A/N: Hey guys! I now have a definite direction for this story—it may or may not change, but I know where I'm going. It may be more action/adventure than humor, but I hope it stays a little funny. This is set about five years after TMR, which makes Alex about thirteen (I think). Let me know if I've gotten it wrong.

I also wanted to say thanks to my first two reviewers:

Tizronell: Thank you for being my first reviewer! And several boxes of virtual cookies for adding me story to your faves.

Brunette: Well… does a little happy dance you're reading my story! I'm glad you like her. Hopefully she keeps on living up to your expectations. I'm crossing my fingers that the time travel thing doesn't turn too cliché, so let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: Right, so I don't own any characters you recognize (and you may be surprised—not everything is as it seems…) All the rest are mine! Back! Back, I say!

Salwar Kameez

A cold wind brushed my face, prickling my scalp and pulling me awake. I felt a gentle rocking motion and something warm and comfortable against my back. Leaving my eyes shut, I tried to sit up, but then realized that I already was sitting. I opened an eye and glanced up at the sky. My mouth fell open at the wash of stars above me. I was used to seeing the stars, because my hometown isn't exactly the biggest place in the U.S., but this was something else. It also served as a powerful reminder that I had no idea where I was—and that I really shouldn't have been moving inexplicably.

I was lucky that Scary Dude had good reflexes, because when I jerked completely awake, I nearly toppled off his horse. He shot out an arm and wrapped it around my waist until I was settled again.

"Why am I on a horse?" I asked thickly, trying not to let the fear trickle into my voice. I didn't mind horses in general—I'd volunteered at a stable one summer and enjoyed it immensely—but riding them was a whole different matter. I didn't like the height, the constant motion, and the feeling that the horse wasn't actually in my control. That was why I liked hiking; I had absolute control over where I went, and there wasn't any chance that my feet would suddenly decide that they were thirsty and walk right off a cliff.

Scary Dude kept his voice calm, and I guessed he could feel me trembling, "Do not worry," he said softly, "I will not let you fall."

Not that I didn't trust him, but he hadn't answered my question, "Uh, okay. But why am I on a horse?" an edge crept into my voice.

"I could not leave you alone in the desert," he explained, "And I had no other means of bringing you with me."

I closed my eyes and swallowed, trying not to picture myself tumbling into the sand. I'd had enough of that earlier in the day. Instead, I tried to hunch over so that I wasn't obstructing Scary Dude's view. When he pulled me back upright, I couldn't help but let out a small yelp of surprise, and he dropped my arm like a hot potato.

"I apologize," he said quickly, "I didn't mean to startle you. I thought you had fallen asleep again."

"'S okay," I mumbled, slipping back into a semi-conscious state. It was easier to focus on Scary Dude's warmth when I wasn't fully awake. But then a thought started niggling at my brain, and I began talking again, "Hey, uh, Scary Dude?" Crap. I hadn't meant to call him that. Even though I couldn't see his face, I could tell he was surprised by the way I'd addressed him, because I felt his muscles tense against my back, once again reminding me of my rather awkward position. He answered me anyway.

"Yes?"

"What's your name?"

"I am called Hatim."

"Oh." I wasn't quite sure what else to say, so the first thing that popped into my head came out of my mouth, too, "Does it mean anything?"

He thought for a second before answering, "I believe the English would be "Determined One,'" he paused, "And you?"

It took me a moment to realize he was talking about my name, "Cally," I said, "You can call me Cal."

"Is that not a man's name?"

"Yeah, probably," I shrugged. It was better than my full name, though, which sounded like someone had tripped into a library of mythology.

He didn't say anything else after that. I tried not to move too much, but I'd been riding a horse in my sleep for quite a few hours, and it wasn't treating my tired body well. Even though my back was warm (I felt a small blush spread across my cheeks when I thought about the reason for this), my face was raw and wind-whipped. Hatim had wrapped a horse blanket, which smelled as though it hadn't been washed in years, over my shirt. I figured I didn't smell much better than the blanket, and probably looked worse. But this stranger, who'd come out of nowhere, had picked me up and given me water and let me sleep without fear. I thought back to our conversation when I'd been barely conscious from heat and thirst. He'd suddenly accepted the fact that I'd just appeared in the desert without food or water or even proper clothes… it was odd, to say the least.

"The sun will be rising soon," Hatim said, pulling me from my thoughts.

I glanced around and realized that the black blanket of the sky was looking a little paler, more navy blue now, "Does that mean we'll stop?"

I felt something soft tickle the back of my neck and shivered slightly—he'd been shaking his head, but stopped when he realized that I couldn't see him, "No," he sounded tired, I realized. I wondered how long he'd been riding, and where he was riding to, and whether or not he'd just leave me at some oasis on the way, "We will ride until midmorning," he paused, "By then, we should reach a suitable place to stop."

"What's suitable?"

"We won't be stopping in the shade of a sand dune, if you are worried."

I couldn't help it—the combination of my frazzled nerves, little sleep, and current position made his comment seem uproarious. I think he was a little offended that I was laughing, but with everything else so screwed up, it felt pretty good to laugh for a moment or two. When I'd calmed down a bit, I coughed slightly and tried to turn to look at him, "Sorry," I muttered, "I'm a little crazy right now."

"It is all right," he said, a little stiffly. I felt bad. I hadn't meant to do that—I'd probably alienated my only hope for survival in this desert, whichever one it was. I stopped at that thought, and nearly smacked myself. Why hadn't I asked earlier?

"Hatim?" I said softly.

"Yes."

"Where are we?"

"The Great Desert," he said, "The Sahara."

Even though I'd suspected something of the sort when I first ended up there, hearing Hatim say it aloud was a shock to my system. I swallowed dryly and slumped into him. I felt him tense in surprise, but right then, I really couldn't move. It was like my strings had been cut and the puppet master walked away. Something tight and heavy settled over my stomach, building in strength until it came out in a low sob.

Hatim pulled the horse's reins gently, bringing it to a stop. "We can stop here for a while, if you like," he said.

I didn't have the strength to answer, so I just shook my head.

"All right," he clicked his tongue and the horse started walking again. Neither of us said a word as the sun made the world rosy. At some point, Hatim made me take a sip of water, but I drifted into sleep again not long after. I didn't wake up until I felt a hand take my arm and shake me. I coughed and sat straight again, shedding the blanket, which had grown uncomfortably hot.

"We are here," Hatim said.

Here was small, much smaller than I'd expected an oasis to be, but it was beautiful all the same. My color-starved eyes drank in the bright green of the palm trees and the clear blue of the small pool that stood at the center of the little oasis. A sunken grotto of gray rock was what kept the water from evaporating. For a moment, all I could think about was running at full speed into that little pool, but then I felt Hatim stand in the stirrups, and watched in frank amazement when he leapt to the ground. He bounced on his toes slightly and shook out his legs, then glanced expectantly up at me. I shook off my shock enough to realize that I no longer had him at my back to keep me steady. Suddenly, the horse seemed a lot higher off the ground than it had a moment before. I gulped a little and looked down at Hatim.

"Swing your leg over the side," he instructed. I just gave him a "well, duh," sort of look and did as he said, swaying a bit. In one swift movement, he picked me up off the horse and set me on the ground, holding me steady for a moment. I was going to ask him why he'd held on for so long when he let me go—and my legs collapsed from under me.

"Ow," I said softly as he helped me up again, "Why didn't you tell me that would happen?"

"It often happens when one has been riding for a very long time," he said. I raised an eyebrow and looked at him. Not only was he still standing ramrod straight, he'd had the strength to lift me bodily off a horse. I'm not a tall girl, but I've got some muscle on me, and my mother's curvy figure.

"It didn't happen to you," I pointed out, shaking slightly, but now able to stand without keeping a vice-grip on his arm.

"I am used to long rides," he said simply, then took the horse by the reins and led it to the little pool. I followed, pulling off my shoes as I did so, and glanced at him in question.

"Can I go in?" I asked.

Hatim looked from my shoes to my sweaty shirt to my face and nodded as a slight smile touched his lips.

"Hell yes," without further ado, I peeled off my socks and shirt and dumped them in an unceremonious pile on the sand. When I dove in, the water felt so good I doubted whether I would ever be able to leave. I paddled around a bit and pulled my hair out of its braid, kicking back and forth across the small pool. After a few more submersions, my hair and skin didn't feel so disgusting anymore. Now the only thing I really needed was toothbrush. At that thought, my stomach rumbled slightly, and I realized that it had been an entire day since I'd last eaten. My exhaustion and thirst had been at the forefront of my mind, so I hadn't even thought of food until I started swimming. I felt lightheaded all of a sudden, and my stomach growled again. Shaking my head, I swam back to the sandy shore.

Hatim was fiddling with the saddlebag on the horse when I walked over. "Are you gonna go in?" I asked, to get his attention. He just shook his head and didn't look at me; he seemed to be focusing very intently on the bag. "Hatim?" I ventured, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he mumbled, finally managing to loosen the strap he was getting at and yanking the bag down with a bit too much force. The horse stumbled to the side and whinnied at him in annoyance.

I raised an eyebrow, "Yeah, okay… anyway, do you know where I can get something to eat?" I looked hopefully at him, trying to see whether he'd raise his face. All I got was a curt nod as he bent over the bag. I leaned over his shoulder to see what he was trying to get at, and he jerked up suddenly, sending me flying backwards.

"Hey!" I shouted, standing quickly, "What was that all about?" he'd hit my collarbone, and it hurt a lot. I was starting to get angry with him, even though he probably hadn't meant to do it. That's one of my more major problems—I've got a redhead's temper. My mom says it's a Napoleon complex, which is why I work so hard at soccer, but I just think that she had a really boisterous Irishman in her background, and he passed his nature onto me.

Hatim turned and looked at me. His face was calm, but his dark eyes were fiery, "Please," he said, voice even in that way that betrays anger underneath, "Put this on."

I stepped back a little, glancing at the tan shirt and pants he held out. They were long, loose, and cotton, a bit like the salwar kameez my dad sometimes made me wear to go visit his side of the family. A sudden thought struck me, one that hadn't occurred to me before. I might have laughed if he hadn't looked so damned serious—Scary Dude making a comeback.

"If you're uncomfortable with how I'm dressed," I told him, "You just had to say so," I reached out and took the salwar kameez from him, "I'm just used to people dressing like they do in America. Sorry." I made myself disappear behind some of the trees and pulled off my shorts to change. The tunic was way too long, but it covered the pants, which hung a little too low on my hips. Sighing, I pulled my hair put of my shirt and walked back over to where Hatim sat fiddling with his bag again. He looked up as I sat down, and I could see a red flush under his tattoos. Silently, he pulled a small cloth sack from the handed it to me.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Dates." He opened it and showed me the little dried fruits inside. I smiled happily. I'd gotten into the habit of eating raisins, dates, figs, and currants a little while before games—good carbs and high calories to carry me through.

I took a few from the bag and stretched out on the sand, eating slowly so I wouldn't hurt my stomach. Hatim was still silent, but he had lost the quiet anger that had been brewing earlier. Even so, the silence was awkward. Typical me, I had to say something to fill it up.

"What are your tattoos of?" I asked, popping another date in my mouth. It had to be the best meal I'd eaten in a long time.

He chewed and swallowed slowly, then turned his gaze to me, "They are symbols of status in my tribe," he gestured to the line of hieroglyphs across his forehead, "These are to give me power and strength in battle," he pointed to the two on his cheeks, which looked like lightning bolts striking a bowl, "My brother has two like them, to show that we are related."

"What, you don't look enough alike?" I asked. It seemed pretty funny to me, but I had no idea what his tribe was like, so I couldn't be sure.

His face darkened a little, "If my brother should ever… eh, lose his head in battle, these identify me as his successor."

"Whoa. That's morbid," I shuddered, "Sorry I asked."

He smiled slightly, "It is part of life," he said, "We are all subject to Allah's will."

Ah, so here came the religious bit. No wonder he'd been so uptight about my outfit—women were usually covered from head to toe where he came from. My mom had converted to Hinduism when she married my dad, and that's just how I'd been raised. A little Ganesh sat on my dresser, smiling benevolently at me from under his trunk. The standard dress was a little more… lax than in Islam. Although, apparently, both Muslims and Hindus wore salwar kameez.

"So," I began to change the subject, meaning to ask him why his tribe would ever have to go to battle, when he stood suddenly and stared out at the horizon.

"Come," he said, turning to me, "We must go now."

"What? Why?"

He tied off the bag quickly and reattached it to the saddle. He moved with such a purpose that I quickly copied him, pulling my hair into a bun and yanking on my shoes. By the time I'd rolled my shirt and shorts onto a manageable ball, he was on the horse already, reaching a hand down to me. I hesitated, not wanting to get onto the animal again. I shook my head, "No, I'll just walk."

"There is no time for that!" he snapped, looking back at the horizon again. I followed his gaze to a group of men on horseback, riding quickly to the oasis. "Hurry!"

"Who are they?" I asked shakily.

"Raiders. If we do not leave now, we will be forced to fight them."

My eyes widened, "Fight?"

"Cally, now!" I grabbed his hand and jumped as he pulled me up behind him. "Hold on," he said, then spurred the horse violently forward, going the opposite direction of the raiders. I squeezed my eyes shut and wrapped my arms around his waist as tightly as I could. Suddenly, he pulled the horse to a stop, unwrapped my arms, and jumped from the horse. I started hyperventilating, my breath coming out in short, sharp bursts. The ride, and now Hatim's sudden jump, left me scared—so scared that I was finding it hard to concentrate on the fact that he was trying to help me calm down.

"Hush, Cal," he said, "Come."

I gave a small gasp and toppled off the horse. He caught me and held me still to keep me from falling. Soon, my breathing slowed and calmed enough that he didn't seem to mind letting me go. I sat shaking on the sand for a moment before bursting into tears.

"Please, do not cry," he sounded afraid, "You will be all right."

"I… I'm s-sorry," I choked on the words a little.

"Don't be."

I closed my eyes and leaned back, letting the sun dry my tears. When I felt Hatim move beside me, I looked up at him, "Hey, wait… why'd we stop? What's wrong?"

"The water skin is still by the oasis," he said.

I sat up and stared at him, "What?!"

"I am sorry," he sounded really ashamed, "I have not made a mistake like this before…"

"Where… were you taking me?" I asked.

"To my brother's encampment. His friend Evelyn would be able to help you find your way home."

"How far is it?" it's strange, how clearly I was thinking. I guess the adrenaline was making my mind run on overdrive, but I was mapping out all of our options at a lightning speed.

"A half-day's hard ride to the northeast," he pointed in the direction of the sun and looked back at me, "It is not wise to ride into the desert without water."

"I survived yesterday," I pointed out.

"Which is why you should not go without water today," he stood and pulled something from the saddlebag. I craned my head to see it properly, but he turned away, "It was my fault—I shall go back and get it for you."

"But you said those guys were dangerous, what if…"

"They would not dare attack an armed Medjai," he said.

"An armed what?"

He looked back down at me as he got onto the horse, "A Medjai. My tribe," he explained. I nodded, still not getting why these raiders wouldn't attack him.

But then I saw the scabbard hanging from his waist, and I took a step back, "You weren't kidding," I said. He was Scary Guy again, with the Scary cranked up.

"Stay here. Don't try to follow me—if they don't like you, they will kill you. If they do…" he trailed off with a pained expression. I didn't need him to finish his sentence. Either way, staying camped out by the dune seemed like a good idea to me.

He spun the horse and began riding back to the oasis, taking a slightly different path from before, and left me alone with my sorry bundle of wet clothes.

A/N: So, we have names and some connections to Sommers's characters, but Cal still doesn't know that she's more than half a century before she was born. I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to write that scene… anyways, next chapter, we meet several characters from the movie, and there is DRAMA! It won't be very funny, but there'll be lotsa action.