Basically, Isis' POV on the same event.
Dress Rehearsal
I am about to meet with my younger brother for the first time in two years.
Malik does not yet know that we are going to meet; this is not an event that we have arranged together. Fate arranged it for us and revealed it to me in a vision.
I had difficulty believing the vision at first. The woman in it was unbearably cold-hearted towards Malik, and she showed no response to his harsh words, even when they wounded her. As Malik finally stormed away, furious at what had been said, the woman just watched calmly. I found myself disgusted at her.
Yet I would have to be that woman.
It was a demanding role that would require much study. Again and again I watched the vision, re-inflicting that pain that it gave me, prodding over and over at the wound until I felt nothing. The repetition also aided memory; I now know all of my cues and all of my lines and all of the emotions I may or may not show.
I am prepared.
As I wait for Malik to arrive on the motorcycle that I know he must adore, I run a final, mental dress rehearsal to pass the time:
He will get off his motorcycle and start towards the old warehouse, not knowing that I await him in the shadows of a nearby building. He won't notice me until I call his name. Then he will glance back with a casual smile, greet me, and say, "It's been a while."
"It has, hasn't it?" I will agree with an unfitting unfriendliness.
"Walk with me?" he will suggest, and I will accept his invitation not only because that is how fate has planned it, but also because I so want to be with my little brother again.
We will walk side-by-side, and I will not look at him, but out of the corner of my eye I will note that he has reached my height and will soon be taller than I. This realization has brought proud and bitter tears to my eyes in the past. Tonight, though, there will be no tears—there must be none, for Malik will be watching me.
"Isis…" he will say hopefully. I will not turn towards him, so he will continue, "I read that you were elected to the Egyptian government in charge of archaeology. That's impressive."
Secretly, I will be pleased that he has heard, but I will only give him a tight smirk and ask, half-joking, "Trying to flatter me, Malik?"
"Can't I express congratulations to my sister?" he will protest. "I haven't seen you in two years, Isis. I've missed you." His voice will trail off on the last sentence, quiet and sad.
At last, fate will allow me to be honest for a moment, and I will answer softly, "I've missed you as well."
He will nod, and we will slip into silence for a brief minute. I will treasure that minute, praying for our conversation not to continue, but all too soon Malik will glance at me, puzzled.
"How did you find me?" he will ask, looking as though he has only just realized that this is something he should wonder.
I will not answer in words, still trying to hold onto the precious silence, but I will undo the cloak at my neck to reveal the shining gold of the Millennium Necklace.
He will nod and acknowledge the item. "You've taken it for yourself," he'll comment.
"It was given to me," I will correct him, unwillingly speaking my line as fate has commanded.
He will be improvising, but he, too, will say exactly what fate has laid out for us. "Given to you? By whom?" he will ask, as I have seen so many times.
"By the gods," I will answer, and I will silently beg him not to continue, not to foolishly speak of the rift between us, not to make it so painfully clear.
Of course, he will do so anyway, for that is what fate has decided. "Oh, I see," he'll say with an easy smirk, thinking that he is making a joke. "In order to stop me, right?" But as soon as he finishes speaking, he will wince and realize his mistake, for he and I will both know that there is only one answer I can give to that question:
"Yes."
He will sigh, echoing my own feelings of regret. Accidentally, we will have looked into the rift between us, and it will not be proper to look away. For the remainder of the conversation, we must be enemies.
"It won't happen, sister," he will inform me quietly. "You won't be able to stop me."
I will not answer, knowing that he is wrong.
Quietly, desperately, he will beg, "Why won't you join me? The Pharaoh has hurt you too. Don't you want revenge? Don't you want to help free our family?"
As it always does, his proposition will tempt me, but I will not give in. It is not my place to join him. My role is and always will be to obey fate.
Betraying none of how I feel, I will tell my brother, "Malik, whatever your motivations are, what you are doing is wrong."
"Such sharp words," he'll say, failing to hide his pain. "Is it really necessary to be so harsh on your little brother?"
"It is necessary to reprimand those who betray their destiny," I will answer while mentally begging for forgiveness that I know he would not give. After a moment, I will continue off-handedly. "You will not be able to escape. You are bound to your destiny and you cannot change that. No one can run from fate."
"I will not be a pawn!" he will cry hotly. "I would rather die then let that Pharaoh control me!"
"It is not your choice," I will say, adding silently, any more than it is my choice to come and say these hurtful, hateful things to you.
He will begin to be truly upset then. "When did you become so cold, Isis? Sister?" he will challenge me.
I will not answer.
His voice rising, he'll demand, "When did fate become so important to you? Why do you so willingly become a puppet?" And then the fiercest and truest accusation of all: "Did the Necklace tell you to do this?"
Some tiny, accidental movement on my part will confirm his suspicions. "So that's it," he'll taunt in disgust. "You're just a puppet, dancing on the strings of fate—which are obviously more important than your little brother's feelings."
I will begin shaking because I cannot deny the despicable truth of his words, and because I don't want to say those things and I don't want to hurt him. But that is what fate has decided, so I must accept it.
"Is there anything else that stupid trinket told you to say to me?" he'll ask with a thin, sarcastic, reptilian smile. "Or may I go? I have an important meeting to attend."
I will struggle to reclaim my shaken self-control, and carefully I'll make my voice calm as I warn him, "I am only here to show you that nothing will hinder me from stopping you. What you are doing is evil and I will not allow you to succeed at any cost."
He'll force a laugh and ask, "Is that all?"
"Isn't it enough?" I will answer, knowing that it is.
He will breathe heavily for a few moments, and then lash out, "So the Necklace brought you here to tell lies? I will not allow myself to fail. I won't let anyone stop me, and that includes you, big sister." He will turn and stride furiously away, and I will stare after him, waiting for his parting blow.
In a moment, he will stop and speak in a controlled voice. "I suppose it was stupid to assume this would be a happy reunion," he will say clearly. "But I never imagined my sister would be so bound to destiny that she can inflict pain on her brother with a calm face. Isn't it normally the 'bad guys' who become cold like that?"
I will close my eyes as he continues away from me. I will wonder, as I wonder every time I see the vision, if the disobedient and honest sob that escapes my throat will reach his uncaring ears.
Even now, thinking of what I am about to do, I must hold back tears; and I must control them quickly for I hear the distinct rumbling of an approaching motorcycle. The performance is about to begin.
Soon my brother appears before me, screeching his beloved motorcycle to a stop. I watch him and wait for my cue.
When Malik pulls the Millennium Rod out of his belt loop, I step forward. "Malik," I call. I address him coldly, just as fate has directed, starting my performance with a perfectly executed line.
...Yeah. Hope it wasn't too annoying to read the same conversation twice and I hope "future tense" wasn't too obnoxious. R&R please!