An American Coward and a Med-Jai Warrior

That son of a bitch.

Gretchen's entire body trembled with pain and fear and anger. She lay on her back, afraid to move. She knew she should look at the wound--use her clumbsy and limited medical knowledge to consider how serious it was. But she didn't want to see it.

She tried to console herself with the fact that the bullet--or, at least, most of it--was not inside of her. And she knew that a shot to her thigh probably wouldn't kill her. But she was still laying here, in sand drenched in her own blood, with the brilliant sun pouring a merciless flow of heat over her body. She wasn't sure how, considering her state, but Gretchen was determined to kill that bastard when he got back.

Taking a deep breath, she reached down to the skirt and gripped the fabric in her hands. She told herself she had to pull it up; she had to look at the wound and go about fixing it somehow. But her fingers just clenched and released the cloth uncertainly. She found herself wondering if Beni was planning to leave her out here. Her chances of ever laying eyes on the money that treasure would bring were looking very slim. Still...he'd shot her Point-blank. He could have aimed anywhere...he could have killed her. So why didn't he?

A faint, scuffing sound drew her attention from her puzzle. The noise was growing louder; Gretchen realized someone was walking towards her. Her stomach tightened with rage. That goddamn Hungarian! She had a word or two for him--

"Are you happy now, you bastard?! There's blood everywhere!"

"I can see that," a cool, weary voice told her. Gretchen strained her neck to see who had come, because that accent was most certainly not Beni's. "And I hope you do not think I did this to you."

A dark shadow fell over her body, but quickly retreated as a darker form knelt down beside her. Her searching eyes collided with Ardeth's deep, sympathetic gaze. "We were worried when we lost you. We thought something bad had happened."

She snorted, but that slight movement sent a shock of pain up from her leg. Her face contorted with a grimace. "You really sent out the search party."

"We were attacked," he told her evenly.

Gretchen sighed, watching him gently pull the hem of her skirt over her thighs. He blinked a few times in embarrassment, not quite looking up at her.

"I'm sorry--"

She would have laughed a little, just to let him know he was doing nothing special, but she was afraid the motion would hurt. With a weak smile, she nodded. "This happens all the time."

His eyes glanced up at her, and something melancholy shone in his black depths. "That does not make it any less invasive."

Gretchen's brow furrowed as she rest her head against the sand again, still unwilling to see the wound in all its grisly glory.

"I do not want to disrespect you," he explained quietly. She heard more than saw him take out his cantene and splash her skin with water. The cool liquid made her shiver, despite the overbearing sun.

"You're being ridiculous," she retorted dismissively, though her throat was tightening with nervousness. It had been so long since someone had cared about insulting or offending her--much less showing respect. And something about that truth almost made her smile, despite the pain. "But thank you...anyway."

He glanced up, but jerked his gaze as quickly back down with a grunt, sopping up the water and blood from her leg with a rag. Gretchen wondered remotely where he had gotten that from. "I don't see any bits of metal. Who did this to you?"

Gretchen closed her eyes against the sun, finding a strange comfort in the way he was tending to her wound. She spat more than said, "Beni."

Ardeth nodded slowly, the pressure of the rag leaving her body. A moment later, she heard fabric ripping. "Why did he shoot you?"

She shrugged, her teeth gritting in anger. "I guess he didn't want me running off with the treasure."

His disgusted sigh pronounced the other man cowardly and inhuman, but he did not speak the words on his mind. His hand slipped beneath her knee, and the unexpected feeling of his calloused digits on her skin made her gasp. He breathed another appology, gently lifting up her leg and resting her calf on his shoulder.

"I need to wrap it up so it stops bleeding," he explained. Gretchen almost smiled.

"This is nothing new for me."

Ardeth grumbled something in Arabic, beginning to wind the strip of cloth around her thigh.

"You shouldn't make jokes like that," he told her gruffly.

Gretchen strained her neck to look at him, but he was focused on his task. "Why not? It's true, isn't it?"

"It's degrading," he returned, frustration tightening in his throat. His words were strained, "No woman should be reduced to that."

She closed her eyes. For some reason, tears were hot against her eyelids. Forcing a little laugh, she tried to keep her voice steady. "I have to joke about it..."

He looked up at her with a strange sense of understanding glinting in his black eyes. "Otherwise you would be dead by now."

Ardeth's gaze retreated back to the wound; he shook his head, tying the ends of the fabric together. "It will hold up until I get you to our camp."

He returned her leg to the sand and smoothed the skirt back into its appropriate place. He extened his hand to her, but she waved it away.

"I can't get up. Not right now."

He stared at her for a moment. "Alright."

Gretchen propped herself up on her elbows, grateful that he blocked the harsh rays of sunlight from her face. "I suppose it's not much use waiting for him," she sighed, jerking her chin at the ruins.

"He shot you."

She sighed and held up her hand and twisted her wrist, letting the light catch on the ring still curled around her finger.

"I was going to marry him."

Ardeth let out a short, humorless laugh. He looked betwen her hand and the glinting content of the sacks on camel's back; something in his eyes accused her, stabbing her stomach with guilt.

"I don't suppose it was for love."

"No." Gretchen looked down sheepishly, glancing at the camel's glittering cargo. "I thought I loved that."

Something in his dark depths softened. "It can't love you back."

She swallowed, staring away from him. She could feel his gaze persisting against her face, and he knelt down beside her. Shaking her head, she couldn't quite look up at him when she murmured:

"I thought...I guess I thought it could save me, you know...get me out of this life." She glanced up at the bag, and her brow furrowed angrily. Her fingers curled around a handful of sand. "God, it's just so..."

"Empty?"

She met his eyes, and her breath caught a little in the back of her throat. He sat down gently beside her, his hand moving over her knuckles. Her fist relaxed, and the sand seeped out of her palm. He smiled faintly.

"You know, I never...I have never cared much about Imhotep in the stories, but Anck-su-namun..."

She tilted her head at him curiously. He glanced down at their hands. "I believe she was just weary of the emptiness."

Gretchen nodded slowly, unable to prevent the tears from spilling down her cheeks. He reached his other hand slowly up to her face, brushing the hot drops from her skin.

"I was going to take you from Ghazi's that day."

She smiled briefly, shaking her head in confusion. "But you said--"

"I lied," he answered simply. "I saw you, and you were not like the others. I could see life in you, but it was fading fast. I wanted to save you before you were cold and dead like the rest of them."

Gretchen swallowed hard. "Don't overestimate...I mean, you don't know me...at all, really. Maybe I am dead."

His Adam's apple jerked, and he blinked rapidly a few times. His palm cradled her cheek, and his voice was low and husky:

"You're not."

She raked a hand through her dusty, tangled locks, glancing down at her leg. She let out a nervous, sarcastic laugh and shrugged. "Well, not yet."

Ardeth sighed quietly. "Don't be afraid of the past, Gretchen. Sometimes...the old things must die before the new things can start."

She gulped back a sob, another tear sliding down her cheek. "I'm so scared."

His hand slid from her face, to her shoulder. He pulled her gently into his arms, and she let him hold her. "I would...still like to take you."

She jerked her chin up to look at him, her eyes wide. "You don't know anything about me!"

He cleared his throat awkwardly. He started to mumble something about his culture and hers, but she interrupted him. "I don't...you don't understand. I don't belong out here in the desert."

She wanted him to say something, but he remained silent, holding her in his stiff arms. Before she could blurt an apology, the city before them began to tremble, the buildings wavering and toppling into one another loudly. Dust was rising and clouding all around them, and when she looked up to see what Ardeth made of this strange happening, his eyes were far off.