So sorry about the delay in this latest chapter. . .family was in from out
of town (their first visit up here since we moved to North Carolina three
months ago), and I had very little time for writing between their visit and
my three day assignment. However, we are heading into the home stretch.
Just one more chapter after this one, then I'm taking a short break to
catch my breath. Shouldn't be too long before one of two new stories comes
out. . .the fourth in this series, 'Priorities,' or an untitled one that
won't leave me alone. Now, onto the reviewers!
Terreis: (blushing) Thank you! I've never had someone dedicate a chapter to me, so I was very honored. And I loved the chapter of that story! Way to go! And please be careful, don't go blinding yourself!
Sailor Elf: Yes, dear heart, he's awake! I'm glad it made you happy.
Cindy: Thank you so much. Your consistent reviews have been a big help to me, over the last few months, and I greatly appreciate it.
Deana: Sorry it took so long, but I promise, it was well worth the wait. Buckle down, my ladies, the long awaited Talk between Rick and Ardeth is at hand.
Part Nine
Ardeth knew that with the fever in his physical body rising, there was a better than even chance that delirium would set in. What he didn't know. . .and probably should have. . .was that memories long forgotten and best left in the past would rise to the surface. All the barriers were gone, and his greatest shame was there, for anyone who could understand Arabic. At least his wife was spared that horror. He knew there was a reason he had not yet taught her Arabic.
Still, there were too many people who did now know about that violation, about that shame. Ardeth was almost physically ill as he listened to himself telling Rick O'Connell the rest of the story. He couldn't even think about the. . .what Lock-nah and his men did. Aside from torturing him. Or maybe it was a torture in and of itself. Being that helpless. If he closed his eyes, and he allowed himself to remember, he could almost. . .NO!
He forced it out of his mind for sixteen years, never allowing himself to think about any of it. After all, he was the Med-jai chieftain, though only seventeen years old at the time, and such things did not happen to a self-respecting warrior. At that time, he was too young and proud to understand that there were some things you simply could not control. When your body was pushed to its pain threshold, and you had no energy with which to fight back. . .
But of course, that young boy didn't see it that way. That violation was his failure, his failure as a man, as a warrior, as a chieftain. And now, O'Connell knew about it. Oh, Ardeth heard the American's reaction, but that wasn't the point. O'Connell *knew* about that. He knew about that, and now things truly would be changed between them. Though he was still angry with the American, and though he would give O'Connell a second chance. . .he was not certain he could look the other warrior in the eye. He did not know if he could stand to see the pity in the other man's eyes.
*Now you're being silly, young man!* Annabelle said with some asperity. Ardeth looked at the woman, who continued, *For the love of God, you were seventeen years old! One boy, against all those men. . .and I use the term loosely! What did you expect that child to do? Take out all of those cowards alone? Don't be so foolish! Rick O'Connell has his share of faults, but he knows a seventeen year old boy is not to blame for that evil deed.*
Privately, Ardeth wasn't so sure about that, and Annabelle continued, her tone gentling, *Trust me, son. He's angry, yes. But not with that seventeen year old boy. He's angry with the beasts who hurt that child. He knows about the shame and the pride of a child that age. In some ways, Rick O'Connell is still a seventeen year old boy. He would never judge you. . .nor would my granddaughter. Although, she might kill any of the men from that day who still live.*
Ardeth allowed himself a tiny smile at that, acknowledging the truth in her words. He was about to say something about Celia's fierce protectiveness of him. But then, Horus and Isis appeared and Ardeth felt terribly strange. In a way, he felt violated that O'Connell was feeling what he felt through the various crises, was hearing what he thought. Ardeth's thoughts were his own, O'Connell didn't need to know any of that.
And then came the shocker. . .Horus. His bird. . .his falcon. . .his best and most clever friend. Was the god himself? Ardeth actually felt dizzy at that revelation. It seemed that just when he was recovering from one shock, another came along to knock him off-balance. This was the case when Horus and Isis began their chant to remove the poison from his body. Now everything made sense, everything. . .what was happening to him?
Annabelle, as usual, had an answer for him. (Did she have an answer to everything?) She told him, *It's time for you to return to my granddaughter, dear child. Yes, I know the god and goddess said that it would be tomorrow morning, but your poor body could not take the poison for that much longer. They underestimated the trauma your body has undergone, these last few months. It's time for you to go back. You will remember these conversations as dreams. And remember. . .you must not kill Galen!*
Ardeth was on the point of answering, when a terrible pain exploded in his body. He gasped and found himself falling once more. A golden light burned his eyes, and Ardeth tried to look away. The falling sensation ended, and with it, the terrible pain which took his breath away only moments earlier. He groaned softly in relief. Gentle lips pressed against his forehead, and a female voice whispered in ancient Egyptian, "Awake, my sweet child. Your beloved ones await your return. They need you, sweet boy. Your wife most of all. Awaken, Ardeth Bey."
Ardeth groaned again, trying to follow the instructions of the goddess. He was so tired, but he wanted to see his wife. Wanted to. . .what was that? Ardeth froze, listening intently to what was going on around him. There it was again! He heard Celia saying in a voice only a little louder than a breath, "Ardeth? Sweetheart? Wake up, please wake up." Celia? Where was she? He tried to locate the direction of her voice, shivering as cool breezes swept over his body. *Celia, where are you? I heard your voice, my wife, where are you?* Footsteps. . .or rather, floorboards creaking under a person. A relatively small person. Ardeth focused on that.
He vaguely heard Evelyn's voice, but was more intent on his wife's location than whatever Evelyn was asking about. Then the bed creaked and Ardeth could smell his wife's perfume. She whispered, "C'mon, Ardeth, wake up." He wanted to open his eyes, but it would take a little more work before he could do that. However, he received an incentive when he felt a small, trembling hair caress his hair, then gentle kisses covered his face.
*Open your eyes, open your eyes, open your eyes!* Celia's forehead touched his own, as she whispered in a voice only he could hear, "Please. . .you have to come back, Ardeth. There's too much left for us to do. We just now found each other." *I'm coming, sweet Celia.* A figure appeared in his mind, the image of a young woman. At first, he thought it was Annabelle, but after only a moment, realized it was Anck-su-namun. She was holding out her hand. She would take him to Celia. Ardeth took her hand, and new waves of pain washed over him. But this time, he wasn't afraid.
The pain drew a moan from him, but it also unfroze his vocal cords. He managed to force out, "Celia?" Weeping. He heard weeping. Who was weeping? His eyes wouldn't open yet, but that wasn't important. Celia was with him, and there was so much he needed to tell her. Ardeth shivered, but told his wife, "I had such strange dreams, Celia. I dreamed of your grandparents. They love you so much. . .they're so proud of you."
He felt something drop on his face. Something wet, and he knew who was crying. It was his wife. Somehow, he made her cry. Was it because she was worried for him, or because he told her about seeing her grandparents, whom she loved so much? It didn't matter. It didn't matter, because either way, he would make this right for her. Ardeth breathed, "Don't cry, Celia! I am so sorry, my wife, please forgive me."
Celia actually laughed, a joyful sound, and replied hoarsely, "Don't you dare apologize to me, you idiot! I love you so much, Ardeth. . .so much, and I'm so proud to be your wife." *And I am proud to be your husband, my beloved.* Ardeth reached up, drawing his wife down to the bed beside him, until he could feel her against his body. Until she was lying in his arms, her head resting against his chest, and her body warmed his. Why was he so cold?
"And I love you, my Celia. Shhh, don't cry," Ardeth told her. Or, at least, he thought he said that. He was so tired. So very tired. He rested his cheek against Celia's hair, content just to hold her, to feel her hair against his skin. She was still crying, but as Celia warned him when he first asked her to marry him, she was stubborn. She would cry herself out, and then she would fall asleep. With his wife securely in his arms, Ardeth drifted off into a dreamless sleep. He needed no dreams. Only his Celia.
When next he woke, Celia was gone, and Ardeth was cold once more. He still couldn't figure out why he was cold, and before he could make any progress on that, nausea swamped over him. Without thinking twice, he stumbled from the bed, aiming to reach the bathroom before he was sick. He wasn't sure when the last time he ate, but something was coming up and Ardeth wanted to reach the toilet before he messed up the O'Connell guestroom. Evelyn was still pregnant after all, and he didn't want to leave that mess for her.
He barely managed to open the toilet seat and duck his head before the first spasm wracked his body. He was still in terrible pain. His muscles ached, he felt like he was beaten almost to death, and he was sick. A familiar, male voice called his name, then he wasn't alone in the bathroom any more. By this time, Ardeth was sure he was dying. He had to be dying, if he felt this bad. He really wished he could have died in peace, rather than in this indignity.
"Easy, buddy," a gentle voice said. A strong arm encircled his waist, while the other arm wrapped around his shoulders. The spasm ended and Ardeth leaned against the strength offered, not really caring who provided it. The voice repeated, "Easy, I've got you. Jonathan! Jonathan, get your butt in here, Ardeth's sick!" The chieftain flinched, as the shout sent fresh waves of pain pounding through his head.
Pounding feet, and Jonathan was gasping, "He's awake again? Oh, thank God, but I think Celia might kill us. She's still eating breakfast. What do you need me to do, Rick?" Rick? It was O'Connell? A fresh spasm knocked all thoughts out of his head, and when he slumped back against O'Connell again, he didn't have the strength to pull away. Jonathan was mumbling something Ardeth couldn't quite make out.
"Then flush the damn toilet! And when you're finished with that, get me a washrag for his face. Easy. . .let us do all the work," O'Connell said, his voice gentling. Ardeth would have laughed, if he had the energy. Did O'Connell propose that he take Ardeth's place in front of the commode? That was an entirely too tempting offer. Pity he couldn't take the American up on it. Something cool and wet dragged across his face, and Ardeth almost groaned at the relief it provided. O'Connell added, "Next time he has to. . .you know. . .hold his hair back."
"Got it. Do you want me to let Celia know that he's awake. . .I mean, have Alex tell her? He wants to help somehow," Jonathan replied. O'Connell seemed on the point of answering, but Ardeth lurched forward, knowing he was about to go through the whole thing again. Jonathan yelped and Ardeth felt the Englishman yank his hair back. That made Ardeth's head hurt even worse, but it was better than the alternative. Jonathan whispered, "Why is this happening to him, hasn't he been through enough?"
"Celia's theory is that this. . .well, you know. . .him being so sick. . .is the aftereffects of the poison in his body. Don't ask me to explain it, but it makes about as much sense as anything else we've heard so far," O'Connell replied. Ardeth collapsed back against him once more, gasping for breath. He closed his eyes, and heard the toilet flushing. O'Connell added, "At least the fever is gone. . .he's shivering."
"Of course he is, he's half-naked!" came the quick retort from Jonathan. Half naked? Well, that explained much! Something cold brushed against his face again, and Ardeth opened his eyes. Jonathan smiled at him, asking softly, "How do you feel, old boy? So sorry, stupid question." Ardeth gave him a half smile, and Jonathan asked, "Just about finished, are you?"
"I. . .believe. . .so. O'Connell, why. . .?" Ardeth asked. There was a puzzled silence from the American and Ardeth asked, "Why am I wearing so few clothes?"
He heard the laughter rumble in the other man's chest, then O'Connell replied, "We were sponging you down, to bring down your fever." Oh. Now Ardeth remembered, watching it from outside his body while he was with Annabelle and Thomas. Assuming, of course, that wasn't a dream. It didn't feel like a dream, though. It felt entirely too real. O'Connell added, his tone tinged with humor, "I didn't have any designs on your virtue, buddy, if that's what worries you."
"As my wife would say," Ardeth said wearily, "do not flatter yourself." O'Connell laughed outright and Ardeth cringed at the pounding in his head. He closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them, Jonathan was looking at him anxiously, and Ardeth said softly, "You asked me a question. I am finished. I would like to go back to bed now. But first, I would like some water." Jonathan handed him a cup of water, which Ardeth used to rinse out his mouth.
"Then up we go. Jonathan, take his other side. Hang on, buddy, we'll get you back to bed, then somebody will get your wife. Ready? On three. . .one, two, three!" O'Connell said. On 'three,' they lifted Ardeth upright and half-dragged, half-carried him back into his own room. There were so many questions whirling through Ardeth's mind, but right now, he was exhausted. Too tired for the reckoning with O'Connell. As if sensing this, the American murmured, "We got a lot to talk about, Ardeth, but you should rest right now."
"Aywa," Ardeth breathed as he was settled in the bed. Yes, there was much they needed to discuss. But for now, there was one thing he needed to know. Jonathan was heading out of the room, presumably to track down Celia. O'Connell started to follow, but Ardeth grasped his sleeve, stopping him before he could get too far. The American turned back to face him, a concerned and questioning look in his eyes, and Ardeth asked only, "Why?"
O'Connell looked away, then back again. Ardeth thought about clarifying what he meant. Why did he come after them, why. . .just why? However, the other man replied quietly, "Because Celia left a note for Evy. She told her that you were sick, and that you might need our help. I figured, after all the times you've dragged our asses out of trouble, after all the times you've cleaned up our messes. . .I figured it was my turn to save you, instead of the other way around. But we can talk more later."
That was good enough for Ardeth. The moment of truth had not yet come. . .but what O'Connell said gave Ardeth enough of a foundation to. . .to give O'Connell a real second chance. The chieftain wasn't entirely sure he even had that in him, but this was promising. O'Connell gave him a tired smile and said, "Rest now. Jonathan's gone to get Celia. We'll talk when you're stronger." Ardeth nodded and O'Connell touched his bare shoulder, his eyes straying to the bullet wound gained during their second meeting.
The American said quietly, "It left a scar. Could have done a better job of taking care of it." His eyes met Ardeth's, and the Med-jai realized he wasn't talking just about the bullet wound. Ardeth dipped his head, then lay back on the pillows. He was tired. O'Connell quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. Despite his exhaustion, however, Ardeth didn't return to sleep immediately. His stomach muscles ached, his head was pounding, and there were other aches and pains. Worse yet, the aches were compounded by his inability to relax.
A few moments after O'Connell departed, the door creaked open. Footfall, soft. The floorboards creaking only slightly under someone's weight. Ardeth opened his eyes and turned his head toward the door, to find his wife slowly closing the door behind her. Celia turned back around, the door safely shut, and froze. Her paralysis lasted only a moment, then a smile spread across her face. She whispered, moving across the floor to the bed, "Hello, love. Jon told me that you were awake."
She touched his face, and Ardeth put his hand over hers, murmuring, "Lay with me, my wife." Celia nodded and crawled onto the bed beside him, wrapping her arms around his aching waist. Ardeth bit his lip, needing the contact more than he needed relief from the pain. And after a moment, the agony eased. Ardeth rested his cheek against Celia's hair, sighing in Arabic, "Returning to you makes it all worth while, my love."
"Don't know what you just said," Celia answered softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his chest, "but it sure sounded pretty." Ardeth grinned at that, not having the energy to laugh, and Celia continued, "Nothing else matters right now. You're back, and I'm not ever letting you go again." Ardeth tightened his arms around his wife, knowing that she would be there when he awoke the next time, and every time after that.
. . .
It was almost over. There were only two more acts to be played. And as Annabelle watched, her grandson by marriage returned to sleep, his wife clutched in his arms. Celia, for her own part, was holding onto Ardeth for dear life. As if she would never let him go, in this lifetime or the next. Annabelle smiled in spite of herself. Those past lives. . .ahhh, yes. Thomas said quietly, *We did a much better job this time, my love.*
*I can only thank the Creator that we were given a second chance with her, Thomas. We didn't do so well by her, that first time around. We should have been more supportive of her, in the previous time. It took Ardath so long to acknowledge how she truly felt about Rameses,* Annabelle replied. She looked up at her husband, adding, *And yet, we must not have failed too badly. She named her daughter after me, and would have named her son for you, if she would have been more time on earth.*
*I know. But Miriam and Jacob did the best they could, with the time they were given. As we did. And, you did not seem to be terribly surprised when we learned of our previous ties to Celia. . .or should I say, to young Ardath,* Thomas pointed out. Annabelle smiled, her eyes never leaving her granddaughter. Her granddaughter, her foster daughter. Always, in all of their previous lifetimes together, she raised that young woman.
And she did a damn fine job of it. It was difficult for her, this last time. Annabelle gained the memories of her previous life with the birth of her own daughter, Madeleine. Although, Annabelle suspected the barriers to the memories of those previous lives were removed while she lived with the People. They probably guessed the truth, and made it easier for her to remember the truth, when she was ready.
That was why she could never tell her granddaughter the whole truth. That Annabelle knew her, and loved her, and raised her through the ages. That the same would be true for all eternity. Nor could she tell her about the amazing young man for whom she was meant. Not just because of the rules governing her contact with those in the living world, but also because Annabelle wasn't certain if this was the lifetime when they would finally be reunited.
And, Celia simply wasn't ready for that truth. So, Annabelle prepared her, as best she could, by sharing as many stories of the People she could remember. Thank the Creator, Celia was an inquisitive child. She always was. And since her own parents shut her out, the young girl was twice as likely to listen to Annabelle, than if her parents were attentive to her. Something occurred to Annabelle, which took her breath away.
What if that was the whole point of Galen's kidnapping? To force Bruce and Maddy to withdraw from their two younger children, and in turn, push Celia toward her grandmother? Annabelle didn't want to consider that possibility, but she knew better than to ignore that chance. There were times when she felt as though she and her family were pawns of destiny, like pieces of a chess board. . .move and countermove.
Thomas said softly, *In the end, love, it really doesn't matter, the why of it. Rick O'Connell had the right of it, when he said that 'what might have been' wasn't nearly as important as the reality. Things could have been much worse for that family, for our granddaughter and her new husband. In the worst case scenario, the one where Ardeth died at Hamunaptra back in 1926, Celia would have never married, and would have instead, devoted her entire life to rebuilding what Imhotep destroyed.*
Annabelle knew this to be true. She saw the rest of the scenarios displayed for the O'Connells and Jonathan Carnahan. They both did. They saw all the possibilities, all the scenarios, and all the consequences of the choices made. They saw Ardeth and Anck becoming lovers for a brief time, after her rescue of him at Ahm Shere. They saw her eventually traveling to America to find Lady Ardath's reincarnation, and effecting a reunion.
So strange. Until this past crisis, it never occurred to Annabelle, the possibility of Ardeth and Anck as lovers. They were so different, so very different from each other, but she supposed there was some truth to the saying, 'opposites attract.' But in the end, in both that alternate reality, and the one which had Imhotep rising in 1913, Anck realized that Ardeth did not belong with her.
And yet, Anck loved him. In one reality, she sacrificed her place in this world, so she could bring his Celia to him. And in the other, she sacrificed her life for another.
Senephra Bey. The child who would have been born of the trysts between the bored, neglected young queen Anck-su-namun and the young Med- jai slave boy, Ardeth Bey. The child born of Anck-su-namun's body, and who called Celia, 'mother.' The only mother she knew, until the end at Ahm Shere, when Anck sacrificed her own life, to save the life of her twelve year old daughter. A sacrifice willingly made.
If she closed her eyes, Annabelle could see it play out. Hafez ordering the capture of the little girl from Med-jai lands, while her parents tried to bring an end to the entire mess. Anck's fury when she saw her daughter's terrified face. And she knew Senephra immediately. How could she not? The little girl was a combination of her birth mother, and her father. Such a beautiful little girl. The child whom Anck never stopped loving.
She screamed in denial, at the same time her best friend screamed. They saw their daughter in harm's way, and both reacted accordingly. Anck moved to rescue her daughter, while Celia drew a weapon to take out the man threatening her child. One mother died. . .the other survived to comfort Senephra. Yes, Annabelle saw it all, and she saw the same potential which Ma'at, and so many others, saw.
What might have beens, what could still be. Much as she hated to admit it, O'Connell was right about it. In the end, what might have beens didn't matter as much as what could still be. And that was what held Annabelle's attention now. In time, Anck would be reincarnated. It seemed likely that she would be reincarnated at the same time as Annabelle's granddaughter and her husband. After three thousand years, the balance was finally being restored.
First, with Anck's rediscovery of those whom she loved. Not just Imhotep, but her forever friend, Rameses, and the child created together. There was more work for Anck to do, before she was ready to be reborn, but Annabelle had faith. The girl *would* make it. And now, after three thousand years, balance was finally being restored to the friendship between Terumun and Rameses.
If not now, then soon. Annabelle smiled, sighing happily. She loved them both so much. Her treasured granddaughter, her beloved child in all lifetimes. Her husband, forever her love. The trials were not over for them yet, of course. There was still much that had to be done. Many frightening tribulations, which would try the very souls of her beloved children. She could see some of them.
But she also knew that her granddaughter and grandson by marriage had the strength they would need, in order to win. Thomas said softly, *That is right, my love. They have enough strength, between the two of them, to stand fast through the darkness of the night. They have enough strength, enough joy, enough love, enough laughter. Just as we did. For they are finally together. You know this.*
She did. And as both Bruce and Madeleine joined them, Annabelle cast one last look at the sleeping children below her. Sooner or later, Ardeth would get cold and hungry, and it was then that their final great trial would begin.
*I have never forgiven myself for being such a terrible mother,* Maddy said softly, *but now, I think it was necessary. My arrogance and selfishness allowed my daughter to hone her strength. She would not be the Celia whom Ardeth loves so much, if things did not happen as they did.* She paused, cocked her head to one side in a way Annabelle hadn't seen since her daughter was a girl, and added, *Perhaps someone should tell her that.*
*Yes, it may help her when she's trying to keep her patience with O'Connell,* Thomas agreed. Annabelle kept silent. She smiled, however, knowing that the reckoning was coming. Very soon, the two men would finally have their moment of truth. And when that happened, her granddaughter could not be in the room. This final reckoning was between O'Connell and Ardeth. No one else.
. . .
Ardeth wasn't the only one who needed to rest. The last eighteen hours, since Ardeth awoke the first time, were traumatic for everyone in the family. With Ardeth safe and sound, the poison removed from his body, the O'Connell family was allowed to fall apart. Rick and Evy went to their room, falling asleep in each other's arms, while Jonathan and Alex went to their respective rooms.
Rick didn't rest long. He was too keyed up, still running on adrenaline. After only three hours of sleep, he awoke with a start. The last time he awoke that abruptly. . . the dreams. The dreams about those other realities. There were no such dreams this time. Rick wondered about Lady Ardath. Did she realize that she was just a pawn for the gods? Based on what he heard earlier, Lady Ardath was permitted to show them the other realities, as a way to soften Rick up. He grunted. Well, it accomplished what it set out to do.
Even with Ardeth's eyes open, it didn't change things. Every time Rick looked at his friend now, he saw the haunting image of Ardeth dying in his brother's. . .or Evy's. . . arms. Would he have really allowed Ardeth to die in the Golden Pyramid? He didn't want to think so, but Rick was plagued by self-doubts. He didn't know what was more rattling. . .the idea of leaving Ardeth to die, or Anck's change of heart and helping the Med-jai to safety.
With an effort, he redirected his attention. And there were a lot of things he had to think about. However, it wasn't necessary for him to even sit up. Rick sank back against his pillows, sighing deeply. He couldn't sleep any more, but he also wasn't ready to get up. Sleep. Rick almost snorted, then remembered that Evy was still asleep. He didn't know if he would ever catch up on his sleep. He did manage to sleep a little during the eighteen hours after Ardeth's first awakening. But not enough. Not nearly enough.
He had a decision to make. . .or rather, several. The time of reckoning was ahead, and Rick had no idea how he would handle it. He didn't know what Ardeth would say, or what would happen. However, the fact that Ardeth even had to ask why Rick came for him wasn't promising. It meant that Ardeth no longer trusted him. . .and that, alone, meant that Rick faced an uphill battle in regaining his friend's trust.
Which brought him. . .oh, to hell with this! His frustration with himself and the situation caused a surge of adrenaline and energy. Suddenly restless and unable to lay still any more, Rick bounced up from the bed, checking over his shoulder to make sure he didn't wake Evy. She slept peacefully, a small smile on her face. At least one of them could do that. The American now realized that it was his unease about the conversation with Ardeth that made him so restless. He wanted it over with. He wanted it resolved.
Of course Evy wasn't concerned about it, not concerned enough to stay awake. This sort of thing was easy for her. All she had to do was give Ardeth a hug, tell him again how much she loved him and how sorry she was, and that was it. There were no such options available to Rick. And he was no good at talking. . .he communicated by using his gun or his fist. But this time, he had to talk. He told Celia that he would do this on his terms, but the longer he thought about it, the more crazy he made himself. It was time to stop thinking and time to start doing.
Rick moved purposefully out of his and Evy's room, stealing down the hall to the guest bedroom. A quick peek inside told him that Ardeth was wide awake and asking his wife for some food. Well. . .he hadn't eaten in a few days, it wasn't a huge surprise that he was hungry. What was a surprise, however, was the fact that Ardeth was trying to talk his wife into doing something which would be very, very bad. Namely, get a lot of food for him.
Rick choked back a grin. Ordinarily, his money would be on Ardeth, but his friend was recovering from a devastating illness, and he wasn't at his best. Besides, he was arguing with his equally stubborn wife, who was also a mother, and knew that eating a lot after being so sick would only make him more sick. Further, Ardeth's tenacious wife probably felt guilty, though Rick wasn't sure why she would feel that way.
Still, even taking her guilt into account, and everything else which happened over the last few days, Celia was not being unreasonable. Overprotective of her husband, of course. . .she outright admitted that she was very protective of Ardeth. Still, Rick could hardly blame her for her caution, any more than he could blame Ardeth for wanting to eat anything he could get his hands on. Not surprisingly, it was an argument that Celia won. Rick could have told his friend that his wife would win that argument. . .but he thought it was something Ardeth should learn.
The win put her in such a good mood, she flounced past him with a saucy smirk. Didn't even say a word, which surprised Rick. She just arched a brow. Looked like she would at least trust him to carry out his word to her, that he would put things to right, on his terms. He nodded at her, then quietly rapped on the door. Ardeth looked up, still grinning. Okay. He was grinning after losing a verbal battle with his wife, which begged the question. . .why *was* he grinning? More to the point, did Rick *want* to know the answer to that question?
Some of the light died from Ardeth's eyes and he nodded to Rick, saying in a familiar tone, "O'Connell." The Med-jai was eyeing him warily. Oh yeah. Definitely had some massive bridge-building to do. Ardeth added, nodding in the direction of his departing wife, "I woke Celia, and asked her to get me some food. I could not convince her to prepare a large breakfast for me. She was quite insistent about a light breakfast. She fears I will become sick again."
"Well," Rick said reasonably, "I can see her point of view. And I don't imagine you want to go through that again." Ardeth shook his head, grimacing as he obviously remembered just how awful it was. Rick quietly closed the door behind him, adding, "She didn't just leave because you needed food. Celia and I had a little talk while you were. . .unconscious." He didn't know how else to put it, especially since he was afraid at the time that Ardeth wouldn't make it.
"Indeed?" was all Ardeth would say. Rick grimaced. Oh yeah. Ardeth definitely would not make this easy on him. However, Rick stopped and thought about it. Did he really want it to be easy? Did he want Ardeth to let him off the hook, and tell him that everything was all right? No. No, he didn't. That wasn't Rick's style, and it certainly wasn't Ardeth's, either. In the back of his mind, he heard someone whisper, 'nothing worthwhile has ever been easy. . .much less friendship and trust.'
Rick had no idea who owned that pesky voice, though he was afraid it was Terumun. His previous incarnation probably had the capacity to be just as insistent as Nefertiri or Lady Ardath. That Lady's descendent said quietly, "My wife is a very strong-willed woman, O'Connell. It has been necessary for her, to survive. This, I learned from her grandparents. In some ways, O'Connell, I knew my Celia not at all. Can you imagine what it was like, gaining that knowledge about someone whom I love more than life itself?"
That gave Rick the opening he needed, the opening he was searching for. The American responded, "Actually, yes, I can imagine that. Better than you think. I did a lot of mulling while you were. . .unconscious. And I came to a disconcerting realization. I don't really know you at all, do I." It was a statement of fact, not a question, and Rick didn't wait for an answer. He didn't need one. Instead, he continued, "I realized that, while you were unconscious. Hell, even before you got so sick. I was coming to the train station to apologize, Ardeth."
"Why?" Ardeth asked quietly. That wasn't something Rick was expecting, especially since they talked about this a little earlier. He *told* the Med-jai why. At least, the 'why' of the train station. But Ardeth wasn't finished. He asked, "Why come to the train station, why come to apologize? Why are you saying now that you do not really know me, when I have been more honest with you and Evelyn than anyone aside from my family and wife?"
Rick took a deep breath, then realized he didn't know what to say. After a moment, he decided to answer the questions in the order they were asked. There was a hint of anger in him, that Ardeth wouldn't just accept his apology and let this go, but Ardeth allowed only so much attitude, and Rick crossed the line. He swallowed his anger, answering, "I told you. I went to the train station, because I knew you were sick, and it was time I started saving your ass, instead of the other way around. I just didn't realize how sick you were."
He looked at his friend. Funny. Ardeth was still very pale and he was still very weak. He was half-naked, and could barely sit upright in bed. But his presence was no less commanding than all the previous times Rick saw the other man in battle. There was so much he didn't know about Ardeth Bey. If he played this right, he would have the chance to learn even more. Everything depended on what happened in the next few minutes.
He had to keep that in mind. At all times. Rick maintained eye contact with Ardeth and went on, "Why did I go to the train station to apologize? I actually meant to apologize the night before, more than once, but both Jonathan and Evy headed me off at the pass. They were afraid I was apologizing to make myself feel better, instead of a genuine apology, and they wouldn't allow me to disturb your rest for my selfishness."
*You didn't answer his question.* The words didn't come from Ardeth, or Celia, or anyone else. But they were there. Probably Terumun again. Damn him. Rick dipped his head, and sighed, trying to find the words he needed. After a moment, he looked up at his friend and said softly, "I wanted to apologize because I crossed the line. I didn't just cross the line, I obliterated it. I should have never blamed you for the attack against Evy and the baby. Because it was just the last straw. . .the straw that broke the camel's back. I wanted to apologize because I was wrong, and. . .goddammit, are you gonna make me say it?"
"Why did you. . .if you. . ." Ardeth began. For the first time, the stoic mask dropped and Rick saw the anger. The quiet, potent rage which Rick first saw at Hamunaptra so many years earlier. But then the mask went back up. The shoulders went back, and Ardeth continued, "Yes, O'Connell. I wish to hear." Again, rage flowed briefly over Rick, but he didn't allow himself to lash out. That was how he got into this situation in the first place. Besides, despite the mask currently in place, Ardeth was still sick. Rick wouldn't kick a man when he was down.
The American took yet another deep breath, then answered, "The night before you got so sick, I had a series of dreams. About what might have been, about what could have happened, if any number of decisions were made differently. And it forced me to realize. . .just how you've helped us. Every time we've needed you, you've been there. Hauling our asses out of trouble, fighting by our side. You've never let us down, buddy. Not once."
Ardeth still hadn't spoken, and Rick exhaled before continuing, "I. . .I should have never blamed you for the attack. And I didn't. That was the whole thing, even as the words were coming out of my mouth, I *knew* you weren't to blame. I knew that you probably saved my wife and my daughter. I knew all of that, and I just couldn't stop the words in time. They were just there. There was no thought to it at all."
"Then why did you say it? Why say something you know to be untrue, unless you truly believe it? Do you believe that, O'Connell? Do you truly believe that I would purposefully bring harm to my little sister? To her unborn child? And have you forgotten that it was not I who raised Imhotep and the Scorpion King?" Ardeth asked, the stoic mask dropping yet again with the bitterness in his voice. And there *was* bitterness in his voice. Bitterness Rick never heard before, and didn't think possible from Ardeth Bey.
Rick started to speak, but Ardeth wasn't finished. He was glowering at Rick, his eyes burning with a long-suppressed frustration finally given voice. He continued, "Do you think it is easy for me, to ask for help? To come to someone of a culture who looks down on mine?" Rick looked away. He never thought of that. Of either of those points. And then the full significance of the second sentence penetrated his brain. Rick's head snapped up as he stared at Ardeth in shock.
"NO! Christ, I don't look down on you! I. . ." Rick began. He looked away, away from Ardeth's disbelieving look. His own words repeated in his head, his dismissal of Ardeth's certainty that he was a Med-jai. Rick rubbed his face over his hand and said, "I don't look down on you, I don't. . .it sounds like I'm dismissing what you're saying, 'cause it scares the shit out of me. Because if you're right. . ."
"You think I do not know that of which I speak? That I. . .I merely speak to hear my own voice, O'Connell?" Ardeth demanded. Oooh. Bad sign. Rick came to realize, over the years, that Ardeth's English inevitably became more formal when he was either unwell or angry. Ardeth muttered something highly uncomplimentary about Rick's intelligence under his breath in Arabic. Rick glared at him, then backed off. He was gonna make things right if it killed him, and if that meant backing down and holding his tongue, so be it.
Very quietly, Rick answered, "Denial is a powerful thing, Ardeth. If you pretend something isn't there, then it really isn't. I suppose I can't expect you to understand that, not when reality has stared you in the face your entire life. I've had the same thing, but the stakes were different for me. If I saw something I didn't like, I could look away. You didn't have that same freedom. You're used to that responsibility, Ardeth. I'm not."
Ardeth said nothing, merely looked at Rick. The American was finding it hard to put things into words, and while Ardeth wasn't willing to go easy on him and just forget the whole thing, he wasn't making things difficult, either. In a strange sort of way, Ardeth was meeting him halfway. Rick understood that if he wanted to retain (or regain) this man's friendship, he had to play by Ardeth's rules this time. With that in mind, Rick added, "It's not that easy to. . . just expand my area of responsibility. Being a Med-jai means a lot of responsibility."
"But it is a part of you, O'Connell. How can you turn away from that?" Ardeth asked. He looked genuinely puzzled, and Rick realized with a shock that he should have expected this. As a warrior, Ardeth learned to accept his weaknesses and either remove them, or turn them into strengths. It made him a better warrior, and it was also part of his leadership skills. He knew which men belonged in which role, and whom he could trust. He wondered what his life would have been like, being raised alongside this man.
"Because I'm not like you, Ardeth. I don't doubt that I remind you of your brother. But there's a really big difference between me and Andreas Bey. . .I didn't grow up with a big, loving family. I didn't have two parents to show me how to accept things that frightened me or angered me. I had only myself. And I sure as hell didn't have a. . . a pain in the ass best friend who was always there when I needed him, whether I wanted him to be there or not!" Rick finally said. The last sentence was mumbled.
And unheard by Ardeth. The Med-jai was still looking at Rick. His expression was stoic, but behind the mask, Rick saw confusion, hurt, and anger. The American said with a sigh, leaning forward, "Look. You. . .a few minutes ago, you asked me a question. Several questions, but there was one which was the most important. And here is the answer. No. . .I know you would never hurt Evy, or Alex, or the baby. Any of us. And no, I know it isn't easy for you, to ask for help. You're just as proud as I am, if not more so."
Ardeth was on the point of asking, 'why.' Rick could see it in his eyes. He wasn't ready to answer that question, in part because he didn't have the answer. He was still thinking about Celia's question to him. . . about Beni, and whether or not he was making Ardeth pay for that little weasel's betrayal. Yeah, the little stinkweed protected Miranda, at Imhotep's command, until Celia and Anatol got there. But Beni still closed that damn door and left Rick to die.
"And this whole situation. . .from start to finish. . .begs the question. I just. . . I don't get it, buddy. We put you through hell, I make it a habit of shoving you around, and wanting you to do things for me, and you just put up with it. With me. WHY?" Rick almost demanded. Ardeth closed his eyes, and for a moment, Rick was afraid that he really went too far. Then his friend opened his eyes once more, revealing a bone-deep weariness.
"There are so many answers to that question, O'Connell, I scarcely know where to begin. I have said that you remind me a great deal of my older brother, Andreas. We have already discussed this. . .at least, you have. I wish there were words which would allow me to tell you about him. He was my hero. He was everything to me, especially after my father died," Ardeth finally replied. Rick swallowed hard. Ardeth was a great hero. . .for him to say that his brother was his hero, that told Rick a lot about Andreas.
Rick licked his lips, then said softly, "You meant the world to him." Ardeth looked at him with a confused expression, and Rick continued, "I saw how he reacted, when he was faced with the possibility of losing you forever. It almost. . .no. It *did* destroy him, Ardeth. You might have worshipped him, but he drew his strength from you. You started that pretty young, didn't you? Giving your strength to others."
Ardeth just shrugged, saying, "That is. . .I do what I must for my people, O'Connell. That is another reason why I. . .why things remained as they were for such a long time. You were protecting your family, and I happened to get in the way. I understood that." Rick didn't know what to say to that, and so he said nothing. It was easier, sometimes, to say nothing at all. Easier, and safer. After a moment, Ardeth continued, "Besides, that is just the way you are. I am not sure why I reacted so strongly this time."
Rick did something unusual for him during these last few days. He listened to conversations around him. Really, there was nothing else for him to do, not if he wanted to keep his sanity. And drawing from that information, he said slowly, "I think I do. You don't like traveling, much less to England. That's one thing. For another, you asked me to keep Evy away from that temple, and we went there anyhow. Anck told me about the brothers she threw over the side, after they were so rude to you and Celia. That's three."
He enumerated each point as he remembered them. Ardeth's mouth tightened when he mentioned the brothers who took an unexpected swim. Rick really wished he could have seen that! Maybe, after he was finished apologizing to Ardeth, he could convince Anck to tell him their names, if she knew that. Of course she had that information, Anck wouldn't leave something like that to chance! Kinda like him.
Rick stopped before he could go much further. He didn't even want to think about the similarities between himself and Anck-su-namun. That was dangerous territory. Celia already told him, very bluntly, that she saw a lot of similarities between him and Imhotep. In her ever so humble opinion, they were the two sides to the same coin. That was bad enough. But similarities between him and Anck-su-namun? Uh. . . no. He didn't wanna think about *that.*
Instead, the American forced himself to concentrate on the current conversation and continued, "You got to the house, had the fight with the Guardian bozos, were wounded yourself. That's four. . .no, five. . .no, six. Six, that's right. According to Evy, you gave the bozos a chance to surrender. Dumb move, if you ask me. . .not surrendering to a Med-jai when you had the chance. Didn't Isis teach any of her high priests or priestesses that fighting a Med-jai is a very *bad* thing to do?"
That earned him a ghost of a smile, and Rick went on, "Your wife had to kill for the first time on her own, without any help from Lady Ardath. . . again, in defense of my wife. And then, King Bozo opened his big yap, blaming you for the attack on his wife and child. That's seven and eight. Now, given those circumstances. . .I think your reaction was actually pretty mild. Especially compared to mine!"
"As my wife would say. . .I will say nothing to that," Ardeth said, still with that ghost of a smile. It was that comment, and that smile, which ultimately gave Rick hope that he could still salvage this. . .all of this. It wouldn't be easy, but he was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Just as long as it didn't come from another double decker bus. He still had nightmares from that first one!
"Yeah, that's what she would say, too," Rick observed with a rueful grin, "you married a regular little firebrand, you know that? And she was such a nice girl when we first met her! Hell, I can't figure out who has changed more in the last six months. . .you or her!" That earned him a somewhat broader grin from Ardeth. He probably thought the same thing, as Ardeth was more aware of everything.
What was said, and unsaid. . .what was done, and undone. Rick said honestly, "I'm sorry, Ardeth. I'm sorry for all of it. And if you'll give me a chance. . ." He stopped, knowing that there was nothing he could promise that would mean anything to Ardeth. Empty promises were as bad, if not worse, than broken promises. And to say that he would never lash out at Ardeth again. . .well, Ardeth wouldn't believe him. He came to expect such behavior from Rick, it was part of whom Rick was. . .and Ardeth didn't expect people to change to suit him. There was a clue somewhere in there, a clue that would allow him to make things right, but damn if Rick could figure it out right now.
Ardeth had something to say, however. He murmured, slumping back against his pillows, "While I was unconscious, I was in another place, O'Connell. I saw my own body, and those around it. I heard the conversations. I know you mean what you say." Ardeth. . .knew? He heard all of what was said to him, and around him? Then why were they going through this whole mess? Terumun said. . .and this time Rick could plainly hear his voice. . .*because it was necessary. Stop whining.*
Rick glared at his alter ego from ancient Egypt, not that it did much good, of course. Not when Rick knew Terumun was right. And when Rick didn't interrupt him, Ardeth continued, "But the most important question was never answered, O'Connell. Two questions, actually. Firstly. . .what has caused you to distrust me so? And secondly, whether or not I should trust you. On that first night, as I bathed, a most disturbing thought occurred to me." Rick reflected that this would be good. Ardeth liked admitting that he was disturbed about as well as he liked admitting that he needed help.
Rick was right about what was to come. Ardeth went on, somewhat reluctantly, "It occurred to me, O'Connell, that I trust Imhotep more than you trust me. And certainly, he trusts me. . .the living reminder of the great injustice done to him. . .more than you do." Rick's blood turned to ice. He really believed that. Looking into Ardeth's dark eyes, the American could see that his friend, his *best* friend, truly believed what he just said.
*He thinks I don't trust him. Well, why should he think otherwise?* That last comment came not from Rick, but from Terumun, who was staring at him accusingly. Damn him. He wasn't behaving at all like the other previous incarnations. It was like he was right there in Rick's head, demanding his attention. And unfortunately, he had a captive audience. There was nowhere that Rick could run, that Terumun couldn't find him.
In the days before Ardeth and Celia were married, Rick had a rare conversation with Jason Ferguson, in which the younger man told him about being possessed by Khaldun, and his confrontation with the jealous prince shortly before the arrival of the rescue party. There was nowhere that Khaldun could go, that Jason couldn't find him. It sounded too familiar. Rick said very softly, "And without trust, there is no friendship."
"La," Ardeth said softly, simply. The two men sat in silence. A part of Rick wanted to walk away now. Just walk away, and forget the whole damn thing. But he was bound by the same tethers which kept Ardeth loyal to him for so long. History. Was his pride really worth that much to him, that he would walk away from this man for good? Simply give up, after everything they went through together?
It was because of that question that he asked, "What do you want from me, Ardeth? What do I do? What *can* I do, to make this right?" 'What do I do?' Rick flinched, for the words reminded him once more of Ahm Shere. Why couldn't he get away from those memories? They were still so damn fresh for him. *What do I do, Evy? What do I do? Take care of Alex.* Rick blinked his eyes, trying desperately to shake the images, which now included Ardeth falling to Meela's blade.
Ardeth was silent for a long time, and Rick had the sense that his friend didn't know how to answer him. That made the American very uncomfortable, so he said suddenly, "Celia feels guilty, you know. About you being so sick." Ardeth looked up, his eyes narrowing, and Rick explained, "She feels guilty, because she couldn't talk you out of going to the train station. There may be more to it than that. But I know about that, at least. It's not like your wife actually confides in me, or anything." Anything but that, actually.
"Aywa. There is more, though that is a beginning. My wife and I. . .she is. . .she takes great enjoyment in making me. . ." Ardeth began. He stalled, trying to find the words, but Rick was pretty sure he could figure it out. However, Ardeth continued, "She enjoys raising my blood pressure. On that day, it was no different. My wife fears that she caused the poison to spread more quickly through my body, because of our. . . amorous activities."
"And, of course, you set her straight?" Rick asked. Ardeth just sighed, and Rick guessed, "You tried, but you're not sure if it stuck. She's stubborn, like I said. She's still not at ease with what she had to do in our house, back in Cairo, when Khaldun took you over." Ardeth looked up at him, rubbing the back of his head without really thinking about it. Rick asked slowly, "What about you? Are you okay with what she had to do?"
"Yes and no. She did what was necessary, to save me. I have never forgiven Khaldun for what he did, or myself for what I failed to do," Ardeth replied quietly. He paused, then added, "And yes, O'Connell, I did try to set her straight, as you put it, but I am not certain if she accepted what I told her. I did, however, succeed in reminding her that it would not have mattered how quickly the poison passed through my body, once it entered my bloodstream."
Good point. Rick observed, "You would have collapsed eventually. Maybe Celia did you a favor with her. . .ah. . .well, with instigating your amorous activities." He used Ardeth's own words, feeling his face turn bright red. He really didn't want to be discussing this topic, and didn't really need the pictures it conjured up in his overactive imagination. Ardeth raised his eyebrows, and Rick explained, still blushing fiercely, "You would have left and gotten on the train. You would have collapsed on the train."
Ardeth inclined his head, in acknowledgment of this fact, and Rick asked softly, needing to know the answer to one question, "Ardeth. . .really. Why did you leave? Especially the way you did?" It was something which he found hard to reconcile with the quiet courage and strength he knew Ardeth to possess. It was almost like running away, and while Ardeth once told him to live today and fight tomorrow, it wasn't the same.
The Med-jai answered softly, "I was not thinking clearly, O'Connell. And I believed myself to be unwelcome here. I feared my presence would cause dissension between you and Evelyn, stress which she does not need, so close the hour of her delivery. So. . .the answer to your question is, partly from my own selfishness and partly out of fear for Evelyn." Rick blinked. He never expected Ardeth to be quite so blunt. However, after a moment, he shook his head at himself. He shouldn't have been so surprised. Ardeth could be very blunt when he chose. Obviously, he chose to be blunt now.
Rick was silent for several moments, then asked once more, "You didn't answer the most important question of all. What can I do, Ardeth, to win back your trust? What can I do to make things right with you?" Those weren't his words, Rick realized immediately. He didn't talk like that. But Terumun did, and Rick realized that in his own way, his previous incarnation was trying to help him. Just as Nefertiri helped Evy, and Lady Ardath helped Celia.
Terumun was trying to help, because Rick couldn't find the words to apologize properly. Ardeth looked at him, before closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the pillows. He looked exhausted, and Rick was on the point of suggesting they finish this later, when Ardeth replied, "There is no magic formula, no single act, O'Connell. I need time. You know, just as well as I do, that things can not return to the way they were. We can only move forward."
Time. In a way, it was the hardest thing Ardeth could have asked of him. Time meant waiting, and waiting wasn't something Rick was good at. He wasn't patient, except where Evy and the children were concerned. *But, my brother, that is what he requires of you. Time to find a new balance, time to create a new peace between you. Will you truly let him down, after everything? You have both come so far. . .why would you stop now?*
It was one last shot to blow it all. Rick's anger began to rise once more. It was how he always reacted when he was frightened or didn't know what else to do, what else to feel. Terumun's words only served to throw gasoline on the flame. *How dare Ardeth ask him to wait, when there might be a time that Rick's family needed him while he got his head straight? And how dare Terumun say what he said?*
Ardeth's dark eyes hardened, and his chin lifted defiantly. Almost as if he heard what Rick was thinking, though that wasn't possible. Terumun's words angered Rick, but Ardeth's reaction to the unspoken harsh words were a cold slap of water in his face. While Ardeth fought for his life, Rick came to realize that his pride had no meaning alongside the life of his friend. How dare Ardeth? How dare *Rick* assume that Ardeth's only purpose in life was to save Rick's family, usually from a situation of their own making?
He came to one other conclusion. He was wrong about something else. When he told Lady Ardath that reality was reality, and what might have been was irrelevant. No. No, the what might have beens were important, because there were many ways of losing someone. They could die, as Evy did at Ahm Shere, though she returned. . .or you could drive them away with your own stupidity and arrogance. He still couldn't forgive himself for failing to protect Evy at Ahm Shere. Would he ever forgive himself if he lost Ardeth not to death, but to his own pride? Looking back at those alternate realities, the answer was obvious.
Rick exhaled softly, then replied, "Then time is what you'll get, Ardeth. As much as you need. It's a small thing to ask. And if there's anything else you need. . .just ask. I'll be there." Ardeth relaxed, the tension leaving his body with a quiet sigh as he slumped back against the pillows. He looked exhausted, and Rick felt guilty about asking his friend to do this while he was still recovering. Yes, time wasn't such an unreasonable request. And any time Rick forgot that, he knew his wife would be there to remind him.
Both men were quiet for a long time, until Rick could endure the silence no longer. He needed. . .hope. He needed reassurance that Ardeth was willing to meet him halfway. But he was a man and he couldn't ask outright. Instead, he found the words he needed from Ardeth himself, spoken nearly a year earlier as they raced away from the British Museum after rescuing Evy. Rick said, drawing the word out, "So. . ." Ardeth opened his eyes to look at him inquisitively. Rick continued, smiling ruefully, "Glad to see me now?"
Ardeth looked startled, then he smiled faintly. He recognized the words, and it took him a moment to come up with the proper response. But come up with it, he did, and he asked, his dark eyes twinkling with what looked like laughter, "Just like old times, yes?" Rick threw back his head and laughed, suddenly feeling like everything would be all right after all. He looked back at Ardeth, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder. Yes, everything would be just fine.
Terreis: (blushing) Thank you! I've never had someone dedicate a chapter to me, so I was very honored. And I loved the chapter of that story! Way to go! And please be careful, don't go blinding yourself!
Sailor Elf: Yes, dear heart, he's awake! I'm glad it made you happy.
Cindy: Thank you so much. Your consistent reviews have been a big help to me, over the last few months, and I greatly appreciate it.
Deana: Sorry it took so long, but I promise, it was well worth the wait. Buckle down, my ladies, the long awaited Talk between Rick and Ardeth is at hand.
Part Nine
Ardeth knew that with the fever in his physical body rising, there was a better than even chance that delirium would set in. What he didn't know. . .and probably should have. . .was that memories long forgotten and best left in the past would rise to the surface. All the barriers were gone, and his greatest shame was there, for anyone who could understand Arabic. At least his wife was spared that horror. He knew there was a reason he had not yet taught her Arabic.
Still, there were too many people who did now know about that violation, about that shame. Ardeth was almost physically ill as he listened to himself telling Rick O'Connell the rest of the story. He couldn't even think about the. . .what Lock-nah and his men did. Aside from torturing him. Or maybe it was a torture in and of itself. Being that helpless. If he closed his eyes, and he allowed himself to remember, he could almost. . .NO!
He forced it out of his mind for sixteen years, never allowing himself to think about any of it. After all, he was the Med-jai chieftain, though only seventeen years old at the time, and such things did not happen to a self-respecting warrior. At that time, he was too young and proud to understand that there were some things you simply could not control. When your body was pushed to its pain threshold, and you had no energy with which to fight back. . .
But of course, that young boy didn't see it that way. That violation was his failure, his failure as a man, as a warrior, as a chieftain. And now, O'Connell knew about it. Oh, Ardeth heard the American's reaction, but that wasn't the point. O'Connell *knew* about that. He knew about that, and now things truly would be changed between them. Though he was still angry with the American, and though he would give O'Connell a second chance. . .he was not certain he could look the other warrior in the eye. He did not know if he could stand to see the pity in the other man's eyes.
*Now you're being silly, young man!* Annabelle said with some asperity. Ardeth looked at the woman, who continued, *For the love of God, you were seventeen years old! One boy, against all those men. . .and I use the term loosely! What did you expect that child to do? Take out all of those cowards alone? Don't be so foolish! Rick O'Connell has his share of faults, but he knows a seventeen year old boy is not to blame for that evil deed.*
Privately, Ardeth wasn't so sure about that, and Annabelle continued, her tone gentling, *Trust me, son. He's angry, yes. But not with that seventeen year old boy. He's angry with the beasts who hurt that child. He knows about the shame and the pride of a child that age. In some ways, Rick O'Connell is still a seventeen year old boy. He would never judge you. . .nor would my granddaughter. Although, she might kill any of the men from that day who still live.*
Ardeth allowed himself a tiny smile at that, acknowledging the truth in her words. He was about to say something about Celia's fierce protectiveness of him. But then, Horus and Isis appeared and Ardeth felt terribly strange. In a way, he felt violated that O'Connell was feeling what he felt through the various crises, was hearing what he thought. Ardeth's thoughts were his own, O'Connell didn't need to know any of that.
And then came the shocker. . .Horus. His bird. . .his falcon. . .his best and most clever friend. Was the god himself? Ardeth actually felt dizzy at that revelation. It seemed that just when he was recovering from one shock, another came along to knock him off-balance. This was the case when Horus and Isis began their chant to remove the poison from his body. Now everything made sense, everything. . .what was happening to him?
Annabelle, as usual, had an answer for him. (Did she have an answer to everything?) She told him, *It's time for you to return to my granddaughter, dear child. Yes, I know the god and goddess said that it would be tomorrow morning, but your poor body could not take the poison for that much longer. They underestimated the trauma your body has undergone, these last few months. It's time for you to go back. You will remember these conversations as dreams. And remember. . .you must not kill Galen!*
Ardeth was on the point of answering, when a terrible pain exploded in his body. He gasped and found himself falling once more. A golden light burned his eyes, and Ardeth tried to look away. The falling sensation ended, and with it, the terrible pain which took his breath away only moments earlier. He groaned softly in relief. Gentle lips pressed against his forehead, and a female voice whispered in ancient Egyptian, "Awake, my sweet child. Your beloved ones await your return. They need you, sweet boy. Your wife most of all. Awaken, Ardeth Bey."
Ardeth groaned again, trying to follow the instructions of the goddess. He was so tired, but he wanted to see his wife. Wanted to. . .what was that? Ardeth froze, listening intently to what was going on around him. There it was again! He heard Celia saying in a voice only a little louder than a breath, "Ardeth? Sweetheart? Wake up, please wake up." Celia? Where was she? He tried to locate the direction of her voice, shivering as cool breezes swept over his body. *Celia, where are you? I heard your voice, my wife, where are you?* Footsteps. . .or rather, floorboards creaking under a person. A relatively small person. Ardeth focused on that.
He vaguely heard Evelyn's voice, but was more intent on his wife's location than whatever Evelyn was asking about. Then the bed creaked and Ardeth could smell his wife's perfume. She whispered, "C'mon, Ardeth, wake up." He wanted to open his eyes, but it would take a little more work before he could do that. However, he received an incentive when he felt a small, trembling hair caress his hair, then gentle kisses covered his face.
*Open your eyes, open your eyes, open your eyes!* Celia's forehead touched his own, as she whispered in a voice only he could hear, "Please. . .you have to come back, Ardeth. There's too much left for us to do. We just now found each other." *I'm coming, sweet Celia.* A figure appeared in his mind, the image of a young woman. At first, he thought it was Annabelle, but after only a moment, realized it was Anck-su-namun. She was holding out her hand. She would take him to Celia. Ardeth took her hand, and new waves of pain washed over him. But this time, he wasn't afraid.
The pain drew a moan from him, but it also unfroze his vocal cords. He managed to force out, "Celia?" Weeping. He heard weeping. Who was weeping? His eyes wouldn't open yet, but that wasn't important. Celia was with him, and there was so much he needed to tell her. Ardeth shivered, but told his wife, "I had such strange dreams, Celia. I dreamed of your grandparents. They love you so much. . .they're so proud of you."
He felt something drop on his face. Something wet, and he knew who was crying. It was his wife. Somehow, he made her cry. Was it because she was worried for him, or because he told her about seeing her grandparents, whom she loved so much? It didn't matter. It didn't matter, because either way, he would make this right for her. Ardeth breathed, "Don't cry, Celia! I am so sorry, my wife, please forgive me."
Celia actually laughed, a joyful sound, and replied hoarsely, "Don't you dare apologize to me, you idiot! I love you so much, Ardeth. . .so much, and I'm so proud to be your wife." *And I am proud to be your husband, my beloved.* Ardeth reached up, drawing his wife down to the bed beside him, until he could feel her against his body. Until she was lying in his arms, her head resting against his chest, and her body warmed his. Why was he so cold?
"And I love you, my Celia. Shhh, don't cry," Ardeth told her. Or, at least, he thought he said that. He was so tired. So very tired. He rested his cheek against Celia's hair, content just to hold her, to feel her hair against his skin. She was still crying, but as Celia warned him when he first asked her to marry him, she was stubborn. She would cry herself out, and then she would fall asleep. With his wife securely in his arms, Ardeth drifted off into a dreamless sleep. He needed no dreams. Only his Celia.
When next he woke, Celia was gone, and Ardeth was cold once more. He still couldn't figure out why he was cold, and before he could make any progress on that, nausea swamped over him. Without thinking twice, he stumbled from the bed, aiming to reach the bathroom before he was sick. He wasn't sure when the last time he ate, but something was coming up and Ardeth wanted to reach the toilet before he messed up the O'Connell guestroom. Evelyn was still pregnant after all, and he didn't want to leave that mess for her.
He barely managed to open the toilet seat and duck his head before the first spasm wracked his body. He was still in terrible pain. His muscles ached, he felt like he was beaten almost to death, and he was sick. A familiar, male voice called his name, then he wasn't alone in the bathroom any more. By this time, Ardeth was sure he was dying. He had to be dying, if he felt this bad. He really wished he could have died in peace, rather than in this indignity.
"Easy, buddy," a gentle voice said. A strong arm encircled his waist, while the other arm wrapped around his shoulders. The spasm ended and Ardeth leaned against the strength offered, not really caring who provided it. The voice repeated, "Easy, I've got you. Jonathan! Jonathan, get your butt in here, Ardeth's sick!" The chieftain flinched, as the shout sent fresh waves of pain pounding through his head.
Pounding feet, and Jonathan was gasping, "He's awake again? Oh, thank God, but I think Celia might kill us. She's still eating breakfast. What do you need me to do, Rick?" Rick? It was O'Connell? A fresh spasm knocked all thoughts out of his head, and when he slumped back against O'Connell again, he didn't have the strength to pull away. Jonathan was mumbling something Ardeth couldn't quite make out.
"Then flush the damn toilet! And when you're finished with that, get me a washrag for his face. Easy. . .let us do all the work," O'Connell said, his voice gentling. Ardeth would have laughed, if he had the energy. Did O'Connell propose that he take Ardeth's place in front of the commode? That was an entirely too tempting offer. Pity he couldn't take the American up on it. Something cool and wet dragged across his face, and Ardeth almost groaned at the relief it provided. O'Connell added, "Next time he has to. . .you know. . .hold his hair back."
"Got it. Do you want me to let Celia know that he's awake. . .I mean, have Alex tell her? He wants to help somehow," Jonathan replied. O'Connell seemed on the point of answering, but Ardeth lurched forward, knowing he was about to go through the whole thing again. Jonathan yelped and Ardeth felt the Englishman yank his hair back. That made Ardeth's head hurt even worse, but it was better than the alternative. Jonathan whispered, "Why is this happening to him, hasn't he been through enough?"
"Celia's theory is that this. . .well, you know. . .him being so sick. . .is the aftereffects of the poison in his body. Don't ask me to explain it, but it makes about as much sense as anything else we've heard so far," O'Connell replied. Ardeth collapsed back against him once more, gasping for breath. He closed his eyes, and heard the toilet flushing. O'Connell added, "At least the fever is gone. . .he's shivering."
"Of course he is, he's half-naked!" came the quick retort from Jonathan. Half naked? Well, that explained much! Something cold brushed against his face again, and Ardeth opened his eyes. Jonathan smiled at him, asking softly, "How do you feel, old boy? So sorry, stupid question." Ardeth gave him a half smile, and Jonathan asked, "Just about finished, are you?"
"I. . .believe. . .so. O'Connell, why. . .?" Ardeth asked. There was a puzzled silence from the American and Ardeth asked, "Why am I wearing so few clothes?"
He heard the laughter rumble in the other man's chest, then O'Connell replied, "We were sponging you down, to bring down your fever." Oh. Now Ardeth remembered, watching it from outside his body while he was with Annabelle and Thomas. Assuming, of course, that wasn't a dream. It didn't feel like a dream, though. It felt entirely too real. O'Connell added, his tone tinged with humor, "I didn't have any designs on your virtue, buddy, if that's what worries you."
"As my wife would say," Ardeth said wearily, "do not flatter yourself." O'Connell laughed outright and Ardeth cringed at the pounding in his head. He closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them, Jonathan was looking at him anxiously, and Ardeth said softly, "You asked me a question. I am finished. I would like to go back to bed now. But first, I would like some water." Jonathan handed him a cup of water, which Ardeth used to rinse out his mouth.
"Then up we go. Jonathan, take his other side. Hang on, buddy, we'll get you back to bed, then somebody will get your wife. Ready? On three. . .one, two, three!" O'Connell said. On 'three,' they lifted Ardeth upright and half-dragged, half-carried him back into his own room. There were so many questions whirling through Ardeth's mind, but right now, he was exhausted. Too tired for the reckoning with O'Connell. As if sensing this, the American murmured, "We got a lot to talk about, Ardeth, but you should rest right now."
"Aywa," Ardeth breathed as he was settled in the bed. Yes, there was much they needed to discuss. But for now, there was one thing he needed to know. Jonathan was heading out of the room, presumably to track down Celia. O'Connell started to follow, but Ardeth grasped his sleeve, stopping him before he could get too far. The American turned back to face him, a concerned and questioning look in his eyes, and Ardeth asked only, "Why?"
O'Connell looked away, then back again. Ardeth thought about clarifying what he meant. Why did he come after them, why. . .just why? However, the other man replied quietly, "Because Celia left a note for Evy. She told her that you were sick, and that you might need our help. I figured, after all the times you've dragged our asses out of trouble, after all the times you've cleaned up our messes. . .I figured it was my turn to save you, instead of the other way around. But we can talk more later."
That was good enough for Ardeth. The moment of truth had not yet come. . .but what O'Connell said gave Ardeth enough of a foundation to. . .to give O'Connell a real second chance. The chieftain wasn't entirely sure he even had that in him, but this was promising. O'Connell gave him a tired smile and said, "Rest now. Jonathan's gone to get Celia. We'll talk when you're stronger." Ardeth nodded and O'Connell touched his bare shoulder, his eyes straying to the bullet wound gained during their second meeting.
The American said quietly, "It left a scar. Could have done a better job of taking care of it." His eyes met Ardeth's, and the Med-jai realized he wasn't talking just about the bullet wound. Ardeth dipped his head, then lay back on the pillows. He was tired. O'Connell quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. Despite his exhaustion, however, Ardeth didn't return to sleep immediately. His stomach muscles ached, his head was pounding, and there were other aches and pains. Worse yet, the aches were compounded by his inability to relax.
A few moments after O'Connell departed, the door creaked open. Footfall, soft. The floorboards creaking only slightly under someone's weight. Ardeth opened his eyes and turned his head toward the door, to find his wife slowly closing the door behind her. Celia turned back around, the door safely shut, and froze. Her paralysis lasted only a moment, then a smile spread across her face. She whispered, moving across the floor to the bed, "Hello, love. Jon told me that you were awake."
She touched his face, and Ardeth put his hand over hers, murmuring, "Lay with me, my wife." Celia nodded and crawled onto the bed beside him, wrapping her arms around his aching waist. Ardeth bit his lip, needing the contact more than he needed relief from the pain. And after a moment, the agony eased. Ardeth rested his cheek against Celia's hair, sighing in Arabic, "Returning to you makes it all worth while, my love."
"Don't know what you just said," Celia answered softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his chest, "but it sure sounded pretty." Ardeth grinned at that, not having the energy to laugh, and Celia continued, "Nothing else matters right now. You're back, and I'm not ever letting you go again." Ardeth tightened his arms around his wife, knowing that she would be there when he awoke the next time, and every time after that.
. . .
It was almost over. There were only two more acts to be played. And as Annabelle watched, her grandson by marriage returned to sleep, his wife clutched in his arms. Celia, for her own part, was holding onto Ardeth for dear life. As if she would never let him go, in this lifetime or the next. Annabelle smiled in spite of herself. Those past lives. . .ahhh, yes. Thomas said quietly, *We did a much better job this time, my love.*
*I can only thank the Creator that we were given a second chance with her, Thomas. We didn't do so well by her, that first time around. We should have been more supportive of her, in the previous time. It took Ardath so long to acknowledge how she truly felt about Rameses,* Annabelle replied. She looked up at her husband, adding, *And yet, we must not have failed too badly. She named her daughter after me, and would have named her son for you, if she would have been more time on earth.*
*I know. But Miriam and Jacob did the best they could, with the time they were given. As we did. And, you did not seem to be terribly surprised when we learned of our previous ties to Celia. . .or should I say, to young Ardath,* Thomas pointed out. Annabelle smiled, her eyes never leaving her granddaughter. Her granddaughter, her foster daughter. Always, in all of their previous lifetimes together, she raised that young woman.
And she did a damn fine job of it. It was difficult for her, this last time. Annabelle gained the memories of her previous life with the birth of her own daughter, Madeleine. Although, Annabelle suspected the barriers to the memories of those previous lives were removed while she lived with the People. They probably guessed the truth, and made it easier for her to remember the truth, when she was ready.
That was why she could never tell her granddaughter the whole truth. That Annabelle knew her, and loved her, and raised her through the ages. That the same would be true for all eternity. Nor could she tell her about the amazing young man for whom she was meant. Not just because of the rules governing her contact with those in the living world, but also because Annabelle wasn't certain if this was the lifetime when they would finally be reunited.
And, Celia simply wasn't ready for that truth. So, Annabelle prepared her, as best she could, by sharing as many stories of the People she could remember. Thank the Creator, Celia was an inquisitive child. She always was. And since her own parents shut her out, the young girl was twice as likely to listen to Annabelle, than if her parents were attentive to her. Something occurred to Annabelle, which took her breath away.
What if that was the whole point of Galen's kidnapping? To force Bruce and Maddy to withdraw from their two younger children, and in turn, push Celia toward her grandmother? Annabelle didn't want to consider that possibility, but she knew better than to ignore that chance. There were times when she felt as though she and her family were pawns of destiny, like pieces of a chess board. . .move and countermove.
Thomas said softly, *In the end, love, it really doesn't matter, the why of it. Rick O'Connell had the right of it, when he said that 'what might have been' wasn't nearly as important as the reality. Things could have been much worse for that family, for our granddaughter and her new husband. In the worst case scenario, the one where Ardeth died at Hamunaptra back in 1926, Celia would have never married, and would have instead, devoted her entire life to rebuilding what Imhotep destroyed.*
Annabelle knew this to be true. She saw the rest of the scenarios displayed for the O'Connells and Jonathan Carnahan. They both did. They saw all the possibilities, all the scenarios, and all the consequences of the choices made. They saw Ardeth and Anck becoming lovers for a brief time, after her rescue of him at Ahm Shere. They saw her eventually traveling to America to find Lady Ardath's reincarnation, and effecting a reunion.
So strange. Until this past crisis, it never occurred to Annabelle, the possibility of Ardeth and Anck as lovers. They were so different, so very different from each other, but she supposed there was some truth to the saying, 'opposites attract.' But in the end, in both that alternate reality, and the one which had Imhotep rising in 1913, Anck realized that Ardeth did not belong with her.
And yet, Anck loved him. In one reality, she sacrificed her place in this world, so she could bring his Celia to him. And in the other, she sacrificed her life for another.
Senephra Bey. The child who would have been born of the trysts between the bored, neglected young queen Anck-su-namun and the young Med- jai slave boy, Ardeth Bey. The child born of Anck-su-namun's body, and who called Celia, 'mother.' The only mother she knew, until the end at Ahm Shere, when Anck sacrificed her own life, to save the life of her twelve year old daughter. A sacrifice willingly made.
If she closed her eyes, Annabelle could see it play out. Hafez ordering the capture of the little girl from Med-jai lands, while her parents tried to bring an end to the entire mess. Anck's fury when she saw her daughter's terrified face. And she knew Senephra immediately. How could she not? The little girl was a combination of her birth mother, and her father. Such a beautiful little girl. The child whom Anck never stopped loving.
She screamed in denial, at the same time her best friend screamed. They saw their daughter in harm's way, and both reacted accordingly. Anck moved to rescue her daughter, while Celia drew a weapon to take out the man threatening her child. One mother died. . .the other survived to comfort Senephra. Yes, Annabelle saw it all, and she saw the same potential which Ma'at, and so many others, saw.
What might have beens, what could still be. Much as she hated to admit it, O'Connell was right about it. In the end, what might have beens didn't matter as much as what could still be. And that was what held Annabelle's attention now. In time, Anck would be reincarnated. It seemed likely that she would be reincarnated at the same time as Annabelle's granddaughter and her husband. After three thousand years, the balance was finally being restored.
First, with Anck's rediscovery of those whom she loved. Not just Imhotep, but her forever friend, Rameses, and the child created together. There was more work for Anck to do, before she was ready to be reborn, but Annabelle had faith. The girl *would* make it. And now, after three thousand years, balance was finally being restored to the friendship between Terumun and Rameses.
If not now, then soon. Annabelle smiled, sighing happily. She loved them both so much. Her treasured granddaughter, her beloved child in all lifetimes. Her husband, forever her love. The trials were not over for them yet, of course. There was still much that had to be done. Many frightening tribulations, which would try the very souls of her beloved children. She could see some of them.
But she also knew that her granddaughter and grandson by marriage had the strength they would need, in order to win. Thomas said softly, *That is right, my love. They have enough strength, between the two of them, to stand fast through the darkness of the night. They have enough strength, enough joy, enough love, enough laughter. Just as we did. For they are finally together. You know this.*
She did. And as both Bruce and Madeleine joined them, Annabelle cast one last look at the sleeping children below her. Sooner or later, Ardeth would get cold and hungry, and it was then that their final great trial would begin.
*I have never forgiven myself for being such a terrible mother,* Maddy said softly, *but now, I think it was necessary. My arrogance and selfishness allowed my daughter to hone her strength. She would not be the Celia whom Ardeth loves so much, if things did not happen as they did.* She paused, cocked her head to one side in a way Annabelle hadn't seen since her daughter was a girl, and added, *Perhaps someone should tell her that.*
*Yes, it may help her when she's trying to keep her patience with O'Connell,* Thomas agreed. Annabelle kept silent. She smiled, however, knowing that the reckoning was coming. Very soon, the two men would finally have their moment of truth. And when that happened, her granddaughter could not be in the room. This final reckoning was between O'Connell and Ardeth. No one else.
. . .
Ardeth wasn't the only one who needed to rest. The last eighteen hours, since Ardeth awoke the first time, were traumatic for everyone in the family. With Ardeth safe and sound, the poison removed from his body, the O'Connell family was allowed to fall apart. Rick and Evy went to their room, falling asleep in each other's arms, while Jonathan and Alex went to their respective rooms.
Rick didn't rest long. He was too keyed up, still running on adrenaline. After only three hours of sleep, he awoke with a start. The last time he awoke that abruptly. . . the dreams. The dreams about those other realities. There were no such dreams this time. Rick wondered about Lady Ardath. Did she realize that she was just a pawn for the gods? Based on what he heard earlier, Lady Ardath was permitted to show them the other realities, as a way to soften Rick up. He grunted. Well, it accomplished what it set out to do.
Even with Ardeth's eyes open, it didn't change things. Every time Rick looked at his friend now, he saw the haunting image of Ardeth dying in his brother's. . .or Evy's. . . arms. Would he have really allowed Ardeth to die in the Golden Pyramid? He didn't want to think so, but Rick was plagued by self-doubts. He didn't know what was more rattling. . .the idea of leaving Ardeth to die, or Anck's change of heart and helping the Med-jai to safety.
With an effort, he redirected his attention. And there were a lot of things he had to think about. However, it wasn't necessary for him to even sit up. Rick sank back against his pillows, sighing deeply. He couldn't sleep any more, but he also wasn't ready to get up. Sleep. Rick almost snorted, then remembered that Evy was still asleep. He didn't know if he would ever catch up on his sleep. He did manage to sleep a little during the eighteen hours after Ardeth's first awakening. But not enough. Not nearly enough.
He had a decision to make. . .or rather, several. The time of reckoning was ahead, and Rick had no idea how he would handle it. He didn't know what Ardeth would say, or what would happen. However, the fact that Ardeth even had to ask why Rick came for him wasn't promising. It meant that Ardeth no longer trusted him. . .and that, alone, meant that Rick faced an uphill battle in regaining his friend's trust.
Which brought him. . .oh, to hell with this! His frustration with himself and the situation caused a surge of adrenaline and energy. Suddenly restless and unable to lay still any more, Rick bounced up from the bed, checking over his shoulder to make sure he didn't wake Evy. She slept peacefully, a small smile on her face. At least one of them could do that. The American now realized that it was his unease about the conversation with Ardeth that made him so restless. He wanted it over with. He wanted it resolved.
Of course Evy wasn't concerned about it, not concerned enough to stay awake. This sort of thing was easy for her. All she had to do was give Ardeth a hug, tell him again how much she loved him and how sorry she was, and that was it. There were no such options available to Rick. And he was no good at talking. . .he communicated by using his gun or his fist. But this time, he had to talk. He told Celia that he would do this on his terms, but the longer he thought about it, the more crazy he made himself. It was time to stop thinking and time to start doing.
Rick moved purposefully out of his and Evy's room, stealing down the hall to the guest bedroom. A quick peek inside told him that Ardeth was wide awake and asking his wife for some food. Well. . .he hadn't eaten in a few days, it wasn't a huge surprise that he was hungry. What was a surprise, however, was the fact that Ardeth was trying to talk his wife into doing something which would be very, very bad. Namely, get a lot of food for him.
Rick choked back a grin. Ordinarily, his money would be on Ardeth, but his friend was recovering from a devastating illness, and he wasn't at his best. Besides, he was arguing with his equally stubborn wife, who was also a mother, and knew that eating a lot after being so sick would only make him more sick. Further, Ardeth's tenacious wife probably felt guilty, though Rick wasn't sure why she would feel that way.
Still, even taking her guilt into account, and everything else which happened over the last few days, Celia was not being unreasonable. Overprotective of her husband, of course. . .she outright admitted that she was very protective of Ardeth. Still, Rick could hardly blame her for her caution, any more than he could blame Ardeth for wanting to eat anything he could get his hands on. Not surprisingly, it was an argument that Celia won. Rick could have told his friend that his wife would win that argument. . .but he thought it was something Ardeth should learn.
The win put her in such a good mood, she flounced past him with a saucy smirk. Didn't even say a word, which surprised Rick. She just arched a brow. Looked like she would at least trust him to carry out his word to her, that he would put things to right, on his terms. He nodded at her, then quietly rapped on the door. Ardeth looked up, still grinning. Okay. He was grinning after losing a verbal battle with his wife, which begged the question. . .why *was* he grinning? More to the point, did Rick *want* to know the answer to that question?
Some of the light died from Ardeth's eyes and he nodded to Rick, saying in a familiar tone, "O'Connell." The Med-jai was eyeing him warily. Oh yeah. Definitely had some massive bridge-building to do. Ardeth added, nodding in the direction of his departing wife, "I woke Celia, and asked her to get me some food. I could not convince her to prepare a large breakfast for me. She was quite insistent about a light breakfast. She fears I will become sick again."
"Well," Rick said reasonably, "I can see her point of view. And I don't imagine you want to go through that again." Ardeth shook his head, grimacing as he obviously remembered just how awful it was. Rick quietly closed the door behind him, adding, "She didn't just leave because you needed food. Celia and I had a little talk while you were. . .unconscious." He didn't know how else to put it, especially since he was afraid at the time that Ardeth wouldn't make it.
"Indeed?" was all Ardeth would say. Rick grimaced. Oh yeah. Ardeth definitely would not make this easy on him. However, Rick stopped and thought about it. Did he really want it to be easy? Did he want Ardeth to let him off the hook, and tell him that everything was all right? No. No, he didn't. That wasn't Rick's style, and it certainly wasn't Ardeth's, either. In the back of his mind, he heard someone whisper, 'nothing worthwhile has ever been easy. . .much less friendship and trust.'
Rick had no idea who owned that pesky voice, though he was afraid it was Terumun. His previous incarnation probably had the capacity to be just as insistent as Nefertiri or Lady Ardath. That Lady's descendent said quietly, "My wife is a very strong-willed woman, O'Connell. It has been necessary for her, to survive. This, I learned from her grandparents. In some ways, O'Connell, I knew my Celia not at all. Can you imagine what it was like, gaining that knowledge about someone whom I love more than life itself?"
That gave Rick the opening he needed, the opening he was searching for. The American responded, "Actually, yes, I can imagine that. Better than you think. I did a lot of mulling while you were. . .unconscious. And I came to a disconcerting realization. I don't really know you at all, do I." It was a statement of fact, not a question, and Rick didn't wait for an answer. He didn't need one. Instead, he continued, "I realized that, while you were unconscious. Hell, even before you got so sick. I was coming to the train station to apologize, Ardeth."
"Why?" Ardeth asked quietly. That wasn't something Rick was expecting, especially since they talked about this a little earlier. He *told* the Med-jai why. At least, the 'why' of the train station. But Ardeth wasn't finished. He asked, "Why come to the train station, why come to apologize? Why are you saying now that you do not really know me, when I have been more honest with you and Evelyn than anyone aside from my family and wife?"
Rick took a deep breath, then realized he didn't know what to say. After a moment, he decided to answer the questions in the order they were asked. There was a hint of anger in him, that Ardeth wouldn't just accept his apology and let this go, but Ardeth allowed only so much attitude, and Rick crossed the line. He swallowed his anger, answering, "I told you. I went to the train station, because I knew you were sick, and it was time I started saving your ass, instead of the other way around. I just didn't realize how sick you were."
He looked at his friend. Funny. Ardeth was still very pale and he was still very weak. He was half-naked, and could barely sit upright in bed. But his presence was no less commanding than all the previous times Rick saw the other man in battle. There was so much he didn't know about Ardeth Bey. If he played this right, he would have the chance to learn even more. Everything depended on what happened in the next few minutes.
He had to keep that in mind. At all times. Rick maintained eye contact with Ardeth and went on, "Why did I go to the train station to apologize? I actually meant to apologize the night before, more than once, but both Jonathan and Evy headed me off at the pass. They were afraid I was apologizing to make myself feel better, instead of a genuine apology, and they wouldn't allow me to disturb your rest for my selfishness."
*You didn't answer his question.* The words didn't come from Ardeth, or Celia, or anyone else. But they were there. Probably Terumun again. Damn him. Rick dipped his head, and sighed, trying to find the words he needed. After a moment, he looked up at his friend and said softly, "I wanted to apologize because I crossed the line. I didn't just cross the line, I obliterated it. I should have never blamed you for the attack against Evy and the baby. Because it was just the last straw. . .the straw that broke the camel's back. I wanted to apologize because I was wrong, and. . .goddammit, are you gonna make me say it?"
"Why did you. . .if you. . ." Ardeth began. For the first time, the stoic mask dropped and Rick saw the anger. The quiet, potent rage which Rick first saw at Hamunaptra so many years earlier. But then the mask went back up. The shoulders went back, and Ardeth continued, "Yes, O'Connell. I wish to hear." Again, rage flowed briefly over Rick, but he didn't allow himself to lash out. That was how he got into this situation in the first place. Besides, despite the mask currently in place, Ardeth was still sick. Rick wouldn't kick a man when he was down.
The American took yet another deep breath, then answered, "The night before you got so sick, I had a series of dreams. About what might have been, about what could have happened, if any number of decisions were made differently. And it forced me to realize. . .just how you've helped us. Every time we've needed you, you've been there. Hauling our asses out of trouble, fighting by our side. You've never let us down, buddy. Not once."
Ardeth still hadn't spoken, and Rick exhaled before continuing, "I. . .I should have never blamed you for the attack. And I didn't. That was the whole thing, even as the words were coming out of my mouth, I *knew* you weren't to blame. I knew that you probably saved my wife and my daughter. I knew all of that, and I just couldn't stop the words in time. They were just there. There was no thought to it at all."
"Then why did you say it? Why say something you know to be untrue, unless you truly believe it? Do you believe that, O'Connell? Do you truly believe that I would purposefully bring harm to my little sister? To her unborn child? And have you forgotten that it was not I who raised Imhotep and the Scorpion King?" Ardeth asked, the stoic mask dropping yet again with the bitterness in his voice. And there *was* bitterness in his voice. Bitterness Rick never heard before, and didn't think possible from Ardeth Bey.
Rick started to speak, but Ardeth wasn't finished. He was glowering at Rick, his eyes burning with a long-suppressed frustration finally given voice. He continued, "Do you think it is easy for me, to ask for help? To come to someone of a culture who looks down on mine?" Rick looked away. He never thought of that. Of either of those points. And then the full significance of the second sentence penetrated his brain. Rick's head snapped up as he stared at Ardeth in shock.
"NO! Christ, I don't look down on you! I. . ." Rick began. He looked away, away from Ardeth's disbelieving look. His own words repeated in his head, his dismissal of Ardeth's certainty that he was a Med-jai. Rick rubbed his face over his hand and said, "I don't look down on you, I don't. . .it sounds like I'm dismissing what you're saying, 'cause it scares the shit out of me. Because if you're right. . ."
"You think I do not know that of which I speak? That I. . .I merely speak to hear my own voice, O'Connell?" Ardeth demanded. Oooh. Bad sign. Rick came to realize, over the years, that Ardeth's English inevitably became more formal when he was either unwell or angry. Ardeth muttered something highly uncomplimentary about Rick's intelligence under his breath in Arabic. Rick glared at him, then backed off. He was gonna make things right if it killed him, and if that meant backing down and holding his tongue, so be it.
Very quietly, Rick answered, "Denial is a powerful thing, Ardeth. If you pretend something isn't there, then it really isn't. I suppose I can't expect you to understand that, not when reality has stared you in the face your entire life. I've had the same thing, but the stakes were different for me. If I saw something I didn't like, I could look away. You didn't have that same freedom. You're used to that responsibility, Ardeth. I'm not."
Ardeth said nothing, merely looked at Rick. The American was finding it hard to put things into words, and while Ardeth wasn't willing to go easy on him and just forget the whole thing, he wasn't making things difficult, either. In a strange sort of way, Ardeth was meeting him halfway. Rick understood that if he wanted to retain (or regain) this man's friendship, he had to play by Ardeth's rules this time. With that in mind, Rick added, "It's not that easy to. . . just expand my area of responsibility. Being a Med-jai means a lot of responsibility."
"But it is a part of you, O'Connell. How can you turn away from that?" Ardeth asked. He looked genuinely puzzled, and Rick realized with a shock that he should have expected this. As a warrior, Ardeth learned to accept his weaknesses and either remove them, or turn them into strengths. It made him a better warrior, and it was also part of his leadership skills. He knew which men belonged in which role, and whom he could trust. He wondered what his life would have been like, being raised alongside this man.
"Because I'm not like you, Ardeth. I don't doubt that I remind you of your brother. But there's a really big difference between me and Andreas Bey. . .I didn't grow up with a big, loving family. I didn't have two parents to show me how to accept things that frightened me or angered me. I had only myself. And I sure as hell didn't have a. . . a pain in the ass best friend who was always there when I needed him, whether I wanted him to be there or not!" Rick finally said. The last sentence was mumbled.
And unheard by Ardeth. The Med-jai was still looking at Rick. His expression was stoic, but behind the mask, Rick saw confusion, hurt, and anger. The American said with a sigh, leaning forward, "Look. You. . .a few minutes ago, you asked me a question. Several questions, but there was one which was the most important. And here is the answer. No. . .I know you would never hurt Evy, or Alex, or the baby. Any of us. And no, I know it isn't easy for you, to ask for help. You're just as proud as I am, if not more so."
Ardeth was on the point of asking, 'why.' Rick could see it in his eyes. He wasn't ready to answer that question, in part because he didn't have the answer. He was still thinking about Celia's question to him. . . about Beni, and whether or not he was making Ardeth pay for that little weasel's betrayal. Yeah, the little stinkweed protected Miranda, at Imhotep's command, until Celia and Anatol got there. But Beni still closed that damn door and left Rick to die.
"And this whole situation. . .from start to finish. . .begs the question. I just. . . I don't get it, buddy. We put you through hell, I make it a habit of shoving you around, and wanting you to do things for me, and you just put up with it. With me. WHY?" Rick almost demanded. Ardeth closed his eyes, and for a moment, Rick was afraid that he really went too far. Then his friend opened his eyes once more, revealing a bone-deep weariness.
"There are so many answers to that question, O'Connell, I scarcely know where to begin. I have said that you remind me a great deal of my older brother, Andreas. We have already discussed this. . .at least, you have. I wish there were words which would allow me to tell you about him. He was my hero. He was everything to me, especially after my father died," Ardeth finally replied. Rick swallowed hard. Ardeth was a great hero. . .for him to say that his brother was his hero, that told Rick a lot about Andreas.
Rick licked his lips, then said softly, "You meant the world to him." Ardeth looked at him with a confused expression, and Rick continued, "I saw how he reacted, when he was faced with the possibility of losing you forever. It almost. . .no. It *did* destroy him, Ardeth. You might have worshipped him, but he drew his strength from you. You started that pretty young, didn't you? Giving your strength to others."
Ardeth just shrugged, saying, "That is. . .I do what I must for my people, O'Connell. That is another reason why I. . .why things remained as they were for such a long time. You were protecting your family, and I happened to get in the way. I understood that." Rick didn't know what to say to that, and so he said nothing. It was easier, sometimes, to say nothing at all. Easier, and safer. After a moment, Ardeth continued, "Besides, that is just the way you are. I am not sure why I reacted so strongly this time."
Rick did something unusual for him during these last few days. He listened to conversations around him. Really, there was nothing else for him to do, not if he wanted to keep his sanity. And drawing from that information, he said slowly, "I think I do. You don't like traveling, much less to England. That's one thing. For another, you asked me to keep Evy away from that temple, and we went there anyhow. Anck told me about the brothers she threw over the side, after they were so rude to you and Celia. That's three."
He enumerated each point as he remembered them. Ardeth's mouth tightened when he mentioned the brothers who took an unexpected swim. Rick really wished he could have seen that! Maybe, after he was finished apologizing to Ardeth, he could convince Anck to tell him their names, if she knew that. Of course she had that information, Anck wouldn't leave something like that to chance! Kinda like him.
Rick stopped before he could go much further. He didn't even want to think about the similarities between himself and Anck-su-namun. That was dangerous territory. Celia already told him, very bluntly, that she saw a lot of similarities between him and Imhotep. In her ever so humble opinion, they were the two sides to the same coin. That was bad enough. But similarities between him and Anck-su-namun? Uh. . . no. He didn't wanna think about *that.*
Instead, the American forced himself to concentrate on the current conversation and continued, "You got to the house, had the fight with the Guardian bozos, were wounded yourself. That's four. . .no, five. . .no, six. Six, that's right. According to Evy, you gave the bozos a chance to surrender. Dumb move, if you ask me. . .not surrendering to a Med-jai when you had the chance. Didn't Isis teach any of her high priests or priestesses that fighting a Med-jai is a very *bad* thing to do?"
That earned him a ghost of a smile, and Rick went on, "Your wife had to kill for the first time on her own, without any help from Lady Ardath. . . again, in defense of my wife. And then, King Bozo opened his big yap, blaming you for the attack on his wife and child. That's seven and eight. Now, given those circumstances. . .I think your reaction was actually pretty mild. Especially compared to mine!"
"As my wife would say. . .I will say nothing to that," Ardeth said, still with that ghost of a smile. It was that comment, and that smile, which ultimately gave Rick hope that he could still salvage this. . .all of this. It wouldn't be easy, but he was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Just as long as it didn't come from another double decker bus. He still had nightmares from that first one!
"Yeah, that's what she would say, too," Rick observed with a rueful grin, "you married a regular little firebrand, you know that? And she was such a nice girl when we first met her! Hell, I can't figure out who has changed more in the last six months. . .you or her!" That earned him a somewhat broader grin from Ardeth. He probably thought the same thing, as Ardeth was more aware of everything.
What was said, and unsaid. . .what was done, and undone. Rick said honestly, "I'm sorry, Ardeth. I'm sorry for all of it. And if you'll give me a chance. . ." He stopped, knowing that there was nothing he could promise that would mean anything to Ardeth. Empty promises were as bad, if not worse, than broken promises. And to say that he would never lash out at Ardeth again. . .well, Ardeth wouldn't believe him. He came to expect such behavior from Rick, it was part of whom Rick was. . .and Ardeth didn't expect people to change to suit him. There was a clue somewhere in there, a clue that would allow him to make things right, but damn if Rick could figure it out right now.
Ardeth had something to say, however. He murmured, slumping back against his pillows, "While I was unconscious, I was in another place, O'Connell. I saw my own body, and those around it. I heard the conversations. I know you mean what you say." Ardeth. . .knew? He heard all of what was said to him, and around him? Then why were they going through this whole mess? Terumun said. . .and this time Rick could plainly hear his voice. . .*because it was necessary. Stop whining.*
Rick glared at his alter ego from ancient Egypt, not that it did much good, of course. Not when Rick knew Terumun was right. And when Rick didn't interrupt him, Ardeth continued, "But the most important question was never answered, O'Connell. Two questions, actually. Firstly. . .what has caused you to distrust me so? And secondly, whether or not I should trust you. On that first night, as I bathed, a most disturbing thought occurred to me." Rick reflected that this would be good. Ardeth liked admitting that he was disturbed about as well as he liked admitting that he needed help.
Rick was right about what was to come. Ardeth went on, somewhat reluctantly, "It occurred to me, O'Connell, that I trust Imhotep more than you trust me. And certainly, he trusts me. . .the living reminder of the great injustice done to him. . .more than you do." Rick's blood turned to ice. He really believed that. Looking into Ardeth's dark eyes, the American could see that his friend, his *best* friend, truly believed what he just said.
*He thinks I don't trust him. Well, why should he think otherwise?* That last comment came not from Rick, but from Terumun, who was staring at him accusingly. Damn him. He wasn't behaving at all like the other previous incarnations. It was like he was right there in Rick's head, demanding his attention. And unfortunately, he had a captive audience. There was nowhere that Rick could run, that Terumun couldn't find him.
In the days before Ardeth and Celia were married, Rick had a rare conversation with Jason Ferguson, in which the younger man told him about being possessed by Khaldun, and his confrontation with the jealous prince shortly before the arrival of the rescue party. There was nowhere that Khaldun could go, that Jason couldn't find him. It sounded too familiar. Rick said very softly, "And without trust, there is no friendship."
"La," Ardeth said softly, simply. The two men sat in silence. A part of Rick wanted to walk away now. Just walk away, and forget the whole damn thing. But he was bound by the same tethers which kept Ardeth loyal to him for so long. History. Was his pride really worth that much to him, that he would walk away from this man for good? Simply give up, after everything they went through together?
It was because of that question that he asked, "What do you want from me, Ardeth? What do I do? What *can* I do, to make this right?" 'What do I do?' Rick flinched, for the words reminded him once more of Ahm Shere. Why couldn't he get away from those memories? They were still so damn fresh for him. *What do I do, Evy? What do I do? Take care of Alex.* Rick blinked his eyes, trying desperately to shake the images, which now included Ardeth falling to Meela's blade.
Ardeth was silent for a long time, and Rick had the sense that his friend didn't know how to answer him. That made the American very uncomfortable, so he said suddenly, "Celia feels guilty, you know. About you being so sick." Ardeth looked up, his eyes narrowing, and Rick explained, "She feels guilty, because she couldn't talk you out of going to the train station. There may be more to it than that. But I know about that, at least. It's not like your wife actually confides in me, or anything." Anything but that, actually.
"Aywa. There is more, though that is a beginning. My wife and I. . .she is. . .she takes great enjoyment in making me. . ." Ardeth began. He stalled, trying to find the words, but Rick was pretty sure he could figure it out. However, Ardeth continued, "She enjoys raising my blood pressure. On that day, it was no different. My wife fears that she caused the poison to spread more quickly through my body, because of our. . . amorous activities."
"And, of course, you set her straight?" Rick asked. Ardeth just sighed, and Rick guessed, "You tried, but you're not sure if it stuck. She's stubborn, like I said. She's still not at ease with what she had to do in our house, back in Cairo, when Khaldun took you over." Ardeth looked up at him, rubbing the back of his head without really thinking about it. Rick asked slowly, "What about you? Are you okay with what she had to do?"
"Yes and no. She did what was necessary, to save me. I have never forgiven Khaldun for what he did, or myself for what I failed to do," Ardeth replied quietly. He paused, then added, "And yes, O'Connell, I did try to set her straight, as you put it, but I am not certain if she accepted what I told her. I did, however, succeed in reminding her that it would not have mattered how quickly the poison passed through my body, once it entered my bloodstream."
Good point. Rick observed, "You would have collapsed eventually. Maybe Celia did you a favor with her. . .ah. . .well, with instigating your amorous activities." He used Ardeth's own words, feeling his face turn bright red. He really didn't want to be discussing this topic, and didn't really need the pictures it conjured up in his overactive imagination. Ardeth raised his eyebrows, and Rick explained, still blushing fiercely, "You would have left and gotten on the train. You would have collapsed on the train."
Ardeth inclined his head, in acknowledgment of this fact, and Rick asked softly, needing to know the answer to one question, "Ardeth. . .really. Why did you leave? Especially the way you did?" It was something which he found hard to reconcile with the quiet courage and strength he knew Ardeth to possess. It was almost like running away, and while Ardeth once told him to live today and fight tomorrow, it wasn't the same.
The Med-jai answered softly, "I was not thinking clearly, O'Connell. And I believed myself to be unwelcome here. I feared my presence would cause dissension between you and Evelyn, stress which she does not need, so close the hour of her delivery. So. . .the answer to your question is, partly from my own selfishness and partly out of fear for Evelyn." Rick blinked. He never expected Ardeth to be quite so blunt. However, after a moment, he shook his head at himself. He shouldn't have been so surprised. Ardeth could be very blunt when he chose. Obviously, he chose to be blunt now.
Rick was silent for several moments, then asked once more, "You didn't answer the most important question of all. What can I do, Ardeth, to win back your trust? What can I do to make things right with you?" Those weren't his words, Rick realized immediately. He didn't talk like that. But Terumun did, and Rick realized that in his own way, his previous incarnation was trying to help him. Just as Nefertiri helped Evy, and Lady Ardath helped Celia.
Terumun was trying to help, because Rick couldn't find the words to apologize properly. Ardeth looked at him, before closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the pillows. He looked exhausted, and Rick was on the point of suggesting they finish this later, when Ardeth replied, "There is no magic formula, no single act, O'Connell. I need time. You know, just as well as I do, that things can not return to the way they were. We can only move forward."
Time. In a way, it was the hardest thing Ardeth could have asked of him. Time meant waiting, and waiting wasn't something Rick was good at. He wasn't patient, except where Evy and the children were concerned. *But, my brother, that is what he requires of you. Time to find a new balance, time to create a new peace between you. Will you truly let him down, after everything? You have both come so far. . .why would you stop now?*
It was one last shot to blow it all. Rick's anger began to rise once more. It was how he always reacted when he was frightened or didn't know what else to do, what else to feel. Terumun's words only served to throw gasoline on the flame. *How dare Ardeth ask him to wait, when there might be a time that Rick's family needed him while he got his head straight? And how dare Terumun say what he said?*
Ardeth's dark eyes hardened, and his chin lifted defiantly. Almost as if he heard what Rick was thinking, though that wasn't possible. Terumun's words angered Rick, but Ardeth's reaction to the unspoken harsh words were a cold slap of water in his face. While Ardeth fought for his life, Rick came to realize that his pride had no meaning alongside the life of his friend. How dare Ardeth? How dare *Rick* assume that Ardeth's only purpose in life was to save Rick's family, usually from a situation of their own making?
He came to one other conclusion. He was wrong about something else. When he told Lady Ardath that reality was reality, and what might have been was irrelevant. No. No, the what might have beens were important, because there were many ways of losing someone. They could die, as Evy did at Ahm Shere, though she returned. . .or you could drive them away with your own stupidity and arrogance. He still couldn't forgive himself for failing to protect Evy at Ahm Shere. Would he ever forgive himself if he lost Ardeth not to death, but to his own pride? Looking back at those alternate realities, the answer was obvious.
Rick exhaled softly, then replied, "Then time is what you'll get, Ardeth. As much as you need. It's a small thing to ask. And if there's anything else you need. . .just ask. I'll be there." Ardeth relaxed, the tension leaving his body with a quiet sigh as he slumped back against the pillows. He looked exhausted, and Rick felt guilty about asking his friend to do this while he was still recovering. Yes, time wasn't such an unreasonable request. And any time Rick forgot that, he knew his wife would be there to remind him.
Both men were quiet for a long time, until Rick could endure the silence no longer. He needed. . .hope. He needed reassurance that Ardeth was willing to meet him halfway. But he was a man and he couldn't ask outright. Instead, he found the words he needed from Ardeth himself, spoken nearly a year earlier as they raced away from the British Museum after rescuing Evy. Rick said, drawing the word out, "So. . ." Ardeth opened his eyes to look at him inquisitively. Rick continued, smiling ruefully, "Glad to see me now?"
Ardeth looked startled, then he smiled faintly. He recognized the words, and it took him a moment to come up with the proper response. But come up with it, he did, and he asked, his dark eyes twinkling with what looked like laughter, "Just like old times, yes?" Rick threw back his head and laughed, suddenly feeling like everything would be all right after all. He looked back at Ardeth, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder. Yes, everything would be just fine.