Alex let his eyes roll from Mali's face and watched as Clarke backed into the room, her spine stiff, movement's jerky. Walking in after her was a tall man, who didn't look up from her face as his hand reached out to touch. Clarke flinched away, his hand was covered in blood.

"HANDS OFF you undead bastard!" Alex shouted as the man kept reaching. Mali watched as his master grabbed Clarkes hair and yanked her closer. A grin spread on his thin lips, he glared at Alex and adjusted his grip on the pistol.

"It looks like he's found his first sacrifice." But he turned slightly to keep an eye on the others, taking his full attention from Alex.

Clarke didn't really know why she was so afraid. He looked like a normal man, about six feet with shiny black hair pulled back into a long, sleek ponytail. His skin was pale under a gold complexion, and his eyes stared into hers like dark black pools of ink. But it was the horrible malice that shone in those eyes. Something told her that he hated her just because she existed. His bloody hand was clenched tightly in her hair, he jerked her forward when all she wanted to do was turn and run. He muttered something and tugged on her hair, bringing her closer.

His shoulder hurt like hell, throbbing to the beating of his heart, but he could still act. As soon as Mali's gaze left him, he shoved himself forward, grabbing Mali's gun hand and flipping the shorter man over his good shoulder. He kicked at Mali's chin and knocked the man out. Running hell bent for leather he crossed the room, shoved the monster, grabbed Clarke's arm and kept running. Clarke cursed as a chunk of her hair was pulled from her scalp.

"Keep running!" Alex screamed as Ba'al let out a scream that echoed in the cold hallways.

"Don't you have a gun in your pocket or something?" Clarke panted as she ran along side him.

"No! It's in my duffel bag okay?" Turning a corner he let out a cry of relief. There was his duffel bag, right where he left it. He almost skidded the five feet across to kneel at it and rip open the zipper. Just as the mummy appeared at the turn Alex lifted his one of his six shooters and emptied the round. Ba'al dropped out of sight; Alex got to his feet, pulled his duffel over his head and turned toward the exit. "Run." He told Clarke

"But you got him!" She protested.

"No, I only delayed him. Trust me, RUN!"

They made it all the way back to the car before Alex groaned and clutched at his shoulder. He was trying to open the door and pulled it the wrong way. Clarke opened the door for him and shoved him in, sliding over the card hood to get to the drivers side. Alex just moaned and shook his head when she suggested a hospital.

"You know what tough guy, you don't get a choice. You've lost a lot of blood and that's something my first aide class didn't cover!" Gritting her teeth she turned onto the highway and headed for the nearest ER.

Alex woke to the sound of Clarke arguing with a police officer. He sighed when he realized that she had actually taken him to a hospital. He preferred to avoid them when he had bullet wounds, mostly because of conversations like the one Clarke was obviously having.

"I don't care if you don't believe a mummy was just brought back to life and his minion shot my friend! All you have to do in your little report is write down some stupid excuse like accidental firing and LEAVE!" She threw her hands into the air and scoffed at the young officer.

"Ma'am I can't leave until he wakes up and tells me what happened. I have to know if he wants to press charges." He was exceedingly polite. He tipped his hat and went back to standing at the door like a statue.

"And to do that you won't let me in to check on him?" she tipped her head, Alex could see from the cracked open door that she was pissed.

"You are not a member of his immediate family ma'am. I am not allowed to let anyone through who could be connected with the shooting…"

"That's okay officer… she didn't shoot me." Alex moaned out as Clarke was about to blow her top. He still felt a little dizzy from the vicodin they'd given him. He hated taking anything other than an Advil. Hospital prescriptions were always harsh on his system.

Clarke didn't even wait for the officer to approve, she just shoved him aside and ran into the room.

"Alex! You're alive!" She jumped up onto the bed, wrapped her arms around his stomach and leaned her head against his right shoulder.

"Sir?" The officer stood by the bed, glaring at Clarke, but holding his pen ready.

"I was shot by a man whose name is Mali, or at least that was the name he gave me. I have just come from London to help Miss. Clarke and her professor with the Egyptian studies exhibit and I was at the Museum to look over the artifacts. Mali was there and attempting to steal some items, we had a minor disagreement, in which time he shot me. Miss. Clarke here came just in time to get me away, and that is what happened." The officer nodded, happy to have something in his report besides walking dead men and a hysterical woman.

"And what does Mali look like?"

"Like an ass- ." the rest was lost as Alex started coughing.

"Like a what?"

"Sorry, Egyptian. 5'10", coppery skin, black wavy hair, black eyes."

"Thank you, if you need anything I'll be right outside." The cop hadn't been unobservant, he'd seen Clarke's hand playing with the hem of the hospital gown they'd put Alex in, and the slight twitching of Alex's lips when her fingers brushed the skin of his thigh.

"You keep doing that I'm going to wonder why." Alex muttered into her hair as soon as the officer left. Somewhat to his disappointment she immediately moved her hand up to his face, but just left her palm on his cheek for a long moment before looking him in the eye.

"You almost died in my car." She stated, and then shivered.

"I'm sorry…" it was all he could think of to say, the drugs still held him a bit loopy.

"You do that again and I'll let you." She threatened, then before he could say anything she shifted until her lips were pressed firmly against his.

Alex's entire world began to spin wildly out of control, and he knew it wasn't because of the drugs. His right arm, around her waist, tightened until her body was plastered to the side of his, one of her legs thrown carelessly over his thighs. Forgetting himself he tried to move his leg arm to capture her, hold her, keep her.

Cursing horribly he leaned away and collapsed on the bed, panting, sweating from the pain that lashed out all over his left side.

"Sorry… sorry…" Clarke panted, trying to catch her breath but for different reasons. She had been a hair away from lying on top of him and holding on for dear life. When he jerked away every reason why she shouldn't had came flying back into her mind.

"Mmmm… why do bullet wounds always hurt more after treatment?" Alex groaned and tried to lay still.

"You know, I ask myself that same question occasionally. You get shot a lot Mr. O'Connell?" He was standing in the doorway, good old dependable O'Malley.

Ok, sorry about the , um, for some reason FF will not let me edit anything- including my profile! Its irritating.