Author's Note: So. Heh heh. I kinda tend to . . . er, shall we say, neglect this story. It's quite cruel of me. This chapter's the last pre-written one that I have, and I wrote it exactly a year ago as of this month, so I'm going to have to force myself to get back into The Mummy and Evy-voice to finish this. But . . . I will try to! If only so I'll have one more completed fanfic to my name.

As always, sorry for any errors or lines that don't match up to the ones in the movie, yada yada blah blah.

Chapter Ten: Contract Terminated

Fort Brydon seemed to radiate a heavenly glow as we approached it, a silent group with fear dancing in our eyes.

I wanted nothing more than a bed and twelve-or-so hours of sleep. After sleeping, I could think of a solution to this. Well....perhaps I could.

But not now.

Now everything was frazzled and scattered in my mind, and I couldn't even begin to focus. All I wanted was sleep.

Perhaps things would look brighter in the morning.

Though, I thought glumly as thunder boomed and lightning illuminated the sky, that seems quite the unlikely possibility.

~*~

I could barely remember passing through the Fort gates, nor the soldiers checking our papers and letting us enter. My vaguest memory was that of a young man who kept eyeing me in a most inappropriate manner leading us up to my quarters, and O'Connell telling him to go do something to his mother that would certainly qualify as perverse incest.

But as I opened my eyes, all I could really remember was the sleep...the glorious, dreamless, deep sleep that had rescued me from my just-the-slightest-bit-troubled life for (I checked my bedside clock) thirteen and a half precious hours.

With a long yawn, I stretched my arms over my head and let them fall on either side of me....

Only to find that my left one hit something.

I let out a shriek and turned to see O'Connell laying beside me, an expression on his face that I'd never seen before. It was almost...malevolent, amusedly heartless.

"O'Connell!" I cried out at once. "Get...get out of here! What on Earth do you think you're doing? I-"

But before I could even finish my fervent statement, I was cut off as his lips pressed against mine, insistent. A shudder ran up and down my spine, and I recoiled. I had fantasized more than I liked to admit about kissing O'Connell, and this wasn't how it was supposed to be.

His lips seemed to taste of malice, and the sensation filled me with a fear so deep, so passionate that I felt as though I may lose consciousness at any given time.

This couldn't be O'Connell. It couldn't be.

He thrust his tongue hungrily into my mouth, his fingers digging into my waist, and I tried to fight before realizing with terrifying resolve that he had complete control over me. I'd never felt so vulnerable, so weak.

This couldn't be happening...O'Connell would never...

And suddenly, his lips grew vile, decayed, and it spread across his face, and I knew that he wasn't O'Connell...he was the creature, the monster, and his kisses wouldn't stop, and his hands mercilessly tore at my nightdress, and tears streamed down my cheeks as his voice echoed in my head.

"Come with me, my princess Anck-su-namun..."

"No," I argued, my voice somehow flowing from my lips even though they were entirely consumed with his. "No, no, I won't go with you! I won't let you take me! I'm not Anck-su-namun, I don't know what you're talking about! Where's Rick, what have you done to him?? Get off of me! Get off! I won't go with you! I won't go with you!"

And somewhere, faintly, as though from a thousand miles away, from a distant memory, I heard O'Connell's voice.

"Evelyn...Evelyn? Wake up! Evelyn, wake up..."

"Evelyn! Wake up! Wake up!"

My eyes fluttered open to find O'Connell standing above me.

A surge of fear shot through me, and before I knew why, I had scrambled across the bed and away from him.

"You...you stay away from me," I warned him, voice trembling.

"Evy, what are you talking about?" he asked, completely befuddled.

Evy, really, what are you talking about? It's just O'Connell...

But then I remembered what had happened only a few moments before - his lips and his hands snaking all over me, so merciless and cruel...

How had I escaped?

"Evelyn, you were having a nightmare," he said, concerned. "I could hear you screaming all the way down the hall...I nearly had to kick the Goddamn door down to see if you were all right."

A nightmare...a nightmare, that was all it was.

"You're O'Connell," I muttered, sounding almost crazed. "You're O'Connell, you're Rick, you're not...him."

He took a few steps forward, and I involuntarily flinched.

"Evelyn, what the hell is the matter with you?!" he demanded. "Why are you acting like this?"

"In...in my dream," I began testily, "You...was it you? Oh, I'm being stupid, of course it wasn't really you, but..."

"You're not making much sense here."

"The monster...the creature, you were him....or he was you, oh, I don't know! And I'd waken up, and you were in here, and I was yelling, and then you kissed me...oh, God, it was awful." I shuddered at the recollection.

"Thanks," O'Connell deadpanned.

"That's not what I meant," I said impatiently. "It was just...it wasn't...I'm sure kissing you would be...."

Oh, wonderful. I could feel my cheeks flush, and estimated that my face was now roughly the shade of a fire engine.

"It was just awful," I finished weakly.

I was ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that he would give me grief for my utter incoherence and revealing of too much information, but when I looked up at him, he had an almost...gentle smile on his face.

Sinking down on the bed next to me, he announced, "Well, I'm pretty sure that I'm O'Connell....I think so, anyway."

With a wry smile, I asked, "Do you swear?"

He chuckled. "Every damn day."

And with that, he awkwardly leaned toward me and pecked me on the cheek before silently leaving the room.

A giddy smile made its way onto my face as my fingers lightly brushed against my tingling cheek.

My heart was fluttering uncontrollably, my knees were completely weak, and I felt that I wouldn't be able to wipe the smile off of my face for at least a month.

If this was the effect that a split-second kiss on the cheek had on me, I felt rather certain that kissing O'Connell would be by no means an awful experience.

~*~

I was in the middle of a full-fledged battle with my hair when a knock on the door sounded. Hastily, I shoved a few more hairpins in assorted places to leave me looking semi-presentable, then rushed to the door.

Honestly, Evelyn, stop acting like a lovestruck schoolgirl! I lectured myself. Knowing your luck, it will just be Jonathan.

But my luck had apparently changed, because the door swung open to reveal O'Connell.

The heart-fluttering and weak knees immediately returned with full force, and I had to bite my lip to stop the smile from blossoming again.

"Hey," he said, grinning.

"Hello," I responded, allowing myself a teensy smile for a split-second, then smothering it before it could morph into an all-out beam.

"What's with the lip-biting?" he asked, stepping inside my temporary room. "Still disgusted by the dream?"

Not wanting the real reason to slip, I nodded. "Yes."

"You know," he said, giving me a devious sort of smile, "You called me Rick when you were talking in your sleep."

"Well, that is your name, isn't it?" I replied coyly.

"You know when else you called me Rick?" he asked, smile growing larger.

Oh dear.

"No, it seems to have slipped my mind," I said loftily.

"Want me to remind you?" he asked, positively beaming now.

"I think I'd rather stay blissfully ignorant, if you don't mind," I responded, feeling a blush creep onto my face.

He immediately began to flutter his eyelashes vigorously, then proclaimed in a foolishly high falsetto, "I'm going to kiss you now, Mr. O'Connell!"

"I did not," I protested at once, desperately hoping that he was making this all up.

"Oh, but ya did!" he assured me wickedly. "And there's more!"

"I don't care to hear it, thank you."

"Call me Rick," he instructed in a foolishly deep baritone, continuing the little reenactment.

A high, fluttery sigh immediately escaped his lips, and he squeakily breathed, "Rick..."

Oh, wonderful. So I'd already kissed him, and I couldn't even remember it.

Hopefully nothing had happened after that.

"And then...?" I asked, trying to remain composed.

"And then you passed out," he responded promptly.

I resisted the urge to let out a sigh of relief.

Instead, I felt a coquettish smile completely unlike any I'd ever worn before begin to dance across the corners of my lips.

"Yes, I think I recall that," I lied in a breathy sort of purr that sounded surprisingly...seductive. "Yes, Mr. O'Connell, I was going to kiss you."

A soft, careless sigh fell from my lips.

O'Connell looked positively enamored.

"Oh, yes, it's all coming back to me now," I said, a tad bit dramatically. "There really was a spark there right then, wasn't there?"

Taking a few steps toward him, I continued.

"Now, that would have been a kiss," I declared. "Mr. O'Connell, I would have kissed you like you've never been kissed before."

We were mere inches away from each other now, and I stared up at him with an amused smirk.

"Well, we could, uh...uh..."

I noticed that his nervous habit of excessive 'uh's had returned.

"You know, uh, pick up where we left off."

I nodded, tilting my chin up a bit, towards him. He had apparently taken this as an invitation. His eyes had closed...his lips parted slightly...his fingers rested lightly upon my waist...

And, inwardly snickering, I promptly pulled away and crossed the room.

"No, I really don't think so, O'Connell," I said, my normal tone resuming. "It just isn't the same now...not the moment, if you know what I mean."

He opened his eyes and gave me an annoyed glare.

"Oh, you're really clever," he said sarcastically.

I allowed a little self-satisfied smile to paint its way onto my face.

"I know. Aren't I?"

~*~

In an instant, the sight of Mr. Burns brought back everything that my childish flirtations with O'Connell had temporarily caused me to forget.

It wasn't that it was a particularly dramatic incident - rather, I just saw him in his quarters as I passed his open door. He sat, still visibly shaken, with a cup of tea, a bandage wrapped around his eyes. I could hear a few of the other Americans' voices from inside the suite.

His life was eternally destroyed. He couldn't talk, couldn't see. Living must have seemed an endless punishment to him at that moment, and it was entirely my fault.

And the others...the others who had open the chest would be robbed of their lives as well.

A strange sort of violent determination surged through me, and I stood up a bit taller. I could change this, somehow. Perhaps not on my own, but O'Connell would be sure to help, and together we could create some sort of solution. I was almost positive of it. We would send that disgusting, repulsive (not to mention foul-breathed) creature back to the Land of the Dead, and by golly, we would have a bloody good time doing it!

...

I froze at once as I realized that the Americans' constant annoying slang and Jonathan's excessive use of British swear words were now invading my thought process.

A bit of a frightening concept.

Oh well.

Still determined, I marched into the suite that Jonathan and O'Connell were sharing without so much as a knock on the door. As usual, my brother held a glass of alcohol - it appeared to be sherry - in his hand, and he grinned at the sight of me.

"Hey, Evy."

His speech was a bit slurred.

"Jonathan, honestly," I scolded at once, immediately adapting my 'I-am-your-sister-and-you-must-obey me' tone. "How much have you had to drink?"

"I lost count at twelve," he responded with a sheepish grin.

"Ooohhh!" I scowled angrily, snatching the drink from his hand and slamming it onto the coffee table. I knew that he would pick it up again as soon as I wasn't watching, but was too preoccupied to be persistent on the drinking matter.

"O'Connell," I called, impatient. "O'Connell, where are you?"

The door to the bathroom swung open to reveal a shirtless, shaving cream-covered O'Connell holding a razor in one hand.

"What happened?" he asked, at once alert. "What's going on?"

I immediately burst into giggles.

"Oh," he said with an over-exaggerated sneer. "It's you."

"You...look...ridiculous," I informed him in between fits of mirth. (Not to mention quite nice without a shirt.)

"Well, excuse me," he deadpanned. "But you are the one who burst in here unexpected-"

"Oh, never mind all that," I cut in, at once remembering my reason for bursting in there unexpected. "We have to stop him."

"Who?" O'Connell asked blankly.

I threw my hands into the air in exasperation. "Isn't it a bit obvious?!"

O'Connell seemed to ponder this for a moment before nodding knowingly. "Ohhhh. Him."

"Yes, him," I said impatiently.

'Who the bloody hell is him?" Jonathan demanded from the sofa.

"The mummy, Jonathan!" I snapped, irritated.

"Ah," Jonathan said, nodding. "Ah, yes, right."

Honestly.

"What do you mean, do something about him?" O'Connell asked in disbelief. "We aren't doing anything about that. We-"

"For God's sake, O'Connell, go put a shirt on and wash your face!" I instructed, completely fed up. "I'll be waiting in my quarters - I need to talk to you. And do hurry, won't you?"

"Depends on what I'm hurrying for," he responded with a mischievous grin.

All right, that was enough.

Positively livid, I yanked the glass of sherry out of my brother's hand and hurled it in O'Connell's direction before stomping out of the suite.

"Well," I heard O'Connell say weakly, "I suppose that's reason enough."

As I stormed back to my room, I furiously wondered exactly how he could behave so stupidly. It wasn't as though this was a matter to be taken lightly - on the contrary, I was quite sure that the fate of the world was in our hands. And naturally, like the idiot he was (he was a man, after all), he simply tried to flirt his way through it.

Well, I wouldn't have it!

If he acts this way anymore, I thought violently as I entered my quarters and crossed my arms in front of my chest expectantly, I swear to God I'll...I'll...

Realizing that I wasn't quite capable of anything more extravagant than giving him a few painful scratches with my fingernails, I settled with that.

And when I do, he'd better be grateful that I'm having mercy on him, too!

O'Connell burst in around thirty seconds later, and without speaking, he picked up my trunk.

"What on Earth are you doing?" I demanded.

"I know what you're thinking," he responded flatly. "And the answer is no. We're leaving. We're done. End of story."

"How can you say that?!" I asked, aghast. "This curse...this thing could bring the end of the world as we know it!"

O'Connell slammed the trunk down, then rushed over to my dresser. He grabbed a stack of blouses and put them in.

"I thought you said you didn't believe in this fairy tales and hokum stuff," he commented, almost accusing.

I grabbed the stack of blouses and retorted forcefully, "Well, having an encounter with a three thousand year old walking, talking corpse does tend to convert one!"

"Well, forget it," O'Connell instructed, this time taking a clump of skirts and placing them in the trunk. "We're out the door, we're down the hall, and we're gone."

"Oh, no we're not!" I argued, unpacking the skirts.

"Oh, yes we are!" O'Connell corrected me, his tone mimicking my own. He grabbed a stack of books and shoved them into the trunk.

"Oh, no we're not!" I said in my best 'and-that's-final!' voice that never failed to work on Jonathan. "We woke him up, we're going to stop him!"

"We?" O'Connell repeated in disbelief. "What 'we'? We didn't read that book. I told you not to play around with that thing! Didn't I tell you not to play around with that thing?"

"Oh yes," I exclaimed in annoyance. "Me, me, me. I, I, I. I woke him up and I intend to stop him!"

"How?!" O'Connell demanded, still throwing my things into the trunk. "You heard the man! No mortal weapons can stop him!"

"Then we'll just have to find some immortal ones!"

I snatched the things out of my trunk and set them down.

"There we go with that 'we' again," O'Connell observed irritably, still packing my things.

Obviously, he wasn't getting the message.

Perhaps it was time to abandon the subtle approach.

I slammed the trunk closed with all my might, considering it an added bonus that it his fingers happened to be resting on it.

He let out a yelp, glaring at me.

"According to the book, once this creature has been reborn, his curse will spread, and as he grows in strength, so will his curse grow, until the whole of the Earth is destroyed!"

"Yeah?" O'Connell snapped. "So? Is that my problem?"

"It's everybody's problem!" I cried incredulously.

"Look, Evelyn," O'Connell said, exasperated and obviously struggling to retain his calm. "I appreciate you saving my life and all, but when I signed on, I agreed to take you out there and bring you back, and I did that. End of job. End of story. Contract terminated."

I didn't want his words to sting.

I didn't want to care - after all, I had an issue to deal with that was just the slightest bit more important.

But I did care, and they did sting.

Horribly.

"So that's all I am to you?" I asked, studying him intently and fighting to keep my tone even. "A contract?"

He didn't seem the least bit sorry.

...Perhaps it really was true.

Perhaps I was only a contract.

"Listen, you can tag along with me," he said, fed up, "Or you can stay out here and try to save the world!"

He emphasized the last five words to get across how utterly ridiculous he found the idea.

Well, the world did need saving, and it looked as though I would be forced to do it alone.

Besides, it was blatantly obvious that O'Connell didn't want me 'tagging along' with him, anyhow.

"I'm staying," I informed him, smothering my pent-up emotion so that it wouldn't reveal itself in my voice.

"Fine!" O'Connell snapped furiously.

"Fine!" I called angrily after his retreating figure.

"Fine!" he echoed forcefully.

"Fine!" I said loftily, nonchalantly, as though I really didn't care if he left or not.

"Fine," he said shortly, slamming the door behind him.

I gave the door a death glare for a few moments before, to my horror, I unwillingly burst into tears.

I didn't want him to go, for goodness sake! I wanted him to stay, to help me. I couldn't do it on my own, that much was clear. And as much as I loved Jonathan, I was quite positive that he wouldn't be of any help.

So, great.

Wonderful.

It looked as though I was doomed to go down in history as the girl who'd destroyed the world.

But really, I could handle that. Or at least, I could at the moment.

But what I couldn't handle, what had caused my rogue outbreak of tears, was that O'Connell had left.

And that I'd been nothing more than a bloody contract to him throughout our entire....

Entire nothing.

We'd never had anything.

We'd never had bloody anything.

And even worse, I was starting to sound like Jonathan again.

And perhaps even worse (could things truly get worse?), I had found myself completely, utterly, and hopelessly head-over-heels in love with Rick O'Connell.

~*~

The heavily perfumed scent of the bubbles was somehow incredibly relaxing. With a relieved sigh, I wiped my tear-stained cheeks with the sleeve of my robe before slipping out of it and into the bathtub. Immediately, a bit of the stress seemed to soak away.

Things could be all right. I didn't need O'Connell. His presence would be...nice, yes, but I was fully capable of taking care of things myself. Women were just as strong as men were, and with at least ten times their intelligence level. If I could craft some sort of plan to get rid of the monster, and then Jonathan helped me carry it out, things would be fine. Just fine.

Even if it was without O'Connell.

I realized that it wasn't the first time I'd turned to the bubble bath when my heart had been savagely torn to pieces and stomped on repeatedly by idiot men. (Or perhaps, even, they'd stuck a red hot poker into my chest, scrambled things about a bit, and ripped it out through my nostrils...quite the disgusting concept indeed.)

I could remember crying over Nathan quite vividly - wondering why he'd chosen some other woman over me, why I was never quite perfect enough, why I'd even thought that he'd actually want to marry me.

With Nathan, I'd loved him because we had things in common. We could talk about the same interests without awkward pauses, and agreed on practically everything. When I thought back, I couldn't recall a single true fight taking place between us.

But now I was wondering if I'd really loved my ex-fiancé in the first place.

O'Connell and I had absolutely nothing in common. We bickered, we taunted one another, we got each other drunk, we had full-screaming fights complete with trunk-slamming and throwing-of-sherry.

And yet I felt myself craving O'Connell's presence when he wasn't around, even if it was only to yell at him for God knows what. And when we were together, there seemed to be a bit of a sparkle in the air...everything seemed complete somehow.

Not to mention that a kiss on the cheek from O'Connell had practically driven me mad with ecstasy, a feat that none of Nathan's embraces had accomplished.

All at once, I felt so fortunate that I hadn't married Nathan, that he had been 'organizing the card catalogues' with some other woman. His infidelity saved me from a mundane life, a loveless marriage.

But somehow I knew that losing O'Connell could never be fortunate.

We had something.

The sort of something that I hadn't even believed in until I met him.

Drip...drip...

I stared at the faucet, vaguely annoyed. All I wanted was a nice, long, peaceful bath, and yet it seemed I couldn't even be granted that simple wish. Throughout all my reminiscing and reflections, it had dripped with steadfast timing, a new drop falling approximately every three seconds.

Groaning, I reached over and attempted to twist the knob of the faucet fully off, but froze as I studied one drip...

And then the next...

And the next...

Amidst the sweetly scented white bubbles, a tiny pool of crimson grew.

'And the rivers and waters of Egypt ran red, and were as blood.'