A/N: This is my contribution to the cssns, it is a re-adaptation/reworking of the 1999 version of the Mummy. This fic has been a labor of love for me, and I truly hope that I have done the movie a justice with my CS transmog.

Beta'd by the ever lovely ilovemesomekillianjones. Fabulous art by abeylin1982 over on tumblr.

Hopefully late is better than never... it's been a heckuva weekend...

Chapter Two

Emma is a myriad of mixed emotions this morning. Annoyance, frustration, concern, doubt, self-reproach, and agitation. She has been out of sorts since the trip to the prison, her world having been thrown off kilter ever since meeting the confounding prisoner with the intriguing tattoo. Emma had hoped delving into all of the necessary preparations would distract her from the whimsical thoughts about the enigmatic man and his kiss.

Emma and August are making their way through the bustling port towards their boat, when she can no longer keep her gnawing concerns from the last couple of days to herself. "Do you really think he's going to show up?" As she waits for August's response, Emma wonders, How is it that I am the one carrying all of our bags? As her thought processes, she stops, and sets the bags down just before reaching their boarding ramp. Emma looks up at August in anticipation of his response.

August turns to face her with a forced air of confidence, and with false bravado he says, "Undoubtedly, knowing my luck. He may be a rogue, but I know the breed. His word is his bond."

Well that doesn't help me one bit, I am trying to despise this man. As she tries to reinforce her internal battle, Emma scathes, "Well, personally I think he's filthy, rude, and a complete scoundrel. I don't like him one bit."

"Anyone I know?"

Hearing the dulcet tones right behind her ear, she nearly jumps out of her skin at the unexpected intrusion of the man in question.

Feeling caught in her tirade, Emma turns to face the owner of the voice. Finally getting a good look at him in a groomed state, she loses the retort that was on her tongue. "Oh!" Emma finally manages to stutter out, "Um… hello." She is flustered by the embodiment of Mr. Jones, and feeling utterly fuckstruck.

August seems to sense the thick tension hanging in the air as Emma and Mr. Jones continue to stare at each other, oblivious to the world rushing around them. "Smashing day for the start of an adventure, eh, Jones?" August says, playfully patting the man on the chest.

"Yeah. Yeah, smashing." Jones looks dubiously at August before double checking that his wallet is still in his jacket pocket.

August catches on to Jones' intent, and tries to save face by saying, "Oh, no, no, I'd never steal from a partner… partner."

"That reminds me. No hard feelings about the-" Jones mimes a punching motion towards August's face as he seems to be trying to gauge how much of a grudge her brother might be holding onto for his actions at the prison.

August waves off Jones' concerns and laughs at the absurdity, stating, "Oh, no, no. Happens all the time."

Emma is trying to put on a show of authority as she attempts to suss out the legitimate intentions of their newest travelling companion. She turns to look the man in the eye, startlingly blue eyes, not now Emma, she confronts him, "Mr. Jones. Can you look me in the eye and guarantee me this isn't some kind of a… a flimflam? Because if it is, I am warning you-"

Seeming to have had enough of her sideways accusations, he cuts her off mid sentence. "You're warning me? Lass, let me put it this way… my whole damn garrison believed in this so much… that without orders, they marched halfway across Libya and into Egypt to find that city. When we got there, alI we found… was sand and blood." Looking down at her feet, he notices the bags next to her. He affixes a pleasant smile on his face and tries to mollify her with a polite, "Let me get your bags for you."

August, never one to miss an opportunity to needle or get a rise out of his sister, circles behind her as she continues to watch Mr. Jones ascend the gangplank, watching his back, and maybe another fine asset. "Yes, yes, you're right. Filthy, rude, a complete scoundrel. Nothing to like there at alI," he teases.

Turning to face her brother fully, and to tear her gaze away from Mr. Jones, for her sanity, Emma glowers at August for his smug condescension. She tries leveling him with a withering glare when she hears another familiar, but even more unpleasant voice call out from behind her. "Bright good morning to alI."

Emma turns to see Warden Blackbeard standing a few feet behind her, and stares in disbelief that he actually came. He hadn't even been invited! She calls out with disdain, "Oh, no. What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to protect my investment, thank you very much," Blackbeard calls out as he turns to make his way up the gangplank, following Mr. Jones' path from a few moments before.

Emma takes another moment to compose herself and muster her strength to deal with all of the unexpected twists that have already been thrown her way so early in the day. Not wanting to miss the boat, Emma walks aboard, pulling August in her wake.

Killian is still trying to wrap his head around the last three years. He'd gone from a stellar military career where he was betrayed by his closest friend, to a years long bender where the bottom of his rum bottle was as far as he looked into his future. And now, in recent weeks he'd been arrested, thrown into that pathetic excuse of a prison, condemned to death for ultimately minor infractions, and now he had been rescued by the single most captivating woman he'd had the pleasure of meeting. So captivating, he can't seem to get his swan out of his head, no matter what he tries. Bloody hell mate, you have surely gone daft if you think she's yours. He really ought to thank her for saving his life though. He had stopped by her room a few minutes prior and knocked, but there had been no response. Making his way towards the outer deck, he decides to see if maybe she is seated at one of the many tables.

As he makes his way out onto the deck, the first thing he comes across is August seated at a table with three men he doesn't recognize. He overhears one of the Americans, judging by the accent, call out to one of the others, "Quit playin' with your glasses and cut the deck, Walsh."

"Without my glasses I can't see the deck to cut it, Neal," Walsh quips back.

Having finally noticed Killian standing just behind him, August calls out, "Jones, sit down, sit down. We could use another player."

Killian shakes his head as he re-adjusts the bag slung over his shoulder. "I only gamble with my life, never my money."

"Never?" the one named Neal questions, giving him a disbelieving look. He looks back down to the cards he's dealing out as he offers, "What if I was to bet you $500 we get to Hamunaptra before you?"

"You're looking for Hamunaptra?" Killian isn't sure he fully covers the disbelief in his tone as he asks his question.

Neal answers matter of factly, "Damn straight we are."

Killian knows that he hasn't told anyone about their adventure, and Emma doesn't seem the type to tell just anyone about something of this magnitude, so he feels compelled to ask, "And who says we are?"

"He does." The three Americans speak in unison as they point at August without so much as looking up from their hands.

After a few moments, Neal looks up at Killian expectantly, asking, "Well? How 'bout it? Is it a bet?"

Feeling confident that it will be easy money, Killian agrees. "Alright, you're on."

A previously unnoticed man at the next table asks, "What makes you so confident, sir?"

"What makes you?" Killian is genuinely intrigued at the level of confidence these foreigners are exuding.

Looking very proud of himself, Neal says, "We got us a man who's actually been there."

"Oh, what a coincidence, because Jones-" August is cut off when Killian none-too-gently smacks him in the back of the head with his duffle bag, under the guise of transferring it from one shoulder to the other. August catches the hint, and tries to cover his near flub by asking, "Whose play is it? Is it- Is it my play? I thought-" August trails off again as the other men continue to play their hands.

Leaning forward over August's shoulder and applying a rather painful grip, Killian politely says, "Gentlemen, we got us a wager. Good evening." Giving August's shoulder a final squeeze before heading on his way, Killian says in a polite but menace filled tone, "August."

"Good night." August gives another awkward laugh as he returns Killian's farewell.

Killian is still contemplating this unnamed person assisting the Americans, that has presumably survived the hell that is Hamunaptra as well, when he finally spots his swan. He walks up to the table where she is sat reading a book, and slings his bag onto the table. Seeing Emma flinch at the thud his bag makes, he decides to apologize, as he takes the open seat opposite her. "Sorry." He lets out a nervous laugh before continuing, "Didn't mean to scare you." Why does this woman make me feel like I'm fifteen-years-old with my first crush?

Emma looks up at Killian with boredom before she says, "The only thing that scares me, Mr. Jones, are your manners."

"So, um, on that note, Swan, I wanted to thank you… for… for the other day. I do appreciate you saving my neck, when you didn't have to."

"Oh! Um… you're welcome. It was the right thing to do. Wasn't it? You didn't kill anyone, did you?"

"No! God no. Do I really look like the type to kill someone?"

"Well. Actually… yes. You do look perfectly capable of it."

"If you must know, I drank my weight in rum, and tried to leave without paying my bill."

"Oh. Well, it's still a crime, but not one they should have been sending you to the hangman for."

"Right you are, Swan." With that confusion cleared up, Killian unrolls his bag and starts taking stock of the various weapons and supplies that he has or is in need of replenishing at port before they start making their way deep into the desert.

"Um, did I miss something? Are we-" Emma's voice trails off, and Killian looks up noting the partly concerned and partly perplexed look on her face as she gingerly handles the knife that was secured to the bag closest to her. Setting the knife back down, Emma meets his eye, and continues her question. "Are we going into battle?"

"Lass, there's something out there. Something underneath that sand."

"Well, I would hope so, I'm hoping to find a certain artifact. A book, actually. My brother thinks there is treasure to be found. What do you think's out there?"

"In a word? Evil. The natives believe that Hamunaptra is cursed."

"Oh, look, I don't believe in fairy tales and hokum, Mr. Jones… but I do believe one of the most famous books in history is buried there. The Book of Amun-Ra. It contains within it alI the secret incantations of the old kingdom. It's what first interested me in Egypt when I was a child. It's why I came here… sort of a life's pursuit."

"And the fact that they say it's made out of pure gold makes no nevermind to you? Right?"

"You know your history."

"I know my treasure Swan."

"Why do you call me that?"

"Call you what, Swan?"

"That! Swan. Why do you keep calling me Swan?"

"OH!" Blushing violently at the fact that he had been caught and called out for calling her Swan, Killian can't help his nervous tick. Trying not to rub a hole through the back of his head, Killian stammers out his apology. "Uh… ah… apologies about that Miss Nolan, I ah… I didn't realize I was." Out loud anyways. He thinks to himself ruefully.

"How did you come up with Swan? It isn't even remotely close to my name Mr. Jones."

"Well, I noticed that." He points at her locket, and adds, "At the prison, and, well, in addition to your graceful beauty, you possess the fearless demeanor, fierceness and tenacity of a swan. Have you ever met one?" Emma shakes her head no. "Well, I assure you, you wouldn't ever want to get on their bad side. They'll rip a man to shreds if you offend them." Killian levels a pointed look Emma's way, accompanied with a lifted brow for emphasis, as a light blush creeps up her cheeks, and she looks down at the pendant she has clutched between her fingers.

Emma finally looks up from the locket she's been fiddling with for a few long moments, a wistful look still on her face. "This is all I have left of my parents."

"Well, it is lovely. Just like you, Swan."

Emma clears her throat, looking away from Killian's searching gaze, landing on his wrist laying atop his recently assembled gun. "I, um, I could decipher that for you, if, if you'd like."

"No."

"What?"

"Don't care."

"But-"

"Just drop it Swan, and leave it at that, please."

"But, aren't you curious-"

"No, and I really wish you'd drop it."

"Why? Why would you get a tattoo if you hate it?"

"Why do you need to know, Swan?" he grits out through clenched teeth, turning to face her fully. "Can't you just leave it be?"

"W-What?"

"I didn't get a tattoo, if you really must know. It was branded on me when I was in an orphanage in London, so that I could be singled out, to warn any prospective parents to steer clear of me, the undesirable, broken child. Not worthy of love or attention. My family didn't want me, abandoned me to the streets when I was but a wee lad, too damaged to love. When I was found wandering the streets half alive, the orphanage intake decided to brand me to keep me from ever finding someone to love me."

Emma's eyes filled with tears, "I- I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… I shouldn't have pushed," she said, hanging her head in contrition. "I was simply curious and let it get away from me." Emma looked back at him, tears still shimmering in the corners of her eyes, making Killian feel even more like an ass for his outburst. Before he could say anything though, she started speaking again, "I was just excited by the sight of an ancient hieroglyph, and I let my mouth run away with me without thinking about the potentially painful possibilities. I truly am sorry, and I do hope you can forgive me."

"Of course I can forgive you, Swan. I also feel like I should apologize for my boorish behavior, I overreacted to your inquiry, like a true heathen. A man should never yell at a lady. So, for my bad form, I apologize. Can you forgive me, Swan?" As he waits for her reply he picks up the gun he was loading before their conversation took the sour turn. He tries to keep himself busy, trying not to wonder if he has already screwed everything up.

"Of course…" she murmurs as she trails off. Her eyes taking on a faraway look momentarily. "Um… by the way… why did you kiss me?"

"I was about to be hanged. It seemed like a good idea at the time." Looking back at the gun in his hand, he shrugs halfheartedly, not having given his reasons much thought past his imminent death sentence and the availability of a gorgeous, feisty woman in front of him. Nevermind the fact that he's thought about that kiss ever since, he's a smarter man though than to tell her that.

"Oh! Ugh!" Emma stands up out of her chair pushing past him, she mutters a barely audible, "Men."

"What?" He looks after her, confused, "What'd I say?" She doesn't look back at him, so he stands as he contemplates following her to find out what he's done wrong this time, when he hears a suspicious noise a few feet down the deck near a tower of crates.

Killian quickly makes his way towards the noise. Rounding the crates, he grabs the person cowering in the shadows, prompting a squeaky greeting from the man he now has ahold of by the front of his shirt. "My good friend, you're alive! I was so very, very worried."

"Well, if it ain't my good buddy, Arthur." Killian cocks the gun still in his hand and levels it flush to Arthur's heart as he grits out, "I think I'll kill you."

Arthur lets out a terrified squeak as he quickly says, "Think of my children."

Killian pauses for half a moment before he tightens his grip as he replies, "You don't have any children."

"Someday I might."

Killian is getting annoyed with Arthur and his antics, and he would be completely justified to shoot Arthur after his betrayal. Snapping out, "Shut up!" Killian takes a moment to reign in his baser urges, so he doesn't do something he might regret. "So you're the one who's leading the Americans," he voices his growing suspicion. "I might have known. What's the scam? You take them out into the desert, and then you leave them to rot?"

Arthur looks almost ashamed of himself, but the look quickly disappears before he responds, "Unfortunately, no. These Americans are smart. They only paid me half now, and the other half when I get them back to Cairo. So this time I must go all the way." Killian's blood boils at the flippancy of Arthur's attitude, and his despondency about being unable to abandon the men to their fate's in the desert because he's only been paid half of his promised price.

"Them's the breaks, huh?"

"You never believed in Hamunaptra, Jones. Why are you going back?"

"You see that girl?" Killian turns Arthur bodily with his continued grip on the other man's shirt, and points to Emma at the far end of the deck. "She saved my neck." Emma seems to sense their eyes on her, she looks up and sees that it is him, and she is apparently still annoyed with him, so she storms off in the direction of their cabins.

Arthur smirks up at him as Killian's eyes follow Emma's departure, and with a small laugh and pat on his shoulder, Arthur says, "You always did have more balls than brains."

"Yeah…" Killian feels some satisfaction at the confusion that crosses Arthur's face as he bodily lifts him and tosses him over the rail and off of the ship, as he says, "Good-bye, Arthur."

As Killian walks back to his duffle bag full of gear and weaponry, he hears Arthur's panicked screech of, "Jones!" over all of the flailing and splashing noise his former best friend is making in the water.

A/N: Reviews feed the muse. Please let me know what you thought.
See you in two weeks with chapter 3