Since I've said enough before that there's dialogue from the movies inspiring me, as well as certain places and events to take place, this will be the last time. Anyone who's seen the Brendan Fraser "Mummy" films know what transpires each time.

Chapter Eight

I failed, Bruce thought in despair as he hung his head into both hands, aware that all eyes were on him but refused to acknowledge them. He sat at the bottom of the stairs staring at the polished marble floor, silence tensing the room until Sinéad was the first to break it.

"Just sitting here isn't going to bring your son back."

"I want him back," Rachel answered, hands on her hips, and Bruce finally looked up at her, seeing her sweet face wet and shining. "I don't care what we have to do; I want him back, Bruce. Get him back for us."

He was about to ask where those people would take their son when Ramirez spoke up. "I wouldn't worry about him too much; they won't harm because he's the key. And he's not all they want."

Bruce frowned; if they had his son, what more did they want? "What else are they looking for?" he asked, standing and moving beside Rachel.

"They're taking him out of Gotham, out of the country period," Ramirez explained, a faraway look in her eyes now present. She's having visions, Bruce realized. He wanted terribly to dismiss this fantasy-meets-reality, fact versus fiction as nonsense, but barriers broke all the time. "To a place surrounded by deserts, pyramids and statues of pharaohs long ago..."

"Egypt," he heard Crane murmur aloud. "It's where others of my kind go to nest and wait for their time to die and reborn. But why would they take him there?" Phoenixes were very rare and powerful, so he thought briefly back to when he was still working for Ra's al Ghul. Bruce's old mentor turned enemy had piqued interest in the then-asylum director because he must have possessed some abilities of great use to feed his "immortality". And Bruce saw him die when the monorail crashed, so he'd be dead now. How can you die if you're supposed to live forever?

Ramirez let out a small quivering breath as she stretched beyond what she was seeing. "They're going to a place deep into the desert, a place not barren fully, but nourished with paradise and purgatory...and power. Where a great pyramid topped with a diamond blinding in the sunlight and beckoning travelers to their deaths..."

Bruce remembered reading about this as a child, in school and with Alfred. "Ahm Shere," he whispered, getting all eyes back onto him. "Whereas they would bestow the wealth of Egypt safe in the land of pharaohs, there was one truly dangerous, too dangerous for anyone to bury a powerful person."

Alfred took over for him. "It's written that the Oasis of Ahm Shere was blessed by the powerful high priest Imhotep whose mummy has never been found to this day, not even at this tomb we speak of because the Egyptians feared it. It's believed to be the waiting and resting place of a person the most evil and blasphemous, but also for those too extreme and hungry for power to be brought back far greater - and more dangerous - than ever before."

Rachel gasped. "That bad," was all she could manage, leaning into Bruce and holding onto him tight. That bad, he agreed internally. He didn't want to upset her more by picking up, instead choosing to let the butler himself continue.

"Yes, but as far as it goes like any other legend, the resurrected is brought back into the mortal world with the blood of a phoenix for eternal life itself...and the sacrifice of the mother of the hero's child." He sucked in a breath and attempted to hold himself together.

Bruce held onto Rachel tighter than before; she gave a wail of protest. He didn't remember seeing her this way before, but they were parents now, their son was in danger, and now they were hearing all of this rituals, sacrifices, resurrection stuff that existed only in mythology and ancient texts. He looked up when Jonathan piped up.

"That's why he wanted me. Why Ra's al Ghul wanted me. I remember the day we met like it was yesterday, seven years before, not too long before I became head of Arkham."

~o~

He was here in Cairo following acquiring his PhD; basically, he was studying abroad temporarily because of how the season was doing for his "predicament". He could not work anytime under the feverish sensations, for in less than a decade, the time was coming, and he could feel it. To say he was looking forward to it was an understatement.

Dr. Jonathan Crane...after so many years of hard work, he was ecstatic that his future was on track. He was now a respected doctor at Arkham Asylum, having served as an intern and getting his degree fairly quicker than the average student. It wouldn't be the first time before him, but he had every right to be proud of himself despite his recent sickness. This weather was good to help him that it was rare in Gotham. In younger years in Georgia, when his granny would nap late in the afternoon, besides slipping into the "forbidden room", he would slip out back and bask in the burning southern sun, his sensitive skin relishing it as it was made that way...especially the "wings" on his back...

Today he found himself in the Casbah, enjoying one of the local whiskeys just for the sake of getting lightheaded and just sleeping in his room as soon as he was finished. He spoke certain languages of the world besides English; others included Gaelic as well as Latin itself, and Arabic in this case. However, making friends was not on his list of priorities, because just how many people would be willing to be friends with him anyway? His colleagues tolerated him, but one day when he was the director of the asylum, he would not worry about being fired if anything got out of hand. But above all, no one would ask him questions about his seasonal lashes of an apparent fever...

"Oh, I must say that a young man like yourself should not be having a drink alone."

He jerked his head up and glared at the sight of the man who dared to come and sit in front of him. The stranger was dressed in black, with an obvious noble air around him, and his eyes were blue if darker than Jonathan's own. A part of the younger man's mind insisted that he should get up and leave, but his body refused because of the whiskey remaining in his system and he swore to himself for it. "Who are you, and what do you want?" he asked coldly, sitting up straight and reaching to unbutton a few buttons of his shirt to let a small amount of cool air over his skin.

The strange man chuckled. "Do not become defensive with me. I mean you no harm, but I did happen to get curious as to what an American brings himself all the way to Egypt?"

"What business is this of yours?" He had enough life experience to know that strange men asking him what brought him away from his homeland were trouble, but this one was really persistent. Just exactly as he asked: what did he want of Jonathan?

"Young man, this is not the first time I recognize suspicion in my motives. I have none of the sort that match what you are thinking. I merely see you up to my expectations that I wish to advance you...Dr. Crane."

He stiffened and was tempted to just stand and leave then and there. "How did you know my name?" The older man chuckled again.

"I have my resources. My name is Henri Ducard, but the truth is that I am known as Ra's al Ghul to my people - a vast organization that eradicates the scum of the earth. And you, my friend, have a gift that I was able to detect miles away..."

~o~

Ra's al Ghul was Arabic for "the demon's head". Sinéad remembered him amongst the many tales from other cultures besides Ireland. He was supposedly the immortal leader of a secret society known as the "League of Shadows", capable of destroying a whole city in the name of restoring the balance. Six years before, Gotham's Narrows neighborhood underwent destruction and plagued with some unknown "fear toxin", chaos and insanity erupting the neighborhood and therefore rendering it too dangerous for anyone who would set foot again. The "Scarecrow" had been the cause...none other than Jonathan next to her. He did bad things, but as Gran said, what happens in the past stays in the past. Damn whoever isn't willing to let go. But what did that have to do with this Ra's al Ghul?

Jonathan's voice interrupted her; his story of his meeting al Ghul involved his life before now. "I had no idea he was going to destroy Gotham," he said to everyone. "You all are well aware of my fascination with studying fear in people, and I thought he would only hold the city ransom; please understand I just needed the money to fund my research, and I would have made a breakthrough that could have cured people in facing fear."

She looked to Rachel's face, finally seeing some level of understanding. "Greed is a common human trait," she whispered, and Sinéad had to agree. Human nature wasn't perfect; addiction, greed, and desire were all part of it. Sometimes she liked to think ambition was part of her own in her knack for creativity.

"They have the body of Ra's al Ghul at Ahm Shere," Anna interrupted them, "and Jonathan, with the story you share with him, this means that you are the tool for giving his eternal life back. Your blood in his veins is what they need."

"But if they need me included, then why wouldn't they bring me along?" he countered.

"They want us to follow them to Ahm Shere," Anna responded, her features hardening. "This all means the end of the world once Ra's al Ghul rises again, and he will raise the army of Set once he does."

The old "wipe out the world" ploy, Sinéad thought sarcastically; she would have thought it a funny joke if it weren't a reality check. Being a mythical being in human form was both a gift and a curse. A gift meaning you can do many things, but a curse because others who weren't moral see it to their own advantage.

"Then in that case," Bruce spoke, "we must charter a private jet and go to Egypt. We're getting our little boy back," he added, looking down at Rachel, who nodded an affirmative. Seeing that, Sinéad wondered about what it would be like for herself to have children of her own, with Jonathan whom she had grown very fond of but wanted to get to know more. If we get out of there alive; I don't know if any of us will make it in the end, like in the great tales where lives are sacrificed for the greater good. I grew up reading them, carried a burden of what I really am, and carried the most powerful weapon passed down from generation to generation that I still have to keep out of the wrong hands. Now I have to help two people I helped get back together get their son back.

This is going to be one of the biggest times of my life.

She looked up into Jonathan's blue eyes, seeing the uncertain fire in them that sparked one in her own body. Or maybe the end of it.

~o~

Being aboard a first-class aircraft owned by Wayne Enterprises was surreal. Rachel used to love getting on board with Bruce when they were younger and after his return to Gotham. The name was the 787 Dreamliner, and it was spacious with a bar along with the cabins, and with a quiet engine and the ability to go ten thousand miles with a full fuel tank.

Rachel sat at the far right end of the extended plush lounge, changed into a floral denim shirt opened to a white tank and jeans. Jonathan and Sinéad were at the table against the window, simply talking and the likes, about whatever it was while they had the long journey to Cairo airport and eventually take a train deep into the Western Desert where they would be given horses to travel for the rest of the journey. "We have only seven days before Ra's al Ghul is awakened," Anna told her as she sat down next to her. "His loyal followers are in no hurry to begin the ritual when we're still a long way off."

She'd heard enough of this; Rachel just wanted some peace and think about her little boy who for all she knew was cold and alone, shivering and crying out for his mother's protection, and it made her so heart-wrenchingly unhappy that she felt like crying real tears for everyone to see. Alfred had to stay behind at the manor but agreed to keep them updated.

Bruce was just walking in after speaking to the pilot for take-off. He found her and gave a half-smile as he joined her at the other end she'd abandoned Anna for. "We'll find him, Rachel; don't worry about it." He moved closer to pull her to him. Leaning into his shoulder, Rachel sighed as she inhaled his musky scent, easing her senses.

"I want him back, Bruce." She just couldn't stop saying it. "I want him in my arms."

His lips were warm and comforting on her forehead. "He's a smart boy, and he'll might as well be tougher than me," he joked, trying to make her laugh, and it worked. But it also made her worry for his fighting skills once they actually reached the climatic point in this journey. He had been confined to the manor for nearly five years, stunting his speed and strength. He might not make it...damn it, girl, don't think like that. Have faith, as Anna would say. As Mom used to say.

Then she looked down and stared at the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen in her life in his hand; rich gold set with five dark sapphires...his mother's ring. "Bruce?" Oh, no, it's happening. He's going to... She stopped the thought right there because another plagued her mind. Bruce was going to pop the question at an ungodly time when their son was in danger across the ocean, but this was what she'd always waited for.

"I know it's a bad time," he apologized, his voice low but still apologetic and promising, "and I know I still need to get to know my son, and he comes first, but if we ever get out of here alive, I want you to marry me, Rachel. I want us to be a family, and I waited for you long enough as you did the same for me."

No words needed to be spoken, so she nodded and accepted the wedding band on her finger just to see how it would look on her. It fit snug on her finger, the very image of old-fashioned romance. True love is always worth the wait. Rachel finally let the tears come and kissed Bruce for making her feel only a little better at this dire time.

~o~

It was ironic how Ra's al Ghul would turn his power-hungry eyes on the Army of Set, the god of deserts, storms and all things chaotic. Set himself was always considered an evil deity, and a friend of the dead. Ra's al Ghul tried to destroy Gotham, so this was no surprise, but it still had to be stopped. And Jonathan tried to help him before, Sinéad thought, looking at the man with his head down across the table from her. But he didn't know what he was really doing.

She wasn't a psychologist, but from her little research on him, he'd once been the head doctor of the Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane who was fascinated with the study of fear and its effects on the mind. He was never married, never had a girlfriend in any way, accelerated in every class in his school years, went to Gotham State University and graduated with a PhD in psychopharmacology at age twenty-three. For a year he was professor of psychology at his alma mater before being dismissed for "unorthodox teaching methods". In that case, I wonder how he managed to get a job and eventually become director of Arkham Asylum.

And then things went downhill from there. Dr. Crane was stripped of his title and degree upon being arrested by both the Batman and then-Sergeant Jim Gordon for using a hallucinogenic toxin on his patients and none other than assistant DA Rachel Dawes. Since then, for two years, he was in observation and released to the lifestyle she knew him now.

But what about his life before all of this? I remember him briefly mentioning a grandmother who possibly mistreated him, and Bruce, Rachel, and Anna are in the room, she thought with a quick glance around said room. He wasn't going to want to talk about his past with them around, but they had time before they reached Egypt, and this might be her only chance to piece it together before it killed them.

"Jonathan?" Her hand on his, his skin warm beneath hers and sending electrical shocks through her nerves, brought him out of his own little world and looked up at her with tired blue eyes filled with mild irritation. "We might not make it out alive -"

"We will," he answered calmly. "Don't ask me how; I just know."

"And I know more on mythology since your specialty was fear," Sinéad interrupted frostily, knowing well. "I won't have one of us regret not knowing anything about the other so we cared enough to help them, or one of us regretting not opening up about our past so that we felt good to have told someone our darkest secrets." Her voice nearly raised, and it was a miracle she kept it down from the others in the room.

The man before her looked at her with a slackened jaw, before he snapped it closed and glared at her. "Very well, Miss Ryan," he said coldly, back to last names again; she didn't like it one bit. Now she knew she went too far, but it was too late to turn back now. "I shall tell you my secrets which are best kept to myself and myself only."

~o~

"No, Granny, no. Please, not again," the young boy whimpered as long, bony fingers latched around his slender arm, sharp nails digging into the bared flesh enough to leave marks. She dragged him out the front door and across the fields to where the old church lay beyond, the dark clouds covering the setting sky in a perfect omen.

"Your pleas are never useful, you disgusting sinful child," the old woman hissed, dragging him until they got to the front of the door and proceeded to tear off the already worn t-shirt off his torso to expose what had been on his back since the day he was born: the fiery wings of blue-tinted red and orange. She hissed that she'd actually touched them; she smiled when she scratched a nail on one, drawing a little dark blood and made him cry out in pain.

"This is proof that you are the Devil's child. Your harlot of a mother conceived before marriage with a man hardly worthy of God's graces - and she got what she deserved when you exited her filthy womb." She opened the door and shoved him inside, locking it. "And for that, you shall pay for your sinful birth."

"No, Granny, NOOOOO!"

And then he heard them...the wings flapping and the demonic caws...

The 787 Dreamliner is a real aircraft that I had to bring into here. :D "The Mummy Returns" is a must-see, inspiring film for anyone, if not everyone.

In the third, recent chapter of "Phoenix Burning", young Jonathan (eighteen in that story) met Ra's while he was in Indonesia for "burning season", and they conversed and learned speaking languages and such; Latin was amongst and worked its way in with the others I mentioned. I mean, so many aspects of psychology and medicine have Latin names. In addition, it had to happen before he became head doctor, and he had to have been studying abroad when he met Ra's al Ghul who was still searching for Bruce Wayne - or might have been teaching him at the time, and left him in the East for a short period of time for whatever reasons.