It was almost an hour later when the doctor finished with Cassandra, carefully cleaning and re-stitching each wound then bandaging her in white linen, he checked her vitals, starting with her pulse by pressing two fingers to the soft underside of her chin. He asked for help only once and that for help washing her in ice cold water to ease the raging fever. She hadn't much sound except for an occasional whimper that ripped through Ardeth's soul like a double edged blade, he brushed away a lock of hair from her pale wan face and light colored lips.

"How long will she sleep?" he said, not looking away from Cassandra.

"It depends, some can sleep for days and some can sleep for only hours, and then…." The doctor trailed off, letting his hands fall to their sides. "…some never wake up."

"What do you mean by that?"

"For some the trauma is too great and they never recover, it's difficult to tell what she will be though. She's sustained a great amount of trauma and yet she seems to be healing well enough."

"What is your opinion?"

"She is young, and resilient, I have no doubt she'll survive."

Ardeth nodded. "Thank you, Doctor." He turned to the doctor and held out his hand. "You are more than welcome to stay the night if you so desire, I know that the hour is late."

"Thank you, I think it would be best if I stayed, I'll need to check on her in a few hours to make sure her vitals are stable."

The doctor placed a reassuring hand on Ardeth's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "She'll be fine."

Ardeth still worried though, anger seeping into his system making it difficult to see straight without imagining his hands around the throat of Imhotep, not that it would do much good. Questions plagued his mind, poisoning his thoughts. Why had Cassandra been there? And who was the man she called Khaldun? Had he been the one to hurt her? Also, the biggest of his concerns, Imhotep had been brought back to life for the third time, what did this mean? And why? And then finally, what did Cassandra have to do with Hatshepsut? Thought after thought tumbled through his mind, clouding his judgement, there were things that had to be thought out but in his current state it was almost impossible. He barely noticed when the doctor left, leaving him alone to his thoughts and with his Cassandra.

"Habiibii." He murmured, kneeling beside her.

---- Cassandra ----

Cassandra felt as though she had been sleeping for years when she woke up finally, her body was aching from long days lying in bed and a headache was beginning to form behind her eyes. She seemed to be a sort of canvas tent, filled with dimmed sunlight that seemed to pulsate with energy, beside her was a warm body pressed intimately against her, only the head visible from where she lie. Dark hair spread out over his face, covering the contours of his elegant features, from the aristocratic, defined cheekbones to the soft vulnerable place where bruised circles surrounded his eyes. He looked pale but appeared almost child-like as he slept, his breathe soft and shallow as it played across the skin of her arm. One of his arms was thrown casually across her waist, not tight or loose and warm against the cloth of her nightgown, she shifted and purred softly in her throat, stretching a little to ease the discomfort.

"You're awake." He said, his eyes slipping open, the lids raising to reveal his dark brown eyes.

"Yeah." She said softly, smiling.

"Thank, Allah." He whispered and hugged her.

She returned the hug with the slightest bit of confusion. "Is something wrong?"

"You slept a long time."

She frowned, her brows sinking over her eyes. "How long did I sleep?"

"Three days."

"Three days!" she sat up quickly, wincing when her head spun and started to ache fiercely. "How is that possible?"

Ardeth paused, wrapping one arm around her shoulders when he noticed the wince, he touched her cheek lightly with the other one in an oddly possessive gesture. "You were sick until last night, you had a fever but it finally broke yesterday afternoon. The doctor said that you would be fine."

"Three days?" she said again, staring at him.

"Yes." He nodded.

She looked away and for a moment he thought he saw a flash of fear in her eyes but disregarded it. "You got any food?" she asked, looking back up with a bright smile.

Ardeth returned the smile and laughed softly. "I'm sure we can find something."

"Soup, if you don't mind." A sheepish look on her face told him she was still feeling the effects of her sickness.

"I don't think that will be a problem."

Lightly he kissed her cheek, brushing the hair off her forehead to press a gentle kiss there as well, her heart fluttered in her chest and something akin to love touched her, it was strange the way she was feeling. Cassandra watched Ardeth has he left the tent, leaving her alone to her thoughts, three days she had been asleep….. could he be lying? What would he have to gain from lying to her though? She frowned, and what were the feelings that made her thoughts scatter when he was around? She couldn't be feeling love, it was too soon, too…. Sudden for something so serious but what could it be? Lifting her knees she wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees, her eyes stayed concentrated on one spot of the blanket as thoughts trickled through, long ago she had learned the technique from her father. A technique that allowed the person to bring forward evasive thoughts and feeling, a sort of reliving she'd trained herself to do, not many understood it and even fewer knew how to do it.

Desperately she hoped her job wasn't gone merely because she was sick, she hoped her boss would understand the predicament and forgive her because she loved what she did. Writing was her passion, writing current events for a major newspaper was the greatest love of her life, second only to her younger brother. It allowed her the freedom to right about what fired her up as well as the poetic freedom to describe what she saw in her mind. Unbidden flashes of memory involving Ardeth's body trickled through her mind, making her blush hard and just like that she slammed the door shut on them. Those were thoughts better left for when she was alone, and not within touching distance of the enigmatic man who had so thoroughly captured her interest.

Curiosity about the man brought her back to her present status, sitting on a pallet with a blanket pooling around her feet wearing nothing but a sweaty nightgown and her long hair. She looked around the tent, finding that even though Ardeth appeared to be an important man, his tent was very modest, not too large and not too small but big enough for two people to live comfortably. Satchels with clothes and papers sticking out rested on a short wooden table with hinges in the middle for easy break down, a sword and a small arsenal of daggers rested beside the bags, lovingly wrapped in a soft linen, yellowed with age. On the other side of the tent was a heavy leather saddle with another few satchel bags attached along with a saddle dagger built secretly into the front near the pommel and a huge urn of which she assumed was filled with water. Finally she looked beside her where another pallet had been laid close to hers, giving the room the appearance of a married couple within, she smiled and blushed becomingly again.

A moment later she frowned though when a long rolled up piece of parchment, slightly unfurled to reveal a name carefully etched into the ancient scroll, she leaned forward not quite believing her eyes. There on the parchment, just below a picture of a map was a signature in Hieroglyphics, Hatshepsut, confusing burst through her, that was the name that Khaldun had called her before dashing from his tent. What was this about? And who was Hatshepsut? A moment later, Cassandra still leaning over and looking at the name, Ardeth walked in with two bowls in his hand and a frown bridging his brows.

"What are you doing?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the pallet, close to her but not too close.

"The name." she murmured. "That name." she placed a finger on the edge of map, keeping a few centimeters away as to not damage the aged scroll.

Ardeth leaned forward, placing the bowl on the ground next to the pallets and looked critically at the name. "Do you recognize it?"

"Khaldun called me it before he left."

"Who is Khaldun?" he asked her.

"He was the man who left the tomb when you so gallantly scooped me off my feet."

Ardeth frowned. "That man's name, if he can even be considered a man, was Imhotep."

Inspiration struck and has now lost itself in the patheticness of my mind, so I shall continue when I am struck again.

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