Sailor Elf: Why are you screaming? Ummm. . .because I'm a really good
writer, who made you believe, if only briefly, that all those terrible
things really did happen to Ardeth? (raises eyebrows questioningly)
Deana: I know. Those scenes made me cry, too, while I was writing them. Our beautiful Med-jai isn't quite out of danger yet, though.
Dawn: 'Ello, m'dear! I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and I'll properly respond to your email in a bit, when I don't feel like I've been hit by a Mack truck!
Part Four
Alex O'Connell had no idea what woke him. The previous night, Uncle Jon came to the boarding school and told the headmaster that there was a family emergency. Alex was needed at home. Because they knew Uncle Jon, the headmaster allowed him to go. On the drive home, Alex learned that there was an attack on his Mum, an attack stopped by Ardeth and Auntie Celia.
His mum was fine, but Dads blamed Ardeth for the attack. Uncle Jon was afraid that Ardeth would leave and they would never see him again. He wanted Alex's help in convincing their friend to stay. Now, the boy watched in silence as Auntie Celia flagged a cab. Alex hesitated, not knowing what to do, then his mouth firmed. He slipped down from the window and out of his room, down the hall to his parents' room.
He shook his mum, whispering, "Mum. . .Mum!" He waited until her eyes opened, then continued, "Mum, Auntie Celia and Ardeth just left, you gotta bring them back!" He meant 'you' in general, not that his mother should go after them herself. She would have a baby any day now, and Dad would never allow her to go. Her eyes slid shut, but Alex shook her again, saying, "Mum! Ardeth needs you!"
That woke her up. She sat up, and Alex repeated what he saw. His mother's eyes widened and she slid from the bed. Mum went to the guest bedroom, swearing rather impressively when she found the room empty, and the bed made. Mum whispered, "Damn you both, why couldn't you wait! Rick would have apologized this morning!" She left the room, probably to wake Dads, and Alex scampered downstairs.
He went to the kitchen, where he noticed something odd about the refrigerator. Drawing closer, he found a piece of paper, with Mum's name on it. Alex pulled it out and opened it, recognizing his aunt's writing immediately. What he found there made his eyes widen, and he ran out of the kitchen, back up the stairs to his parents' room. For once, he didn't bother knocking as he burst inside, crying, "Mum, Dad. . . Ardeth's sick!"
Mum, who was in the middle of a conversation with Dads, turned toward him. Seeing the piece of paper in Alex's hand, she pulled it away, reading it quickly. Alex watched as his mother's face turned ashen, and she whispered, "Celia didn't want to leave today. She tried to convince him to stay, but he refused. Rick, you have to go after them, Ardeth isn't well, and he shouldn't be traveling."
Dad started to protest, but Mum fixed him with a Look, hissing, "You swore to me last night that you would make things right with him today, Rick O'Connell. He left to avoid any more unpleasantness, because he felt unwelcome here. Are you really going to let your pride get the better of you now, when Ardeth needs you most? Must I remind you of the dreams we both had last night?" Unexpectedly, Alex's father went white.
"They have taken a train," an unexpected voice said. Everyone turned to see Anck-su-namun. Alex shouldn't have been surprised, not with her attitude toward Auntie Celia. It seemed like she was never far away. Least of all when she thought Auntie Celia might need her. She seemed to care for Ardeth as well, which Alex found a bit strange. Then again, he found it very strange that she was even on their side now.
Anck-su-namun continued, "They have taken a train, and as Celia said, Ardeth is ill. More ill than he will acknowledge. Earlier, as Celia dressed, he had a dizzy spell." This made both of Alex's parents pale. Mum looked at Dads, and in that moment, Alex saw his father's attitude change. His expression grew determined, and Anck-su-namun added, "Make haste, O'Connell, and remember. . .they travel to Scotland."
"I'm on my way. Evy, stay here, in case Celia calls you. Alex, look after your mother. Anck-su-namun. . .take care of them both until I get there," Dads replied. The ghost merely inclined her head, before fading out altogether, and Dads finished dressing.
He leaned over and kissed Mum on the cheek, though this was one time when Alex wouldn't have minded seeing his parents kiss. It would have meant things were normal, and the little boy was desperately afraid right now. Mum whispered, "Don't come back without them, Rick, please. You heard what she said. Ardeth needs us, and we can't let him down again." Dads nodded determinedly and left the room.
Moments later, Alex heard the roar of Dad's new car. Mum sat down on the bed, wrapping a blanket around hersef, and looking as afraid as Alex felt. The little boy took his mother's hand, and Mum smiled at him. A half second later, her eyes narrowed as she asked, "Alex? Not that I'm not happy to see you, of course. . .but what are you doing home? You should be in school, sweetheart."
Alex flashed his mother a guilty smile, and as he had more than six months earlier, replied, "Mum, I can explain everything!"
. . .
Ardeth hoped that once he was away from the tense O'Connell house, he would feel better. He did not. If anything, he felt worse. Part of it was guilt, of course. He should have said a proper good-bye to Evelyn, regardless of what O'Connell thought of him. He shuddered as the cab bumped along, and felt Celia's cool hand on his warm face. She murmured, "Hang on, darlin,' we're almost there."
She did not say, 'I told you so,' for which Ardeth was extremely grateful. She had every right to say that, and he knew it. He whispered, "I am sorry, Celia. I should have listened to you." He fought back a moan as a sharp pain sliced through his chest. Gods, what was happening to him? He was burning up with fever, his chest ached, as did his head. In fact, he felt as he did after the explosion at Hamunaptra.
A voice said, "'E's not gonna be sick, is 'e, ma'am?" Ardeth would have smiled, if he felt better. When the cabbie picked them up in front of the O'Connell house, Celia bundled him inside, then put the bags at her own feet. The cabbie, blessedly, gave her no difficulty about Ardeth's presence, though the chieftain was sure his own weakened condition might have had something to do with that.
"I hope not. I don't think so, though. You've been very helpful, sir. . .I thank you for that," Celia said softly. Her hand slipped from his cheek to his hair. Ardeth sighed, taking pleasure in the small comforts. They did nothing to alleviate how badly he felt, but they did give him a different focus.
"Oh, it's no problem, ma'am! I served in the French Legion, and I knew men like yer husband," the cabbie replied. He paused, adding, "And a Yank saved me life in the Great War. I could tell by yer accent ye was a Yank." Ardeth heard his wife laugh and the cabbie continued, "So where are ye headed to, ma'am, if ye don't me me askin' ye? If ye ask me, yer husband oughta be in a hospital where they kin take care of him."
"You're probably right," Celia sighed, "but my husband is a very stubborn man, and he refuses to go to a hospital. They make him uncomfortable. We're heading to Scotland, which is where my people come from." Along with Ardeth's, though that was three thousand years in the past. Celia continued, "We were supposed to stay with some friends for a few days, but we had a falling out with my friend's husband."
She paused, and Ardeth opened his eyes to see the cabbie peering at her invitingly. Celia sighed, then said, "You see, my friend is a wonderful lady, and I love her very much. . .but she tends to anger the wrong people. My husband and I interrupted a potential attack, and instead of being grateful, my friend's husband blamed Ardeth."
"Blimey! Pardon me language, ma'am, but that ain't right! Ardeth, heh? That ain't a name I heard in that part o' the world," the cabbie said. The chieftain managed a weak smile. However, it cost him. As another pain tore through his chest, Ardeth no longer had the energy to fight his moans of pain. The cabbie added anxiously, "Ma'am, I ain't gonna tell ye what to do, but I don't think yer man's in any condition to travel."
Celia replied, "My husband is descended from an Egyptian prince and his Scottish concubine. Her name was originally 'Eavan,' but she was renamed 'Ardath' by the Hebrew slaves who raised her. My husband's name is a variation. And my husband is six foot two, one of his people's finest warriors, and at half-strength, he's still stronger than me. Would *you* tell him that he can't do something?" The cabbie roared with laughter. Celia added, "Ardeth, darlin,' we're almost to the train station." Despite the intense pain, that gave Ardeth the strength he needed to sit up and open his eyes.
"Well, best of luck to ye both. And yer Majesty, next time ye oughta listen to yer wife," the cabbie suggested. Your Majesty? The cabbie added, "A man de-scended from royalty oughta be a king. Yer Ladyship, take good care a' him, and if ye ever need a ride, name's Ben York." He got out and opened the door for Ardeth and Celia, helping Ardeth out. The Med-jai managed a shaky nod, though he immediately regretted that.
"Thank you, Ben. My name is Celia F. . .I mean, Celia Bey. . .just in case I do need to call on you again," his wife replied. Ardeth leaned against the cab, squeezing his eyes shut as the dizziness increased. By now, the dizziness was accompanied by waves of nausea. He would have said good-bye to his pride in that moment, and gone back to the O'Connell house. . .except he didn't think he would manage the return trip.
"Celia Bey, it was a pleasure. Here, I'll take care of them bags. . .yer husband needs help," came the cabbie's response. Ardeth felt Celia's arm slip around his waist, and he readied himself to move. He forced his eyes open, almost groaning at the distance to the ticket counter. The good news was, public privies weren't that far away. He could splash cold water on his face, maybe that would help.
"Thanks, Ben. Ardeth. . .why don't you wait there, while I get the tickets?" Celia suggested. With an effort, Ardeth turned his head in the direction Celia was indicating. Thank the gods. She meant the public privies. Ardeth nodded, grimacing at the motion. Not a wise move. The next time he did that, one of two things would happen. Either he would get sick, or his head would fall off. Celia told Ben, "If you wouldn't mind, could you leave the luggage with my husband, and I'll go get the tickets?"
"Do better than that, ma'am. I can wait with yer husband. Don't think he oughta be left alone," Ben replied. Ardeth wasn't looking forward to that, either, and Celia agreed. As they reached the building, Celia gently lowered Ardeth to the ground, and Ben circled the bags around him. Ardeth bit his lip to keep from making any noise. His muscles ached, but he wanted to avoid worrying his wife further.
Celia kissed him, murmuring that she would be right back. Ardeth nodded, keeping his eyes open until she left, then he slumped against the doorway. Mercifully, Ben didn't talk as he did when Celia was around. He only spoke once, saying, "Ye got a damn fine woman, yer Majesty. Reminds me a' me wife, God rest her soul. A damn fine woman indeed." And he didn't take it personally when Ardeth made no answer.
Celia was back almost immediately, saying, "We missed the morning train, Ardeth, and they don't sell tickets for the afternoon train yet." Damn his weakness! Celia turned to Ben and said, "Thank you so much for your help, Ben. I'll take it from here." Ardeth forced his eyes open as his wife shook hands with the cabbie. Ben, a man who looked to be in his sixties, turned Celia's wrist to kiss the back of her hand.
"Was my pleasure. If ye ever get back to the States, and find yerself in Albany, look up Robert Tisdale, and tell 'im that Ben York sent ye," the cabbie replied. He looked at Ardeth, tipping his cap, and said, "And ye best let yer Lady take care of ye, yer Majesty." The Med-jai nodded wearily, and the cabbie was on his way. The couple looked at each other, then Ardeth took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his chest.
"I will return shortly, Celia," he said hoarsely. Celia's dark eyes narrowed, and Ardeth explained, "I wish to splash cold water on my face."
Now she frowned, and looked around. Then she smiled in understanding. She took his hand, lightly kissing his palm, and replied, "I'll be here when you get back, love. Imagine, of all the cabbies in London, we get one who served in the Legion!" The Legion, where O'Connell served. But Ardeth only smiled wearily at his wife. He slid his hand from her grasp, then slowly and painfully made his way into the interior.
Moving like an old man, Ardeth made his way to the sink. It was then that a new pain tore through him. Ardeth doubled over with a gasp, feeling as if his insides were physically torn out. He hung onto the sink, now very aware that he made a mistake in leaving the O'Connell house. This last spasm wiped out much of his remaining reserves of energy, but he still had to return to Celia. With an effort, he straightened up, to make his way back outside. There was a roaring in his ears, and his vision was growing grayer.
The few steps which led him back outside, and to Celia, seemed like the entire distance across the Sahara. And as he stumbled toward his wife, the last of his strength left him. He saw Celia's worried face and tried to smile reassuringly, but his legs gave out, and he collapsed. He heard his wife cry out his name, and felt her arms encircle his waist, but Ardeth was unconscious before he hit the ground.
. . .
For the first five minutes after he left home, Rick O'Connell was driven by a mixture of fear and an overwhelming desire to pound Ardeth Bey into the ground. What the hell was that idiot thinking, leaving when he wasn't well? Of all the stupid-ass stunts to pull, that was probably the most stupid-ass stunts Rick ever knew Ardeth to pull. He expected that from Jonathan, but not from Ardeth, of all people.
But as he drove along, fear overpowered the anger. Ardeth was sick, and when you were sick, or badly hurt, you didn't think clearly. Rick knew how stubborn Ardeth could be. He hurt Ardeth deeply with his rash accusations, and he should have expected this quiet departure. In a twisted way, it actually made sense. Ardeth wanted to avoid any more confrontations, and wanted to avoid causing trouble between the O'Connells.
As he drove, the continuing refrain of 'I was going to apologize,' was replaced by, 'he didn't know that.' Ardeth didn't know about the dreams Rick and Evy had, he knew only that Rick blamed him for the attack against Evy and the baby. Under normal circumstances, Ardeth would have brushed it off. But for some reason, Ardeth's patience snapped. Maybe it was because he chose to interrupt his honeymoon to aid Rick's wife.
And how did Rick repay him? By stabbing him in the back. Rick decided that he was lucky Ardeth was different from his brother. . .because even if Andreas Bey let him live, that little stunt would have earned Rick a few well-placed punches. He shook his head as he pulled into the train station, muttering, "Please let me get there in time, please let Ardeth be all right." *If only to give me the opportunity to choke the living shit out of him for scaring me like this,* Rick added mentally.
He drew to a stop behind a cab, and raced out without even bothering to check for traffic. Ticket counter. . .there. Rick sprinted the distance to the ticket counter, rasping out, "The morning train for Scotland, when does it leave?" He ignored the dirty looks he received from other passengers. . .they didn't matter. Ardeth mattered, and making sure he didn't leave before Rick apologized for being such an ass.
The response he got made his head snap around as the clerk said, "The morning train for Scotland left forty-five minutes ago, sir." All the blood drained from Rick's face. He was too late. Oh God. He was too late. Rick actually felt dizzy, and staggered out of the line. A god was laughing at him. Ardeth was gone. And there was no guarantee that he would even want to see the O'Connells when he returned to England.
"I'm sorry, Ardeth. . .God, I'm so sorry," Rick mumbled, feeling sick. He closed his eyes, swaying on his feet. A memory flashed through his mind. . .Evy in the back seat of a black car, speeding away. A cloth covering her mouth and a curtain falling shut. His son crying out to him, Ardeth Bey right behind him like a dark guardian. The rage he felt when he saw Ardeth, prompting him to grab his best friend's collar, swing him around and slam him into the pedestal, yelling, 'what the hell are you doing here?'
If Ardeth was here, something terrible happened, and Rick just couldn't accept that his family would once more play a part in the end of the world. He ignored the soft grunt of pain drawn from Ardeth at the forceful shove, because he didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to believe that this man put his life on the line to protect Rick's family, because if Rick's family was in danger, then it was Ardeth's fault.
But of course, it wasn't. It wasn't Ardeth's fault that Rick's family couldn't stay away from trouble. He repeated, stumbling through the crowd, "I'm so sorry. I know you were just trying to protect us, trying to protect your people. I'm sorry." He had to get to the bathroom. . .he was sure he would throw up, and he really didn't want to do it in public. He didn't know everyone to know just how badly he failed his best friend.
He stumbled into the men's public restroom and into a stall, falling to his knees. The first spasm hit as his knees connected with the hard cement, but nothing came up. Rick remained there for several moments, retching. When the spasms finally ended, he leaned against the stalls, blinking back tears which he forcefully told himself were from the retching. The truth was, he didn't want to go home without Ardeth or Celia. Evy would never forgive him, and truthfully, Rick wouldn't forgive himself any time soon.
But he couldn't stay here forever. Reluctantly, he got up and flushed the toilet, then opened the door. He was the only one in here, thank God, and he staggered to the sink. He splashed cold water on his face until he felt human again. Rick straightened up and took a deep breath, wiping his wet hands on his trousers. He had to get back to the house. . .Celia might have called before the train departed.
But as he left the men's restroom, he heard a voice. . .a woman's voice. She was crying. Rick looked to his right, the source of the voice, actually afraid of what he would find. And when his eyes landed on the small woman kneeling on the ground, a still form in black cradled against her body, Rick almost moaned aloud. She didn't see him yet, but he saw the tears on her face as Celia Bey called out, "Help, someone, please?"
"Celia!" Rick cried out, rushing over to her. Her head jerked up, and to Rick's eternal shame, the gaze that greeted him wasn't angry, but relieved. Rick did this, and she was relieved to see him. But Rick pushed those feelings away, kneeling beside Ardeth, and pressed the back of his hand to Ardeth's forehead, jerking it away. He asked, gently gathering his friend in his arms, "What happened, he's burning up?"
"He collapsed. He. . .he. . .I knew he wasn't feeling well, and I asked him if he wanted to go back, but he wouldn't. He. . .we missed the train, and I thought we could wait until it was time to buy tickets for the later one. He. . .he went into the bathroom, to wash his face, but when he came out, he just collapsed. I couldn't get anyone to help me, Rick, I couldn't call you and Evy," Celia replied, her voice breaking.
Rick asked nothing more. He just carefully lifted Ardeth, painfully aware that Ardeth didn't even moan when he was moved. Celia scrambled to her feet, gathering the luggage. Rick didn't ask if she was coming. . .he knew better. With a grim expression, he made his way through the crowd. Passengers and their families parted to make room for the enraged American with the small young woman scrambling behind him.
Once they reached the car, Rick ordered, "Drop the bags. Open the door, and get in." Celia, amazingly, didn't argue with him. She did exactly what she was told, dropping the bags on the curb beside the car, opened the door, and quickly slid in. Now came the tricky part. . .easing Ardeth into the car and into her arms. Ardeth was a dead weight in his arms, but Rick managed to lower his friend to the seat.
Celia put her arms around Ardeth, drawing him against her own body. Rick slid his legs sideways, then put the bags at his feet. That done, he slammed the door and got inside. Nothing more was said, except Celia quietly murmuring to Ardeth. What was happening to him, why was he like this? Rick was silent on the drive back, and much to his relief as he pulled into the driveway, Jonathan was outside, ready to help. Would wonders never cease. Rick pulled the car all the way up to the entrance of the house.
Jonathan paled when he saw Ardeth, but only asked, "What can I do?" Rick didn't bother with words. Instead, he opened the back door and handed the bags to Jonathan, before lifting Ardeth into his arms. His brother-in- law gasped, "Oh dear God. EVY! Alex!" Evy came out, her mouth opening at the sight of her brother cradled in Rick's arms. Jonathan carried the bags inside, following behind Rick.
The American glanced over his shoulder, as his wife helped Celia out of the car. Evy called, "Get him upstairs to his room, Rick. Celia, darling, I'll be right back." Rick nodded, and ahead of him, he saw an anxious-looking Anck-su-namun. But he passed through the ghost, unwilling to grant her the courtesy of moving around her. He had Ardeth, and Anck-su- namun should have been doing something.
But his true anger was saved for himself. As Rick reached the last step, then carried Ardeth into his room, he began to pray. He wasn't sure who would hear his prayers, but he had to ask Whoever was listening to help. He eased Ardeth onto the bed, bending down remove Ardeth's sash, then his boots to make him more comfortable. That done, Rick sat down beside his friend, putting his hand on Ardeth's shoulder. He wanted Ardeth to know that he was here and everything would change.
. . .
Lady Ardath stared down at the scene before her, shivering. It was her plan to shock Rick O'Connell into thinking first. She wanted him to grow up, and be a father worthy of her Miriam. But this. . .this was something else entirely. She whispered, even as she felt her lover's hands cupping her shoulders, **What is happening to him, Rameses?** He pulled her against his body, gently kissing the side of her head.
**This is the doing of the Guardians,** Rameses answered grimly, **when they first arrived in London.** Ardath closed her eyes, remembering the fight in question. One of the Guardians grazed her child's palm with his dagger. Her eyes flew open as it hit her, and she turned in his arms to face Rameses. Her beloved nodded, adding, **Yes, my Ardath. The blade was poisoned.**
Ardath actually felt dizzy at that moment, and Rameses released her shoulders to cup her face in his hands. She whispered numbly, though she feared the answer, **What part did we play in this, my Rameses? I only wanted Rick O'Connell to stop lashing out at our child, stop taking him for granted. Did we. . . did our plans have anything to do with this?** Rameses leaned forward, gently kissing her forehead.
**No, my love. Remember. The Guardians belong to Horus and Isis. I think it is very likely that these plans have been in the making since my sister's reincarnation went on that last expedition, and recovered the Necklace. We merely pushed the schedule up last night. Indeed, my love. . .our plotting may have saved Ardeth's life, for it was guilt which drove O'Connell out here today,** Rameses answered.
Ardath stepped closer to her beloved, wrapping her arms around his waist. They were not here long. They knew that more than six months passed since their reunion, in the mortal world, but to them, it was a mere breath. At least until they watched the lives of the mortals, and then it seemed that time slowed down. By going to the Place In-Between, time slowed down further.
The visions which they showed to the O'Connells, plus Jonathan Carnahan, were but a small sample. There were several variations on a theme, but the result was the same. Disaster for her daughter's new family. She whispered against Rameses' shoulder, **I still do not understand. O'Connell is not like Meela. . .but he is still very different from Terumun. Experiences leave a mark on our souls, I understand, but. . .**
Rameses sighed and answered, **Even in our time, love, Terumun was thus. He was just much better at hiding it, because the Med-jai were his life. That is what separates O'Connell from Terumun. Not because their basic personality is different, for it is not. Their basic personality is the same. . .just as yours and Celia's are the same, just as Nefertiri and Evelyn's personalities are the same. The difference, my love, is in the scope. Terumun simply had a wider scope to those whom he loved than O'Connell.**
Rameses tightened his arms around her waist, adding, **And in the end, O'Connell is learning, my Ardath. He now sees what his world would be like, without Ardeth. He sees what could have happened. And now, he is committed to making things right with the boy, just as we hoped he would be.** Ardath nodded a bit numbly and she turned in Rameses' arms once more, so that she was once more facing the mortals.
O'Connell sat beside her child, carefully removing his boots and sash. Ardath sensed the American's alarm. Her child did not awaken even briefly. He made no movement, not even a sound, when O'Connell picked him up at the train station. The concubine knew her namesake and descendant was in a coma, deeply unconscious. But still, she whispered, **I know you are right, my love. I just. . .hate to see him suffer.**
Her voice broke on the last two words. She pressed one hand to her mouth, tears smarting in her eyes. Rameses said nothing, just held her. She knew it was difficult for him, because he saw the same things she did. Not in the same way, of course, but it was difficult to simply observe and never get involved. This was the hard part of her afterlife, marring an otherwise joyous existence. It was always so. Through the years, before her rebirths, Ardath watched and waited, and mourned when one of her children suffered. But it was most painful, watching this young man struggle through life.
Perhaps it was his breathtaking resemblance to both her beloved and to the son she bore only days before her death, but this Ardeth Bey was always special to her. He carried her name, a variation at least. This beautiful, compassionate, fierce young man who was the same as a little boy. After her own death, Ardath found it hard to come back to her family. Of course, in those early years, she was bound to her own crypt.
It took almost fifteen mortal years for her to find a way to pass the walls of the crypt, and by that time, there was little of her Rameses remaining. But Ardath could not abandon him, any more than she could abandon their son. By this time, Ardeth was almost a young man, and raising his little sister Paziyah. So, she was denied the chance to see her child grow up. It wasn't until this century that Ardath found her second chance.
**I hate to see him suffer as well. And like you, my love,** Rameses added, **I see his pain even through his unconsciousness. But you know once this test is done, he will be fine.** That was what worried Ardath, more than anything. Rameses knew this as well, for he knew that the test wasn't one which their distant grandchild needed to pass. . .but it was a test for the loud-mouthed American who denied what he was.
And because Rameses knew what frightened her, Ardath chose not to reply. Instead, she concentrated on the agony rippling through her child's body. The fever mounted, even as Rick O'Connell called for water and ice to cool him down. In Ardeth's anguished mind, too, the concubine saw clearly. It was a mess of images. . .his father's death when he was thirteen, throwing his young life into chaos, among other things.
Rameses saw as well and murmured, **The son becomes the father, and the father is reborn yet again.** Ardath nodded. Suleiman Bey was the reincarnation of their son Ardeth. With his death twenty years earlier, in mortal thinking, another cycle began. This time, he was reborn far away from the Med-jai, the gods providing him with a holiday of sorts. A similar holiday awaited Ardeth after this lifetime.
**Tell me truthfully, Rameses, for you have never answered this question. In the years after. . .after everything went wrong. In the lifetimes your reincarnations would not acknowledge their love for mine. . .was Terumun your brother in fact? Are there more reasons why our child refers to O'Connell as his brother?** Ardath asked bluntly. Rameses chuckled, and it was all Ardath could do to keep from elbowing him.
**Yes, my love. Just as Nefertiri was my sister in some lives, Terumun was my brother in others. The sons of the same father, or the same mother. There is another reason. He is the Med-jai of the West, as Ardeth mentioned,** Rameses explained. Ardath nodded, remembering the conversation in front of the British Museum, resisting the temptation to knock Rick O'Connell into the next century (the next millenium as well). 'I am a stranger traveling from the East, seeking that which is lost.'
**I know, Rameses, but what I do not understand is what that means. For all my conversations with Sennefer, and other Med-jai, they never explained exactly what the Med-jai of the West was,** Ardath answered. She heard in her memory, the answer from O'Connell, 'I am a stranger traveling from the West, it is I whom you seek.' And it was then that her struggle not to knock O'Connell into the next century became truly strong.
Rameses hesitated, then replied, **Completion, love. You are from the West, and I am from the East. You complete me. It is the same with Ardeth and Rick. They cannot fight alone. They must stand beside each other, or all is lost. It is the final part of the curse unleashed by Hamadi Bey. It means things have come full circle, just as Garai thought. Imhotep had to rise a third time, in order for the curse to be broken.**
But Ardath was seeing something else. . .another thread in the tapestry. She murmured, **Completion. . .full circle. Rameses, among the Chinese, there is a concept, known as yin and yang. Balance. O'Connell returning to the Med-jai is a return to that balance, the return of something they lost years ago. But the question is. . .what? Why is O'Connell so very important, and what does our child see that we do not?**
. . .
Down below, in the world of the mortals, all hell just broke loose. Actually, that happened earlier, as soon as an incensed Evy awoke Jonathan, wondering just why he found it necessary to bring her son home from boarding school. Though only half-awake, Jonathan retorted that he thought it best if Alex was home. . .after all, did Evy want to explain to her son during his next return home that she almost died?
Maybe because he was only barely awake, he reacted more vehemently than he would have usually, but dash it all, he was trying to help! Evy promptly burst into tears. That had the effect of making Jonathan feel like a louse, and while trying to comfort his sister, Jonathan learned that Alex spotted Celia and Ardeth leaving this morning. Evy was desperately worried about Ardeth, who was likely ill.
Jonathan, knowing how badly Evy handled fear when there was nothing she could do, forgave her. He packed her off to the kitchen, to drink some tea, set Alex up as a sentinel, and got dressed. Not even a half hour later, Alex screamed, "MUM! UNCLE JON! They're back!" Jonathan almost tripped over a chair, unable to shake the feeling that he would be needed. Never mind if he was out of the house before Rick pulled up. Never mind, because he was right about Rick needing help. . .he saw that immediately.
Jonathan gulped when he saw Ardeth in the backseat. . .he didn't look good. . .but all he asked was, "What can I do to help?" Rick opened the back door and handed the bags to Jonathan, before lifting Ardeth into his arms. His friend's head lolled back, and Jonathan gasped, "Oh dear God. EVY! Alex!" He grabbed the bags, moving out of Rick's way. His brother- in-law was in his mission mode, and it was best not to interfere.
At the same time, Evy left the kitchen and joined them outside, Alex hovering at her side anxiously. While Jonathan knew Evy wanted to help Ardeth, her eyes focused on Celia. Ardeth's wife still sat numbly in the back of the car. Her eyes narrowed, as they always did when she had a purpose. Knowing that Celia would be in good hands, Jonathan carried the bags inside, following Rick.
Evy was still helping Celia out of the car, her arm wrapped supportively around her waist. Alex took up position on the other side, taking Celia's hand. As they drew the ashen-faced young woman inside, Evy called, "Get him upstairs to his room, Rick. Celia, darling, I'll be right back. Alex, stay with Auntie Celia. Get her anything she needs."
Just ahead of him, Jonathan saw Rick nod, but his attention was focused solely on getting Ardeth to a bed. Jonathan inhaled a little, seeing a familiar figure in front of him. His companion from the previous night, an anxious-looking Anck-su-namun. Rick must have seen her as well, but he passed right through her, as if she wasn't even there. She bit her lower lip, and Jonathan could tell she was fighting back tears. He didn't want to feel sorry for her. But Jonathan knew how much she grew to love Ardeth.
Jonathan set the bags down just inside the room which Celia and Ardeth shared the previous night, asking softly, "What do you need?" Rick didn't answer, as he was removing Ardeth's clothes. An inappropriate comment came to Jonathan's mind, but he kept it to himself. This was neither the time nor the place, and judging from Rick's expression, the American would clobber him if he did say something.
"Some ice. . .water. . .anything like that. He never woke up, Jonathan. He's burning up with fever. . .he never even moaned when I picked him up," Rick rambled. It was like he wasn't even there, because in the very next minute, Rick added, "Hold off on the cold stuff. . .I need help with these damn robes of his." Jonathan darted over to the bed, and Rick muttered, "Hold him."
Hold him, indeed. . .the words brought back unpleasant memories of Hamunaptra. But it was that memory which prompted Jonathan to slide behind Ardeth on the bed and ease him into a sitting position. His blood ran cold. As Rick said, Ardeth made not a sound. . .not even a whimper. Jonathan firmly grasped his shoulders, allowing Rick to remove the robes. Jonathan almost yelped when he realized that the Med-jai robes were soaked with sweat. . .no doubt, the result of the fever.
"What can I do to help, Dads?" Alex asked from the door way. He swallowed hard, seeing the unconscious chieftain slumped against Jonathan while Rick finished removing the robes. Now Ardeth was down to only his trousers. Alex whispered, "He looks terrible. Like he did after the Mummy Warrior hurt him." The Mummy Warrior on the double decker bus. Jonathan wanted to smile, but found he couldn't.
"Alex, I need you to go into the bathroom and wet a washcloth. Make it as cold as you can. Ardeth is burning up, and we have got to bring his fever down," Rick said tersely. The little boy bobbed his head once and raced into the bathroom, grateful to have any job, no matter how small. Jonathan could relate. It was then that Evy appeared in the door, one hand resting on her belly and the other in the small of her back.
Rick asked, glancing up briefly as he helped Jonathan to ease Ardeth down, "Evy, sweetheart, do we have any ice downstairs?" When she nodded, he continued, "Great. We may need it. What about Celia, where is she, where did you leave her?" Evy didn't answer at first, and Jonathan looked up to see her eyes focused solely on Ardeth. Her lips were trembling. She looked so scared.
Then Alex burst out of the bathroom, carrying a now-dripping washcloth, and Evy said, "She's downstairs. Anck-su-namun is with her. I should get back to her, the poor thing's in shock." Jonathan almost asked which 'her' was in shock, then remembered whose husband was currently comatose and burning up with fever. The ghost looked rather anxious as well, but that was something entirely different. Jonathan had no doubt part of her anxiety came from her inability to help her friend.
"Before you see to Celia, do me a favor, honey. Take Alex and get a basin. Fill it up with water and ice cubes. That'll help bring the fever down," Rick requested, though it sounded like an order. He looked up from Ardeth, making eye contact with everyone in the room, then said, "We work in shifts. We wash him down, and we keep it up until the fever breaks. We are not, I repeat, are not gonna lose him. Least of all like this."
All nodded, and Rick turned his attention back to Ardeth. His face changed, became softer, and he whispered, "You just rest, buddy. We'll take care of you. . .just concentrate on getting better." Jonathan knew that he wasn't the only one who dreamed of other realities where they faced disaster, and the Englishman was realizing that those dreams hit Rick hard. It hit both Evy and Jonathan hard, but Rick was the wild card.
Which hurt him the most? Seeing Ardeth die in the arms of his older brother, the brother who was so much like Rick? Did he view the reality where Ardeth sacrificed his life to save Evy, only to have her sacrifice her own to save Rick? Did he see the reality where Imhotep rose nearly two decades earlier, enslaving the Med-jai children? Did he see the moment where Imhotep murdered the Med-jai warriors in full view of their children, and then murdered the mothers as well? That one frightened Jonathan.
It frightened Anck-su-namun as well, that alternate reality of 1913. In that dream place, it was much harder for her to hide her emotions. . .and Jonathan saw how badly that reality frightened her. On their anniversary of rebirth, Imhotep gave two gifts to her. One was a young Med- jai boy, who was her personal plaything and eventual downfall. The other was information about her best friend's reincarnation. The latter, of course, was Celia. . .and the former was a thirteen year old Ardeth Bey.
*That didn't come true,* he told himself as he slipped from the room, *that didn't come true, and it won't, either.* Jonathan ignored Rick. . .he wouldn't be needed for a while, after all, and Celia was no doubt out of her mind with sheer terror. This was real. This was true. Ardeth was very ill, yes. . .but he was alive, and every person in this house would fight to make sure he stayed that way.
. . .
She should have been furious with Rick O'Connell, but right now, Anck- su-namun wasn't interested in being angry. Celia was hurting and frightened, and she was Anck's top priority. Now, more than ever, she hated not having a physical body. She wanted to put her arms around Celia, or take her hand, or do something. Her friend desperately needed physical contact, but right now, Anck knew that Ardeth had to take first priority with those in this house with a mortal body.
All except one, it seemed. Jonathan Carnahan made his way downstairs, his eyes focused on Celia. He saw Anck, but only gave her a nod. The ghost bit her lip. It would be a long time before this family trusted her, if ever. . .she gave them no reason in the world to trust her. She killed Seti in full view of his daughter, with help from Imhotep. And then there was the matter of Meela. Her reincarnation killed Evelyn O'Connell, helped to kidnap her as well as her son. And she did it while Anck shared her body.
But it still hurt. Especially since they thought she would hurt Celia. Not even Meela would have done that. Much as Anck hated her reincarnation, she knew that Meela would have never harmed the reincarnation of Ardath. **Are you so sure,** an insidious voice inside her soul whispered, **are you so sure that Meela would have loved Celia, just because you do, Anck-su-namun? You never hated Nefertiri. . .resented her, yes. But you never hated her, never wanted to hurt her. . .and yet, Meela killed her.**
Enough! Jonathan sat down opposite Celia and took her hands, whispering in the ancient tongue, "The circle is closing, my queen." She raised her head to look at him, a weak smile appearing. Anck felt her head snap up at that.
The circle is closing. Earlier, she faded into the Place In-Between, catching part of a conversation between Ardath and Rameses. And a circle was mentioned then. East and West, completion. . .balance. It was a conversation about the strange bond O'Connell had to the Med-jai, why he was so important to them. Anck didn't fully understand herself, but in this, she was not alone. Which was comforting to know.
But those words kept repeating in her head. Completion. . .balance. Things coming full circle. Did her forever friend know something about what was happening to Ardeth? Anck shook her head, distracted. Never mind. She would worry about that later. Instead, she turned her attention back to Celia and Jonathan. The Englishman was quietly holding her friend's hand while Celia choked out the entire story of what happened at the train station, culminating in Rick's arrival.
She knew this story, of course. She was at Celia's side during the journey. Anck didn't leave her until they reached the O'Connell home, and she phased out briefly to the Place In-Between. But that was the only time she left her friend. Even so, Celia's hoarse voice broke her heart as she listened. As her friend fell silent, Jonathan leaned forward and said softly, "Now you listen to me, Cecelia Anne Ferguson Bey. That man is one of the strongest, bravest men I've ever known. He doesn't give up, he doesn't know how."
Celia bobbed her head, and Anck rolled her eyes. Yes, Celia *knew* that she married a strong, brave man. She didn't need Jonathan Carnahan to tell her that. What she needed now, more than anything else, was support, not platitudes! As if hearing her, Jonathan glared in her general direction, then continued, "Right now, I'm more worried about you. I know you've been through hell in the last few hours."
"I'm okay," Celia insisted, though that sounded strained. She bobbed her head and fortunately, Jonathan saw right through her. Anck realized the previous night, while she showed him a different set of what might have beens, that Jonathan was as much of a fool as Nassor was. Not at all. He liked to preserve the expectation that he was a clown and a fool, but there was more to him than that.
Anck smiled briefly. There was a time, before she fell in love with Imhotep, when she was infatuated with Nassor. That was, of course, also before she realized that he would never look at her with desire. But to the end of her life, Nassor remained a good and true friend to her. And like Nefertiri, he picked up the pieces of a world which Anck shattered when she and Imhotep killed Seti. For the first time, she acknowledged that truth. And it was that acknowledgment came a desire to put things to right. There was nothing she could do for anyone else. . .but Ardath's reincarnation *did* need her.
So she concentrated on becoming whole. She wanted a physical body, if only for a few minutes. She would not accept the tainted body and soul of Meela Nais, she would not accept the violation of Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell. She would only accept one thing. . .being able to touch her best friend, her beloved little sister, with her own flesh. It might only work for a few minutes, but she was willing to take that chance.
And so she focused. She focused her rage at Meela Nais, her grief over the loss of her friend, her frustration with Rick O'Connell. She focused her concern for Ardeth and for Celia, her need to earn the forgiveness of Evelyn O'Connell. . .and when she could focus no more, Anck- su-namun reached out and lay her palm against the back of Celia's hand. She gasped when she felt skin connect with skin.
Celia's head jerked up, and she looked at Anck in surprise. The ghost gave her a nervous smile. This was the first time since Hamunaptra that she was able to touch her friend. Celia just stared at her for a few breaths, and during that time, Anck was afraid she went too far. And then. . .Celia smiled at her. It wavered a little bit, but it was a genuine, from-her-heart smile. The living woman curled her fingers around Anck's.
She couldn't sustain this for long. And Anck would end up paying the price later. She knew that. But it was worth it. Worth it to feel some of the tension ease from her friend's body, worth it to see that smile. Celia whispered, once more switching to the old tongue, "Thank you, my friend." And then, she did something that surprised Anck. She lifted the other woman's hand and rested it against her cheek.
Anck swallowed hard, feeling the wetness of Celia's tears, as well as the warmth of her skin. Things she hadn't truly felt in three thousand years. She understood, then, that the relationship between Rick O'Connell and Ardeth Bey would not be the only one mended in this house over the next few days. Until now, Anck hadn't realized that there were also bridges to be mended between herself and Celia.
Unfortunately, as all things must, Anck began to lose that precious contact with her friend. She could have wept when she no longer felt moisture or flesh against the back of her hand, when she no longer felt fingers curled lovingly within her own. But she knew it would happen. She knew that would come, though she tried to prepare herself for the moment when she began to lose her physical reality. It still hurt, however.
This was the price she paid for her crimes, all those years ago. She was denied the gift of being there for her best friend, when she was needed the most. Only now did Anck understand what she cut out of her life, out of her heart, for all these years. Like Rameses, she refused the gift offered by Ardath's reincarnations. Only now, too, did she understand how similar she was to Rick O'Connell and to Terumun, much as she hated to admit it. She bowed her head, whispering in both the old tongue and the new, "Forgive me, my dear sister. Forgive me for despairing, and losing my faith in you."
A gentle smile touched the face of her companion. It was Ardath's smile. . .and Celia's. They were two separate women, separated by three thousand years and countless lifetimes. But their spirits were the same. Perhaps that was why Anck couldn't forgive Meela. They were different women, just as Celia and Ardath were. . .but they were also the same, and Anck feared that Meela was a mirror to her own soul. She was afraid that she had the same greed, the same love for inflicting pain as Meela. Not just on people who hurt her, but anyone who was unfortunate to find themselves in her way.
Anck was told that Meela abandoned Imhotep and killed Evelyn O'Connell, Nefertiri reborn. Ma'at told her that, as did Mathayus. But the self-doubt kept creeping back. Meela was her reincarnation, she had Anck's memories and her spirit. Where was the line between Meela's soul and her own? Anck did not know, and that frightened her. But if she had any doubts, her companion did not.
"Don't you know by now, Anck," Celia whispered, "that I will *always forgive you? There has never been a time, Anck-su-namun, during the last six months, when you failed me. You have never failed to watch my back. There is nothing to forgive, my sister." Anck managed a watery smile as she gazed at her beloved friend, and wondered if Rick O'Connell would find such unquestioning forgiveness when the time came to settle accounts with Ardeth.
Deana: I know. Those scenes made me cry, too, while I was writing them. Our beautiful Med-jai isn't quite out of danger yet, though.
Dawn: 'Ello, m'dear! I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and I'll properly respond to your email in a bit, when I don't feel like I've been hit by a Mack truck!
Part Four
Alex O'Connell had no idea what woke him. The previous night, Uncle Jon came to the boarding school and told the headmaster that there was a family emergency. Alex was needed at home. Because they knew Uncle Jon, the headmaster allowed him to go. On the drive home, Alex learned that there was an attack on his Mum, an attack stopped by Ardeth and Auntie Celia.
His mum was fine, but Dads blamed Ardeth for the attack. Uncle Jon was afraid that Ardeth would leave and they would never see him again. He wanted Alex's help in convincing their friend to stay. Now, the boy watched in silence as Auntie Celia flagged a cab. Alex hesitated, not knowing what to do, then his mouth firmed. He slipped down from the window and out of his room, down the hall to his parents' room.
He shook his mum, whispering, "Mum. . .Mum!" He waited until her eyes opened, then continued, "Mum, Auntie Celia and Ardeth just left, you gotta bring them back!" He meant 'you' in general, not that his mother should go after them herself. She would have a baby any day now, and Dad would never allow her to go. Her eyes slid shut, but Alex shook her again, saying, "Mum! Ardeth needs you!"
That woke her up. She sat up, and Alex repeated what he saw. His mother's eyes widened and she slid from the bed. Mum went to the guest bedroom, swearing rather impressively when she found the room empty, and the bed made. Mum whispered, "Damn you both, why couldn't you wait! Rick would have apologized this morning!" She left the room, probably to wake Dads, and Alex scampered downstairs.
He went to the kitchen, where he noticed something odd about the refrigerator. Drawing closer, he found a piece of paper, with Mum's name on it. Alex pulled it out and opened it, recognizing his aunt's writing immediately. What he found there made his eyes widen, and he ran out of the kitchen, back up the stairs to his parents' room. For once, he didn't bother knocking as he burst inside, crying, "Mum, Dad. . . Ardeth's sick!"
Mum, who was in the middle of a conversation with Dads, turned toward him. Seeing the piece of paper in Alex's hand, she pulled it away, reading it quickly. Alex watched as his mother's face turned ashen, and she whispered, "Celia didn't want to leave today. She tried to convince him to stay, but he refused. Rick, you have to go after them, Ardeth isn't well, and he shouldn't be traveling."
Dad started to protest, but Mum fixed him with a Look, hissing, "You swore to me last night that you would make things right with him today, Rick O'Connell. He left to avoid any more unpleasantness, because he felt unwelcome here. Are you really going to let your pride get the better of you now, when Ardeth needs you most? Must I remind you of the dreams we both had last night?" Unexpectedly, Alex's father went white.
"They have taken a train," an unexpected voice said. Everyone turned to see Anck-su-namun. Alex shouldn't have been surprised, not with her attitude toward Auntie Celia. It seemed like she was never far away. Least of all when she thought Auntie Celia might need her. She seemed to care for Ardeth as well, which Alex found a bit strange. Then again, he found it very strange that she was even on their side now.
Anck-su-namun continued, "They have taken a train, and as Celia said, Ardeth is ill. More ill than he will acknowledge. Earlier, as Celia dressed, he had a dizzy spell." This made both of Alex's parents pale. Mum looked at Dads, and in that moment, Alex saw his father's attitude change. His expression grew determined, and Anck-su-namun added, "Make haste, O'Connell, and remember. . .they travel to Scotland."
"I'm on my way. Evy, stay here, in case Celia calls you. Alex, look after your mother. Anck-su-namun. . .take care of them both until I get there," Dads replied. The ghost merely inclined her head, before fading out altogether, and Dads finished dressing.
He leaned over and kissed Mum on the cheek, though this was one time when Alex wouldn't have minded seeing his parents kiss. It would have meant things were normal, and the little boy was desperately afraid right now. Mum whispered, "Don't come back without them, Rick, please. You heard what she said. Ardeth needs us, and we can't let him down again." Dads nodded determinedly and left the room.
Moments later, Alex heard the roar of Dad's new car. Mum sat down on the bed, wrapping a blanket around hersef, and looking as afraid as Alex felt. The little boy took his mother's hand, and Mum smiled at him. A half second later, her eyes narrowed as she asked, "Alex? Not that I'm not happy to see you, of course. . .but what are you doing home? You should be in school, sweetheart."
Alex flashed his mother a guilty smile, and as he had more than six months earlier, replied, "Mum, I can explain everything!"
. . .
Ardeth hoped that once he was away from the tense O'Connell house, he would feel better. He did not. If anything, he felt worse. Part of it was guilt, of course. He should have said a proper good-bye to Evelyn, regardless of what O'Connell thought of him. He shuddered as the cab bumped along, and felt Celia's cool hand on his warm face. She murmured, "Hang on, darlin,' we're almost there."
She did not say, 'I told you so,' for which Ardeth was extremely grateful. She had every right to say that, and he knew it. He whispered, "I am sorry, Celia. I should have listened to you." He fought back a moan as a sharp pain sliced through his chest. Gods, what was happening to him? He was burning up with fever, his chest ached, as did his head. In fact, he felt as he did after the explosion at Hamunaptra.
A voice said, "'E's not gonna be sick, is 'e, ma'am?" Ardeth would have smiled, if he felt better. When the cabbie picked them up in front of the O'Connell house, Celia bundled him inside, then put the bags at her own feet. The cabbie, blessedly, gave her no difficulty about Ardeth's presence, though the chieftain was sure his own weakened condition might have had something to do with that.
"I hope not. I don't think so, though. You've been very helpful, sir. . .I thank you for that," Celia said softly. Her hand slipped from his cheek to his hair. Ardeth sighed, taking pleasure in the small comforts. They did nothing to alleviate how badly he felt, but they did give him a different focus.
"Oh, it's no problem, ma'am! I served in the French Legion, and I knew men like yer husband," the cabbie replied. He paused, adding, "And a Yank saved me life in the Great War. I could tell by yer accent ye was a Yank." Ardeth heard his wife laugh and the cabbie continued, "So where are ye headed to, ma'am, if ye don't me me askin' ye? If ye ask me, yer husband oughta be in a hospital where they kin take care of him."
"You're probably right," Celia sighed, "but my husband is a very stubborn man, and he refuses to go to a hospital. They make him uncomfortable. We're heading to Scotland, which is where my people come from." Along with Ardeth's, though that was three thousand years in the past. Celia continued, "We were supposed to stay with some friends for a few days, but we had a falling out with my friend's husband."
She paused, and Ardeth opened his eyes to see the cabbie peering at her invitingly. Celia sighed, then said, "You see, my friend is a wonderful lady, and I love her very much. . .but she tends to anger the wrong people. My husband and I interrupted a potential attack, and instead of being grateful, my friend's husband blamed Ardeth."
"Blimey! Pardon me language, ma'am, but that ain't right! Ardeth, heh? That ain't a name I heard in that part o' the world," the cabbie said. The chieftain managed a weak smile. However, it cost him. As another pain tore through his chest, Ardeth no longer had the energy to fight his moans of pain. The cabbie added anxiously, "Ma'am, I ain't gonna tell ye what to do, but I don't think yer man's in any condition to travel."
Celia replied, "My husband is descended from an Egyptian prince and his Scottish concubine. Her name was originally 'Eavan,' but she was renamed 'Ardath' by the Hebrew slaves who raised her. My husband's name is a variation. And my husband is six foot two, one of his people's finest warriors, and at half-strength, he's still stronger than me. Would *you* tell him that he can't do something?" The cabbie roared with laughter. Celia added, "Ardeth, darlin,' we're almost to the train station." Despite the intense pain, that gave Ardeth the strength he needed to sit up and open his eyes.
"Well, best of luck to ye both. And yer Majesty, next time ye oughta listen to yer wife," the cabbie suggested. Your Majesty? The cabbie added, "A man de-scended from royalty oughta be a king. Yer Ladyship, take good care a' him, and if ye ever need a ride, name's Ben York." He got out and opened the door for Ardeth and Celia, helping Ardeth out. The Med-jai managed a shaky nod, though he immediately regretted that.
"Thank you, Ben. My name is Celia F. . .I mean, Celia Bey. . .just in case I do need to call on you again," his wife replied. Ardeth leaned against the cab, squeezing his eyes shut as the dizziness increased. By now, the dizziness was accompanied by waves of nausea. He would have said good-bye to his pride in that moment, and gone back to the O'Connell house. . .except he didn't think he would manage the return trip.
"Celia Bey, it was a pleasure. Here, I'll take care of them bags. . .yer husband needs help," came the cabbie's response. Ardeth felt Celia's arm slip around his waist, and he readied himself to move. He forced his eyes open, almost groaning at the distance to the ticket counter. The good news was, public privies weren't that far away. He could splash cold water on his face, maybe that would help.
"Thanks, Ben. Ardeth. . .why don't you wait there, while I get the tickets?" Celia suggested. With an effort, Ardeth turned his head in the direction Celia was indicating. Thank the gods. She meant the public privies. Ardeth nodded, grimacing at the motion. Not a wise move. The next time he did that, one of two things would happen. Either he would get sick, or his head would fall off. Celia told Ben, "If you wouldn't mind, could you leave the luggage with my husband, and I'll go get the tickets?"
"Do better than that, ma'am. I can wait with yer husband. Don't think he oughta be left alone," Ben replied. Ardeth wasn't looking forward to that, either, and Celia agreed. As they reached the building, Celia gently lowered Ardeth to the ground, and Ben circled the bags around him. Ardeth bit his lip to keep from making any noise. His muscles ached, but he wanted to avoid worrying his wife further.
Celia kissed him, murmuring that she would be right back. Ardeth nodded, keeping his eyes open until she left, then he slumped against the doorway. Mercifully, Ben didn't talk as he did when Celia was around. He only spoke once, saying, "Ye got a damn fine woman, yer Majesty. Reminds me a' me wife, God rest her soul. A damn fine woman indeed." And he didn't take it personally when Ardeth made no answer.
Celia was back almost immediately, saying, "We missed the morning train, Ardeth, and they don't sell tickets for the afternoon train yet." Damn his weakness! Celia turned to Ben and said, "Thank you so much for your help, Ben. I'll take it from here." Ardeth forced his eyes open as his wife shook hands with the cabbie. Ben, a man who looked to be in his sixties, turned Celia's wrist to kiss the back of her hand.
"Was my pleasure. If ye ever get back to the States, and find yerself in Albany, look up Robert Tisdale, and tell 'im that Ben York sent ye," the cabbie replied. He looked at Ardeth, tipping his cap, and said, "And ye best let yer Lady take care of ye, yer Majesty." The Med-jai nodded wearily, and the cabbie was on his way. The couple looked at each other, then Ardeth took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his chest.
"I will return shortly, Celia," he said hoarsely. Celia's dark eyes narrowed, and Ardeth explained, "I wish to splash cold water on my face."
Now she frowned, and looked around. Then she smiled in understanding. She took his hand, lightly kissing his palm, and replied, "I'll be here when you get back, love. Imagine, of all the cabbies in London, we get one who served in the Legion!" The Legion, where O'Connell served. But Ardeth only smiled wearily at his wife. He slid his hand from her grasp, then slowly and painfully made his way into the interior.
Moving like an old man, Ardeth made his way to the sink. It was then that a new pain tore through him. Ardeth doubled over with a gasp, feeling as if his insides were physically torn out. He hung onto the sink, now very aware that he made a mistake in leaving the O'Connell house. This last spasm wiped out much of his remaining reserves of energy, but he still had to return to Celia. With an effort, he straightened up, to make his way back outside. There was a roaring in his ears, and his vision was growing grayer.
The few steps which led him back outside, and to Celia, seemed like the entire distance across the Sahara. And as he stumbled toward his wife, the last of his strength left him. He saw Celia's worried face and tried to smile reassuringly, but his legs gave out, and he collapsed. He heard his wife cry out his name, and felt her arms encircle his waist, but Ardeth was unconscious before he hit the ground.
. . .
For the first five minutes after he left home, Rick O'Connell was driven by a mixture of fear and an overwhelming desire to pound Ardeth Bey into the ground. What the hell was that idiot thinking, leaving when he wasn't well? Of all the stupid-ass stunts to pull, that was probably the most stupid-ass stunts Rick ever knew Ardeth to pull. He expected that from Jonathan, but not from Ardeth, of all people.
But as he drove along, fear overpowered the anger. Ardeth was sick, and when you were sick, or badly hurt, you didn't think clearly. Rick knew how stubborn Ardeth could be. He hurt Ardeth deeply with his rash accusations, and he should have expected this quiet departure. In a twisted way, it actually made sense. Ardeth wanted to avoid any more confrontations, and wanted to avoid causing trouble between the O'Connells.
As he drove, the continuing refrain of 'I was going to apologize,' was replaced by, 'he didn't know that.' Ardeth didn't know about the dreams Rick and Evy had, he knew only that Rick blamed him for the attack against Evy and the baby. Under normal circumstances, Ardeth would have brushed it off. But for some reason, Ardeth's patience snapped. Maybe it was because he chose to interrupt his honeymoon to aid Rick's wife.
And how did Rick repay him? By stabbing him in the back. Rick decided that he was lucky Ardeth was different from his brother. . .because even if Andreas Bey let him live, that little stunt would have earned Rick a few well-placed punches. He shook his head as he pulled into the train station, muttering, "Please let me get there in time, please let Ardeth be all right." *If only to give me the opportunity to choke the living shit out of him for scaring me like this,* Rick added mentally.
He drew to a stop behind a cab, and raced out without even bothering to check for traffic. Ticket counter. . .there. Rick sprinted the distance to the ticket counter, rasping out, "The morning train for Scotland, when does it leave?" He ignored the dirty looks he received from other passengers. . .they didn't matter. Ardeth mattered, and making sure he didn't leave before Rick apologized for being such an ass.
The response he got made his head snap around as the clerk said, "The morning train for Scotland left forty-five minutes ago, sir." All the blood drained from Rick's face. He was too late. Oh God. He was too late. Rick actually felt dizzy, and staggered out of the line. A god was laughing at him. Ardeth was gone. And there was no guarantee that he would even want to see the O'Connells when he returned to England.
"I'm sorry, Ardeth. . .God, I'm so sorry," Rick mumbled, feeling sick. He closed his eyes, swaying on his feet. A memory flashed through his mind. . .Evy in the back seat of a black car, speeding away. A cloth covering her mouth and a curtain falling shut. His son crying out to him, Ardeth Bey right behind him like a dark guardian. The rage he felt when he saw Ardeth, prompting him to grab his best friend's collar, swing him around and slam him into the pedestal, yelling, 'what the hell are you doing here?'
If Ardeth was here, something terrible happened, and Rick just couldn't accept that his family would once more play a part in the end of the world. He ignored the soft grunt of pain drawn from Ardeth at the forceful shove, because he didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to believe that this man put his life on the line to protect Rick's family, because if Rick's family was in danger, then it was Ardeth's fault.
But of course, it wasn't. It wasn't Ardeth's fault that Rick's family couldn't stay away from trouble. He repeated, stumbling through the crowd, "I'm so sorry. I know you were just trying to protect us, trying to protect your people. I'm sorry." He had to get to the bathroom. . .he was sure he would throw up, and he really didn't want to do it in public. He didn't know everyone to know just how badly he failed his best friend.
He stumbled into the men's public restroom and into a stall, falling to his knees. The first spasm hit as his knees connected with the hard cement, but nothing came up. Rick remained there for several moments, retching. When the spasms finally ended, he leaned against the stalls, blinking back tears which he forcefully told himself were from the retching. The truth was, he didn't want to go home without Ardeth or Celia. Evy would never forgive him, and truthfully, Rick wouldn't forgive himself any time soon.
But he couldn't stay here forever. Reluctantly, he got up and flushed the toilet, then opened the door. He was the only one in here, thank God, and he staggered to the sink. He splashed cold water on his face until he felt human again. Rick straightened up and took a deep breath, wiping his wet hands on his trousers. He had to get back to the house. . .Celia might have called before the train departed.
But as he left the men's restroom, he heard a voice. . .a woman's voice. She was crying. Rick looked to his right, the source of the voice, actually afraid of what he would find. And when his eyes landed on the small woman kneeling on the ground, a still form in black cradled against her body, Rick almost moaned aloud. She didn't see him yet, but he saw the tears on her face as Celia Bey called out, "Help, someone, please?"
"Celia!" Rick cried out, rushing over to her. Her head jerked up, and to Rick's eternal shame, the gaze that greeted him wasn't angry, but relieved. Rick did this, and she was relieved to see him. But Rick pushed those feelings away, kneeling beside Ardeth, and pressed the back of his hand to Ardeth's forehead, jerking it away. He asked, gently gathering his friend in his arms, "What happened, he's burning up?"
"He collapsed. He. . .he. . .I knew he wasn't feeling well, and I asked him if he wanted to go back, but he wouldn't. He. . .we missed the train, and I thought we could wait until it was time to buy tickets for the later one. He. . .he went into the bathroom, to wash his face, but when he came out, he just collapsed. I couldn't get anyone to help me, Rick, I couldn't call you and Evy," Celia replied, her voice breaking.
Rick asked nothing more. He just carefully lifted Ardeth, painfully aware that Ardeth didn't even moan when he was moved. Celia scrambled to her feet, gathering the luggage. Rick didn't ask if she was coming. . .he knew better. With a grim expression, he made his way through the crowd. Passengers and their families parted to make room for the enraged American with the small young woman scrambling behind him.
Once they reached the car, Rick ordered, "Drop the bags. Open the door, and get in." Celia, amazingly, didn't argue with him. She did exactly what she was told, dropping the bags on the curb beside the car, opened the door, and quickly slid in. Now came the tricky part. . .easing Ardeth into the car and into her arms. Ardeth was a dead weight in his arms, but Rick managed to lower his friend to the seat.
Celia put her arms around Ardeth, drawing him against her own body. Rick slid his legs sideways, then put the bags at his feet. That done, he slammed the door and got inside. Nothing more was said, except Celia quietly murmuring to Ardeth. What was happening to him, why was he like this? Rick was silent on the drive back, and much to his relief as he pulled into the driveway, Jonathan was outside, ready to help. Would wonders never cease. Rick pulled the car all the way up to the entrance of the house.
Jonathan paled when he saw Ardeth, but only asked, "What can I do?" Rick didn't bother with words. Instead, he opened the back door and handed the bags to Jonathan, before lifting Ardeth into his arms. His brother-in- law gasped, "Oh dear God. EVY! Alex!" Evy came out, her mouth opening at the sight of her brother cradled in Rick's arms. Jonathan carried the bags inside, following behind Rick.
The American glanced over his shoulder, as his wife helped Celia out of the car. Evy called, "Get him upstairs to his room, Rick. Celia, darling, I'll be right back." Rick nodded, and ahead of him, he saw an anxious-looking Anck-su-namun. But he passed through the ghost, unwilling to grant her the courtesy of moving around her. He had Ardeth, and Anck-su- namun should have been doing something.
But his true anger was saved for himself. As Rick reached the last step, then carried Ardeth into his room, he began to pray. He wasn't sure who would hear his prayers, but he had to ask Whoever was listening to help. He eased Ardeth onto the bed, bending down remove Ardeth's sash, then his boots to make him more comfortable. That done, Rick sat down beside his friend, putting his hand on Ardeth's shoulder. He wanted Ardeth to know that he was here and everything would change.
. . .
Lady Ardath stared down at the scene before her, shivering. It was her plan to shock Rick O'Connell into thinking first. She wanted him to grow up, and be a father worthy of her Miriam. But this. . .this was something else entirely. She whispered, even as she felt her lover's hands cupping her shoulders, **What is happening to him, Rameses?** He pulled her against his body, gently kissing the side of her head.
**This is the doing of the Guardians,** Rameses answered grimly, **when they first arrived in London.** Ardath closed her eyes, remembering the fight in question. One of the Guardians grazed her child's palm with his dagger. Her eyes flew open as it hit her, and she turned in his arms to face Rameses. Her beloved nodded, adding, **Yes, my Ardath. The blade was poisoned.**
Ardath actually felt dizzy at that moment, and Rameses released her shoulders to cup her face in his hands. She whispered numbly, though she feared the answer, **What part did we play in this, my Rameses? I only wanted Rick O'Connell to stop lashing out at our child, stop taking him for granted. Did we. . . did our plans have anything to do with this?** Rameses leaned forward, gently kissing her forehead.
**No, my love. Remember. The Guardians belong to Horus and Isis. I think it is very likely that these plans have been in the making since my sister's reincarnation went on that last expedition, and recovered the Necklace. We merely pushed the schedule up last night. Indeed, my love. . .our plotting may have saved Ardeth's life, for it was guilt which drove O'Connell out here today,** Rameses answered.
Ardath stepped closer to her beloved, wrapping her arms around his waist. They were not here long. They knew that more than six months passed since their reunion, in the mortal world, but to them, it was a mere breath. At least until they watched the lives of the mortals, and then it seemed that time slowed down. By going to the Place In-Between, time slowed down further.
The visions which they showed to the O'Connells, plus Jonathan Carnahan, were but a small sample. There were several variations on a theme, but the result was the same. Disaster for her daughter's new family. She whispered against Rameses' shoulder, **I still do not understand. O'Connell is not like Meela. . .but he is still very different from Terumun. Experiences leave a mark on our souls, I understand, but. . .**
Rameses sighed and answered, **Even in our time, love, Terumun was thus. He was just much better at hiding it, because the Med-jai were his life. That is what separates O'Connell from Terumun. Not because their basic personality is different, for it is not. Their basic personality is the same. . .just as yours and Celia's are the same, just as Nefertiri and Evelyn's personalities are the same. The difference, my love, is in the scope. Terumun simply had a wider scope to those whom he loved than O'Connell.**
Rameses tightened his arms around her waist, adding, **And in the end, O'Connell is learning, my Ardath. He now sees what his world would be like, without Ardeth. He sees what could have happened. And now, he is committed to making things right with the boy, just as we hoped he would be.** Ardath nodded a bit numbly and she turned in Rameses' arms once more, so that she was once more facing the mortals.
O'Connell sat beside her child, carefully removing his boots and sash. Ardath sensed the American's alarm. Her child did not awaken even briefly. He made no movement, not even a sound, when O'Connell picked him up at the train station. The concubine knew her namesake and descendant was in a coma, deeply unconscious. But still, she whispered, **I know you are right, my love. I just. . .hate to see him suffer.**
Her voice broke on the last two words. She pressed one hand to her mouth, tears smarting in her eyes. Rameses said nothing, just held her. She knew it was difficult for him, because he saw the same things she did. Not in the same way, of course, but it was difficult to simply observe and never get involved. This was the hard part of her afterlife, marring an otherwise joyous existence. It was always so. Through the years, before her rebirths, Ardath watched and waited, and mourned when one of her children suffered. But it was most painful, watching this young man struggle through life.
Perhaps it was his breathtaking resemblance to both her beloved and to the son she bore only days before her death, but this Ardeth Bey was always special to her. He carried her name, a variation at least. This beautiful, compassionate, fierce young man who was the same as a little boy. After her own death, Ardath found it hard to come back to her family. Of course, in those early years, she was bound to her own crypt.
It took almost fifteen mortal years for her to find a way to pass the walls of the crypt, and by that time, there was little of her Rameses remaining. But Ardath could not abandon him, any more than she could abandon their son. By this time, Ardeth was almost a young man, and raising his little sister Paziyah. So, she was denied the chance to see her child grow up. It wasn't until this century that Ardath found her second chance.
**I hate to see him suffer as well. And like you, my love,** Rameses added, **I see his pain even through his unconsciousness. But you know once this test is done, he will be fine.** That was what worried Ardath, more than anything. Rameses knew this as well, for he knew that the test wasn't one which their distant grandchild needed to pass. . .but it was a test for the loud-mouthed American who denied what he was.
And because Rameses knew what frightened her, Ardath chose not to reply. Instead, she concentrated on the agony rippling through her child's body. The fever mounted, even as Rick O'Connell called for water and ice to cool him down. In Ardeth's anguished mind, too, the concubine saw clearly. It was a mess of images. . .his father's death when he was thirteen, throwing his young life into chaos, among other things.
Rameses saw as well and murmured, **The son becomes the father, and the father is reborn yet again.** Ardath nodded. Suleiman Bey was the reincarnation of their son Ardeth. With his death twenty years earlier, in mortal thinking, another cycle began. This time, he was reborn far away from the Med-jai, the gods providing him with a holiday of sorts. A similar holiday awaited Ardeth after this lifetime.
**Tell me truthfully, Rameses, for you have never answered this question. In the years after. . .after everything went wrong. In the lifetimes your reincarnations would not acknowledge their love for mine. . .was Terumun your brother in fact? Are there more reasons why our child refers to O'Connell as his brother?** Ardath asked bluntly. Rameses chuckled, and it was all Ardath could do to keep from elbowing him.
**Yes, my love. Just as Nefertiri was my sister in some lives, Terumun was my brother in others. The sons of the same father, or the same mother. There is another reason. He is the Med-jai of the West, as Ardeth mentioned,** Rameses explained. Ardath nodded, remembering the conversation in front of the British Museum, resisting the temptation to knock Rick O'Connell into the next century (the next millenium as well). 'I am a stranger traveling from the East, seeking that which is lost.'
**I know, Rameses, but what I do not understand is what that means. For all my conversations with Sennefer, and other Med-jai, they never explained exactly what the Med-jai of the West was,** Ardath answered. She heard in her memory, the answer from O'Connell, 'I am a stranger traveling from the West, it is I whom you seek.' And it was then that her struggle not to knock O'Connell into the next century became truly strong.
Rameses hesitated, then replied, **Completion, love. You are from the West, and I am from the East. You complete me. It is the same with Ardeth and Rick. They cannot fight alone. They must stand beside each other, or all is lost. It is the final part of the curse unleashed by Hamadi Bey. It means things have come full circle, just as Garai thought. Imhotep had to rise a third time, in order for the curse to be broken.**
But Ardath was seeing something else. . .another thread in the tapestry. She murmured, **Completion. . .full circle. Rameses, among the Chinese, there is a concept, known as yin and yang. Balance. O'Connell returning to the Med-jai is a return to that balance, the return of something they lost years ago. But the question is. . .what? Why is O'Connell so very important, and what does our child see that we do not?**
. . .
Down below, in the world of the mortals, all hell just broke loose. Actually, that happened earlier, as soon as an incensed Evy awoke Jonathan, wondering just why he found it necessary to bring her son home from boarding school. Though only half-awake, Jonathan retorted that he thought it best if Alex was home. . .after all, did Evy want to explain to her son during his next return home that she almost died?
Maybe because he was only barely awake, he reacted more vehemently than he would have usually, but dash it all, he was trying to help! Evy promptly burst into tears. That had the effect of making Jonathan feel like a louse, and while trying to comfort his sister, Jonathan learned that Alex spotted Celia and Ardeth leaving this morning. Evy was desperately worried about Ardeth, who was likely ill.
Jonathan, knowing how badly Evy handled fear when there was nothing she could do, forgave her. He packed her off to the kitchen, to drink some tea, set Alex up as a sentinel, and got dressed. Not even a half hour later, Alex screamed, "MUM! UNCLE JON! They're back!" Jonathan almost tripped over a chair, unable to shake the feeling that he would be needed. Never mind if he was out of the house before Rick pulled up. Never mind, because he was right about Rick needing help. . .he saw that immediately.
Jonathan gulped when he saw Ardeth in the backseat. . .he didn't look good. . .but all he asked was, "What can I do to help?" Rick opened the back door and handed the bags to Jonathan, before lifting Ardeth into his arms. His friend's head lolled back, and Jonathan gasped, "Oh dear God. EVY! Alex!" He grabbed the bags, moving out of Rick's way. His brother- in-law was in his mission mode, and it was best not to interfere.
At the same time, Evy left the kitchen and joined them outside, Alex hovering at her side anxiously. While Jonathan knew Evy wanted to help Ardeth, her eyes focused on Celia. Ardeth's wife still sat numbly in the back of the car. Her eyes narrowed, as they always did when she had a purpose. Knowing that Celia would be in good hands, Jonathan carried the bags inside, following Rick.
Evy was still helping Celia out of the car, her arm wrapped supportively around her waist. Alex took up position on the other side, taking Celia's hand. As they drew the ashen-faced young woman inside, Evy called, "Get him upstairs to his room, Rick. Celia, darling, I'll be right back. Alex, stay with Auntie Celia. Get her anything she needs."
Just ahead of him, Jonathan saw Rick nod, but his attention was focused solely on getting Ardeth to a bed. Jonathan inhaled a little, seeing a familiar figure in front of him. His companion from the previous night, an anxious-looking Anck-su-namun. Rick must have seen her as well, but he passed right through her, as if she wasn't even there. She bit her lower lip, and Jonathan could tell she was fighting back tears. He didn't want to feel sorry for her. But Jonathan knew how much she grew to love Ardeth.
Jonathan set the bags down just inside the room which Celia and Ardeth shared the previous night, asking softly, "What do you need?" Rick didn't answer, as he was removing Ardeth's clothes. An inappropriate comment came to Jonathan's mind, but he kept it to himself. This was neither the time nor the place, and judging from Rick's expression, the American would clobber him if he did say something.
"Some ice. . .water. . .anything like that. He never woke up, Jonathan. He's burning up with fever. . .he never even moaned when I picked him up," Rick rambled. It was like he wasn't even there, because in the very next minute, Rick added, "Hold off on the cold stuff. . .I need help with these damn robes of his." Jonathan darted over to the bed, and Rick muttered, "Hold him."
Hold him, indeed. . .the words brought back unpleasant memories of Hamunaptra. But it was that memory which prompted Jonathan to slide behind Ardeth on the bed and ease him into a sitting position. His blood ran cold. As Rick said, Ardeth made not a sound. . .not even a whimper. Jonathan firmly grasped his shoulders, allowing Rick to remove the robes. Jonathan almost yelped when he realized that the Med-jai robes were soaked with sweat. . .no doubt, the result of the fever.
"What can I do to help, Dads?" Alex asked from the door way. He swallowed hard, seeing the unconscious chieftain slumped against Jonathan while Rick finished removing the robes. Now Ardeth was down to only his trousers. Alex whispered, "He looks terrible. Like he did after the Mummy Warrior hurt him." The Mummy Warrior on the double decker bus. Jonathan wanted to smile, but found he couldn't.
"Alex, I need you to go into the bathroom and wet a washcloth. Make it as cold as you can. Ardeth is burning up, and we have got to bring his fever down," Rick said tersely. The little boy bobbed his head once and raced into the bathroom, grateful to have any job, no matter how small. Jonathan could relate. It was then that Evy appeared in the door, one hand resting on her belly and the other in the small of her back.
Rick asked, glancing up briefly as he helped Jonathan to ease Ardeth down, "Evy, sweetheart, do we have any ice downstairs?" When she nodded, he continued, "Great. We may need it. What about Celia, where is she, where did you leave her?" Evy didn't answer at first, and Jonathan looked up to see her eyes focused solely on Ardeth. Her lips were trembling. She looked so scared.
Then Alex burst out of the bathroom, carrying a now-dripping washcloth, and Evy said, "She's downstairs. Anck-su-namun is with her. I should get back to her, the poor thing's in shock." Jonathan almost asked which 'her' was in shock, then remembered whose husband was currently comatose and burning up with fever. The ghost looked rather anxious as well, but that was something entirely different. Jonathan had no doubt part of her anxiety came from her inability to help her friend.
"Before you see to Celia, do me a favor, honey. Take Alex and get a basin. Fill it up with water and ice cubes. That'll help bring the fever down," Rick requested, though it sounded like an order. He looked up from Ardeth, making eye contact with everyone in the room, then said, "We work in shifts. We wash him down, and we keep it up until the fever breaks. We are not, I repeat, are not gonna lose him. Least of all like this."
All nodded, and Rick turned his attention back to Ardeth. His face changed, became softer, and he whispered, "You just rest, buddy. We'll take care of you. . .just concentrate on getting better." Jonathan knew that he wasn't the only one who dreamed of other realities where they faced disaster, and the Englishman was realizing that those dreams hit Rick hard. It hit both Evy and Jonathan hard, but Rick was the wild card.
Which hurt him the most? Seeing Ardeth die in the arms of his older brother, the brother who was so much like Rick? Did he view the reality where Ardeth sacrificed his life to save Evy, only to have her sacrifice her own to save Rick? Did he see the reality where Imhotep rose nearly two decades earlier, enslaving the Med-jai children? Did he see the moment where Imhotep murdered the Med-jai warriors in full view of their children, and then murdered the mothers as well? That one frightened Jonathan.
It frightened Anck-su-namun as well, that alternate reality of 1913. In that dream place, it was much harder for her to hide her emotions. . .and Jonathan saw how badly that reality frightened her. On their anniversary of rebirth, Imhotep gave two gifts to her. One was a young Med- jai boy, who was her personal plaything and eventual downfall. The other was information about her best friend's reincarnation. The latter, of course, was Celia. . .and the former was a thirteen year old Ardeth Bey.
*That didn't come true,* he told himself as he slipped from the room, *that didn't come true, and it won't, either.* Jonathan ignored Rick. . .he wouldn't be needed for a while, after all, and Celia was no doubt out of her mind with sheer terror. This was real. This was true. Ardeth was very ill, yes. . .but he was alive, and every person in this house would fight to make sure he stayed that way.
. . .
She should have been furious with Rick O'Connell, but right now, Anck- su-namun wasn't interested in being angry. Celia was hurting and frightened, and she was Anck's top priority. Now, more than ever, she hated not having a physical body. She wanted to put her arms around Celia, or take her hand, or do something. Her friend desperately needed physical contact, but right now, Anck knew that Ardeth had to take first priority with those in this house with a mortal body.
All except one, it seemed. Jonathan Carnahan made his way downstairs, his eyes focused on Celia. He saw Anck, but only gave her a nod. The ghost bit her lip. It would be a long time before this family trusted her, if ever. . .she gave them no reason in the world to trust her. She killed Seti in full view of his daughter, with help from Imhotep. And then there was the matter of Meela. Her reincarnation killed Evelyn O'Connell, helped to kidnap her as well as her son. And she did it while Anck shared her body.
But it still hurt. Especially since they thought she would hurt Celia. Not even Meela would have done that. Much as Anck hated her reincarnation, she knew that Meela would have never harmed the reincarnation of Ardath. **Are you so sure,** an insidious voice inside her soul whispered, **are you so sure that Meela would have loved Celia, just because you do, Anck-su-namun? You never hated Nefertiri. . .resented her, yes. But you never hated her, never wanted to hurt her. . .and yet, Meela killed her.**
Enough! Jonathan sat down opposite Celia and took her hands, whispering in the ancient tongue, "The circle is closing, my queen." She raised her head to look at him, a weak smile appearing. Anck felt her head snap up at that.
The circle is closing. Earlier, she faded into the Place In-Between, catching part of a conversation between Ardath and Rameses. And a circle was mentioned then. East and West, completion. . .balance. It was a conversation about the strange bond O'Connell had to the Med-jai, why he was so important to them. Anck didn't fully understand herself, but in this, she was not alone. Which was comforting to know.
But those words kept repeating in her head. Completion. . .balance. Things coming full circle. Did her forever friend know something about what was happening to Ardeth? Anck shook her head, distracted. Never mind. She would worry about that later. Instead, she turned her attention back to Celia and Jonathan. The Englishman was quietly holding her friend's hand while Celia choked out the entire story of what happened at the train station, culminating in Rick's arrival.
She knew this story, of course. She was at Celia's side during the journey. Anck didn't leave her until they reached the O'Connell home, and she phased out briefly to the Place In-Between. But that was the only time she left her friend. Even so, Celia's hoarse voice broke her heart as she listened. As her friend fell silent, Jonathan leaned forward and said softly, "Now you listen to me, Cecelia Anne Ferguson Bey. That man is one of the strongest, bravest men I've ever known. He doesn't give up, he doesn't know how."
Celia bobbed her head, and Anck rolled her eyes. Yes, Celia *knew* that she married a strong, brave man. She didn't need Jonathan Carnahan to tell her that. What she needed now, more than anything else, was support, not platitudes! As if hearing her, Jonathan glared in her general direction, then continued, "Right now, I'm more worried about you. I know you've been through hell in the last few hours."
"I'm okay," Celia insisted, though that sounded strained. She bobbed her head and fortunately, Jonathan saw right through her. Anck realized the previous night, while she showed him a different set of what might have beens, that Jonathan was as much of a fool as Nassor was. Not at all. He liked to preserve the expectation that he was a clown and a fool, but there was more to him than that.
Anck smiled briefly. There was a time, before she fell in love with Imhotep, when she was infatuated with Nassor. That was, of course, also before she realized that he would never look at her with desire. But to the end of her life, Nassor remained a good and true friend to her. And like Nefertiri, he picked up the pieces of a world which Anck shattered when she and Imhotep killed Seti. For the first time, she acknowledged that truth. And it was that acknowledgment came a desire to put things to right. There was nothing she could do for anyone else. . .but Ardath's reincarnation *did* need her.
So she concentrated on becoming whole. She wanted a physical body, if only for a few minutes. She would not accept the tainted body and soul of Meela Nais, she would not accept the violation of Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell. She would only accept one thing. . .being able to touch her best friend, her beloved little sister, with her own flesh. It might only work for a few minutes, but she was willing to take that chance.
And so she focused. She focused her rage at Meela Nais, her grief over the loss of her friend, her frustration with Rick O'Connell. She focused her concern for Ardeth and for Celia, her need to earn the forgiveness of Evelyn O'Connell. . .and when she could focus no more, Anck- su-namun reached out and lay her palm against the back of Celia's hand. She gasped when she felt skin connect with skin.
Celia's head jerked up, and she looked at Anck in surprise. The ghost gave her a nervous smile. This was the first time since Hamunaptra that she was able to touch her friend. Celia just stared at her for a few breaths, and during that time, Anck was afraid she went too far. And then. . .Celia smiled at her. It wavered a little bit, but it was a genuine, from-her-heart smile. The living woman curled her fingers around Anck's.
She couldn't sustain this for long. And Anck would end up paying the price later. She knew that. But it was worth it. Worth it to feel some of the tension ease from her friend's body, worth it to see that smile. Celia whispered, once more switching to the old tongue, "Thank you, my friend." And then, she did something that surprised Anck. She lifted the other woman's hand and rested it against her cheek.
Anck swallowed hard, feeling the wetness of Celia's tears, as well as the warmth of her skin. Things she hadn't truly felt in three thousand years. She understood, then, that the relationship between Rick O'Connell and Ardeth Bey would not be the only one mended in this house over the next few days. Until now, Anck hadn't realized that there were also bridges to be mended between herself and Celia.
Unfortunately, as all things must, Anck began to lose that precious contact with her friend. She could have wept when she no longer felt moisture or flesh against the back of her hand, when she no longer felt fingers curled lovingly within her own. But she knew it would happen. She knew that would come, though she tried to prepare herself for the moment when she began to lose her physical reality. It still hurt, however.
This was the price she paid for her crimes, all those years ago. She was denied the gift of being there for her best friend, when she was needed the most. Only now did Anck understand what she cut out of her life, out of her heart, for all these years. Like Rameses, she refused the gift offered by Ardath's reincarnations. Only now, too, did she understand how similar she was to Rick O'Connell and to Terumun, much as she hated to admit it. She bowed her head, whispering in both the old tongue and the new, "Forgive me, my dear sister. Forgive me for despairing, and losing my faith in you."
A gentle smile touched the face of her companion. It was Ardath's smile. . .and Celia's. They were two separate women, separated by three thousand years and countless lifetimes. But their spirits were the same. Perhaps that was why Anck couldn't forgive Meela. They were different women, just as Celia and Ardath were. . .but they were also the same, and Anck feared that Meela was a mirror to her own soul. She was afraid that she had the same greed, the same love for inflicting pain as Meela. Not just on people who hurt her, but anyone who was unfortunate to find themselves in her way.
Anck was told that Meela abandoned Imhotep and killed Evelyn O'Connell, Nefertiri reborn. Ma'at told her that, as did Mathayus. But the self-doubt kept creeping back. Meela was her reincarnation, she had Anck's memories and her spirit. Where was the line between Meela's soul and her own? Anck did not know, and that frightened her. But if she had any doubts, her companion did not.
"Don't you know by now, Anck," Celia whispered, "that I will *always forgive you? There has never been a time, Anck-su-namun, during the last six months, when you failed me. You have never failed to watch my back. There is nothing to forgive, my sister." Anck managed a watery smile as she gazed at her beloved friend, and wondered if Rick O'Connell would find such unquestioning forgiveness when the time came to settle accounts with Ardeth.