and found Nefertiri's hip to caress. He wanted this. He tried so hard to remain faithful to the memory of his lover and despite his dark desires, tried also to grant this princess what little mercy was left within his heart, but she was the only thing in his life he felt was personal. She was so soft when he did allow the storm of his need to overtake him and when she struggled against the pleasure it drove him all the more. He wanted this, but her innocent face stopped him now instead of spurring him on. Somehow it seemed wrong to disturb such peaceful rest, only to ask of her things she did not want to give.

This was the way of his people. Expected of a king, to have any woman he desired. The ancient Nefertiri would have understood this and accepted it, even if she would have hated him afterwards. This woman's time was different. They did not expect to be used this way and it troubled this Evelyn more than it may have the princess. Yet he supposed women were the same through the ages. Ancksunamun had despised Seti for the very things Imhotep himself was inflicting. But he buried his guilt away beneath his justifications.

He was not Seti. The situations had no relation, for he did not use Nefertiri's body roughly as Ancksunamun had confessed suffering. He had seen some of those wounds himself and healed them only to have them replaced with more. Imhotep had never injured Nefertiri in bed and spoke kindly to his conquest, encouraged her to the threshold of pleasure—if against her will—while Seti had spoken dark, shameful utterances and cared nothing for whether Ancksunamun enjoyed him or not. Seti was a hypocrite who displayed goodness to his servants, but evil to those he dominated more closely. Imhotep never lied about his intentions or masked his personality—flaws and strengths alike. She knew what to expect from him.

And aside from his compassion, Nefertiri was not blameless. She had incurred this debt of her own will and this was his right as king and as the man she had cursed forever. She made him and thus should live by his side in recompense. These were the things his mind whispered to his conscience as he fought the war between priest and pharaoh. Tonight the king in him was winning over the cleric.

Imhotep's hand grasped the soft pink satin of her gown and started to ease it up her thighs as he thought of touching her flesh. The soft whimpers and pleas for him to stop that filtered into his memory were both a whip cracking against his naked back and a soft song to his empty soul. The flimsy veil of lace cloth designed hide her from him was all that stood in his path and Imhotep gripped the band, easing it down the curve of her hip with building desire, but he could not continue. His hand froze each time he tried to bare her.

Drawing his hand from the band of cloth he rested it on her and rubbed softly as he watched her sleep, undisturbed and unafraid. Without hatred of him. This mating was not enough anymore, though why that was confused him. It would feel good, hotter than fire for the night, but when dawn came he knew with it would come also weariness of the dark. He saw now in the light of her face just how hollow these victories were. And he cursed the dream that had opened his eyes.

He did not want this. Not this way, not again. He would not awaken her to something that would cause her fear as he had the first time. Better to wait until when he could prepare her, perhaps to be willing…a time when he could seduce her and savor what would happen. The better conquest, now that he could see it, would be to win her will, to steal her fear and cause her to want this, to enjoy it and enjoy him.

To make the dawn worship the dark.

~~~~~~~

Sensation slowly began to dawn into a body that was moments ago paralyzed in dreams and a groan pierced the silence—a lowly sound that was still shrouded by the last few shadows of sleep. Ardeth still felt fuzzy and the images in his mind were clouded and mixed, but the ache in his left arm was becoming all too real. "Did you dream well?" asked a voice that snapped him back into the here and now.

Opening his dark eyes Ardeth saw the form of Sajul sitting beside him, his deathly gaze fixed upon a task below, soothed and calm as if he were lulling a sick child to sleep. Unnerved by this he tried to move, but was startled to find he could not. His wrists and ankles were tied tightly with ropes from the tent and this fiendish horror was using a blade on his bared arm.

Ardeth jerked away, cutting himself further in the process, but Necromancer's hand was quick and his strength great as he slammed him back to the sandy earth once more to continue his terrible pleasure. "Don't test my strength. You will fail," the creature warned and Ardeth glared back with wide, blazing eyes.

"What do you think you're doing!?" he shouted, shaken by this awakening and even more bothered by the fact that Necromancer had been able to violate him so without his knowledge. How could he have gotten ropes around his wrists without Ardeth's feeling it?

"Does it scare you?" Necromancer asked in a whispery, breathless tone as he lifted the knife to show off his bounty. Blood trailed the gleaming blade like a single scarlet raindrop and the creature hissed and laughed when the trickle spilled over his white fingers, burning him. The offending hand jerked in pain, but the creature seemed too pleased to care at the moment. "Does it frighten you, Ardeth? You're not as safe as you would like to think, my brother."

It did frighten him to wake up so vulnerable. Again Ardeth tried to pull himself away and again his effort was met with failure. Necromancer laughed and yanked at the ties binding his wrists, drawing his victim closer. Thrashing when the knife came down on him again, Bay groaned as the blade sliced through already wounded skin. Sajul held him firmly down to the sand as he slowly traced unknown patterns into his flesh.

When it was done the Med-Jai found himself out of breath, tense and uncertain. "You would do this? You would kill me like this?" he hissed through the aching and fear. A third jerk away from his captor aided Ardeth to his knees, but the ties around his ankles threw him to the ground once more as he tried to get away. Necromancer watched him struggle a moment, working at the bindings on his wrists, but a quick yank of his leg brought him all the way down.

Sajul was up and hovering over him in a instant, violent and uncaring as he flipped his friend to his back and scraped the knife down the length of his arm. Writhing against the onslaught and the fear in his heart, he cried out. "Don't panic, Ardeth," the creature rasped in amusement, affirming his hold and holding off his attack until in dismay his game stopped fighting with fast coming breaths. Necromancer looked down on him mildly and held up the knife as if he were going to plunge it into the Med-Jai, but such was not his intent for the time being. Ardeth blinked and turned his head as his friend shook the knife, scattering his own blood from the blade onto his face like tears. All he could think was, Not like this. I'm not ready.

This unnerved him to his very core. It frightened him and wounded him unlike Imhotep's servants or even the priest himself. This was his friend that was doing this, torturing him like he was nothing; had never meant anything. As a drop of warmth made its way down his cheek Ardeth glared up and for a long moment the warrior-brothers shared eye contact, weighing each other. It was the necromancer that first broke off the unanswered questioning between them with a sigh as he let his victim go. "So powerless, so helpless and perfectly prone to whatever torments I would have done upon you." He held the blade up. "You will need this once we reach the Temple of Osiris."

Bay ripped his bound wrists away from the creature and looked down at his new injuries. "I'm not going anywhere with you," he shot with a shake of his head. He drew himself away uneasily as Necromancer's knife-wielding hand drew closer once more. Instead of inflicting more pain, however, the creature dropped the blade and untied his limbs. Immediately Ardeth's hands coiled around the other's robes as if he meant to find some means of revenge, but when it came to it he could only stare into the eyes of this beast and wonder why.

His former friend did not back down from the threatening hold on him. He merely watched and considered everything he was stealing from the other mind. "Hurt me, Ardeth. Have your vengeance."

He wanted to. Ardeth really wanted to and even jerked his friend closer, but when his eyes hit the embroidered Med-Jai cloak that this thing dared wear over his robes he knew he could not strike out in revenge. But there was something he could do. Unprepared, there was little Sajul could do when Ardeth suddenly ripped the cloak from his dark form, splitting the fabric and tearing it away. Now it was this thing's turn to get angry as he clawed violently and snarled, "What do you think you're doing?" When Ardeth had the cloak sufficiently ripped away from his former friend he moved to toss it aside, but that was not as easy to do as to conceive of.

It was the symbol of what he no longer had of his own and Ardeth would not allow this evil beast to wear the cloak of a Med-Jai when he could not, but nor could he just let it go. "You are not fit to wear the clothing of our people," he replied in a hard tone, instead shoving it in his bag. He ignored Sajul's furious eyes as he sifted for anything clean to wrap his arm up with. "Do not follow me." Finding something suitable, Bay wrapped his arm, stood up and looked around the unfinished campsite almost unseeingly, still shaken and trying to calm his rattled senses. Quietly he grabbed the bag Imhotep had gifted him with and went again to his knees to fold his tent.

"I will follow you," Necromancer informed him, staring through cooled eyes, his pleasure dimmed. "If I could have killed you, I would have. Make no mistake. And it was not I that pushed you into such heavy sleep. It was the curse."

Ardeth picked up his pace and shoved the remainder of his tent into his pack and looked around silently for anything he had missed. His eyes fell upon the instrument that cut his bloody, stinging arm and he thought about using it on this dark thing by his side again, but denied the impulse. Seeing there were no more tasks to take his mind from the terror of his reality, the Med-Jai pulled himself back to his feet and looked around absently, anywhere but at Sajul. "Do not follow me," he repeated and turned towards the direction they had been heading. If Necromancer followed him…

"Do not be foolish," his brother-warrior called, joining him against his warning with a dark confidence that no consequences would come of it. "You need me to get into the temple. You are bound to me and I to you by this fate. If you would see Imhotep prevented from returning to this earth you must have the Staff, unless you are willing to sacrifice your little tramp's safety for your pride." He held up the forgotten dagger and offered it freely. "No real harm has been done, except to your fragile sensibilities."

Ardeth was about to stop and end this creature's life right here and now, but inwardly had to concede that he needed this evil thing's help, though it pained every part of his soul to know this. So he quieted his soul and pride. To defeat Imhotep he would do anything; suffer anything. As soon as this being had done its job, however, Ardeth would be rid of him. He took the knife and tucked it away with the plan of using it should the need arise. This foul thing would be allowed to follow him and get him into the temple, but no further.

Whether or not the living Med-Jai's thoughts aroused any worry or anger, Necromancer did not betray. "We can reach there by morning." The creature's dark eyes washed him over, taking interest in the robe of Osiris he wore. "When we arrive it would be best if you kept your hood drawn. The temple serves as a home for some of the acolytes and a few elder priests. We may be able to pass into the inner sanctum with a well-formulated lie, but our true destination is the catacombs beneath. There they will not let you pass, for below is the great mausoleum and there only the caretakers of the dead may go. The disguise will be exposed if you try."

Ardeth turned his head to regard the Sajul, freely thinking of his distrust. To that the necromancer said nothing, but merely curled his fingers and glared at the lightening path ahead. Morning drew near and brought some comfort. "And you will follow me there, into the temple and below?" he asked.

The other drew the remains of his cloak about him as the wind picked up and blatantly ignored the question, his face betraying nothing of what might be going on inside. Instead he said softly, "Did you really think you would have a happy ending, Ardeth?" A part of him didn't, true, but yes, he did look forward to some sort of happy ending to this. If even that ending were found dying in Evy's arms for doing what was right. But Ardeth didn't dignify his former friend's question with an answer and Sajul snorted, then sighed. "Kill him, Ardeth. Do what is right. And die doing it."

He turned his head to view Ardeth as if he were seeing him as he did before, as if they were friends. The look was grave and the face so radically changed; yet the eyes were the same. "You should never have let him share your life."

There was a point somewhere in all of Necromancer's tiptoeing and while Ardeth was curious, he would not beg for it. Mist began to caress his skin as he looked ahead and down, contemplating this mission and his own mortality. The world around looked so barren and lost, almost as if it were suffering the same strange feelings as he did. It was unreal. How could there not be a happy ending for this world? This place didn't deserve Imhotep.

If he could have stopped him from sharing his life, he would have, even if that had meant death. The priest's presence was far and faint, but like a stone beneath a stream it was there, something not quite right, sleeping beneath the surface. But surely this was not as terrible as the necromancer would have him believe it to be. Surely the curse would not be able to overtake the blessing inside Ardeth. A man chooses salvation for himself and such a thing could not be stolen.

To that thought Necromancer grunted, his stance stiffened a bit and his tone grew colder. "You think you know everything, Ardeth. You prideful fool. And do you realize, friend, that if you kill Imhotep, you also will lose your life? You are bound to him even as you are bound to me."

"And why should I believe this?" Ardeth shook his head in dread of yet another battle of ill words. The constant despair from this being was wearing on him and after his rude awakening he had trouble remembering this man used to be a friend. Sajul looked down at the wetting sand almost regretfully and Bay sighed at the foolish inner confusion going on. Was this real or some sort of manipulation? I warn you, Ardeth Bay, do not mistake me for something I am not, he had said. His injured arm cried out for him to heed that warning whole-heartedly.

His former friend stopped him in the sprinkling, his eyes glinting as the lightening flashed and the storm neared, filling the air with the sounds of rain, wind and thunder. "All I have told you has been true, my brother warrior. I freely warn you again not to trust me to serve you and your purposes, for I have my own that I seek to further." The last was no lie, obviously, but not everything this being told him was fully true. Necromancer smiled in the shadows of the storm clouds covering them.

The rain increased, reminding him of the Field of the Med-Jai and at that Sajul gripped his arm gently and came closer, holding the eye contact. "I felt you awaken, my friend. I heard it echo throughout the underworld and I seethed inside my heart with hatred. I want you dead again, Ardeth. I do not want you to fulfill your destiny and prove yourself worthy of what honor you have been given. I do not want you hoping for a life that will never come and I tell you all these things to hurt you, that you may take your own life in despair and escape. Then shall we both have what we desire. You peace, and I the satisfaction that you failed. There is no hope."

Ardeth looked away at that, after all the words, lies and hurts caused, still grieved to hear such talk come from this man. He was betrayed at every turn and left to the wander the darkness alone and it hurt him more than he wanted to admit to himself or this creature that stole his thoughts. When had this rift between them formed? What could he say? "I am sorry, my friend, for what you have suffered. I did not ask for these things to be placed upon me and I'm not sure what makes me worthy of such high trust from Heaven." Ardeth brushed his now wet hair back and clasped the hand on his robe as the lightening flashed, illuminating the sky ten times brighter than daylight could ever hope to. "But I'm sorry, Necromancer. I will have to disappoint you."

Necromancer's hand was thrown back at the scowling creature with that and the Med-Jai turned into the winds towards their destination. Sajul would have no satisfaction from him.

But whether or not Ardeth's strength had any ill effects on the necromancer's mood, he could not guess, and the creature did nothing to clue him in. Now silenced by the lack of need to add anything, the form of his friend returned to his side, his eyes neither triumphant nor chagrined. Just as life and his future, it simply was.

~~~~~~~

Disclaimer: No infringement intended. Ahamad, Nashean, Mayadeh, Sajul/Necromancer, Arya, Layla and Sania (and a few less significant originals) belong to me.

A/N: A big thanks to Deana this time around! I had been so unhappy with the original stuff I had written here with Ardeth and if she hadn't been suggesting thoughts for this particular segment, I would prolly still be put off with the flow of the story and how everything ties in. So thankee, my friend! You helped remove a thorn in my side and you totally rock! :D

Plus, I feel this is worth a mention, Imhotep sleeps naked! How cool is that? :O :D :D :O *faints*

Also, Also Note: I will not forget my other stories. I'm having a bit of a writer's block concerning my LOTR/Buffy muses…so it's making my crossovers a little tough to write, but I won't forget them! *sniff*

And anyway, Imhotep sleeps NAKED! Sorry, I just saw Arnold in his new show and well, feel really into Immy right now. ;-D Next story I might just have to kick Ardeth out of my bed. ;-) Naaah.

To Reviewers:

I really want to thank ALL my reviews, past and present, cause it really means a lot, you know? Gives a poor, struggling ff.net'er some heppiness. :-D

Lula – How about this. I'll slap you if you fail to produce a naked Arnold Vosloo at my door in…oh wait…silly me. That wasn't out loud. ;-D Thank you muchly for the reviews!!! Immy does have lots to learn about being human again…or at all, depending on how one would view his past, which I'll get into a little bit later. Neccy, I love making him a pain. ;-) Of course now it's a bit more literal, but yeah. :-D Vents those real life frustrations, such as this headache I'm developing. I might have to kill someone in a story tonight! :-O Lol. ;-) As for his hatred of Ardeth, well, I'm not sure how far it goes back…but I have an idea for when it started to be so intense, which I'll get into next installment. I've got plans for Sajul and the whelp, yepper peppers. :-D And thanks for the Jonny compliments…I think he'd be great with kids, IE: Alex and so forth, so I thought this would be a good thing for him…to help the 'common man' out. Common woman, rather. :-) Thank you muchly and I'm happy you're enjoying this!

Marcher – Thankie, thankie, my friend. You've always been there through my stories as well and that means a bunch. :-) Rumor, (my eyes, rather) saw another chapter of Captain up! Eeeee! I'll be reading directly after posting! :-D Thanks also for that! I love that story! I was going to mention that "past now" thingie, but see, now it IS in the past. :-O I'm happy to be reading soon. And thanks for your compliments on the Jonny part…a lot of the ground work for my stories is already done, just needs filling in and to be tied together and so forth, and that was one of the new scenes I added for my plans for him. So I'm glad it was well received!

Deana – I also want to thank you, my bud, for well, everything in the A/N and just for always reading and having something nice to say! Thank you for putting up with the "do my plots suck" and "is this stupid?". ;-) Means a bunch! And yes, I wouldn't wanna go sleeping with Neccy hanging about either…but poor Ardeth didn't have much of a choice. :-O There can never be too many worries for that man to endure, huh? ;-)

Marxie – Thank you for the Neccy compliments…muchly! I'm trying to keep everyone guessing about what exactly he wants…and sometimes, I confess, I'm not too sure either. ;-) How much CAN Ardeth take, anyway? Hehehe. Prolly not half of what us girls put him through, poor guy. As for Jonny, I do have some plans and I hope they turn out interestingly…and I hope I can cultivate them enough to fit in…I'm running into a place where I don't have as much of the groundwork done as I had for previous chapters…so I'm having to think through before posting. :-O Which was why I'm posting faster…cause I had the groundwork done as I explained, but I fear I might have to slow in posting to think. :-O At any rate, thank you SO MUCH for being here through this story and reviewing with your thoughts, both the good and the "huh?". :-D

Dead-Girls-Watch – Thank you very much for dropping me the review to let me know what you thought. That's very nice of you to say and I appreciate it muchly. :-) Hope you all think it continues to get better! :-O