August, 1945

It had been a dream, but the taste of blood was still present in Jack Moffitt's mouth. The taste gradually disappeared as he sat up in bed, leaning forward and hugging his knees. He could still feel pain in every place the Germans had struck him, especially his head. He still couldn't believe how lucky he had been to get out of that mission alive.

To that day, he wasn't able to read the Coptic language. He could read it, technically, but he didn't want to, for he feared he was going to be pinned down and beaten when he finished.

He calmed a little when something cool and smooth coiled around his right hand. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, Moffitt looked down to see the glowing blue eyes of Anah, the black Egyptian cobra he had encountered in a temple in North Africa. She had wrapped her tail around his hand, and was looking up at him with a sympathetic expression.

"It was just a dream. It will not happen again," Anah whispered. She slithered onto his lap, then moved up to his chest when he lay back down into his pillow. "Poor dear."

"It'll be alright, Anah," Moffitt said. "Just… bad dreams." He looked down at the cobra as she made herself comfortable on his chest. "You're going to give my mother a heart attack if she comes in here and sees you."

"Do not worry about that right now, dear," Anah said, softly. "Go back to sleep."

Moffitt tried for almost an hour, but sleep never came. He gave a heavy sigh before sitting up. "I can't."

Anah climbed up to his shoulders. "Go make yourself some tea, dear."

Moffitt was careful not to wake the rest of the house. His parents had welcomed him back home to Cambridge with open arms, but that didn't mean he could be up at all hours making a ruckus. He was quiet as he searched a cupboard of tea for something that might help him sleep, and settled on passionflower. He kept a close eye on the kettle, not wanting to let it whistle. Right before it could start, he took it off the stove burner, and poured the hot water into a waiting mug. He stood over it, waiting for the tea to steep.

It was weird not constantly being on edge all the time. The war in Europe had ended months ago. There were celebrations, and Moffitt's parents had thrown a welcome-home party for him. Instead of feeling happy, Moffitt felt lost and uncertain of what to do with himself. He already had a job lined up at the University of Cambridge, but beyond that, he was so exhausted that he wasn't sure what to do beyond drag himself from one day to the next.

He got joy in riding his horse, which he had acquired from the Scots Greys after they made the switch over to tanks from horses. Snowstripe was a tall, black Arabian stallion, with a single unbroken stripe down the center of his face. He was spirited, intelligent, and deeply loyal to Moffitt. Sure, he was very upset at having been left in England and separated from Moffitt for four years, but once he knew his rider was there to stay, Snowstripe was back to his old self.

Moffitt also got joy out of writing to his friends in his unit, known as the Rat Patrol. They all promised to stay in contact with each other, and stay in contact they did. Receiving letters was always good, even short ones. He even tried staying in contact with Captain Dietrich, their former adversary, but Dietrich wasn't fond of replying.

When the tea finished steeping, Moffitt gently pressed the bag against the sides of his mug, then threw it away before adding a spoonful of sugar. He looked at Anah in the corner of his eye while stirring his tea. She glanced at him, then whispered, "Are you alright?"

"Getting there," Moffitt said. "Thank you for keeping me company."

Anah nodded. She stayed quiet until Moffitt went into his father's library. He sat in one of the nooks, looking out at the sliver of a crescent moon peeking between the tree branches. As he sipped his tea, he did start to feel better, though his nightmare continued echoing in the back of his mind.

All was quiet until Moffitt heard a female voice humming. He looked at Anah in the corner of his eye. She was staring at nothing in particular, then she turned to him and gently nuzzled him. He could feel her breath against his cheek, and when he felt her breathing at the same time that the humming started again, he was certain it was her. The tune was unfamiliar, perhaps something ancient, or something Anah made up entirely. Whatever it was, it was calming and pleasing to listen to. It was also mysterious. Part of him wondered if it was something with lyrics.

He tried not to think too hard about it.

After he moved into his new house several months later, he heard the song again whenever he was bothered by nightmares. He again tried not to think too hard about it, but something about it called to his natural curiosity, and he became determined to learn the truth about it.

Moffitt asked Anah about it one winter evening. She didn't have much of an answer. "It is something I remember from… centuries ago, but I do not fully recall what it is or what it means."

His curiosity wasn't satisfied.

March, 1952

Moffitt's sleep was fitful. In his latest nightmare, all of his senses were numb, apart from one. He could see the nasty look on the SS guard's face as he swung a club. The club struck him hard in the stomach. He felt that clear as day. It was the only thing he could feel. The guard swung the club again, struck Moffitt in the stomach again, and let him struggle to writhe in pain. He couldn't struggle, couldn't writhe, as he was dimly aware that he was being held up by chains attached to the ceiling.

The guard swung the club, and hit Moffitt one more time. He finally awoke. He realized he had been twitching and writhing in bed, and he was breathing hard. As his breath slowed, he turned to his left, seeing that he hadn't woken up his wife, Vanora. Well, good. She's seven months pregnant. I don't want to be waking her up like this, he thought with a quiet sigh. He turned back onto his right side, facing his nightstand and the window. Anah was curled up on his nightstand, fast asleep—or so he thought.

Moffitt closed his eyes and tried to get back to sleep. When sleep refused to return, he opened his eyes, letting out a slightly more frustrated sigh.

"Are you alright, dear?" Anah whispered.

"Bad dreams," Moffitt replied.

Anah lifted her head from her coils. "Do you want to have a cup of tea and go in the sitting room?"

"I shouldn't leave—"

"Vanora will be fine, dear. She is asleep."

"Oh, alright." Moffitt was quiet as he got out of bed, and put his bathrobe on to stay warm. He was quiet, like he had been at his parents' house seven years prior. Anah was around his shoulders, buried in his robe, as cozy as a snake could be. She didn't go back to sleep, though. When Moffitt leaned over the counter to watch the tea steep, Anah emerged from his robe. She took in the scent of the tea, then pulled the first third of her body back onto his shoulders.

"You have not had a bad nightmare like that in a while," Anah said.

"No." Moffitt shook his head. "I've been a bit more anxious lately. That's probably why."

"Because you are going to be a father?"

"Yes, and that Troy, Hitch, and Tully are in Korea. I miss them, and I worry about them every single day."

"I worry about them, too."

"Part of me wishes I had waited until they returned to have a baby, just so I had them to talk to."

"You have Dietrich, and he has been a great help to both you and Vanora."

"He has. He's supposed to be arriving tomorrow so we can spend some time together. He won't admit it, but he's extremely bored without Troy."

"Oh, he definitely is. It is amusing to see, given how much they used to loathe each other."

Moffitt nodded in agreement. "I don't think Troy ever truly loathed Dietrich. He saw that Dietrich was a decent man stuck in a bad position, and felt sorry for him. A lot of damage had already been done, and actually being able to talk was made extremely difficult."

"They were always connected by the prophecy."

"There was more than just the prophecy, but that definitely made things more complicated." Moffitt removed the spent tea bag from his mug when he thought it had steeped long enough. "Even if the prophecy hasn't been truly resolved yet, I'm glad they're not fighting anymore. I still can't believe you convincing Snowstripe to escape the stables was the kick in the seat of their pants that Troy and Dietrich needed to start getting along."

"I was not sure it would work, but I am glad it did."

"I'm glad it did, too, because I still think you took a massive risk that could've gotten my horse hurt."

"Oh, please, Snowstripe did plenty of stupid things to save your rear end back during the war."

"You have a point."

"Did you not tell me he once kicked over a barrel of gasoline and managed to set it on fire, which then completely destroyed a Vichy encampment?"

"Yes, Anah. My horse is an arsonist." Moffitt took a sip of his tea, and smiled a little. "I still remember the look on McKerras's face when that happened. I don't think I've ever seen him look that terrified of a horse before."

"That is one of my favorite stories of yours."

"Well, of course it is. Anything that involves things being set on fire seems to be your favorite." Moffitt went out to the sitting room, sighing as he sat on the couch facing the window. "I'm looking forward to introducing my son or daughter to horses."

"That will be fun to see, and quite cute, too. I am looking forward to watching them grow up, and helping them grow up as well. Oh, can I be called 'Aunt Anah?' Please?"

"No, because you're not actually their aunt."

"But I am close enough."

Moffitt shook his head. "No. You will just be 'Anah.'" He thought for a moment, and frowned when he saw the disappointed look on Anah's face. "How about 'Miss Anah?' It's polite, simple, still sounds very sweet."

"I will think about it." Anah's smile returned. "Are you feeling better?"

"I am. Thank you. I know things have been different since Vanora and I got married, but you're no less important."

"I know." Anah rested her head on Moffitt's shoulder, giving a quiet, happy sigh.

Moffitt drank his tea in silence. A few moments passed, and then the soft humming started. He listened, paying closer attention to it than he had the last time. When Anah stopped, Moffitt asked, "You're sure you can't remember where you got that from?"

Anah didn't respond at first, but eventually said, "I am positive, dear. Could we just enjoy it?"

"Sure. If… If that's what you want." Moffitt went back to his tea. He was determined to get to the bottom of this.

Hans Dietrich wasn't at all surprised that when his plane landed in Britain, it was raining. It would probably rain for the duration of his trip, much like last time. It was dreary, and he didn't need dreary, not with everything he had been battling in his head for the last several years.

At the same time, there was something so romantic and intriguing about how Cambridge looked in the rain, with block after block of old buildings and cobblestone streets. The streetlamps were reflected in puddles, and people walked briskly by him bundled up in raincoats and huddled under umbrellas.

He wished he had brought an umbrella.

Dietrich stood with several other people at a bus stop outside of the airport. The humid air was heavy with the smell of coffee and cigarettes. He found himself wanting a cup of coffee—and breakfast. He had gotten up early for his flight and grabbed something quick before getting on the plane. Now, hours later, he was glad the sound of the bus arriving would cover up his stomach growling.

The ride through Cambridge was a good distraction. It was a place rich in knowledge and history. No wonder Moffitt decided to stay, even if it was as un-desert-like as possible. With spring upon the northern hemisphere, flowering trees were beginning to bloom, painting the countryside in whites and pinks that broke up the monotony of green. Dietrich would have to walk quite a ways when the bus stopped as close as it could to Moffitt's home, but even in the rain, the views were lovely.

It was a pity the road was dirt—well, it was dirt. Now it was mud. Dietrich was careful not to slip, but it made the walk take far longer than it usually would have. He breathed a sigh of relief when he finally saw the house with its huge yard and pasture, and, of course, the stable. He was very happy to have solid ground when he left the muddy road and headed onto the stone walkway that led up to the house. He jogged up to the front door, and knocked three times.

The door opened, and Moffitt pulled Dietrich in for a hug. He quickly pulled away upon feeling how soaked Dietrich's clothes were. "Good to see you, Dietrich. Please, come in, and… do get dry."

"Good to see you, too, Moffitt," Dietrich replied. He shed his wet jacket and draped it near the radiator. His muddy boots would be taken out to the stable later to be sprayed clean. The rest of the clothes he was wearing were uncomfortably damp.

"Oh, you poor dear!" Anah said when the two entered the kitchen. "Dietrich, you are soaking wet! Go get changed into dry clothes right away, dear."

"I will be fine, Anah," Dietrich said.

"No! You will catch pneumonia like that! Go get changed, right now!"

Moffitt gave him a look, then said through clenched teeth, "Do what she says."

"Oh, alright." Dietrich sighed while picking up his suitcases and heading to the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later, and was promptly hit in the face with a towel.

"Dry your head," Anah ordered.

"Heaven's sake, Anah," Dietrich muttered. He ran the towel over his head, badly messing his hair.

Anah smiled. "Much better. Are you hungry?"

"Starving, actually."

"Wonderful. Everything from breakfast is still warm. Please, come eat. I will make your coffee."

Dietrich walked over to Moffitt in the kitchen. "She did not even say 'hello.'"

"That is her way of saying 'hello,'" Moffitt said. "If you didn't come so soon after breakfast, she might be a little more… normal."

"Nothing about her is normal."

"You sound like Troy."

Dietrich's heart sank. "Yes. That does… sound like something he would say. Have you heard from him or Hitch or Tully lately?"

"No. I'm sure they're alright."

"I hope so."

"Dietrich, have a seat, dear," Anah said. "Eat as much as you like."

"Thank you, Anah." Part of Dietrich felt uncomfortable sitting while Moffitt was still standing, but the Englishman joined him after making a new cup of tea. He tried not to think too much about Troy, Hitch, and Tully, as he knew it would lead his worry to spiral out of control. His worry was swiftly replaced with intimidation when Anah placed a plate of food in front of him, piled high with eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, and orange slices. "Anah—"

Moffitt reached across the table to silence Dietrich. "Don't! She'll just add more."

Dietrich resisted the urge to roll his eyes before picking up his fork and trying to find a starting point. "How is Vanora doing?" he asked, changing the subject.

"It depends on the day. This morning was… not particularly good."

"Is she alright?"

"Oh, she's fine, but she was quite angry at me because I got up in the middle of the night and left her alone."

"Why were you up?"

Moffitt hesitated a moment. "Nightmares. Anah and I went out to the sitting room so I could clear my head. I did eventually go back in, but that wasn't enough."

"Is she still in a bad mood?"

Moffitt shrugged. "I don't know. She's out in the sitting room right now."

"At least you only have two more months of this."

"Indeed."

"How are you? Still terrified about becoming a father?"

"Very much so. My parents are really excited, especially my father. You should've seen him cheering, 'I'm going to be a grandpa!' when we told him."

"I can imagine it. Have you asked him for advice?"

Moffitt was quiet for a moment, then shook his head.

"You should."

"You're right."

Dietrich watched Moffitt stand and nervously pace with his tea. "I think you will do a wonderful job."

"I'm glad you think so. It's been driving me mad, and I feel like I've… made a mistake, thinking I was ready."

"You have a lot of people to help you. I know your closest friends are not here at the moment, but hopefully, they will be home before the baby arrives."

"I hope so, too. You'll be here. I'm grateful for that."

"I told you, back when I noticed an improvement in my depression, that you could call me anytime for assistance."

"And it's been nice having you here." Moffitt finally sat back down, which Dietrich took to mean that he was relaxing.

Anah didn't say anything until Dietrich set his fork down and pushed his plate away. "Are you finished?"

Dietrich had managed to get through half of the food on his plate. "I doubt I have any more room."

"Alright." Anah took the plate. "We can save the rest for later. Unless Moffitt wants it."

"No, thank you, Anah," Moffitt said. "Would you mind seeing how Vanora's doing when you're done?"

"Is there a reason you cannot see how she is doing yourself?"

"I'm worried she's still grumpy."

"Fine."

Moffitt waited until Anah left the room, then leaned over to whisper to Dietrich. "There's something I'd like your help with."

"Oh?" Dietrich gave Moffitt a quizzical look.

"Whenever I have bad dreams, and I sit somewhere with Anah, she hums a tune. She's been doing that since I returned home after the war. I asked her what the tune is and where it came from, but she either doesn't know, or she's refusing to tell me the truth for some reason."

"I find it strange and highly unlikely that she would hide the truth from you."

"I do, too, but… last night, I asked once more, and she hesitated before telling me that she was certain and to 'just enjoy it.'"

"That is very odd, and not like her at all."

"No. I wonder if the tune came from her time with her previous master. She did say that the only thing she was certain of is that it's 'centuries old.'"

"She has been around for two thousand years. Surely, she has forgotten some things."

"It's impressive what she does remember." Moffitt looked down at his tea mug. "You have to keep in mind that… she spent most of those years by herself in that temple. There's no doubt that's affected her. She never even mentioned her fears of abandonment until the day before I was going to meet Vanora for the first time."

"She was afraid of it happening again."

"Exactly. Her memory is impressive—my father loves the fact that he can talk to someone who actually lived in ancient Egypt—but that impressiveness comes at a cost. There are things she can't forget, and her abandonment is one of them."

"She really downplayed how complicated her relationship was with her previous master when we first encountered her."

Moffitt nodded. "I don't think she wanted us to know. Not yet anyway."

Dietrich thought for a moment. "Forgive me for sounding dismissive, but why does learning what this tune is mean so much to you? It is just that—a tune. She hums it when you are distressed. It sounds like a lullaby of sorts."

"Now you really sound like Troy."

"I am just trying to learn the 'why,' Moffitt."

"I know." Moffitt gave him a slight smirk. The smirk quickly faded. "It was a challenge for Anah to get used to Vanora. As important as it will be for us to focus on the baby, I don't want Anah's past to keep coming back and haunting her."

"I think we have all been struggling with our pasts coming back to haunt us, but that begs another question—why would Anah be humming this tune if it is connected to something painful?"

"That's what I want to know. It clearly means something to her if she's comfortable with using it, but she might not be able to fully sever the connection."

"She will have to learn to live with it, like I have had to do with you."

"Yes. Unless she's lying to me that she doesn't remember, perhaps we can jog her memory. Go back to the source."

"The temple."

"Not just the temple. The place she lived with her witch before the temple's construction."

"Do you even know where that could be?"

"No. I'm… honestly afraid to ask, but if we're going to figure this out, Anah must confront her past."

Dietrich winced. "That is quite a delicate thing to do."

"I think it's necessary. I know it'll be difficult, and it's not something I want to put Anah through, but I think it's something that needs to be done."

"You want her to understand that she is never going back to that temple—"

"Yes."

"—by bringing her back to the temple."

"I know it sounds bad, but remember it'll be difficult for us as well."

"Wait, 'us?'"

"Yes. I want you to come with me."

Dietrich's jaw dropped. "Moffitt, you could not possibly—"

"This must be done, Dietrich."

"You want to drop everything and go to North Africa right now?"

"Yes."

"Your wife is seven months pregnant!"

"I'm very aware of that fact. I'll ask my father if he and Mother can stay with Vanora for the foreseeable future."

"'For the foreseeable future?!'" Dietrich wasn't sure whether to laugh or roughly shake Moffitt's shoulders to snap him out of his insanity. "Are you crazy?!"

"Troy would ask the same thing."

"Number one, Troy is not here! Number two, if he was here, and said that you are crazy, I would actually agree with him!"

Moffitt folded his arms over his chest, looking deep in thought. "So, you aren't going to come with me to North Africa?"

"Of course I am coming with you! Someone has to be the voice of reason."

"That's it? You're not going to try and stop me?"

"Troy threatening to shoot you for wanting to go rescue your father did not stop you from doing so." Dietrich gave a defeated sigh. "There is one little problem, though."

"Oh?"

"There is not a chance in hell that Anah will agree to this."

Moffitt shrugged. "All we have to do is ask."

"I am being serious. If you wanted to take me to my old apartment to confront the trauma of my suicide attempt, I would resist going at every turn. Really any place where I have bad memories that I do not feel ready to deal with, I would not want to go."

"Like I said, going to that temple won't easy for any of us, because it's where this all started."

"I know. That is another reason I do not think you should be going alone."

"I appreciate that, but I'm willing to do this for Anah."

"She means a lot to you."

"She means a lot to all of us. Including Troy." Moffitt smirked. "He just won't admit it. He enjoyed his time with her when I was on my honeymoon with Vanora."

"Does he write to Anah?"

"He did keep telling me to say 'hello' to Anah in his first few letters after he went to Korea. Then he advanced to asking how she was doing. Then I told him to just start writing to Anah."

"Has he?"

"No."

"Figures."

"He still cares. Hitch and Tully care. I think they would all like to see Anah happier."

"She is always happy around them."

"I meant they would like to see her genuinely happy." Moffitt was quiet for a moment. "There are times when it's easy to tell that she's only pretending to be happy."

Dietrich looked down at the table, his heart aching. "I… can understand that." He sighed. "How do we want to discuss this with her?"

"Make it clear we want to help."

"I can say from experience that it will take a lot more than that."

"It's a start, but I don't know where to go from there."

"We will figure it out."

"Thanks."

"Not a problem." Dietrich kept looking down at the table, and wondered what he had just gotten himself into.

Moffitt went out into the sitting room to see Anah was curled up around Vanora's shoulders. The cobra lifted her head when Moffitt approached, but Vanora was the first to speak. "Hello, Jack."

"Hello, my darling," Moffitt replied. "Do you need anything?"

"Not at the moment." Vanora looked up at him. "You can sit if you want. Anah and I had been talking, and I wanted to apologize for my behavior this morning. If I had known you left the bed because you were having bad dreams, I wouldn't have gotten upset. I don't even know why I was upset."

"You were uncomfortable and thought his presence would help you feel better," Anah said.

"Yes. That."

Moffitt sat next to his wife, putting his arm around her. "I'm sorry. I know being uncomfortable in general makes communication difficult, but I still feel bad that I didn't give you what you needed."

"You didn't know. It's alright."

"Still. This is my fault—"

"Jack," Vanora put her hand on Moffitt's lips, "stop. You apologize too much, love."

Moffitt kissed her hand. "Sorry—"

"There you go again." Vanora poked his nose. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"Thank you." Moffitt gently hugged her. "I love you. Are you still uncomfortable? I won't go anywhere."

"I'm alright now, but you can stay if you want."

"I would stay, but—"

He was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him.

"—Dietrich's here."

"Oh." Vanora looked past Moffitt to see Dietrich standing on the steps leading into the sitting room. "Hello, Dietrich. How long have you been here?"

"About an hour," Dietrich replied. "How are you?"

"I'm doing well. How about you?"

"Quite well. It is always a joy to spend time here. You and your husband have done a wonderful job making this place feel cozy and inviting."

"Thank you, Dietrich. We try. There are some little things I'd like to do, but that's not possible now, and probably won't be for a few years."

"I can take care of that," Moffitt said. "And Anah can help, too. She helped fix the roof last summer."

"No, I was making sure you did not fall off the ladder," Anah said.

"And you did a very good job of it."

"Speaking of Anah," Dietrich turned his gaze to the cobra. "We would like to speak to you alone."

"There is nothing you can say that cannot be said in front of everyone," Anah replied.

"This is far more personal."

Anah gave him a confused look. "How personal?"

"It involves your past."

"I… see." Anah slithered off of Vanora. "We can… go out into the kitchen, dears."

Moffitt picked her up before heading back out into the kitchen with Dietrich. Anah wrapped around his arm and rested her head on the back of his wrist. After letting her get comfortable, Moffitt sighed, then said, "We want to help you overcome your fear of abandonment."

"I have no more fear of abandonment," Anah said. "What ever gave you the idea that I still do?"

"Many things. I've been thinking about it since the last time we discussed the tune you've been humming—"

"If I knew you were going to fixate on that, I would never have started it."

"We want to help you remember it."

"Why? There is nothing to remember. I know the tune. It calms you. That is all you need to know."

"Anah," Moffitt looked down at the floor anxiously, "I know you haven't fully… let go of what happened, two thousand years ago. I know you're afraid of it happening again."

"We want to assure you that it never will," Dietrich added. "Believe me, I know how difficult it is to accept help—"

"I do not need help," Anah said. "You both need to drop the subject."

"That right there tells me there is something that needs fixing."

Anah glared at him, her hood partly flared.

"You know I know better than anyone how you feel. Hitch and Tully went back and forth with me when they visited me several years ago, trying to get me to discuss my problems. I know it is easier to just shut the door and not let anyone in, but you will not solve anything that way. It will continue to get worse. It is hard and very painful, but when you finally confront it and acknowledge it with someone at your side, things will start to improve."

"There are plenty of things I don't want to revisit," Moffitt said. "I dream about them, though. Please, you've helped us so many times. Let us help you."

Anah's hood retracted, and she hung her head. "What is it you want to do to help?"

"We want to go back to the temple, and your original home in Egypt, where you lived with your witch."

"Why would you want to go there?"

"To see if it will help your memory," Dietrich said.

Anah shrank back. "No. No, I do not want to go there."

"We are curious. We are not doing this to hurt you."

"Then go by yourselves."

"We'd need your guidance," Moffitt said. "Going back to the temple won't be easy for us."

Anah sighed. "You will do this regardless of what I say."

Moffitt gestured to Dietrich. "He said that when he said he'd come along."

"You are both stubborn. Only Troy is more stubborn than you two. Mostly."

"He has his moments."

Anah became quiet. "Let me think about it." She left Moffitt's arm, and disappeared into the bedroom.

Moffitt glanced at Dietrich. "Well, she didn't say 'no.'"

Dietrich nodded. "I do hope, if she says 'yes,' that this actually helps her."

"I hope so, too."