See, I told you it would take me forever to get another chapter written. But lo and behold, three hours of a Bachelor marathon and half of the Exorcist later, I wrote more. Thanks to natters, marxbros (praise for my dialogue? you are too kind!:), marcher, allibabab, seletha, mexx (glad you're enjoying TM fandom, and thanks!:), and star (love ya, dearie! hmm, maybe I should toss in more mortal peril...you've got me thinking...bwahahahah!:)

every day is a new day i'm thankful for every breath i take i won't take you for granted so i learn from my mistakes it's beyond my control sometimes it's best to let go whatever happens in this lifetime so i trust in love you have given me peace of mind i feel so alive for the very first time and i think i can fly sunshine upon my face a new song for me to sing even though it might cost me everything now that i see you i believe no matter what they say

--"alive" pod

My belief is that every bride, no matter how checkered her past, deserves to wear white on her wedding day. Whether she be an eighteen-year-old virgin or a reformed prostitute, we all should get to wear that big white piece of fluff once in our lives.

It isn't exactly fluffy, but it's white, and it's the best I could come up with on short notice. The tight-fitting bodice gives way to a skirt that flares just slightly below my knee. This is covered by a flowy, sheer white fabric that shimmers around me as I move.

I wrap a beaded shawl around the dress and contemplate the image that greets me in the mirror. I've pulled some of my hair back and entwined the baby's breath Jonathan managed to find for me. The gown is subtle, and if you didn't know I was getting married, I might just look like I was attending a fancy party. I would feel silly in a full-out wedding dress, anyway. I've long since passed the time when I had any girlish dreams about my wedding day. Indeed, any such plans for the future evaporated when I found myself pregnant and alone eight years ago.

This day, though, this is perfect. I don't need a big church and 200 people and an expensive reception. I need Rick, Alex, and Jonathan. They're all I need to feel truly blessed.

"Knock, knock." Jonathan raps on the doorframe, peeking around it. "Ready, old mum?"

"Just about."

He rushes to me and envelopes me in a bear hug that nearly crushes me.

"Jonathan, I can't breathe."

"Sorry." He puts me at arm's length. "Now, I warned O'Connell that if he hurts you, he'll have to answer to me. And I mean that."

"I know you do." Even if Jonathan could win in a fair fight against Rick, I suppose the important part is the sentiment. He really does mean it. "Don't worry. This is what we want. This is what we've always wanted."

"I know. You look beautiful, by the way."

"Thank you."

He holds out his arm. "Ready for this?"

I take it, nerves causing me to squeeze his hand a little tighter than I mean to. "Yep. Let's go."

I pick up my bouquet, a simple little thing consisting of yellow roses and more baby's breath that Jonathan procured at the market. We walk out through the small lobby, and Jonathan pushes open the heavy oak door. He's about to enter, but my feet are glued to the floor and I hold him back.

"Touch nervous, Evy?"

"Just let me have a second."

I take a deep breath, studying the scene in front of me. It's a tiny church, only six or so rows of pews, and only half as wide as it is long. A few simple garlands have been hung, but other than that the room is bare. The minister stands near the altar, smiling and speaking with someone who is sitting in the front pew.

My heart skips a beat as I realize it's my fiancé, soon to be my husband. My husband! The thought has never really scared me, but now it's all I can do to keep the butterflies from rising in my throat. I'm getting married. Oh, dear...

Rick turns in the pew and sees me, and I notice that Alex is sitting next to him. They both stand, and Jonathan begins to nudge me down the aisle. I think about protesting, but then Rick smiles at me, and...

And everything falls into place again. I'm getting married. The love of my life, the father of my child, everything. Today, my wedding day, this is everything. As a matching smile bubbles up to my own face, I realize why I fell in love with this man in the first place. I'm getting married!

In what seems like an instant, we've reached the end of the aisle. Jonathan kisses me on the cheek and pries the bouquet from my fingers. He passes me off to Rick and takes his place next to Alex a few feet away. Rick's hand replaces my brother's, and I clutch it as though it were my lifeline. As the minister begins to speak, most of his words are lost to my ears. Rick has caught my eye and I feel like I could never look away, so lost in the blue I nearly forget to reply when the minister asks me a question.

"Do you, Evelyn Isabelle Carnahan, take this man, Richard Angus O'Connell, to be your lawful wedded husband, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, till death do you part?"

Death has never exactly stopped us before, but I agree anyway. "I do."

"And do you, Richard Angus O'Connell, take this woman, Evelyn Isabelle Carnahan, to be your lawful wedded wife, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, till death do you part?"

Rick grins at me. "I do."

We exchange rings, simple gold bands etched with delicate hieroglyphs that spell out the single word love. "By the power vested in me," finishes the minister, "I hereby pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Rick doesn't have to be told twice, though our first kiss as a married couple is brief to spare our relatives. They're just going to have to get used to it, though, because I plan on kissing this man for the rest of my life. My husband! I wonder how long it will take for it to sink in.

As the minister presents us with the documents that make it official, Rick leans down and whispers in my ear, "I love you, Mrs. O'Connell."

I respond by kissing him, an embrace that goes on for quite a bit longer than the first one, till I hear a heavy sigh from behind us.

"Aw, come on mum, are you two going to be doing that all the time?"

We're married. Married! I can't believe it's true. After eight years I had given up all hope of ever seeing Evelyn again, and now, after the most bewildering and trying week of my life, I'm finally married to the girl of my dreams. Not only that, but I have an amazing little boy for a son and a brother-in-law who has been a better friend than most people try to be and a better brother to Evelyn than anyone could hope for. I have a family, and they're perfect.

We step out of the church into the sunlight and find Ardeth coming up the stairs. "Friends," he says, nodding in that serious way he has. "I've just heard the news."

"You just missed the wedding."

"Congratulations," says Ardeth, shaking my hand. "It's about time."

"I agree," I say. "Stay and eat with us."

"Oh, I have to get back--"

"Come on, Bey, you can take an hour out of your busy world-saving schedule to eat."

"We insist," Evelyn puts in, grabbing Ardeth's arm and pulling him in the direction of the restaurant. "After everything you've done for us, the least you can do is accept a meal."

Ardeth grumbles good-naturedly for a few more minutes, but eventually we manage to get everyone seated and ordered. Evelyn is on my left, my arm lying casually around her slim shoulders. We fit so easily together, so naturally familiar with each other, as if we've been sitting this way for years. I wonder what we'd be doing today if we'd been together all this time. Instead of getting married in Cairo, would we be back in London? Would we have more children? Would we have had to have gone through the recent ordeal with Imhotep in the first place? I shouldn't be speculating like this. Hell, maybe we'd all be dead. I'll never know, and I don't want to. All I care about is what I've got here.

Evelyn's voice brings me back to the present. She's talking about archaeology, of course, replying to some question Ardeth asked her. "So I soon realized that the only field work that was available to me were expeditions I financed and led myself. Alex has spent every summer of his life in Egypt, being dragged around by his mum on some crazy trip or other. Of course, getting serious people to come with you is another issue altogether..."

Ardeth is looking like he regretted asking, but the waiter interrupts at that moment with our drinks. "Anyway," says Ardeth hurriedly, "we've just traveled back from the Oasis. Or, what used to be the Oasis."

Evelyn sips at her wine timidly. I'll have to remember to limit her to one glass. Tonight is definitely not the night I want her unconscious. "Is there any trace left at all?"

"None." Ardeth picks up his napkin, pulls at it with fidgety fingers. "Not even a blade of grass."

"Did you..." I trail off. There's just no way to put this. "...lose many men?"

His eyes stay glued to the table, and he smoothes the edges of the napkin in his lap. "Nearly half."

We fall silent, all declarations of sorrow not seeming enough. After a few minutes, Jonathan raises his glass. "To the Medjai," he says. "Braver and better men than I could ever hope to be."

Everyone drinks, Alex his milk and Evelyn her entire glass of wine. "I wasn't sure I'd find you all alive and unharmed," says Ardeth. "For that I am very grateful."

I try to push the thought from my head that this isn't entirely true, and fill Evelyn's wine glass with water from the pitcher. "We couldn't have gotten Alex back without you. You're the one that should be thanked."

Ardeth waves his napkin. "What are friends for? Besides, now you owe me a favor."

We all laugh, and the food arrives, so everyone is occupied for a while. I take the opportunity to study Evelyn as she eats. Her hair is pulled back and she's twisted some little white flowers into it. The dress is amazing, sort of shimmery and flowy. She looks at me mid-chewing, gives me this sly little half-smile like she knows I've been looking at her. "Something wrong with the food, darling?" she asks.

"Nothing. You're very beautiful, you know that?"

She grins. "I've been told once or twice."

I'd kiss her, but Jonathan and Alex are pretending to gag themselves with their spoons. "What are you, twelve?" I ask my brother-in-law.

"I'm thirty-seven," says Jonathan. "And perfectly happy with myself, thank you very much."

"I'm eight," Alex declares solemnly. "I'm allowed to act like this. Uncle Jon has no excuse."

"Even so," says Jonathan, "we've got a bit of a surprise for you, Evy. Something the three of us worked out. A little trip. Give you two time to get the newlywed bug out of your system."

I jump in before Evelyn has a chance to reply. "I have to go home anyway to settle some things out before I can move to London. So we thought..."

"So we thought," pipes up Alex, "that both of you could go. We already called the Museum--"

"And got you the time off," interrupts Jonathan. "All you have to do is get on the plane to Morocco."

"Which leaves in two hours," I say, looking at my watch. "From there, the boat leaves tomorrow morning. Crossing is nine days."

"You'll be back in three weeks," finishes Alex. "Pretty neat idea, huh mum?"

Evelyn appears speechless. She sets her fork down with a clatter, causing her water glass to jump. It sends droplets of water all over the table and her dress, but she doesn't seem to notice. "I-but-you-how could-why--"

"How about, 'thank you ,boys, how thoughtful?'" says Jonathan. "you can protest all you want, baby sister, but you need a vacation and you two need some time alone together." He's heading off Evelyn's words before she even gets them out of her mouth. "You can too take time off work, you work too hard anyway. And don't worry about Alex and I. We can take care of ourselves for a couple weeks. You can call from Boston. Every hour if you want to. We'll be fine."

"I..." Evelyn looks to me, Alex, Jonathan, in turn. "I don't know what to say. That's so sweet of you to plan all that, but I couldn't--"

"Mum, you're going." Alex shovels some pasta in his mouth, talks with it entirely full. "Uncle Jon can take care of me."

"I'm sure you'll have a great time," his mother says dryly. "Just don't wake any mummies and I'll count the honeymoon as a success."

Satisfied with Evy's degree of acceptance of our little plot, everyone goes back to eating. I don't want to think about the trouble Jonathan and Alex are going to get into in the next three weeks, but it looks like Evy is formulating each and every possibility in her head, one after the other. We may have to drag her to the airport.

"Sweetheart," I whisper, soft enough so that no one but Evy can hear, "you won't have time to worry. I'll keep you plenty busy."

My wife is so cute when she blushes.

~*~*~*~

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