A/N: Thank you pepermint patty and mummy lover for the reviews!

Hollywood Heidi (pen name JasmineHR) January 14, 2003
Skarzinski had been riding closely behind the leader and another of the men in the long black robes. He had been listening intently to their exchanges during their journey through the desert. The sun was beginning it's decent and would set within an hour. The leader held up his hand, and the caravan came to a stop.

He addressed the group in his ancient language. "We will stop here for the night and wake before the rising of the sun to begin our journey once again."

SHIT! Skarzinski scowled. He was hoping to put more distance between himself and Cairo. He dared not argue for fear of causing suspicion. He followed suit with the others, dismounting and gathering what was needed. Within no time, they had a camp set up and everyone had settled down.

He had deliberately set up his small tent apart from the others with the opening facing the valley wall, and now stood outside of it, watching the group. One of the tattooed men approached him and offered him a makeshift plate with what looked to have once been the head of a snake.

"Niy," Skarzinski help up a hand refusing the offer. The tattooed man shrugged his shoulders and headed back to camp leaving him alone in the shadows of the valley.

He watched the men eat and laugh with one another not seeming aware that he was out there. The dark thoughts were beginning to overcome him once again. His hunger was becoming unbearable. It was a hunger that had nothing to do with the fact that he hadn't eaten since the early morning. No. He hungered for shed blood. He needed to kill something soon; preferably someone. But he couldn't kill one of these men. The group was too big and he would be stopped before he could even get started. The craving was getting worse. The power he felt when his victims were screaming and begging for their lives was unlike any he'd experienced. He grabbed his bottle of liquor and began walking alongside the wall of the valley in hopes to calm himself before he did something stupid.

His first two kills were merely out of greed. Robert and Adinah Carnahan, friends of his that he'd met at several archeological functions, were hot on the trail of what he'd dedicated his life to finding. He'd spent years searching, and he had heard that they stumbled upon some clues. They had accepted him into the expedition without telling him or anyone else what exact clues they found, but it wasn't enough. He wanted the whole of it, but they refused to share any information, explaining that even the smallest hint leaked could cause great chaos if it was found and put into the wrong hands. They only told him that when they finally found what they were looking for, they would immediately destroy it. Destroy it? They were insane! After seeing his stunned expression, they took turns explained to him what they had found out from some ancient scrolls.

"The Scepter of Seth is said to have been created and used by Seth himself. It is recorded in the ancient scrolls as one of the most powerful objects to ever exist, but it's only great power is to fuel evil. It is said that upon Seth's destruction, his body turned to dust, but his black soul escaped in a wild hurricane wind that temporarily blocked out the light of the sun. The Scepter, which lay on it's side where it had been discarded, began to rise as if it possessed a life of it's own. The top opened as if there had been a seamless compartment and the soul of Seth began to funnel into it. Slowly at first, then ending at an alarming rate. Within the blink of an eye, the compartment slammed shut and the ground shook furiously as it opened and swallowed the Scepter. Seth had been prepared for anything; including the possibility of his destruction. But it appears Seth had more in his plans. For centuries, no one was able to find even a hint or clue of this ancient legend. It appears as if he was waiting for someone worthy enough to be his successor. Then we came upon another piece of information. This one seemed to have stated that due to a counter-curse, there were now two types of man who the Scepter would appear to:

If he who finds the Scepter possesses a black heart,
the soul of Seth will be released and merge with his giving him the power of Seth.

The counter-curse stated the following:

If he who finds the Scepter possesses a heart that is good and pure,
he will be given the power to infinitely destroy the Scepter."

Adinah continued. "We have yet to find any documentation on how one with a good heart would go about destroying the Scepter of Seth. I have all of our clues, thoughts, and findings logged in a journal and I have poured over them dozens of times, and I feel as if there's something I'm missing or reading over."

Skarzinski had asked to have a look at the journal, but his request had been refused, once again due to taking precautions. The weeks went by and he watched as Adinah and Robert unearthed more clues and wrote more and more frequently in their journal. The thought of such a priceless treasure being destroyed because of some damned old story infuriated him. He had to have the Scepter of Seth. Slowly, his greed had begun to consume him and he was filled with hatred for the Carnahans. He dreamed ever night of holding the Scepter in his hands while Adinah and Robert crumbled in a slow painful death at his feet. That dream had become a favorite of his. He knew that they had to be taken out of the picture in order for him to get what was rightfully his, but how? It had to look like an accident. He thought back on it and gave a cruel smile. He had wandered off and found a group of four thieves and paid them off for their help. He instructed one of them to get some strong sleeping medicine, but nothing deadly. Only two would die tonight, and it would be by his hands. The rest would serve as murder suspects. He slipped the sleeping draught into the soup they'd be having for dinner. He waited until nightfall when everyone was knocked out and slipped into the Carnahans' tent. He killed them quickly and quietly, not wanting to take any risks. Oh how he wanted to hear their screams as he torture them with a slow and painful death, but he did not want any risk of being discovered. Two of the men he hired each carried one of the bodies while he instructed the other two to gather up all the journals and books they could find in the tent into sacks. He had been very clever in creating the fake deaths. He took pleasure in killing his next two victims. He imagined they were Adinah and Robert and slowly tortured them to death. He thought himself quite clever when he came up with the idea to mummify his two new victims in a cruel messy fashion so that the bodies wouldn't be recognized. The note he forged for the kids was to give the impression that the no longer recognizable people were the Carnahans. He wanted to make so many tracks leading in all different directions that the authorities would give up. He killed another two couples in different ways and hid those bodies in different places just to create more confusion. He had decided that he'd covered himself from blame and began looking through the various books and journals he had taken from the Carnahan's tent. He became furious after finding nothing that related to the Scepter of Seth and went out to the nearest kasbah to get drunk. He ended up taking a prostitute home and proceeded to beat her and torture her to death.

He'd then found out that many of the others that were at the dig were pointing their fingers in his direction with many of the same clues being given by each. "Skarzinski disappeared earlier that day and returned in the late afternoon." "Skarzinski didn't eat dinner that night." "Skarzinski and all his things were gone in the morning." Blah, blah, blah. He was mad that he'd made so many mistakes, and he blamed it all on the Carnahans. Damn them! They obviously had begun to suspect him of trying something, so had given the journal and other important documents to someone else in the group for safe keeping. But who? He decided to fake his own death, and this time he'd succeeded in fooling everyone. His anger took control and he began tracking down the people that were with the Carnahans. One by one he tore apart their homes and killed them. None would reveal anything or knew anything. Until he came to the home of the fourth person on his list. The weasel had some information. In hopes to save his pitiful life, which it hadn't, he told Skarzinski all that he heard while eavesdropping. This eventually led Skarzinski on another string of victims and eventually to the offspring of the Carnahans. Unfortunately, it seemed they had found out about him just as he was learning about them. He was not prepared and needed some time in hiding to come up with a plan.

He had nearly finished off the bottle of alcohol while he was rounding a bend and still had a strong urge for a killing. He looked up at the setting sun, and as if in answer to his needs, a woman in strange clothing stood up on a ridge with her back to him watching the setting sun. He gave a quiet evil laugh and his mouth watered in anticipation.

Gabrielle loved her daily ritual and looked forward to it all day. She would think of Jonathan while watching the sun set halfway in his time, then she'd go back through the tunnel to her time and finish watching the setting of the sun there while, once again, thinking of Jonathan. She stood there now right outside the mouth of the tunnel. The sun was about to start it's decent. She took Jonathan's pinky ring off her ring finger and held it while watching it shine in the remaining light. She smiled at her thoughts and hugged the ring to her, then continued to look at it. She couldn't wait until they could be back together again. She looked up again at the sun. It was time to head back.

Just as she was about to turn back toward the tunnel, Skarzinski placed a hand over her mouth and locked her wrists together with his other hand. "Well what do we have here?" he said as he pulled her against him and looked her over. "Aren't you a pretty little thing?"

Gabrielle panicked and wanted to scream. "Uh, uh… you keep quiet now. I'm going to take my hand off your mouth. If you scream, it'll be the last think you do." His hand roamed down the length of the arm. "It would be such a pity not to take advantage of what you could offer with that pretty little body of yours."

Bile rose in Gabrielle's throat. She had to think fast. The sun would be completely set soon and the opening to her time would close. Then, she'd be stuck with this scary guy and end up dead. She stood very still in hopes that he would think she was accepting his offer. It worked. As soon as the hand holding her wrists together loosened, she stepped forward and brought her leg back with all her might. She'd gotten him right in the shin. Damn. She was aiming for higher. As she turned, she brought along with her a mean right hook and knocked him on his ass. Despite the pain in her heal from the shin kick, she ran.

Skarzinski picked himself off the ground and grabbed the knife out of his boot. He was close behind her and just about to catch up to her when all of a sudden, he ran smack into a wall, knocking himself out for the count.

Gabrielle saw that the sun had just completely disappeared right when she cleared the tunnel to her time. She looked back, and sure enough, the tunnel was sealed. She sat down on the ground and rocked herself gently as she examined her heal and her already bruising right hand. She gasped and immediately looked to her left hand. There was nothing there. The ring! No! She began to cry. She must have dropped it in her shock or her struggle; she didn't know which. Damn it! Ever since she'd become all sentimental, she'd been doing nothing but screwing up. Now, there may be a man, a bad man no less, that knows about the tunnel. She prayed to Isis in hopes that the man had been knocked out.

Several hours later, Skarzinski began to stir. He put his hand to his throbbing head and opened his eyes. Where the hell was he? He remembered a woman. He sat up and looked around. It was a dream. He must have had way too much to drink, but at least his craving to kill had settled. He got up and walked out of the tunnel. He looked at the moon and knew he'd been out for some time. His damn leg was hurting him. He bend down to try and rub some of the pain out of it when a glint caught his eye. "What's this," he thought. He picked it up and saw it was a ring. His head whipped back to the tunnel thinking about the woman, then his gaze returned to the ring. It was a man's ring. He placed the ring on his pinky finger and admired it. He was thoroughly convinced that the woman was a dream, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out why the hell his shin and left cheek hurt, or why he had blood coming from a bump on his head. He wandered back to his tent to drown his pain in some of his more potent liquor and proceeded to pass out.

Shelby (pen name Eviefan) January 15, 2003
Having to clean the galley, wasn't what Alex or Jonathan considered as a fun task, and really, Jonathan was doing most of the work, while Alex sat on one of the stools, feeling worse than he had when they had been eavesdropping on his dad and Kit. "I think Mum has gone a little Loopy," Alex said as he rested his head on the counter top at the bar.

Jonathan looked over at him from where he was mopping the floor. "You know how she is about eavesdropping," he said, sympathetically. His sister had put both of them in here to clean, saying that if Alex was well enough to spy on his father, that he was well enough to help clean, though looking at the boy, Jonathan wasn't too sure about that. "I don't think she would be quite so loopy as you say, if it weren't for me," he said, then smiled.

Alex lifted his head and looked at his uncle. "So you did something that forever jinxed me when I eavesdrop?" asked Alex, though more interested than annoyed.

"Lets just say that once I got a hold of her Diary, and that perhaps I shared some of that information with a certain young fellow she had a crush on," he said. Both of them laughed at that, then Jonathan frowned as Alex coughed. "Look partner, what say you go back to bed. I can handle this and you need to rest. If she gives you any trouble just tell her I forced you to rest," he said.

After thanking his Uncle, Alex left to go back to his bed, grateful that they were such good friends.

While they were good friends, another uncle and nephew were not doing as well. When Evelyn had left to go see what all the commotion was about in the next room, Kit had clamed up, and hadn't spoken a word since her departure. For Rick that was frustrating. He wanted Kit to feel a part of the family. He felt obligated to protect him as he had done for Alex, but the boy was no closer to trusting him than Rick was willing to trust that they wouldn't find some god awful curse when they arrived in Egypt.

"I need to go see how close to Egypt we are getting, but I will be back," Rick finally said as he stood from his chair.

"I'll be sure to have a party when you return," Kit grumbled. He watched as Rick left and when he was gone he looked at the plate of food that Evelyn had left him. He had thought about not eating but his stomach had been grumbling since she had left the sandwich and cookies, and without another thought he scarfed down every last piece. As he was eating the last bite, the door knob twisted, then she stepped in, and Kit, though still annoyed by their persistence, was glad it was her, instead of him.

"Would you like anything else to eat?" Evelyn said as she looked at the empty plate, and empty glass.

"No thank you," he said politely. When she sat down he heaved a sigh, wishing they would all just disappear.

"We are off course, but Rick seems to think that we should still be able to get to Egypt by early tomorrow afternoon," she informed. When she didn't get a response from him she continued. "I'm not so sure about doing all of this. The man who killed my parents and your family is dangerous. I'm worried that something will happen to one of us, and after everything I've lost I'm not sure I could be strong enough to handle anything like that."

He knew she was trying to be nice, but he wanted to be alone to plan what he would do when they did reach land. He for one wasn't going to stick around, and even if he had to fight an army, he was going to get away, find the man who had killed his grandfather and his parents, and make him pay dearly for what he had done. Once she had gone, Kit got up and walked to the far end of the room where his duffel was, and from that pulled out his fiddle. It had gotten wet, and as he played a few chords, he realized that it was in bad need of tuning. He reached in his duffel and got his pitch pipe and began to tune it up, hoping that a little Music would liven his mood and make him forget all that had taken place.

Penny - January 16, 2003
Once Kit finished tuning his father's fiddle, he put the pitch pipe back in his bag. Instinct told him to make sure, his Papere's secret was safe. "Guard this with your very life, Kit," his grandfather had warned. "If you don't, your Mother and Father will have died in vain, just as the Carnahan's and countless others have. Keep it close to you. You'll know when the time comes what to do, but you must be brave child. You must be brave and keep your wits about you. Remember the power is in your hands."

At first Kit had thought, his Papere was just loosing his marbles. His dad would have said his bucket had a hole in it, but since he had witnessed his grandfather's murder and his attempted murder, he wasn't so sure now. But who the hell would want that worthless piece of cheap junk?

He pulled the flash light out, from the bottom of the bag and felt it's familiar weight. Unscrewing the end, he tilted it as the object inside, slowly slid toward the opening. "Yeah, junk," he mumbled to himself. "Cheap ass trinket, you can get in the Cairo market place! But why the hell would somebody want it so bad to kill for it?" That's a question he'd personally ask Skarzinski, while he was on his knees, just before Kit blew his brains all over, like the man had done to his father, as his mother laid with her throat slit open from ear to ear. Bastard was gonna pay the piper and Kit was gonna play the tune.

He tilted the flashlight back up and the cylinder slid back into place. After he screwed the cap back on, he shoved it deep inside his duffel, pushing the old journal back over it and miscellaneous things over that. He'd read the journal later. Aswad Fulana wasn't the best read in the world, but maybe, just maybe, it would give him a clue as to where Skarzinski might be. Luckily the O'Connell's had only gotten one journal, but this one his Papere had hidden in the upstairs safe and this one, this one they weren't gonna get their grubby little hands on.

Up on the deck and in Alex's cabin flowed the sweet strains of fiddle music. Heads turned looking at one another in surprise and wonder. Who was playing and where was it coming from? There was only one answer, when they heard the words.

"Jole blonde, regardez donc quoi t'as fait,
Tu m'as quitte pour t'en aller,
Pour T'en aller avec un autre, oui, que moi,
Quel espoir et quel avenir, mais, moi, je, vais avoir?

Jole Blonde, tu m'as laisse, moi tout seul,
Pour t'en aller chez ta famille.
Si t'aurais pas ecoute tos les conseiles de les autres
tu serait ici-t-avec moi aujourd 'hui

Jole blonde, tu croyais il y avait just toi,
ll ya pas just toi dans le pays pour moi aimer.
Je peux trouver just une autre jolie blonde,
Bon Dieu sait, moi, j'ai un tas."

"I say, that was bloody brilliant!" Jonathan Carnahan said in the doorway, a big smile on his face, as he clapped his hands. His nephew stood next to him, imitating his uncle.

"It was! Where ever did you learn to play like that?"

Oh shit, Kit moaned to him self. Grandpaw and Junior! Who else would show up, that he hadn't heard? Probably that overgrown ape! Bastard tries to take this fiddle, he thought, I'll stick it where the sun don't shine!

"Kit that was beautiful, Sweetheart!"

Oh GOD! The ape's wife the, zoo keeper, which meant the ape wasn't far behind. Then there was that Med-Jai. A warrior, a zoo keeper, an ape, Junior and Grandpaw. Who ever said three strikes and you were out. Bastard should have his head examined, cause he sure couldn't count worth a damn! Kit was looking at six strikes and he couldn't even get up to bat! Besides, if it hadn't been for that Med-Jai, he could have stolen that lifeboat, but the sorry sonuvabitch grabbed him from behind and jerked him back down the steps with Grandpaw's help and they locked him up in this rat hole. Yeah, that was another one who was gonna meet Mr. Knee as soon as he got off the boat in Cairo.

"Kit what were you playing? I've never heard anything like it? I know it's some form of French, but I can't place it."

He looked up at the woman, claiming to be his aunt and for just a second her smile caused his anger to abate. "It's Cajun French. The songs called 'Jole Blonde.' It was written by a feller name of Amadie Breau. It's kinda like the Cajun National Anthem, ya know? No big deal. Sorry bout the noise. I'll put it up."

What surprised him was the loud chorus of "NO's" that echoed in the hold. "Please don't!" and "Play some more!" and there was even a "Could you teach me how to play the violin?" That really got his attention. He looked at the blonde headed kid and was shocked to see, the kid really wanted to know how to play.

"It's not a violin," Kit said matter-of-factly, "It's a fiddle. At least that's how I play it, anyway."

Alex went over, and flopped down by Kit on the pallet. "Can I see it, you know, just to have a look? I'll give it right back."

Kit looked at Alex, then at his father's fiddle, and nodded handing it to the boy, with great care. "Be careful, huh? It was my Dad's and before that, it was his Dad's."

Alex nodded and began to examine the instrument that only minutes before had filled his cabin with music. "What's the difference between a fiddle and a violin, if you don't mind me asking?"

"You got a nickname?"

Alex looked at him, wary now. He had a feeling Kit's mouth was going to shoot off and he would get the full blast. "Yes, Uncle Jon sometimes calls me Sport or Partner," he answered cautiously.

Well there ya go. A fiddle is just a nickname for a violin."

"Like Kit?"

Kit is just short for Christopher, that's all. But yeah, if you wanna look at it like that, it's just a nickname, too."

"Can you play something else? Please?"

Kit looked at Alex and again he nodded. "This time I'll play it the way my Mom taught me okay? She taught violin, before..." Kit caught himself and giving himself a mental shake, dismissed what he was going to say. "Sure. Yeah." He thought a few minutes and one of his Mother's favorite songs came to mind. He put the fiddle to his chin, closed his eyes, giving sight to his fingers and let the bow glide over the strings.

Jonathan's eyes lit up. "Say, I know that song!"

Kit looked up at the man. "Yeah? Know the words, do ya?"

"I should say I do! That's 'The Skye Boat Song'." It was written about Charles Edward Stewart, the Young Pretender to the thrown. He was defeated by the Duke of Cumberland on Culloden Moor in 1746. Flora MacDonald, aided Bonnie Prince Charlie to escape to the island of Skye, where he was later taken by a French Vessel to Morlaix on the coast of Bretagne, "John said proudly remembering his history.

"Yeah, yeah, that's nice, but do you know the words?"

"Play boy!"

Again kit began to play and Jonathan added the lyrics.

"Speed bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,
Onward, the sailors cry
Carry the lad who was born to be king
Over the sea to skye

Loud the winds howl, loud the waves roar,
Thunder clouds rend the air;
Baffled our foe's stand on shore
Follow they will not dare

Speed bonnie boat...

Through the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep
Ocean's a royal bed
Rocked in the deep, Flora will keep
Watch by your weary head

Speed bonnie boat...

Many's the lad fought on that day
Well the claymore could wield
When the night came, silently lay
Dead on Culloden's field

Speed bonnie boat...

Burned are our homes, exile and death
Scatter the loyal men
Yet, e'er the sword cool in the sheath,
Charlie will come again.

Speed bonnie boat...

Yeah, speed bonnie boat, Kit thought. I'm coming Skarzinski. I'm comin' for you, you chicken shit sonuvabitch!

A/N: Please review!