Chapter Text
That woman should not know these things. Hamunaptra had sunken into the sands a decade ago, lost forever with the Creature. (At least, that is what Ardeth and the other Medjai had hoped.) Meela, the mousy-looking man calls her, should have no knowledge of its resting place. Yet here Ardeth is, disguised as a common worker and following the orders of the mousy man and Meela to uncover the resting place of the Creature. Ardeth has been here for weeks with some of his fellow Medjai, sabotaging digs and altering the records of findings as often as they can without drawing attention to themselves. Still though, they seem to have failed in yet another mission. The Creature is found. Not only him, but the books of the living and the dead as well. Ardeth knows the next thing they will search for is the Bracelet of Anubis. He prays that it remains lost to them. He can handle Imhotep being raised again, but not with the Army of Anubis serving him.
It seems Allah has once more decided to ignore Ardeth’s prayers though. The grave robbers who were employed to collect the bracelet (who were supposed to have the false map that never made it into their saddlebags, thank you Cassim) had failed to get to it before the O’Connell family. Looking heavenward, Ardeth bites back a heavy sigh.
Why does it always have to be them?
After putting someone in charge in his absence, Ardeth stows away on the same ship as Meela, the mousy man, Lock-Nah (Ardeth barely refrains from stabbing him then and there), and a troupe of fellow cultists. Settling in for the journey to London, Ardeth begins formulating plans to prevent an apocalypse. However, as the rocking of the ship begins, signaling their departure, he cannot help but let his mind wander.
How have the Carnahan’s been since their parting? Or really, the O’Connell’s and Jonathan Carnahan. He knows that Evelyn and Rick have bound themselves to one another, but what of Jonathan? It has been ten years. Perhaps he has settled down by now. Given up drinking, even. Ardeth cannot help the slightest smile at the memory of the awkward Englishman, drinking from a broken bottle and shooting at his men in the ruins of Hamunaptra. Even when running from Ardeth himself, Jonathan had kept a firm hold on the bottle. No, he thinks; it is far from likely for the man to have stopped drinking entirely. His thoughts continue replaying the last time he had seen the family, seeing them off after defeating the Creature with him. If his thoughts often circle back to blue eyes and a quick wit, well, he does not mind.
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It is, naturally, dark when Meela and the other cultists arrive at the O’Connell’s residence (with Ardeth following close behind). Looking at the sprawling manor, the only word appropriate for the massive brick structure looming in the dark, Ardeth is momentarily in awe. He had assumed, from the way the Carnahan siblings (or at least Evy) carried themselves that they had to have been a bit higher up in the London social climate, but this is far past what he had expected. Perhaps some of this was due to the treasures Ardeth had allowed them to leave Hamunaptra with (after all, that spineless salawa Beni had taken the trouble to lug it out of the tomb and then paid the price for it).
Rather than the O’Connell family returning, however, Ardeth sees a sight that hits him surprisingly hard. There, stumbling a bit and giggling loudly, are Jonathan and a tall, skinny blonde woman. His wife, perhaps? Something about that sits uncomfortably in Ardeth’s chest, though logically he knows there’s no reason for it. He had heard some of the stories of Jonathan’s past dalliances and relationships from Evy. All of them were women; some of questionable taste, but women all the same. That is to be expected though, as much of the world tends to frown on two of the same kind lying with one another.
Really though, Ardeth had mused, what have genitals to do with loving another being? It is not the body that matters most, but the bond. Of course, that is a rare mentality outside of the Medjai, Ardeth had found.
The woman with Jonathan is attractive, in a more societally-expected sense. And she and Jonathan are obviously happy with one another. Should they all get through this endeavor alive, Ardeth tells himself that he will offer his congratulations to the two.
For now, he stays back as the cultists enter the house. Although he is worried about Jonathan (and, sure, the woman too), the cultists should not do anything to them (him) if they had done their research. After all, he isn’t an O’Connell. Even so, he has nothing to do with this current situation.
Speaking of the family, Ardeth watches them finally arrive. Young Alex has grown, but that is to be expected. How old is he now? Has it been eight or nine years since he caught word of the newest trouble-magnet? (Ardeth has no doubt the boy will be drawn to adventure if he is anything like his mother.) Strangely enough, as the family brings their luggage in through the front door, Ardeth notices movement around the side. A door has opened. Soon, the woman that was with Jonathan is being ushered out and to her car by two of the cultists. If she is being removed, then what does it mean for Jonathan?
It is fairly simple to take care of the ones who have ushered the woman out. (Curiously, Ardeth overhears her asking about if her husband hired them.) After sneaking into the house, he follows the nearest voices into an opulent sitting room with dark wooden bookcases and various artifacts lining the walls. If it weren’t for Lock-Nah demanding the bracelet, Ardeth might have taken the time to appreciate the warm decor.
“Now I will kill you and take it anyway,” Lock-Nah says with a cruel smirk upon his lips. Evelyn pulls her son behind her, brandishing a sword against the intruders. Once again, Ardeth finds himself impressed with her bravery. However, he knows she is no match for the cultists.
“I think not.” There is a bit of satisfaction in removing the smirk from that dark face. Of course, Evy wonders why he is there, among other things, but now is not the time for explanations. The shock of his sudden arrival is wearing off of their adversaries, and indeed, Lock-Nah seems to be feeling a cruel satisfaction.
“Ardeth Bay.” The way his name curls out of that hateful mouth makes the hair on Ardeth’s nape prickle uncomfortably.
“Lock-Nah.” No other greeting is necessary between the two. After all, this has been a dance they have done many times over. Perhaps, if Allah finally allows, this will be the last.