Title:  Passion - Chapter Sixteen – Why?

Author: Angela - [email protected] - http://geocities.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

*

Evy sat in Rick’s bedroom that was tucked away in the shady crime lord’s little hideaway at the docks, rubbing her hungry belly and watching him grimace as he stretched.  The room was dimly lit and there were no windows, being that half the hideout was under ground.  He shook his head and sat forward with a twinkle in his eyes.  “I can’t sit in this chair any more,” was the only warning he offered.  A few nights had passed with no word from Drake’s men about Ardeth.

She gasped when he started trying to stand and got up off the bed to stop him.  When her hands hit his shoulders and started shoving downward, he groaned and glared.  “You’re hurting me,” he reported and she immediately stopped.  Rick grinned and shoved himself up to a painful standing position, teasing with, “Sucker.”  Evy slapped his shoulder and he stuck his tongue out, hobbling to a nearby mirror.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” she told him wryly, watching as he lifted his shirt to examine the stitches on his purple cut.

Rick touched the wound, groaned and nodded.  “Probably.  But it would be better than being stuck in that chair.”  He sighed and stood there, crouched over and wearing a solemn expression.  The room suddenly felt darker and quieter.  “I gotta get out there, Evy.  I gotta help Ardeth.”

Shaking her head vehemently, Evy frowned at him.  “I know what you’re planning and I won’t have it!  Do you think you’ll do him any good laying on the ground, holding your wounded side like some fool?”

His return expression was no less ready for battle as he looked her over.  “No, but I’ll do him good hanging out the window of a car with a gun in my hands.  I have a bad feeling about this.  I know Drake’s got his boys on it, but it’s not good enough.  Not for a friend.”

“Not for a brother,” Evy supplied when Rick grew silent.  He nodded in the soft light and looked her over, resting his eyes on her midsection thoughtfully.  It made her want to cover up and hide.  He picked up on that in her sudden discomfort and those blue eyes raced up to meet hers, making her stomach flutter.

“Why didn’t you ever let me love you?” he asked and she knew that the final thing between them would finally come to surface.  This was a hurtful time in all their lives—a time when certain truths would surface in case the opportunity never came again.

Evy turned away and looked at the blue wallpaper, shaded by tones of gold from the lamp on Rick’s desk.  “Would it have changed things between us?  Made things work, if I had given that to you?”

O’Connell painfully made his way back to his wheelchair and sighed softly.  He needed this, but she just didn’t know if she were up to talking so deeply.  “No,” was his reply after a few moments of silence.  She looked when he came closer.  “It wasn’t important enough to make things better enough for that.  I just sometimes forget why we went wrong.”  She bit her lip and got up from the bed.  “Don’t worry, Evy.  I know that time is over.  I just wondered why you couldn’t let me do those things and yet Imhotep…you’re going to have his baby.  I know he’s been decent, but I just can’t trust him, Evy.  Not yet.  A baby is a big thing.”

Feeling a few tears well up, Evelyn found a chair away from him and let herself sink into its comfy softness.  “I know, Rick.  And I’m scared of what the future might bring, but I have to have faith in him.  You don’t know him as I do.”

He wheeled his chair to face hers and shook his head.  “You don’t know him as Nefertiri knew him.  He’s different, Evy.  He’s not that good priest with a dark thread, he’s a bad priest with a good one.  What if someone wrongs him and he takes a notion to murder them?  What are you going to do for the rest of your lives?  Evy, I don’t mean to make you feel bad, especially in light of what’s happening to Ardeth and everything else, but I’m worried.”

“Don’t you think I’m worried about those things?” she retorted hotly, angry at having her doubts thrown up into her face.  “I didn’t ask for this, Rick, but I can’t take back what he and I did.”

Rick waved his hand and inhaled deeply, another question in his eyes.  Her own widened when he asked it.  “Did he force you?  Did he take advantage of you somehow, or manipulate you into it?”

He was at the hotel room, sleeping off his mortality.  She could picture it, too.  Imhotep always looked handsome in his sleep, resting shirtless on his stomach, perhaps one arm hanging off the bed.  He looked almost innocent then.  Evy absently rubbed her belly again.  “Would it matter if I answered with no?  Would you believe it?”

“Then why could you let him touch you and never me?”  It was a simple question with no simple answer.

Evy wrapped her arms around herself and sank further into the chair.  “I don’t know.”  She couldn’t pin the reason on fear that things wouldn’t work out because she certainly had more reason to fear that with Imhotep than Rick.  She could think of a few reasons why she had let herself be ruled by emotion where the priest was concerned; things like infatuation, the past taking over her sensibility.  But she couldn’t think of why she had never let Rick in that way.  There had just never seemed to be a right time for it.  “I wish I could have,” she told him for what little it would be worth.

Surprisingly, Rick smiled gently and nodded as if it were enough.  “You know if anything ever happened to him, or if he decided this wasn’t where he wanted to be, I would take care of you and…” he motioned to her stomach.  “I never did care what people talked about.  Scandal might as well be my middle name.”

At that Evy laughed and brought herself up from the chair to hug him.  She found tears in her eyes as she rested her head against his shoulder.  “What would I do without you, Rick?”

He held her gently and pulled her up to look into her face.  “What would any of you do without me?”  O’Connell grunted and looked over at a gun laying on his nightstand.  “Speaking of which, I’ve got to get ready.”

“This is stupid,” she advised, watching him try to stand again.  Instead of hindering him this time, she lent him a hand and helped him up and over to his gun.  He sank onto the bed and started checking it.  “This is stupid,” she repeated with a little more emphasis.

Rick grinned and looked up.  “Wouldn’t be the first stupid thing I’ve done.  Besides, Jonathan’ll be there to watch me.  Doesn’t that make you feel more secure?”

Snorting, Evy crossed her arms and shook her head.  “Not likely, Rick.  Both of you separate is one thing.  Together I believe you both quite capable of destruction like the world has never seen.  Jonathan told me about you two letting Imhotep get drunk and the fight that almost came about at the pub because of it and while I don’t appreciate that, I do want to thank you for keeping him quiet.”  She smirked.  “Jonathan was quite amused by the duct tape over his mouth.  He told me I’d have to try…” her eyes widened as she remembered herself and she blushed, “I mean not try using it on him myself.”

Her blush deepened at his wicked little smile.  “Evy, that man’s corrupting your soul.”

“Jonathan?” she asked with a mock bright smile.

Rick smirked, fishing through his nightstand drawer.  “Both of them.  Hell, all of us in some way.”  He removed a small bundle of knives and shook a finger at her.  “You know, you really need some female friends.  Hanging out with us four?  Not so good.”  Handing her a knife, he scratched his cheek and shrugged.  “Come to think of it, I could use some female friends.  Anyway, take that knife and keep it handy.  You might want to use it on Imhotep with the tape or something.”

Rolling her eyes, Evy examined the little switchblade and Rick dragged himself up again.  “Will you at least let me wheel you outside?”

“That you can, Evy,” he said, sinking into his chair with a groan.  He rubbed at his side and motioned towards the door.  “Can’t let Jonathan leave without me.”

“Oh no, we wouldn’t want that,” she replied smartly, taking her place behind him and shoving him towards the door a little quickly.  He drew a sharp breath when she stopped just short of smacking his toes into the door wall as she turned him and opened the door, then pulled him into the hall.

Rick clutched the arms of his chair a little cautiously and grunted.  “Remind me never to let you drive my car.”

At that Evy laughed and bent close to his ear.  “Want to go a little faster?” she whispered in a dark, husky tone and was complimented by his strangled silence.  She was going to worry about he and Jonathan being out there.  Perhaps she could bully Imhotep into following after them.

Outside the night bled of shadowy heaviness that drew her out of her playful mood almost immediately.  Evy sighed and wheeled Rick to a nearby car where Jonathan and Drake stood waiting.  “About bloody time,” Jonathan groused, making a show of checking his watch.  She suddenly felt very afraid for him as well as O’Connell.  Rick was right.  There was a bad feeling about this settling not only over himself, but over her as well.  The sound of Rick’s struggling washed away the soft splashing of the water nearby.

“Yeah, well, you try having a big slash in your side,” Rick retorted, making it to the car with Evy’s aid.

The big, black thief shook his head and grinned.  “You always were foolish, Ricky.  I almost wish I was going out there with you two.”

“Right.  You almost wish you were going on back inside and sinking into a bottle of whiskey, I’d imagine, too.”  Rick pulled the black door open and looked out across town.  “Take Evy back to the hotel, will you?  Aside from Imhotep killing me and me haunting you for letting her get mugged, I would hate myself if something happened to her and well, we wouldn’t want me hating myself now would we?”  He slipped inside the car and rolled the window down, batting his eyelashes.  “Take care of Immy.”

Evy laughed and leaned close to the open window to muss his hair.  “You are incorrigible.  Take care of Ardeth, okay?  Don’t let…” she swallowed and shook her head.  “Don’t let anything happen to him.”

O’Connell smiled up at her reassuringly.  “Don’t you worry about Ardeth.  He’ll be right as rain and Ancksunamun?  She’ll be as dead as…well as dead as something dead, anyway.  We’ll do whatever it takes to make this okay.  Just relax for a while and take care of the baby.  Pick out a few names.”

Patting her belly, Evy nodded and stepped back, then looked to her brother.  He hugged her gently and leaned close to her ear to say his goodbyes, which weren’t that at all.  “Johanna has a nice ring to it,” he told her with a laugh.  “Jonna.  Joan?”

Evy hugged her brother a little harder and nodded.  “We’ll see.  Imhotep’s got a name in mind I think and well, we’ll have to see how easy I can talk him out of it.”

Jonathan grinned and pulled back, looking her over.  “As long as it’s not Imhotepia I think she’ll be in the green, anyway.  Take care, baby sister.”

“Take care,” she repeated, watching him go.  Her stomach fluttered again as he too got in and Drake gave final instructions to the thug at the wheel, then straightened.  The black car pulled away with Rick’s wave out the window and she sighed.  The assassin sidled up next to her and offered an arm. 

“I’ll walk you home, my dear,” he offered and she smiled back, feeling slightly more secure than if she had to walk alone.  Slightly.  Still, for a murdering criminal he did seem to have a certain charm and she doubted very seriously any harm would come to her by he or his men.

“That’s very kind of you,” she told him, taking the arm and beginning the walk.

Drake laughed richly and nodded his head, and she caught sight of watchfulness in his eyes.  “I’ll make Ricky pay for it one way or another.”

She chuckled at that and looked down at the sand, listening to the sound of the water crashing against the docks as it faded behind them.  “This whole operation is going to cost us all a fortune by the end of it.”

The assassin waved his hand with a shake of his head.  “Nah.  I don’t know much about Ardeth Bay, but from what I saw as a kid he was pretty decent.  Not like most of them, that’s for sure.  Anyway, you could say I owed him maybe.”

“You knew Ardeth?”

Drake nodded.  “Yes, Ma’am.  Not directly, but once when I was about ten and he was I’d imagine probably eight, I was picking on one of the young ones and he, even though I had the clear advantage of size, stopped me up short with a denunciation and a fist to the jaw.  He was a good boy trying to help a kid out of getting his fair share of a good beating.  Even though he hit me, I knew I liked him.”

She smiled at the thought and looked up.  “So you let them go?”

That drew a laugh and the big thief looked a little shame-faced.  “The other boy, yes.  Ardeth Bay?  No, Ma’am.  I beat the hell out of him for hitting me.  Of course then my adopted father, a Med-Jai as Rick might have told you, beat the hell out of me.  All in all it was a pretty good day.”

That was certainly an interesting image, which drew a sad smile from Evelyn.  She couldn’t imagine many men being able to beat Ardeth successfully, but she could conceive of a woman that could.  Her memories of Ancksunamun were those of a young woman whose life had been incredibly rough.  And Ardeth had been one of the good guys, someone that had loved her for her and eased her pain.  For that he was the focus of her lust and obsession, suffering from her madness.

Evy sighed and tried to put her mind off of him.  They neared the hotel and looking up, she could see the light to her room on.  Imhotep had awakened from his nap and was waiting for her return.  With dinner, she hoped, or she was going to be very upset.  Drake smiled down at her and opened his mouth to say his farewells, but something behind caught his attention from the side.  Perhaps Imhotep.

Evelyn cried out when an arm encircled her waist and yanked her back from the thief.  The hold was close and tight.  A knife came to her throat and she instinctively grabbed at the arm of her attacker, but he was too strong.  Drake stood between trying to save her and letting the man against her get away with his crime.  “I recognize the face well enough, but the eyes are alien,” the assassin commented with a grim expression.  Evy shivered.

She couldn’t see his face, but some strange intuition prepared her for who was holding her.  Perhaps she recognized the hold from last time.  “I’m sorry I don’t have time for pleasantries,” Ardeth said darkly and she closed her eyes.  “I’ll take her and be on my way, trusting your men will have the sense not interfere.”  The thief glared at the man over her shoulder.  Evy made a fist, debating on whether or not it would be wise to attack him and get free, but a hand to her hair stopped her with its gentle petting.  He leaned close to her ear and breathed, “Be good, Evy.  Don’t make me hurt you yet.”

She would not become a victim of fear this time she decided.  This was Ardeth.  Nodding her head, Evy said softly, “Okay,” and waited for what would happen.

Ardeth took his hand from her and used it to go through a bag by his side.  Something hit the sand not long after and she looked down, and then gasped.  The Book of the Dead lay ominously upon the ground with the key in the face and a folded up paper not far from its side.  “Give those to Imhotep, the High Priest.”

Drake inclined his head slightly with his eyes ever upon Ardeth’s actions.  “I will,” he agreed in a low tone, making no move for the book.

Evy felt the knife dig a little closer into her throat as her friend pulled her back and held her fast, taking her into an alley.  The whinny of a horse announced their mode of transportation.  “Are you hers now?” she asked him in a mild voice as he shoved her towards the horse and waved the knife.

“You have one objective, Evelyn and that’s staying alive.  Do that by obedience.”  Ardeth darted glances around the shadowy alley before climbing onto the horse behind her.  He wrapped himself into her, taking the reigns and holding the dagger close to her to ward off attack.  With a kick the horse was spurred on and the path ahead was revealed as the outskirts.  They would leave Cairo this way, perhaps.

She had been through this before at the hands of Akhenre, but it seemed somehow different when it was Ardeth.  In the dark she hadn’t been able to catch a good glimpse of his eyes, but there was a different atmosphere about him that made her a little nervous.  He won’t hurt you, she told herself firmly, willing the belief to overtake the swelling fear.  He hadn’t then and he wouldn’t now.  “Why did you give Imhotep the Book of the Dead?” she asked suddenly, wondering if that were a sign for hope.

Ardeth exhaled and urged the horse faster.  “He may need it to ordain me,” he answered cryptically, which made her frown.  She would have asked more, but he pressed the knife against her lips softly and warned, “Don’t speak.  Just obey.”

Evy swallowed in relief when he brought it back down to her collar.  There was a reason for his actions.  A good reason.  Perhaps Ancksunamun had driven him completely insane.  She looked down at the horse’s mane and fidgeted with her fingers.  She would have faith in him after all they had been through.  Things weren’t serious yet.

*

Imhotep lounged on the couch studying a book of the Egyptian alphabet made into English.  The lessons were written in the Hebrew language and therefore as he gained a more solid understanding of which English letters made what sound, he began to understand how to read the Israeli words haltingly.  Next would come a more detailed instruction from his princess on how to actually speak in English—a task which she groaned upon, for she claimed it was likely the most difficult language to learn.

He sighed and looked at the door, wondering when she would walk in.  It was getting late and he would not tolerate her staying up all hours of the night in her condition.  Still, he knew he was no longer a man of great power.  No better than any common man wandering around and perhaps worse for he depended on her when he should be providing her with all the riches her heart desired.

Still, he was not above working.  In his days he had many duties aside from tending to the spiritual concerns of his people.  He had been a physician and a teacher and an architect.  Nefertiri had spoken of people in differing lands wishing to learn of his ancient culture and perhaps if the language barriers were bridged he could teach them.  Imhotep held the book away from his face and squinted at the words.  Glasses, she had called them.

Imhotep, Master of the Dead and High Priest of Osiris would be demeaned in his mortality by so despicable a reason as weakening eyes.  Perhaps if these westerners did not write in such small characters, then he would not require such things as she had shown him.  Still, his princess used them.  Perhaps it was not such a bad thing.  He had put hers on and been labeled charming.

A sip from his glass of wine sent a thrill of taste into his mouth and he smiled in contentment.  Mortality could be nice.  The book in his hands demanded less attention as his mind drifted off to his Nefertiri and wonderings of what the child within her would be like.  He had never considered being a father before.  His life had been about his priestly duties and finding affection where it could be had—ultimately with Nefertiri until Ancksunamun had tricked them.  Where they might have gone if that had not been, he could only guess.  It wasn’t important anyway.  He had her now and their child.

A knock at the door jarred Imhotep from his thoughts.  Setting the book down, he got up and answered the door, wondering who it was.  Nefertiri would not knock unless she had lost her key.  The door revealed the large assassin from the hideout.  “Nefertiri?” he asked, knowing there would be no point in saying more with his ancient words.

The assassin looked pensive and impatient as he thrust forward the black Book of the Dead and pointed at an envelope.  “Ardeth Bay,” he answered and that was all that was necessary.  Imhotep took the book and paper, then shut the door as Drake disappeared down the hall.

Imhotep wandered to the center of the room and opened the paper, tucking the book beneath his arm.  Thankfully it was written in hieroglyphic, which Nefertiri had taught Bay that he could read his papers when he could not speak.  When he got to the bottom of the paper he threw it down and glared out the window with furious eyes.  “Foolish Med-Jai!”

The High Priest of Osiris hurled the Book of the Dead into a nearby mirror and let his rage consume him.  He stormed to his suitcase and retrieved the gun he had stolen from O’Connell, which he then in turn had denied possession of.  This was too far.  Nefertiri suffered too much worry and anxiety for Ardeth and Ancksunamun.  It was time to end this once and for all.

Imhotep pocketed the new age weapon and thrust the Book of the Dead into his suitcase, then hid it beneath the bed so he could leave it here.  There was nothing he could say to the people at the front desk, nor did he care.  He had another book to steal.

*

Okay…I know you guys might be getting weirded out with Ardeth being all evil.  And well, you just gotta trust me.  ;-)  I’m not the type of author that assures or confirms…I thrive on surprising.  ;-)  But rest assured it will all be explained.  Three more chapters after this one!

Lula – He kinda isn’t our Ardeth, though.  He’s always portrayed as being unbreakable and unstoppable…I wanted to bring him to a point rarely seen in fics.  :-)  All for the art, baby.  Lol.  Anyway, thanks for the review…I’m glad his corruptibility is being accomplished well.

Montana – I do appreciate ya!  :-)  Thanks very much for spending so much time on my story…makes me happy that you enjoyed it enough to do so.  :-)  You rock!  And yes, Anck needs her butt kicked bad, huh?  Mmm.  Now I would love to kiss all Ardeth’s wounds better.  ;-)  Anyway, yes.  I like throwing a little mental angst in there for some reason...lol.  Physical h/c stories are great, but for some reason I just love to ravage emotions, too. ;-)  Thanks very much for your compliments!

Marcher – Nothing wrong with a few delusions, is there?  ;-)  Anck is crazy!  Thanks for the review. :-)

Deana – They’re gonna KILL Ardeth when they find him!  MUAHAHAHAHA!  ;-)  Juuust kidding.  Or am I?  :-O  Thanks!

Thanks everyone else reading!  Hope you’re enjoying and hope you don’t voodoo me into a bed for the next year by the end of this.  ;-) -Angela