Author's Note: I'm still alive, yes, and I will stop naming these chapters after romantic comedies in a bit. ;)



Chapter Three
Two Can Play That Game



Naturally, Evelyn had been quite shocked and alarmed by her own epiphany, that she loved O'Connell – no, Rick – but at the same time it was something of a relief. She now knew where the strange fluttering feeling came from, why her heart raced and her pulse pounded in her ears in a most intoxicating manner when he was around. She knew why she was using words like 'intoxicating' to describe her feelings when he was around.

The only problem was, he was seeing another woman. He had seemed, for a while, to fancy her; after all, there was the smile, and the way he had been acting, but now he was simply polite, and the way Jonathan had spoken of this 'Charlie' woman, it seemed as if Rick had perhaps given up on her entirely and moved on to different territory.

Evelyn knew she needed some way of sparking Rick's interest in her again, but what? She might have prided herself on being a modern woman, but her English roots still held her true to tradition, and it traditionally wasn't the place of the woman to woo the man. The man courted and brought flowers and presents and got down on bended knee to propose. After that, it was a simple enough matter for the woman to make all the wedding arrangements, but . . .

For goodness sake, girl! She thought to herself. Yesterday you didn't fancy O'Connell at all, and now you're thinking about marrying him?

Of course, she wasn't going to do anything at all if he kept right on with this other woman.

So, logically, Evelyn needed to make him jealous as well. And what better way to do so, than cavorting in front of him with another man? Not that she would actually be cavorting, of course – but if O'Connell saw, and jumped to his own conclusions, well . . . that wasn't her fault, was it?

The only problem was, Evelyn's social spectrum consisted of Rick, Jonathan, and Ardeth Bay. This created a distinct problem, as one was the man she was trying to make jealous, one was her brother, and the other was a Med-jai warrior who – while admittedly quite attractive – would probably think her quite insane if she flirted with him, and take away her Responsible Curator badge as a result.

If he realized she was flirting with him at all, which was somewhat unlikely, considering the only close relationship he seemed to have was with his job.

That, and he lived in the desert.

This posed a problem.

Evelyn had been kissed all of a handful of times in her life. There were a few awkward little pecks from the few and far between suitors she had entertained over the years, and of course that first kiss with O'Connell, and that one after Hamunaptra's fall. Oh, and she and Imhotep had kissed, but Evelyn didn't really count those.

Though, in terms of kissing, the second one – when his face wasn't steadily decaying – hadn't been half bad. For someone who was thousands of years old.

. . .

Oh, yes, she seriously needed help.

Then a brief shuffling sounded behind her, and Evelyn turned to see her salvation standing there, all six tweed-clad feet of him.

Even more amusingly, he was carrying Tuthmosis, the very volume that had caused her so much trouble only a few months ago.

"H-hello," he stammered out, as he realized she was watching him.

If Evelyn had possessed an evil laugh, she would have laughed it right then.



Jewelry. Rick decided to follow Charlie's advice, and outside of the suggestion that he simply walk up to Evelyn and say, 'Guess what – I love you,' there was the plan of gift-giving. Flowers and chocolates really didn't seem to be Evelyn's style, but jewelry might be nice. After all, she had that locket with her parent's pictures in it that she always wore . . .

So he'd taken something from his third of the treasure brought back from Hamunaptra – he sold it only as he needed to, as it would obviously look conspicuous of him to go with a whole pile of artifacts from the City of the Dead and dump them on a pawnbroker's counter – and sold it to some archaeologist in a bar, a drunken fellow that reminded him a lot of Jonathan, who needed a 'big find.' He figured, why not give the guy a shot at fame while earning himself a few bucks?

However, later on walking through the Cairo market, Rick wasn't really sure what he was looking for. Of course, it helped little that the Cairo market was, in short, a tourist trap. There were enough actual Egyptian people in it, one supposed, but Westerners also flocked to its crowded, noisy, and dirty depths for a 'taste' of what Cairo was really like.

The vendors' constant calls of 'baksheesh' kept distracting him from the task at hand, and after he'd had everything from pomegranates and dates to miniature sarcophagi and canopic jars – neither of which he wanted in the least – Rick was starting to go insane, and was tempted to purchase anything, as long as he got to leave the market as soon as possible.

Then . . . it caught his eye.

Out of all the merchants rigorously promoting their goods, Rick noticed one bent and stooped old woman standing at a small booth, simply watching the people around her with wizened eyes. She didn't seem particularly concerned at all about selling someone something, and perhaps that was what attracted him to her. Gravitating in her direction, he could see she was selling jewelry; not the quick and hastily manufactured pieces the others had, but jewelry that he would actually consider giving Evelyn.

And there, among that jewelry . . . it. The perfect gift for Evelyn.



Rick was exceedingly proud of himself for his intelligent purchase, though the old lady had been a little . . . well, 'creepy' would be a good word for it. Not exactly enough to make his danger sense prickle, but she spoke with a great deal of mystic metaphor, and was generally . . . well, odd. That little mattered, however, because he was more than certain that Evelyn was going to love his gift, and that it would melt the awkwardness. She would be so pleased it would leave the perfect opening for him to profess his love for her, they would kiss, and everything would lead up to happily ever after.

At least, that was what he thought until he actually entered the museum.

Rick promptly ceased whistling, and nearly dropped the carefully-wrapped package in his hand as he approached the exhibit where Evelyn was working.

No, not working.

Flirting.

Evelyn Carnahan and 'flirting' in the same sentence didn't quite seem to work, but there she was, with the tweedy sort of guy that made up Rick O'Connell's dreaded picture of Evelyn's Type of Guy That Wasn't Him. He was even wearing glasses, though he wasn't holding a cup of tea or a volume of Shakespeare, but one out of three was enough.

And to make matters worse, Evelyn seemed to be interested in him. She kept throwing coquettish glances Rick didn't even know she was capable of in this guy's direction, and she had her hair down from its usual austere bun or plait, so that it was falling down her back in soft curls . . .

Rick felt a twinge of something very violent run through him.

Had he been a little more conscious and accepting of his own emotions, he would have recognized it as jealousy. But even if he looked in a mirror and saw his eyes had turned from blue to green, it wouldn't rightly matter at this moment, because he was busier concentrating on the urge not to rush up and strangle the guy's scrawny neck.

And then, though Rick couldn't hear what they were saying from his vantage point behind a statue of Anubis – oh, yes, it always had to be good old Anubis watching over the worst moments of his life, didn't it? – Evelyn laughed. She laughed.

Rick took a deep breath, then calmly walked forward and glanced between Evelyn and . . . Him.

Evelyn turned and greeted him with a pleasant smile, her lovely eyes sparkling. "Oh, hello, Rick."

Ordinarily, Rick would have been pleased to notice she had called him 'Rick' instead of 'O'Connell,' but right now he was just a little more interested in this guy. His eyes slid back and forth between them again, finally settling on the man.

"Evelyn . . . and who's your . . . friend?" he ground out.

"This is William Everett," Evelyn provided by way of introduction. "William, meet Rick O'Connell, a colleague of mine."

Colleague?

"Nice to meet you," William said.

Great, he was even British!

Rick drew in another breath. In, out, in, out . . . that was the trick. "Ah," he answered shortly.

"Rick, is something wrong?" Evelyn asked innocently.

"Wrong? No, what would be wrong?"

Except that the woman I love is standing here flirting with some . . .

"You look a little –"

. . . British twit . . .

"– green."

. . . I'd like to see HIM try to save her from a mummy!

"Really, are you sure?"

Probably break his glasses and . . .

"Rick?"

. . . run off screaming like a girl.

"Uh . . . could you excuse us a second?" Rick finally asked of William, then – without waiting for a response – he took Evelyn by the upper arm and steered her away.

Evelyn had been momentarily pleased by Rick's reaction, noting well that he was jealous, and as far as she was concerned, turnabout was fair play, as Rick had been off . . . canoodling with some woman who didn't even have a proper name.

But now he was acting a bit . . . well, off.

"Who the hell is that guy?" Rick asked, and none too gently, his voice a hissing whisper. He gestured in the direction of the young man they had just departed from.

"I told you," Evelyn said, keeping her voice carefully calm in the face of the raging storm that was O'Connell's temper. "His name is William. His father's an archaeologist, and he's looking to study it himself, so I asked him if he might like to stay and help me with an exhibit –"

"You pull in every guy off the street who wants to be an archaeologist and act like he's your best friend?" Rick demanded, the pitch and volume of his voice rising with each word.

Evelyn's eyes widened in indignant surprise. "Why, Richard O'Connell, are you accusing me of being some – some – loose woman!? I never!"

"Then why the hell are you standing here flirting with him!?" Rick questioned, his voice a near yell now.

Evelyn's own voice became very, very shrill. "Maybe if you wouldn't go off and – and – consort with other women, I wouldn't have to flirt with someone else to get your attention!"

By now, several other people – a very blushing William included – had turned to gape at the argument between their curator and her American friend.

Rick's mouth opened and closed a few times, a finger waving in the air, until he finally settled for a look of confusion. His tone went quieter, and he asked, "What do you mean, other women?"

"Your friend Charlie?" Evelyn shot back at him accusingly. "Jonathan said he saw you two together in a bar, and that this Charlie was a woman!"

"Charlie and I are just friends, for your information!" Rick informed her. "You've got it completely wrong, but that's what you get for listening to your idiot brother –"

"Don't you talk about Jonathan that way!" Evelyn cried. "He did me a favor, showing me what kind of man you really were –"

"Yeah, an idiot for letting myself fall in love with you!" Rick yelled.

"Well, did you ever stop and think I might be in love with you, too!?" Evelyn shouted.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

They both fell silent for a very long moment, then finally Evelyn spoke up, in a very small voice. "You're in love with me?"

"Yeah," Rick said quietly. "You're in love with me?"

"Yes," Evelyn responded.

"Oh."

"Indeed."

Rick paused, nodding slightly. "So . . ."

"So . . ."

"What should we do now?"

"Well," Evelyn said slowly, "You could kiss me."

"Okay," Rick responded, a bit winded. "If you don't mind me for being a stupid idiot . . ."

"I don't," she sniffled. "If you don't mind me being an idiot, too."

Rick grinned. "What can I say – we were meant for each other."

Evelyn smiled in return, then he swept her up in his arms and kissed her, the sort of kiss most girls didn't imagine even in their wildest dreams – why, had they been outside, fireworks probably would have shot into the sky.

But for now, they simply allowed the applause of their observers to suffice.