Rick wasn't sure how long he cried over Evy's body. Two minutes, two hours, time had ceased to flow smoothly around him, bunching up and shorting out. Time didn't matter anymore. Only the burning ache in his chest where his wife should have been.
Sitting up, Rick blinked as the blinding sun beat down on his head. His hands were still, clenched tightly into desperate fists as he looked down at Evy's still face. So still. Evy was never still. She was always in motion; laughing, scowling, rolling her eyes as she watched the men in her life out-stubborn the world.
He wanted to stay here, by her side. Maybe if he held her tight enough, looked at her pale face long enough, then he could somehow will the life back into her body. Then he would see laughing brown eyes once again. Against his will his gaze dropped to the raw hole peeking through the ragged rip in her shirt. Bile rose in his throat at the sight of it, but couldn't look away.
Beneath the anguish that made every breath painful, something snarled. It was a darkness that lurked behind the grief, a burning rage that steadily rose to the surface, a hunter stalking its prey. It moved slowly, sliding up towards the light. It shouldered aside the grief and clawed its way to the top, where it snarled and snapped. An image came to mind, and he saw the woman, who could only be Anck Su Namun, with her blade buried in his wife's gut, Imhotep throwing Jonathan to the side like a broken twig.
None of this would have happened if it weren't for that twice damned priest. The rage flared higher as he remembered Anck Su Namun stepping away from his wife, her contempt shining clear through dark eyes. All of this done for power, and for what? To destroy the world. What purpose would it serve?
The rage that slipped through him like slow spreading poison was welcome, anything to beat back the devastating loss that made it impossible for him to move, to think. Instead of letting the tempting flames spread through him though, he held them, caught them and channeled them. He knew better than to let his rage get the better of him. Better to use the energy it gave him rather than let it run rampant and get him self killed. After all, there was no way he was going to let Imhotep walk out of that temple with an army, or his life.
His fury snapped and snarled, but eventually it subsided to a low burn, just waiting to flare into life. It was as he was shoving it down that a whisper of calm appeared to him. It was quiet, carrying with it overtones of the kind of silence that only the desert could bring, the wind a low hum over the heaving dunes. Rick didn't question it, only grabbed a hold of it and held on tight, using it to cushion him for what he was going to have to do.
"Alex." Rick's voice was rough, rubbed raw by his sobs. Turning away from Evy's body he faced his son. "C'mere."
The boy rushed towards him, no longer restrained by Jonathan's arm around his shoulder. He flung his thin arms around Rick's neck, pressed his wet cheeks against dusty cotton. "Dad."
Rick closed his eyes, tears threatening at the tortured sound of his son's voice. Words escaped him, and he could only draw his son closer and wrap his arms around him. It hurt, fighting so hard to save one life only to lose another, but that didn't stop the relief that edged his grief. At least his son was safe.
Glancing over Alex's shoulder, he saw Jonathan. The younger man looked shell shocked, his skin pasty white beneath the glaring son, his eyes red-rimmed and his cheeks wet. Their eyes met and there was a moment when both acknowledged what the other had lost; a wife, a sister.
Easing his son to the side, Rick shuffled over, giving Jonathan room to reach the fallen woman behind him. Jonathan flinched at his now uninterrupted view of his sister, but then he tucked it behind a blank mask that looked so foreign on the lanky man's thin face. Clearing his throat, Jonathan moved forward, his steps slow and careful like an old man, or someone who was trying not to jostle a painful injury. Rick didn't turn around to see Jonathan's last good byes to Evy.
"Alex, your mother loved you." When had it ever hurt this bad to speak? The words caught in Rick's throat, threatening to choke him the tears and sand.
"I know, Dad." A sniffle, and a small hand came to wipe away the sand crusting wet eyes.
But Rick could see it, the stiff line of the boy's shoulders, the quivering bottom lip. The bleak light in eyes that should have been bright with intelligence and laughter. Knowing he had to say this now in order to forestall the darkness he could sense collecting within his son's mind, Rick gripped Alex by the shoulders, forcing him to look up and meet his gaze. "This is not your fault, Alex."
A strangled cry told him that his suspicions were correct. He forged onward. "You are not to blame for this. Nothing could have stopped us from coming for you."
"If only I…" Alex gasped, his voice growing thick with tears. "I shouldn't have put on the bracelet." His voice had dropped to a bare whisper.
"If you hadn't, then we would never have been here to stop Imhotep." Time pressed down on him, and as much as he wanted to comfort his son Rick knew he was running out of time. Imhotep was already inside the pyramid and there was no telling how much time he needed to fight the Scorpion King. The clock silently counting down in his head he braced his hands on thin shoulders, forcing Alex to look up. "It is not your fault. I need you to know this, Alex."
"Okay, Dad." There was still doubt there, buried beneath tears and shock, but at least Rick had told him. In time Alex would be able to recognize that while he played a part, he was not responsible. Rick pulled him into another hug, this one tight enough to hurt, but Alex didn't struggle, only pulled him closer.
When Rick finally released him he eased back, giving his son some space to collect himself. "I have to go, Alex, and I need you to stay here."
He could see the panic that drained the blood from Alex's face, see the way he caught his bottom lip between his teeth. But instead of protesting, he only nodded stiffly, eyes downcast.
It sliced Rick open to the core, seeing Alex hold back his fear. His son was only eight. He shouldn't have to deal with losing a parent, or fighting to save the world. He shouldn't have been forced to face an evil like Imhotep, a rotten corpse of a man with a soul that hungered for power beyond all else. The fury that burned inside him threatened to erupt then, looking down at his son who was struggling to bear up beneath impossible burdens.
He held onto the strange calm with both hands, desperately pushing back the anger until it was simmering once again. Face tight, Rick got to his feet, both hands resting on Alex's shoulders. "Stay here." He repeated the warning, knowing that grief would not hold his son back for long. It hurt, to see Evy's determination reflected in his son's eyes.
Rick spared a glance at Jonathan, who having heard Rick getting to his feet, turned to look up at him. The Englishmen didn't take his hand off of Evy's, but he did meet Rick's gaze. If he had been able to feel anything at the time, Rick would have felt ashamed of the way he had treated his brother-in-law. For in his eyes was an unspoken promise that, no matter what happened, he would make sure that Alex got out of there alive.
He would have said something, but Jonathan merely nodded slightly, his mouth pressed into a grim line. It didn't fit on his face, forming shadows over what should have been bright eyes. The eyes that watched him now were dull, lit only by a wordless pledge that made it hard for Rick to breathe. There was far more to Jonathan than Rick had ever given him credit for.
Sparing one more glance between all that remained of his family, Rick turned and strode towards the pyramid looming overhead.
Clucking his tongue, Ardeth soothed his horse when it began to paw at the sand, a tanned hand rubbing the sun-warmed neck. He could understand Antar's frustration. While patience was a way of life for his people that did not mean that he had to enjoy it. It was difficult to stand still and wait for the coming battle instead of seeking it out. Better to choose the battle ground where he would make his stand than have it chosen for him.
In spite of the soothing touch the stallion exhaled loudly, shifting from foot to foot beneath him. The horse even went so far as to shake his head, his dark mane whipping through the air as his reins jangled.
"Antar seems out of sorts." Essam murmured beside him, dark eyes watching Ardeth. The other man's expression was unreadable from behind the dark wrap covering the lower half of his face.
Ardeth kept his face bland and his eyes forward to avoid most of his friend's scrutiny. "He senses our purpose. It is not every day we battle the Army of Anubis."
"True, but this is not Antar's first battle. Nor is he usually so skittish. Especially not while you are riding him."
Ardeth didn't respond. He knew why Antar was unsettled. As long as he'd ridden the strong-willed stallion, it would be impossible for him to hide his unease from the beast. Horses were naturally perceptive creatures, and Antar could undoubtedly sense Ardeth's unease concerning the new bond so recently seared into his psyche.
He had managed to barricade his mind against Rick's emotions, but he could still feel them. It left him apprehensive, his own emotions scraped raw from the continuous backlash. That the bond was managing to leak through the shields boded ill, a looming threat over what should have been salvation.
Instead of sealing Rick's emotions away, his shields were muting them. It was like peering through sheer silk, he could vaguely make them out, but the detail was obscured. He felt an echo of Rick's pain, his sorrow. But recently a deep rage had begun climbing its way to the fore front. Where the pain had sliced at him, the rage burned. It was a brand, white heat that seared into his mind and heart. The sheer intensity of what he felt festering inside Rick was enough to have him regarding the bond between them warily. What would happen should that rage creep across their bond to him?
"I am….worried for the O'Connells." Ardeth did not bother concealing his hesitation, knowing it would only enforce the evasion. Lying to his friend was not an easy task, but there was no point in informing Essam of the broken bond, and its unorthodox replacement. It would only make the other man worry when his attention would soon be needed for far more dire circumstances. As it was, his worry was not entirely feigned.
"You fear that they will not succeed?" No scorn in Essam's voice, none of the carefully coached disdain that his people assumed when discussing a Westerner.
"I fear that what we are asking of them will be paid in blood, their blood, which they have no obligation to offer in our stead." Blood that had already been spilled across hot sand, warm brown eyes gone dark. Ardeth suppressed a shiver, and patted the side of Antar's neck in a show of soothing the agitated stallion, when it was he himself who needed the contact. "They were not trained for this, as we were."
"It is as you say," Essam acknowledged. "However, as living beings they have an obligation to protect their world, just as we do." A dark hand pulled down the wrap to reveal the man's smile, dark eyes gleaming with muted good humor. "Do not underestimate your companions, Ardeth. This is not the first time Allah has called on them to help us in our task. Have faith that He knows what He is doing, even if we do not."
Ardeth nodded, but his friend's words did little to dispel the restlessness that had taken a hold of him. He had seen the tattoo that marked Rick as Medjai, but he had none of the training that made Ardeth's people so formidable when facing the supernatural. Ardeth could not help but question Essam's reasoning, although it was hardly the other Medjai's fault.
Yes, Rick had defeated Imhotep once before. But he had had Evy with him, and with her gone, who was going to help him now?