Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed! I love you guys. :) From here on, I'm going to be moving away from the actual movie scenes and doing some original stuff in between parts in the film.
Chapter Four: An Unlikely Conversation
"Thank you," I said earnestly to the Bedouin woman who had sold me a dress for a considerably low price. After nearly eight hours in a damp nightgown (which had clung to my curves in an annoyingly audacious manner; O'Connell had kept sneaking glances at me), the smooth black dress seemed a gift from heaven.
"You welcome," she responded in broken English. "Very beautiful girl."
"Thank you," I said again, flushing a bit. I spotted O'Connell standing with Jonathan next to the camels they'd purchased, conversing easily about one thing or another.
O'Connell mumbled something to Jonathan as I approached before suddenly falling silent. His gaze was firmly fixed on me, so intense that it shot shivers up and down my spine.
I felt a blush rise to my cheeks, and I allowed my line of vision to fall from him to the sand. A flattered smile so forceful that I didn't attempt to fight it back made its way across my face.
My eyes shyly made their way back to him to find him absently stroking the camel, still staring.
"W...why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, attempting at a joke. "I know it's not a dripping wet nightgown, but-"
"You're really beautiful," he replied, voice low and husky. My brother rolled his eyes.
"Here we go," Jonathan groaned.
O'Connell didn't seem to hear him...either he had suddenly been hit by an intense sunburn, or he was blushing.
That was certainly something I'd never expected to see.
"I mean...er...um...you look really...yeah...you're...let's get going."
It was definitely strange to see him flustered.
Not that I didn't enjoy it.
~ * ~
"Never did like camels," Jonathan announced, wrinkling his nose in disgust as we set out across the desert. "Filthy buggers; they smell, they bite, they spit...disgusting."
"I think they're adorable," I declared, stroking the head of the camel I rode.
From where he followed in behind, the prison warden began to sing in Arabic, voice painfully off-key and wavering with each step the camel took.
I exchanged a look with O'Connell, who looked as though he'd very much enjoy ripping out our dear friend the warden's vocal cords.
"I can't take this," Jonathan proclaimed in disgust before beginning his own horrendous rendition of '99 Bottles Of Beer On The Wall'.
This looked as though it would be an incredibly long day.
~ * ~
Night left us to drown in an endless sea of blue. The navy sky painted the sand a dark indigo, patches of it a fainter shade than others depending upon whether it was basked in the moonlight.
A yawn escaped my lips, and I allowed my aching eyes to rest shut. It seemed nearly impossible to sleep, with the camel's jerky, uneven steps jolting me back and forth every few seconds, but I could at least attempt to relax a bit.
"You still awake up there, O'Connell?" I heard Jonathan ask.
"Yup," O'Connell replied shortly.
"You're not a big talker, are you?" Jonathan continued his line of questions.
"Nope."
"Yeah, I gathered."
They fell silent again, and I was about to drift into sleep, when-
"Hey, Jonathan?"
"What?"
"What kind of guys does your sister like?"
It took all my self-control not to burst into a fit of astonished laughter.
"Oh, Evy?" Jonathan asked casually.
"Do you have any other sisters?" O'Connell asked, frustrated. It sounded as though he spoke through gritted teeth.
"Good point," Jonathan said thoughtfully.
"Ugggh," O'Connell groaned. "Forget I asked."
"No, no, no," Jonathan said jovially. "I insist."
"Shoot, then," O'Connell ordered.
"Well, she likes the bookish ones, I suppose," Jonathan said. "You know, the ones that wear wire-rim glasses and throw eight-syllable-words into everyday conversation."
"Oh," O'Connell said flatly.
"Almost married one of them once," Jonathan continued. "I'm glad the bloody bastard went out and cheated on her. Let me tell you, having that chap as a brother-in-law would have been torture."
"Wait a second," O'Connell said slowly. "Baaack up there...cheated on her??"
Oh, wonderful. Now Jonathan would be sure to fill him in on every melodramatic detail concerning the one serious romance I'd ever had.
"Ohhh, yes," Jonathan said sympathetically. "Poor old mum...that one really hit her hard."
"Why would anyone cheat on her??" O'Connell asked, still sounding completely bewildered.
Lord, he's going to torture me with this information.
"God, I don't know!" Jonathan said, sounding a little annoyed. "Look at all the other women in the world! There are some gorgeous ones out there."
"She's gorgeous," O'Connell said defensively.
I could practically hear Jonathan wrinkling his nose while I fought to hold back a pleased smile.
"Well, I really don't see her that way, sorry."
"What happened with this guy, anyway?" O'Connell asked curiously.
"It was probably around two years ago," Jonathan started. "Evy had just started working at the museum, and he worked there as well. Nathan, his name was."
"I never liked that name," O'Connell scowled.
"Yes, well," Jonathan said. "Evy was just enamored with him. He loved all the same things as her - the same books, the same boring old Egyptian stuff that I never gave a damn about. He was over at our house for dinner every night...unbearable chap. Couldn't understand what he was saying half the time, he used such big words. He and Evy would stay late at the museum... 'organizing the card catalogues'...that was her excuse you know, but I knew what she was up to. I knew that she and that arse were just-"
Leave it to Jonathan, to make a perfectly innocent activity like organizing card catalogues sound like a code for crazed licentious sex.
"Okay, okay," O'Connell said, sounding mildly disgusted. "I get it. You can really skip that part."
"Just thought you might like to know," Jonathan said innocently. "Anyway, he proposed, she accepted, everything was fine-and-dandy. Until..."
"...until?" O'Connell repeated impatiently.
"Until one day she comes into the museum after hours to find that dirty bastard 'organizing the card catalogues' with another woman," Jonathan finished with a heavy sigh. "Poor Evy. She was really crushed after that. Loved that slimy bastard a lot. Hasn't had a boyfriend since." He paused. "Come to think of it, she hadn't really had one before him either."
I faintly wondered if he could make me sound any more pathetic.
"Her first kiss was at age twenty-two, actually."
Yes, he could. (And it was twenty-one, thankyouverymuch.)
At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to drop my little 'asleep' charade, march on over to my beloved brother, and strangle him.
Slowly.
"Well," O'Connell said, sounding almost hopeful. "Since she was hurt by the... 'bookish type' last time, don't you think that she'd want to try another type this time? You know?"
"I don't know, O'Connell," Jonathan responded. "Would anyone besides the bookish type have the slightest bit of interest in her?"
Silence.
"Oh, well, besides you of course," Jonathan added. "It's pretty bloody obvious that you're positively smitten with my lovely sister."
"I never said that," O'Connell growled.
"Sure, sure," Jonathan said dismissively.
More silence.
"Jonathan, what if I was smitten with your sister?"
"Well, you'd better not break her heart then. You should've seen what I did to Nathan. After Evy told me what happened, I marched right on over to his house and put him in his place! He definitely won't be messing with the Carnahans again."
I couldn't help but notice how he oh-so-subtly left out the part where he'd been practically beaten to a bloody pulp after throwing a punch at Nathan and missing by roughly a foot.
"Jonathan, I don't have any intention of breaking your sister's heart, okay?"
My brother's tone was suspicious. "Are you sure, O'Connell? Because you don't exactly seem the type to value fidelity..."
"Hey," O'Connell snapped. "I like Evelyn, okay?"
"Okay," Jonathan said wistfully. "Just keep telling yourself that when some gorgeous leggy blonde comes along."
"Jonathan!" O'Connell snarled. "I am attempting to ask for your help, okay?"
"All right, all right," Jonathan said, sounding ruffled. "Calm down. Honestly. Americans."
"Jonathan, rest assured: if you had to deal with yourself, you'd be pretty snappish too."
"What do you mean by that? I'm nothing less than charming and witty conversationalist."
"...Right. Anyway, just...help me with Evy?"
Jonathan sighed. "Fine. I'll do it out of the goodness of my heart."
"Thank you," O'Connell growled. "Now, what should I do? What kind of stuff does she like?"
"Well, first, listen to her Ancient Egypt babbling. Act like you're interested. She'll love it. And don't treat her all mushy. Keep up the witty banter; witty banter is good, very good."
"Okay..." O'Connell said slowly, as though trying to memorize Jonathan's advice.
"Protect her from the mummies," Jonathan continued.
What??
"What??"
"Those things make her jumpy," Jonathan said earnestly. "Honestly; one will sit up in its sarcophagus and she goes mad. Screeching and gasping and putting her hand to her heart. All of that."
"Oookay then," O'Connell said, sounding as though he thought Jonathan to be an escapee from an insane asylum. (I noticed my dear brother got that a lot.) "I'll keep that in mind...anything else?"
"Get her presents," Jonathan concluded. "Women love presents."
O'Connell laughed shortly. "We're out in the middle of the desert, Jonathan. What am I supposed to get her? Sand??"
"Easy," Jonathan said. "Steal something."
"What??"
"She'll never know!" Jonathan assured him. "It works every time."
"There's not a whole lot out here to steal either, Jonathan."
"Well, sorry, dear boy, but that's all I've got for you."
"Thanks," O'Connell said hesitantly.
"Any time," Jonathan responded merrily.
They fell silent for a moment, and I paused for a moment to let the sheer hilarity of the conversation sink in. Never in a million years would I have expected O'Connell asking my brother (who hasn't the slightest clue about women) about advice to gain my affections. I blankly wondered if I was dreaming. If someone had told me that morning that the conversation would take place, I would have responded that mummies would come alive (without Jonathan's help) before that occurrence.
"O'Connell?" Jonathan's voice broke the silence.
"Hmm?"
"Best of luck, old boy."
"...Thanks."