Title:  Passion - Chapter One -  Send Angels
Rating:  PG13 for now
Author: Angela - jedinineofnine@hotmail.com - http://oocities.com/saturnfiction
Summary:  Something’s bothering Ardeth. Of course it’s never as simple as that.
Disclaimer:  No infringement intended.  I own Asenath, Drake, Samira, Mahmud, Abdu, Omar and Ali.
Prequel (which should be read to get this):  http://fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=654922&chapter=1
Codes:  Ardeth/Ancksunamun, Imhotep/Evy

*

The house wasn't cold and for that she was thankful.  A nice, toasty warmth came from the nearby fireplace that made her want to cuddle herself into a chair with a good book and relax.  Relaxation, however, was going to have to wait a while.  She stood at the window watching a squirrel's morning antics, trying her best to ignore the little fight going on behind her.  "Evy," Rick growled, bringing her into an argument she wanted no part of.  "Evy, he's got it and I want it back.  He's your freak.  Talk to him."

Evelyn Carnahan turned around and looked at the offending member of their little so-called family.  The eyes of Imhotep were as steel as he glared at the ex-Legionnaire.  They were constantly at each other's throats for whatever petty reason either of them could think of.  This time one of Rick's guns had turned up missing and since Imhotep had been in the general vicinity of his bedroom the day before, he was the candidate for the guilty party.  "Honestly, Rick, you two are driving me crazy.  I don't care where the gun is.  I just want you both to be silent."

Rick smirked at that, flopped down into a nearby chair and motioned to Imhotep.  "Not like he'd have a problem with that."

Sighing, Evy looked on her priest with sympathetic eyes.  The scars that marred his throat were still visible and still held the ability to kill him if he so much as spoke a word.  He lived a very precarious lifestyle now--especially with Rick living in the same house.  Nothing the Med-Jai did could heal, break or remove the runes that prevented him from ever using his voice.  Now Imhotep had taken to carrying paper and a pen with him, writing down his needs in hieroglyphs for Evy to read.  Just now he was writing a message that no doubt would be concerning Rick.  He looked up at her with puppy eyes, holding the paper for her to get.  What is wrong with him?  I have done nothing and he attacks.

She handed the paper back and fixed a small glare on Rick.  "What?" he asked her innocently, spreading his arms.

"Rick, he doesn't even know why you're angry.  Don't you feel even the slightest bit ashamed?" she retorted, sitting down on the couch beside the mummy.

Rick shrugged and draped his leg across the arm of the chair.  "I asked him where the gun was and he didn't answer.  Not my fault."

Sometimes the American--as she termed him when she was angry enough--really knew how to push her buttons.  "You're being awfully childish about this.  You know he doesn't understand English."

"Evy," he breathed with a smart expression on his face, "life is hard."

A chuckle from the doorway made them look up.  Jonathan leaned against the frame and removed the oven mitts he was wearing.  "What's all this?  Ricky the Terrible picking on old Squeaky again?"

His sister rolled her eyes at those nicknames.  "You know I hate it when you call him that, though 'Ricky the Terrible' does have a nice ring to it."  She stuck her tongue out at Rick and he returned in kind.

Jonathan shrugged and looked around for presumably the fifth and usually first to awaken member of the family.  "Where's Ardeth?  I made my special biscuits and gravy and he's gonna miss it!"

At this Rick's face grew serious and Evy sighed.  O'Connell's bedroom was right next door to the Med-Jai's, so he would naturally hear if Ardeth were having a rough night.  Ever since the Temple of Set their friend had been quiet and unassuming, as if his very presence were an imposition.  This and his ever-increasing wish for solitude became a source of worry for his friends.  Yet they were thankful he was here at all.  At least he made some effort to draw strength from someone, be it them instead of his own people.

The Med-Jai had been a little harsh with him--or so Evy judged in her own mind.  He had been broken by the evil works of an ancient priestess and for the simple fact that he felt compassion towards her, they had demanded a price for his return.  Evy didn't pretend to understand all that the Med-Jai were about.  It was too easy to judge his whole kind by simply getting to know him.  Yet they had been willing to kill even innocents to protect the world from Hamunaptra.  The old question of whether the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few was a tough one, indeed, but she couldn't shake the word 'innocents' from her mind.  Were they as honorable as Ardeth, or was he merely their finest example?

He wasn't ready to forgive them and quite frankly, neither was she.  Not that the latter was of any consequence, but for his sake she would counsel him to be careful with his heart until they were worthy of forgiveness.  She couldn't bear the thought of him returning to cold glances and distrustful stares and warrior or not, he needed someone to trust him right now.  Evy looked up as Rick spoke.  "I heard him tossing around a little.  Must have had a bad night."

At that Jonathan grunted and turned back towards the kitchen, saying as he left, "Well, nothing like a big fattening breakfast to make a rough night's morning better, I always say."

Rick snorted and looked out the window at the gray sky.  It would rain soon.  "You never said anything like that in your life."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jonathan called back.

Evy smiled and returned her eyes to the window as a few little sprinkles started tapping the glass.  It was a slow start, but she still turned her head to steal a glance at the priest beside her.  As expected his eyes were already watching.  Despite his first experience with it, Imhotep had confessed to actually liking the phenomenon and with liking came a bit of his wild side.  The priest not only enjoyed watching the rain, but also going out into it as well and he almost always dragged her out with him.

This morning he didn't make a move towards that and she was grateful for it.  The smell of Jonathan's cooking was doing wonders for her appetite and parting with the meal for something as common in England as rain wasn't really an option.  Her brother knew how to cook only two meals and this was the better of them both, so she wouldn't dare miss it.

The heavenly scent coming from the kitchen had also drawn another down from the darkness of upstairs.  She turned her head towards the hallway, listening as footfalls descended.  Ardeth stepped off the last one and looked in on them.  "Good morning," he greeted, hovering on the threshold of entering the room.

"Morning, sleepy," Evy teased, watching him look at the window as the rain picked up.  He moved to a chair and sat quietly, his eyes unreadable.  "Did you have a rough night?"

He drew an inward breath and nodded, running a hand through his dark hair.  "I must have had too much coffee last night."  Whether that were true or not, Evy couldn't guess.

Instead she smiled and allowed him his privacy, turning her attention to the hand that was now curiously resting on her thigh.  She picked it up and set it back in Imhotep's lap, winning a roll of his dark eyes.  He raised his hands as if to tickle her, making her sides clench before his fingers even got there, but Jonathan's call stopped them both.  Breakfast was ready.

*

He was starting to look forward to the small things, starting to enjoy the English food and weather. He didn’t know whether that should bother him or not. Ardeth Bay held his hands in his pockets as he stood there at the window, watching the rain. It was steady and slow, coming with no lightening or thunder. He wasn’t sure if that were a good thing or not. Thunder and lightening had a way of reminding him of that night Meela had returned for him with her angel creatures, but it seemed that the absence of them during rain seemed to remind him as well. He would silently offer thanks that there was nothing to remind him, only to have the memories thrown back at him.

The rain was beautiful. It was clean and soft, like tears. He chided himself for his somber thoughts. Breathing out, he lifted a hand to the window and touched the glass, tracing the trail of a raindrop. Half the time he was fighting back those memories with a heavy heart, and the other half he felt impatient with himself. Didn’t the passage of time usher in healing?

What was there to feel heavy about? He was alive and well, the danger had passed. Yet sometimes it felt as though his soul cried out. And his dreamscape did nothing to help. Waking up with the ache of Akhenre’s feelings was beginning to grow tiresome. A week had passed since the first and every night since had brought more vivid visions and emotions.

He should not be feeling this way. Or maybe he should. He didn’t know anymore. Evy told him pain was normal after such traumatic events, but he was a warrior! He had seen so much in his years, so much pain due to this and that. It had never affected him like this. How many others had he fought and received brutal treatment from? None of them had made such a mark on him as Meela.

Ardeth sighed and continued watching the water hit the window. Of course no situation had been entirely like what she had put him through, either. Never had he betrayed anyone he loved before. Never had he been so helpless. And perhaps that was what made this so frightening to him. He had been helpless to Meela and was now helpless to the useless, solemn feelings that ran through him. Why could he not get that woman’s face out of his mind?

Outside Imhotep and Evy walked along a stone pathway that led to her gardens. This time she had at least convinced him to use an umbrella. He focused on them, wondering at the changes in the priest. How he could have gone from such a murderous monster bent on their destruction to this kind—if sometimes spoiled acting—person they allowed to live with them, he could not guess. The priest was a rash man, prone to feeling his emotions passionately and acting upon them quickly.

Ardeth was not a rash man, not usually. Yet he felt his hurts were irrational and pointless. Though he would never admit it to the others, it made him afraid of what would come. Where did he fit now? His thoughts drifted to his people and the life he had there. He missed it; longed for it like nothing he had ever desired. Yet he couldn’t help feeling it was a closed door. Of course that was untrue. He could return to them any time he wished.

But it would not be the same. Nothing would be the same, it seemed, though it was his every wish. What is wrong with you, Ardeth Bay? Who are you now? That was it in a nutshell. He felt he didn’t know himself any more.

Rick came up beside him, gazing outside at the two forms playing in the rain. He grunted and leaned against the window frame. “Out taking Imhotep for his daily walkies, is she? Ever feel like life just can’t possibly be real?”

Ardeth smiled at how ironic it was that Rick said that. “It does seem strange, does it not, my friend? They have an odd connection.”

“Yeah,” O’Connell agreed with a frown. “Odd.” He looked at his friend. “How you feeling?”

That was one question Ardeth could do without. What could he possibly say that would put their minds at ease, when it must be the expression on his face that prompted the question in the first place? “Fine,” he replied, not meeting Rick’s eyes. “How about you?”

The ex-Legionnaire scratched his head and looked outside again. “I feel like having a beer. You want a beer?” He clapped Ardeth on the shoulder and nodded. “Of course you do. Let’s go.”

Shaking his head, the Med-Jai smiled and declined. “I am not thirsty, Rick. Thank you. Perhaps I will take a ‘walkie’, though. Care to join me?” He grinned.

Rick returned the smile. “You Egyptian’s are nuts. I would have thought the idea of being soaked would sorta seem…not thrilling to guys like you.”

Ardeth laughed at that, not exactly thrilled with getting wet, but not minding it either. “Sand and dust gets old after a while, Rick. Will you join me?”

The ex-Legionnaire shook his head at that, his blue eyes traveling thoughtfully to the window. “Nah. I kinda like feeling warm and cozy and dry. Maybe later if it clears up.”

Ardeth nodded once and took another glance outside before starting for the door. He stopped at the coat closet and opened it, choosing his new black coat, long and definitely western. A gift from the Carnahans to keep England’s weather off him. He sighed, slipping it on and opening the front door.

The rain had settled down a little, but fell enough to make him close his eyes as the coolness splashed against his face again and again. It felt good, in contrast to the sands of his home. Not that he missed Egypt any less, but he felt perhaps he needed a vacation from being Ardeth Bay—if even for a little while.

But a little while had already been a month. How long was too long? He held little doubt that his welcome would wear itself out in the Carnahan home. They weren’t like that. Yet the fact remained that he could not hide there forever.

He exited the gates and began down the street, uncertain as to where he was going. England was pretty, shrouded in saturated tones of blue and green on any given sunny day. Today the sky was gray and stark, but no less beautiful in it’s own way. This shade of stormy silver wasn’t something he got to see in Egypt.

Ardeth wrote of those things in the letters he exchanged with Abdu, Omar and assorted other friends and family within the Med-Jai. He thought on the letters he received from them, bearing news and questions of how he was and when he was coming home. He always left the last unanswered.

Abdu had apparently caught the eye of a young woman, of whom the youth was dreadfully frightened. Now that wasn’t to say he wasn’t interested, but for all his young life Abdu had focused on becoming a great warrior like Ardeth. He had no idea how to approach girls. Ardeth had chuckled at the letter, wishing he could be there to watch the boy’s antics. Omar mentioned in his own message that Lashami was sending definite signals that Abdu seemingly always failed to see. It was little things like this that made Ardeth homesick.

And it was the little things that made it seem so easy to forget everything and just go back, but his own heart would then begin to remind him of reasons not to. He exhaled, determined to put it out of his mind.

His walk led him some few blocks and the cars that passed made him sigh. He wished for solitude just now and even though he walked alone, it wasn’t enough. Yet there was nothing he could do, but walk on. So he did, aimlessly and for some long amount of time before a path presented itself leading from the woods to his right. It was small and nearly worn away, but promised a more secluded walk than the street.

So he turned, brushing the long tree branches from his path. He shuddered to think what open battle would be like here in these woods. Enemies would be hidden, the ground unstable with brush, and being slammed into a tree wasn’t particularly appealing either. That was one thing Egypt had over England, but of course it wasn’t as if there were lawless raiders to worry about here.

Ardeth exhaled and continued on, heedless to the path that had left him behind long ago. He didn’t care; needed to get away from everything. He was heedless to the dangers of such carelessness.

A sharp whisper stopped him dead in his tracks. He stood motionless for a moment, wondering if he had imagined it. Moments passed with no return of the sound and Ardeth chided himself. He was not a child. So he began again, crossing his arms before him and walking a little more quickly. The emptiness within him seemed to grow with each step.

What is wrong with you? What kind of warrior are you? he thought to himself, furrowing his brow. The ache inside was irritating and frightening. But he could not put a stop to it, nor even find the source anymore. It simply was. It made him angry.

He stopped again. Mediums and sorcerers claimed they had preternatural senses that gave them certain abilities and he’d seen his fair share of strange things, but he didn’t attribute what he felt now to anything unnatural or supernatural. Over the years a warrior simply grew to have an understanding of his surroundings. He learned how to attune his senses and it often clued him in on when he was being watched.

Ardeth couldn’t claim to hear or see anyone, but his training told him he was not alone. A soft whisper, barely there, came from behind and he whipped around to see nothing. These trees made him anxious. “I know you are there,” he said openly, inviting the stranger to come out and be done with it. The only answer was a picking up of the rain.

The woods remained silent and Ardeth gazed back in the direction he had come from. Perhaps being alone wasn’t worth this. While there were no desert raiders, England—as any place—had it’s share of pickpockets and muggers. He wasn’t in the mood to face down a gang of thieves.

He began towards the road, that feeling at the back of his mind echoing loudly that someone was following. Drops of water fell from the leaves above, wetting his hair down and making him distinctly uncomfortable. From this far away Evy’s hot tea called for him. That voice called for him too.

Agitated, the Med-Jai stopped and looked from side to side. He couldn’t quite pinpoint from which direction it had come, but whoever it was was pretty close. “You will not want to fight me, friend. I suggest you play your trick upon someone who is untrained.” He waited for any small sound, anything to reveal the location of his little ‘friend’. There was nothing, no twigs breaking or breath. Only the sound of the rain. A crack of thunder made him jump.

Ardeth swallowed and swiped a hand over his wet hair, getting out of his face. He could swear the atmosphere breathed harm towards him and just now he was angry enough to welcome it. The woods illuminated with a lightening flash, followed by another crash in the sky. “Do as you will,” he whispered, turning and surveying the forest. “Come and do what you came for and be done with it.”

Another few moments passed as he stood there, his breathing shorter and his heart rate faster as grim anticipation settled in. He blinked back the rain and smoothed his hair back again. Anything would be acceptable but this continued, maddening silence!

Time passed and still nothing happened, but just as he decided to begin for the road again, a shadow crossed the corner of his vision. He turned his head to see it, but a wave of dizziness swept over him, knocking him back into a tree quicker than he could think. The woods around him began spinning and the whispering returned with a vengeance, harsh and rapidly talking words he couldn’t make out.

He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t move or think much past the nausea he was feeling and the fear of what was happening. The dizziness brought him to his knees and all he could do was stretch his hands out in a feeble attempt to block off his attacker. It occurred to him that he likely wasn’t dealing with anything human.

Each time he opened his eyes to try and see what was going on, his vision failed him. It felt like hands were on him, whispering touches across his skin. The voice spoke too quickly to discern. Of course it wasn’t as if he could concentrate on such a thing anyway—his head and stomach ached beyond thought. He groaned and tried to pull himself up, anything to save his own life from whatever was out here in these dense woods, but his legs could find no strength. There was nothing he could do. He would die here instead of on the battlefield in his home country.

Then just as sudden as this incident seemed to start, it stopped. The voice was gone, the touching and presence. He was left feeling sore and sick, his body weak as if he had just broken through a fever. His strength faltered as he tried to get to his feet.

Ardeth hit the ground again, conscious now of only the raindrops that intruded upon his body as he lay there. Pretty soon even that was gone. The storm continued as blackness overtook him.

*

Yay..another chapter! ;-) Long, like in ‘Fury’. :O Lol.

Pol, yes Elrond. ;-) Don’t get me wrong…every day I look at this pic of Boromir on my desktop and think, “God, he’s hot.” Montana and Karri, thanks for the enthusiasm!! :-D Marcher, thanks…I’m glad I’m at least semi in character…I’ve been a bit worried about that in this particular story..hehehe. Deana, thanks for your continued interest and for cheering me on AIM while I write. ;-) And Lula, thanks for being my first reviewer and for liking what you saw. I’m glad you don’t think I went a little beyond what I should with that reference and I thank you for your kind words.

Thanks everyone who’s reading and who may review in the future. You guys rock!!! :-D -Angela