Prelude to a Kiss

Another chapter, this time not as action-packed as the last. We are now back safely in P.O.V for each of our protagonists! :)

For Sheri...STC and all you others!

Oh, and considering that I had to re-write the whole of the last chapter (I had completed it, and then my computer wiped it off, argh!) you all seemed to think it was okay! Thanks for that, as I was very worried about it being acceptable, and once again I'm rambling... ;)

Chapter 6

I sigh as I feel myself getting more and more worked up.

Productive indeed! Just another thing for us all to be rivals over; punches being thrown, harsh words...Just what we all can do without.

"That was not called for! There was no need to be juvenile!" I fume, my stare aimed at O'Connell as I remove my hand from his tensed arm and walk away towards our camp.

I hear Jonathan panting behind me, his steps clumsy in the sand. "Evie!" He calls, catching me up. "You could have said something a tad nicer."

I frown at him and he backs off. Healthy competition is alright, but going around hitting people is just uncalled for! Doesn't Rick respect other people enough? Sure enough, I saw O'Connell on the barge but he was defending himself and looking after my brother and me.

It does not condone the immature fact that he can go and 'knock someone for six' because of an equally juvenile comment.

When I stop at our camp, sand speckling my gown and boots, I sit myself down on some bedding and let out the excess wind in my lungs for force that otherwise could be called a sigh of anger. Jonathan a few seconds later sits down next to me, a hint of uncertainty about his actions.

"All I'm saying Evelyn, is that you could have re-phrased that. Not really very polite to call him juvenile, is it?"

"It's not very polite to punch someone either." I snap in irritation. "Whatever the American said Jon, punching him wasn't going to make it any better. We've got to work here for a lot longer, and it's hardly going to ease the perturbed atmosphere, is it?"

He can't answer that, and instead puts a blanket around my chilled shoulders. "I guess so. But you know what O'Connell is like, surely by now." He comments wisely.

"Hmm. I do not have a problem with him Jon-" If only he knew! I do feel awful about Jon not knowing about O'Connell and me but afterall- well, that can be thought about later. "-but I can't have violence on a professional dig. What would it look like to the Bembridge scholars if we all came back black and blue?"

Jonathan grins despite his attempt at holding a straight face. At his expression, I find myself giggling as well. "It's not funny!" I shout, inbetween fits of laughter. "I'm deadly serious!"

I pull the blanket tighter around me, like a shawl. O'Connell hasn't followed us, so our extinguished fire from this morning remains unlit, and as a result we are frozen by the night air.

"I was just frightened, that's all." I reveal, not looking at Jonathan. I see him nodding out of the corner of my eye. "I cannot tolerate brawls."

"As was I, dear sister, as was I." He looks thoughtful. "They wreak havoc with my nerves."

It is not often that my brother admits to feeling intimidated by the larger men around him and to be honest it was a rather intimidating situation to be involved in. Both Americans aren't of a small frame to say the least.

I sigh and think again about what just happened- in a moment of madness, I stopped a fight devoloping between two burly men and then I proceeded to insult the man who was defending me.

Typical.

I watch as Evelyn retreats, hot-headed and with her brother in tow. Brilliant. I try to look after her and she goes and makes a damn fool of me!

I kick sand over the fire angrily, half debating whether or not to go and find Daniels, and finish what I started. I'm so angry, I could beat him till kingdom come and not stop.

I try to take deep breaths, but just end up winding myself up further. I storm off, past the fire and seating, across the stoney sand and past the 'entrance' to the city. I head off the way I did three years ago- determined to get away from this hell hole. Why did I come back? Why did I help set up disaster?

The icy breeze is pushing against my skin, finding its way through my shirt; almost pushing me back toward the ruins. I feel my skin begin to goosebump, and I am beginning to regret my abandoning of the warmth.

I look up at the moon, and recall my previous mental image of it. It is radiating a dangerous glow, dangerous because I find myself unable to stop looking at it.

Why do I love her, when all she does is make me feel a trillion things at once?

Why do I feel so useless around her?

Why are these damned questions circling me until I am surrounded?

I kick at the sand again, and stagger to a halt. Running a hand through my hair, I dare a glance back at the city, and see a faint orange glow, no doubt coming from the Americans camp and not mine. The Carnahans can't build a decent fire to save their lives. Jonathan doesn't do much but talk, in that way they're both alike, whereas Evelyn has a go at whatever anyone throws at her which is good.

I don't get her sometimes; all these looks she has, and the ways of making you feel so good one minute-like she really likes you-and the next you feel all idiotic.

I let out an exasperated sigh, one that is released into the desert and can't be retrieved. All the times she annoys me or makes me feel stupid is way out weighed by her showing me she likes me. The coy looks, the stolen kisses...

I look at my knuckles, and upon seeing that they are slightly red and scuffed I heave a sigh. Not because it's hurting me, because I've broken my hand before hitting some cocky idiots, but because I know something I did caused Evelyn to feel something I didn't want her to.

Breathing in the chilled air, it leaves a weak sting in my throat and chest. I look out at the desert itself, covered in the moons blue shroud. The contours of mountains and cliff edges not entirely visible but still able to conceal anything behind them.

A certain City of the Dead for example.

I have my own reasoning as to why it's called the City of the Dead, whenever I'm in it something shit happens and I'm sick of it. It's like a decay, and the longer you stay the more it eats away at you.

In Evelyns case, it probably makes her want to stay even more. She's intelligent, and that is what scares me about her most. She knows so much, and then the simplest of things she has no clue about. She's so submerged in the things that she adores, that the normal everyday things don't matter to her.

I mean, who cares if you can't build a fire? I'd much rather know all about Ancient Egyptian Mythology. You can pick up how to build a fire, you can't just know everything about an entire people.

The scenery before me, well, there isn't any. It's just mountains and cliffs and vast, vast desert. A barren immensity, I heard her call it once.

The draught of air is still brushing against my body, like whispers from the desert itself.

I need to go back, the worst thing I could have done is walk away.

The conversation between Jonathan and myself has dwindled to a stop. I'm lost to my thoughts as he is to his. We are both swaying with a combination of cold and sleep deprivation.

I look out across the rocky sand and see a figure in the moonlight. It's far away, but even without my spectacles I think I know who it is.

I need to apologize for my actions, as I'm sure, even though they were with the best intentions someones pride has been wounded along the way.

I stand up quickly, and brush myself down.

"Where are you going Evie?" Asks Jon, voice groggy with tiredness.

"I need to apologize to O'Connell." I reply, feeling guilty.

"And he'd be where?" Asks Jon.

"Out there." I point, both our gazes being taken out, far out into the desert.

"In the middle of the desert? At night? Must be freezing. Are you sure he's not just watering the local flora?" He thinks, which is very unusual as he never thinks before he speaks. "Or do you think, baby sis, that he is trying to tell us something? Eh?" He raises an accusatory eyebrow.

"I'm going to talk to him." I tell him sternly. Honestly, sometimes it's like explaining things to a child.

"And you'd better watch out for the jackals." He continues, regardless.

"They won't come anywhere near me, idiot." I smile gently, kissing his cheek.

I walk back the way I so hastily retreated, now regretting my actions. The sand departing from my shoes as I tread, my hair fluttering behind me in the breeze. I left my 'shawl' behind for Jonathan, as I know he wouldn't ask for it back at a time like this. I think I may have successfully and single handedly ruined this expedition.

As I weave in between obelisks, I can hear laughter and cussing from the American camp.

"Damn fool." floats Daniels disembodied voice.

I shake my head, knowing that he will never learn. I hear Beni's snigger quickly and then silence. It seems that the air that carries his voice can't stand him either.

I stop at a platform of sorts, and hold onto the nearest column. My hand brushes against the cool stone, and I can almost feel the fatigued hieroglyphs beneath it. Sand particles find themselves stuck in my palm, and I brush them away against my dress whilst observing the figure in the distance.

I climb down as best I can, only stumbling once or twice, and make my way across the rubbled sand. Soon I fing myself being beaten about by a harsh wind, bitter in temperature and relentless against my skin.

I find the figure no more than two feet away from me shrouded in a blue haze, clearly from the moon.

"Rick?" I ask, taking a step closer to him."I came to talk to you-" I brace myself for rejection, to be told to leave and not bother him, but he doesn't say anything. The legionnaire turns around and my heart skips a beat.

His hair is covering his eyes slightly, and he looks torn, handsome but torn.

I fumble with my locket- a nervous habit I developed from the day I received it, no doubt- and search his face for any recognition.

She came all the way out here in that flimsy bedouin gown just to speak to me. I observe her curiously, wondering why she'd do that.

Of course you know why, dumbass.

"I'm sorry." I tell her quickly. "I don't know anything else. I always solve things with these." I proffer my fists.

She begins to shiver, and I step forward and take her in my arms to keep her warm. She wraps her arms around my waist, and rests her head on my chest.

"I was only trying to stand up for you." I whisper to her, stroking her hair.

She doesn't reply for a second. "I was trying to stop you getting involved in a fight over me."

I smile to myself. We stay like that for a while. "I'm sorry for storming off." She says quietly. "I was acting juvenile."

"Yup. Juvenile." I tell her, grinning. She prods me in the back--hard.

"I am no such thing." She informs me grandly.

After a while of standing in each others arms, she asks me-

"What did Mister Daniels say anyway? I gather it was something offensive."

"Yeah." I tell her, feeling the anger swell up inside me again. "Him being a jackass."

"Was it something to do with what you said?" She asks in that gorgeous accent.

"Yeah."

And she left it at that.

"If I had a jacket I would give you it to keep warm." I tell her, even though it doesn't matter. I'm not good at talking which I think is pretty damn obvious.

"It's quite alright, your arms will do nicely." She tells me fondly. I grin at her, and let her rest her head against my chest again.

The breeze, though relentless and cold has somehow all of a sudden become manageable.

The whispers that are passing across me, are now like enticing secrets only to be shared between me and the barren immensity. In my arms is someone so special that I knew it from the day I saw her, but refused to admit it until recently.

She pulls away a little, and I feel her little fingers tracing over my hands. She stops and lets out a little gasp, almost trying not to disturb the stillness of the desert that is all around us.

I take a look at his hand and see the protruding red lines coming from his knuckles. They are red and scuffed and seem incredibly sore. Under my touch, the skin is not swollen, but rough and grazed.

"You did that?" I whisper, emotion flooding through. "When you hit him?"

I refuse to believe that the friction between skin could cause such a mark. He nods, confirming it.

I hold onto his hand tenderly. "Are you okay? I'm going to have to take a look at it back at the camp. Clean it up and everything. Make sure it isn't infected-"

I'm cut short, mid prattle, by his soft, alluring lips. He's applying enough pressure to make my knees go weak, and I feel his wounded hand wrap around my waist to keep me upright. His fingers are there on my hip, protective and strong. I let my eyes close slowly, my mind buzzing, racing, standing still...

I feel the concentration between us slowly diminish into pure and utter passion. I return the kiss eagerly, trying to let all I feel out, all the ardour pass between our lips. I'm more and more aware of how close we are to each other, and I find myself savouring every second.

The kiss shows no intention of stopping or even ending for that matter. I toy with the back of his collar, eventually wrapping my arms around his neck, myself completely and utterly breathless and enervated.

He finishes his incredible kiss, but doesn't extend the distance between us. I look into his eyes, and see that he meant that kiss entirely.

The wind is gently flowing about us but it seems to have some kind of recognition that we have no intention of leaving,so it stops. I feel the last sandstorm of sand whip about my heels, and then decend back to its barren origins. Our eyes are locked with each others, and neither of us show any intention of breaking it.

A mutual understanding passes between us, a mutual understanding that petrifies me, but at the same time makes me feel, oh I don't know how it makes me feel.

I give him a small smile, and he returns it with a great grin. "Wow that was...um..."

I try to tell him. I've never been kissed that way before, and oh my God it was- my brain is a mess. How can one person do that to me?

I'm not complaining.

Ricks rhythmic breathing makes me really realise how unearthly quiet it is. Earlier we could hear the distant rumblings of conversation, but now all that has dwindled.

I relax my arms from around him and look at him confused. He returns the look, wonder etched upon his incredibly handsome face.

Something isn't right.

He grabs my hand tightly, and even in this sudden confusion I have a sense of relief and security in this mans grasp. We tear back towards the city, a new wind now having formed and beating us back almost, but Rick charges on with me in tow.

I'm gasping for air, coughing as well due to the sand and exhaustion! Well, he can run very fast I'll give him that!

I clutch his large hand with both of mine, as we slow down as we near towards the rocky area that seems almost out of place for the city.

I don't know how long we were out there, in the middle of the barren immensity that is now beckoning me back to it...

But the City of the Dead is living up to its name. There isn't a sound, except the groaning of the camels.

I move my matted hair out of my face, and look towards the strapping man next to me; his face is set, and I can see the flame like tint to his eyes that lets me know he isn't feeling comfortable.

I don't know what the hell is going on, but for the laughter to just disappear like that means soemthing ain't right. I keep a firm grasp on Evelyn's hand. I have to forget about that kiss for now. Just until I sort this out, because if I let myself feel anything then I'll be vulnerable and I won't be able to look after her...

We had to get back quickly, otherwise we would have been stranded out there, not to mention her reprobate of a brother was still in this hell hole of a necropolis.

"What's the matter?" She asks, breathing hard after our sudden sprint.

I shrug my shoulders, but put a finger to my lips. "Stay here." I tell her as I ascend the rocks.

I pull out a pistol, and load it. There isn't a stratch of light from the inner ruins, so the fires must have gone out.

I walk, well, creep rather towards the Americans camp as it's nearer.

And if I happen to accidentally shoot Daniels on the way, then that's life.

This new thing I'm experiencing, is strange. On the barge I felt it; I was no longer going around looking after myself, I now had two extra people to look out for, one of which wasn't voluntary. I don't look behind me, as I'm sure Evelyn will stay there.

I hear a shuffle, and look behind me. There isn't anyone back behind the rocks. Where is she? She must be behind a pillar I'm guessin'.

I carry on, feeling the familiar adrenaline surging around my veins, making me eager to resolve this mystery.

I stop at the Americans fire, and glance into their tents. All the lazy sons of bitches are sound asleep! I put the safety on and turn around.

"Come out Evelyn. I know you're there." I sigh.

The shuffling I heard earlier was obviously her.

She steps out, looking like a child that was caught doing something they shouldn't. But amazingly striking; her hair is messed slightly from the run, but it's lose and I love it when it frames her face.

"Why didn't you stay back there? Something could've happened to you-" I begin as I walk over to her.

She frowns. "You don't own me, Mister O'Connell. I'll go wherever I wish."

She knows what I meant. She walks towards where I've stopped- next to the abandoned fire.

"What happened then?" She asks in a hushed tone. "Is everyone asleep?"

I nod, and shrug in the general direction of the lazy Americans. "Sound asleep."

"What spooked ya O'Connell?" comes an American accent from deep within a tent. I grit my teeth, knowing who the baritone belongs to. Judging by Evelyn's arched eyebrow, the person who is coming out of their tent at the back of me is our favourite member of the other dig.

Oh well, this evening is exceeding itself. Mister Daniels is coming out of his tent, smiling an unpleasant smile at the back of Rick's head. Rick is looking at me, like he cannot be bothered.

He slowly turns around and faces the man before him, and I know I am not going to like what's about to happen.

Daniels nose has been cleaned up, but it is clearly bruised. His gaze falls upon me, he's ignoring Rick now. "Alright Miss?"

"Fine, thank you." I reply, faking nonchalance. "Why, shouldn't I be?"

"Nah, of course you'd be. You're in our camp afterall. Just heard the whispers and I came to check that you and O'Connell here were all fine and dandy."

I force myself to smile. "We were just getting back to our camp."

"I see." Nods the man, his attention now on Rick. "Still think something spooked ya both, mind you, you do seem to be the 'jumpy' type O'Connell."

I hear as well as see Rick's irritation. "Fine and dandy." He mimics.

"Retired to bed early, Mister Daniels?" I ask trying to ease the situation.

"Yup. Exhausted from excavating that lil' area you gave up."

He is an arrogant sod!

Great, now I'm sounding like my brother.

He's standing before Rick, like he thinks our expedition guide has something to prove. The man is so annoying it's unreal. He's gotten out of bed, just to pick another fight.

I don't think I should even bother splitting this one up, to be brutally honest.

He puts his head on one side, and grins cockily at Mister O'Connell. "You do seem awfully quiet O'Connell. What's the matter?"

He appears to have some self-content that he obviously wanted to share. I wait in sarcastic anticipation.

"Or is your tongue tired?"

I can tell that that is the icing on the cake. I watch as Rick steps forward, his whole body tensed. He doesn't know about our little rendez-vous in the desert, anyone could tell that. He is just trying to play on something that he thinks will get Rick angry, and he appears to be doing just that.

"The last that I remember Daniels, is that you were the one with the swollen nose." I call out, halting Rick and causing Daniels stubborn face to fall.

I make myself stand next to Rick, slightly in front of him in a bid to halt whatever actions are thought of being done.

"One more wisecrack, and I'm gonna make you regret it." Breathes Rick, in a tone that makes me squirm up from the depths of my stomach.

Daniels seems to think for a moment, before cracking his knuckles. "I'm up for a pissing contest as much as you O'Connell. Just say the word."

"Now really!" I say. "Do you want to wake up the rest of the camp? I doubt either of you actually agree with having a-whats the word? 'slang' match, or a fight."

Daniels ignores me. Rick's eyes are focused.

Great. The smaller dog is trying to prove he's got a big bite. His cracks are pissing me off no end, and I am not having him slandering us again!

My tongue tired? Judging ffrom the amount of ass kissing he does I think that applies to him moreso than me.

"Why don't you just piss off Daniels. If you're that keen to get a beating then stay." I tell him, brazen faced. The air around us is beginning to chill even more, and the slight wind about our feet whips up the ashes from the fire.

"Just try it." He retorts smugly.

I see red, and then before my face I see Evelyn. "If you hit him, then I'm going to walk away and not come back." Her eyes look reluctant. "I mean it." She hisses. "You're bigger than this. If you hit him, then you're going to give him what he wants."

"I'm sure you do, don't you Miss?" implies the man behind her. I see her face contort in disbelief.

That's it. That man has a death wish! Why does he continually goad us? Rick raises his eyebrows at me.

"See?" He tells me furiously. "See what I mean?"

I turn to the man behind me, from when I darted infront of Rick. I look him up and down, trying to intimidate him.

"We know why you're here. All of us do, it's not like your brother can stop him either-" He continues brashly, directed at me. In that instant, my mind is made up.

"Oooh, go on, hit him!" I tell Rick, moving out of the way.

Don't mis-judge me, I do not condone violence of any kind, but the man infront of me is asking for it. How dare he speak to us in that way!

Rick steps forward and sends the man flying. I stare at the fallen man with all the hatred I can muster. I walk over to him and lean down.

"You deserved that." I tell him wryly, before I walk away, Rick catching up to my pace.

"See what I mean?" He tells me in an I-told-you-so-manner. "Smarmy bastard."

I look fondly at him, remembering us being out in the middle of the beautiful nowhere.

I entwine my fingers with those on his good hand. "Please let me take a look at your hand back at our camp." I ask him, pouting, my lips seemingly wanting a repeat of the kiss we shared earlier.

He grunts, so I take it as a yes.

We walk back to the camp, to find Jonathan fast asleep, and almost blue with the cold. All our beddings have half blown away and the fire has no more wood because it seemingly blew away also.

We exchange a look, and sit down. Rick begins to ressurect the fire, and I fiddle with my locket.

My brother begins to snore, and I giggle when Rick kicks his sleeping body. The snoring stops.

"You'll have to teach me how to do that sometime." I tell him.

"Sure." He smiles as the fire erupts into magenta flames.

I ponder the idea of telling him my second idea.

"Rick, I have an idea, of how we can look at the black book..."

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