Answers to all questions will come eventually. Except for exactly what happened all those years ago, that answer is meant to be obscure in this story, but will be explored further in a prequel. He he. Thanks for the comments, I appreciate them all, and keep 'em up:)

i want you to remember everything you said every driven word like a hammer held to my head the chemicals between us the walls that lie between us lying in this bed the chemicals displace there is no lonelier state than lying in this bed we are the hollow men we are the naked ones i never meant you harm i never meant you wrong and i'd like to thank all of my lovers lovers lovers lovers lovers....

--"chemicals between us" bush

When I open my eyes I behold a seemingly empty room. In fact, I'm on the floor. It takes me a moment to recall exactly why, and my thoughts move slowly as I connect the dots of the previous few minutes. Just as my brain works out the final piece of the puzzle, a pair of feet come into view, then a second. "Mum?" I hear, as Alex bends down into my line of sight. "Mum, are you all right?"

The other pair of feet, clad in shiny black shoes dotted with rainwater, take a step backward as Alex helps me stand. My eyes travel up, up, up, until his face comes into view again. His hair is still a bit longer than I would have liked, but even in the weak light it dances with streaks of sun. His skin is still as bronzed, his eyes still as blue, his face still as handsome. Exactly the same, and yet his gaze is somehow hardened as he looks back at me. Closed off, distant. Never the same.

We all stand there for a moment more, Alex looking anxiously from the stranger to me. "Are you all right, mum?" he repeats, tugging on the sleeve of my sweater.

"No," I say. "Alex, go to your room."

"But mum--"

"Now, Alex." I need to get Alex out of here. I can deal with him, then I can deal with Alex. I can't do both at once, it's too much.

Alex turns and leaves us alone. "Well," I begin. "Rick O'Connell. What a..." I struggle for a word, not knowing what to say. "...surprise."

He speaks only two words, and already my world shatters. "Hi, Evy." I think his voice is full of regret, maybe longing. Or maybe I'm imagining it.

I find my voice again, surprised to find that my eyes are fighting back tears. "What are you doing here?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"You might be surprised."

"Probably." He smiles, but it is forced. I can tell. "Seen many mummies lately?"

I can't find the strength to acknowledge his weak attempt at humor. It is understandable, however, that I don't answer at all, for the windows of the foyer choose that moment to shatter. They first crack with the impact of bullets, then explode into a million pieces as several red-turbaned men burst through them. They advance on us, and Rick immediately steps in front of me. I move from his cover, loath to let him protect me from anything, even if it be mortal peril. I can feel him tense behind me, ready for a fight.

"Who the hell are you?" I ask, but the men don't answer, instead looking back to the foyer as a tall, scarlet-clad black man climbs through the splintered glass.

"Miss Carnahan," he growls, approaching us. "I believe you know what I am here for."

I cross the room to a rack of swords, drawing one out at random and brandishing it as menacingly as I can. "Evelyn, what are you doing?" Rick hisses.

"Get out of my home," I say, ignoring Rick's question.

"I'm afraid I cannot," replies the man. "Give the chest to me and no one will be hurt."

I look to Rick, trying not to show my desperation. He gives me a look right back, one of those infuriating ones like he just knows me. He knows I hate that. Or maybe he's forgotten.

Rick joins me and chooses his own weapon from the rack. "I hope these aren't just for decoration," he whispers.

"Fine." The black man removes his cape with a flourish and draws out his own scimitar. "Then I will kill you and take it anyway."

He motions to his cohorts, who fly forward with a rallying cry and start slashing wildly with their swords. I hold my opponent off easier than I think Rick is expecting, as he is having a bit of trouble wielding the heavy blade himself.

"Been taking lessons?" he asks me, fighting off a blow from one of the red-turbans.

"No!" I cry, a little confused myself. How is this so familiar?... My foe knocks the sword from my hands, but I duck from the impending strikes easily and deliver a kick to the man's abdomen. I follow this by clocking him in the face, which effectively sends him to the floor in howling pain. "That I learned from you," I say quietly, before several more of the red-turbans appear from out of the smashed windowpanes.

As Rick steps in front of me once again, I see several of them filter through various doorways into the rest of the apartment. "What are they looking for?" Rick asks.

"The Bracelet of Anubis," I answer. "Oh God, Alex!"

It hits me too fast to think about what I am doing, I simply run headlong into the kitchen before Rick can stop me. I can still hear him fighting the red-turbaned men off as I skid to a halt on the linoleum floor. In front of me Alex fights valiantly to hold onto the chest as one of the turbans tugs at it from the other side. Finally Alex lets go of the chest and tumbles backwards to the floor. Before I can go to him, something hits the side of my head, and I feel myself fading to blackness once more.

As the tall black turban-man flies at me with the scimitar, I have no time to react other than to simply raise my own sword. They clang in time with the thunder outside, the lightning shedding light on the twisted face of my opponent and giving him a devilish appearance. Out of the corner of my eye I see someone come out of the kitchen, the first carrying a golden chest, the second...Evelyn!

My opponent uses my moment of distraction to slash me across the chest, knocking me to the ground and sending the sword flying out of my hands. He growls again, grabs his cape, and follows the rest of the red-turbans through the foyer and out the window.

Tears sting my eyes as I stand, the pain in my chest clouding my vision. The little boy, Alex, comes out of the kitchen. He looks shaken, but he has this look in his eye. A determined look, like his mother. Like he's trying to be tough.

"Where's my mum?" he asks. "Where did they take her?"

The words come surprisingly easily, though they aren't particularly eloquent. "We're gonna get her back. It's okay, I promise."

He notices my injury, but doesn't seem fazed by it. "You're bleeding."

I look down at the wound, which I've somehow forgotten about, though it still hurts like hell. "Yeah."

Alex disappears back into the kitchen for a moment, then reappears holding what looks like a medical kit. He unrolls a big wad of gauze and practically throws it at me. Still wary.

"Where's your family?" I ask. "We have to--"

"Mum is my family."

"Where's your dad? Your father?"

"I know who you are," he says, digging through the kit.

"What?"

"Rick O'Connell. I've heard Uncle Jon say your name before."

"Really."

He gives me another one of those Evelyn looks. "You're the reason mum is sad all the time. You're the reason she cries."

I can think of nothing to say to this, though my mind won't stop turning. Over and over again, every possible route, every possible scenario, it all comes back to one conclusion.

I can think of nothing to say to my son.

~*~*~*~