A/N: Well, I've never tried Carter/Zia before, but I thought it'd be fun, and so this is the result. I think this is the longest one-shot I've ever written, haha! It took a while because I wanted to get Zia's character right-I hope I did. Anyway, let me know what you think by reviewing! :)

Zia Rashid was in a bad mood. Never mind how today had gone – the past few months of her life had stunk.

First she'd found out that she'd been hidden inside some kind of watery crypt. Not only that, but while she was locked away she'd been replaced by a clay shabti. Then, after she woke up, she'd found out that Iskandar – the only family she had left – was dead. To top it all off, she'd been greeted by a strange boy whom she barely knew, but who seemed to think he knew her.

Things had gotten a little better after Carter and Sadie revived Ra. Zia had accompanied Amos back to the First Nome. After Desjardin's death, Amos had become new Chief Lector by default.

But now she was stuck outside in the rain, dripping from head to toe. Apparently Amos hadn't had the foresight to send a message to the Brooklyn house's inhabitants, warning them of her arrival. She'd been banging on the door for a while now. Irritated and wet, Zia wanted to blast the front door down, if only so she could get inside where it was warm and dry.

Zia hit the door again with her staff, cursing in Egyptian. "Somebody, anybody open the door!" she shouted. She hated the rain. It probably had something to do with her being a fire elementalist. Zia thought that after hosting Nephthys, the Egyptian water goddess, she would have been less irked by water, but it had done the opposite to her. She despised it.

Finally, after a while, she heard footsteps on the other side. All too late, she added in her head, Please don't be Carter.

It wasn't that Zia didn't like Carter. But she felt so awkward around the poor boy. She remembered bits and pieces of what her shabti had done around the Kane boy – flirted with him, the little clay sneak! – but Zia herself felt like Carter was a complete stranger. She'd promised him that she'd sort things out with him as soon as they saw each other again, but to be honest, Zia didn't want to have to face a one-on-one conversation with Carter anytime soon. She felt like a jerk whenever she saw him. Carter had looked so crestfallen after she'd turned away from him when he freed her, back in Egypt.

The thing that scared her the most, however, was that Zia could imagine herself in her shabti's place. Given enough time, she could like Carter – and not just in a friend way. Carter was good-looking, after all. With his coffee-colored skin, curly brown hair, and bright brown eyes, he looked regal, in a casual way. Zia didn't even know if that was possible. How could you be regal and casual? But being around Carter had her making comparisons like that, subconsciously.

The door jerked open. And there stood Carter. Well, it just figured. The gods were probably laughing at her now. First they'd decided to let her stand out getting drenched in the rain, and then they'd sent the one person she didn't want to see to open the darn door. Zia wanted to unleash a pillar-of-fire on the whole town of Brooklyn at that moment.

Carter's eyes widened as he recognized Zia, her dark hair dripping. "Z-Zia?" he spluttered, fumbling around with one hand for the coat rack. He grabbed a rain jacket and held it out to her. "Why are you here?" Zia didn't answer. She extended a hand to grab the jacket, but instead Carter darted around her arms and ran out into the rain, behind her. There, he draped the jacket over her shoulders. "How long have you been standing out here?"

The jacket settled on her skin, warm and dry. Almost immediately, Zia's spirits brightened. She pulled the jacket closer around her. At that moment, she was glad that Carter had answered the door. She was so happy she wanted to turn around, throw her arms around him, and kiss him.

Wait. Where had that thought come from? Zia barely knew Carter. And maybe he was convinced that Zia was the love of his life, but Zia had only just woken up from a state of suspended animation. Her feelings were way too jumbled at the moment, and the last thing she needed was to turn around and kiss the Kane boy in the middle of the pouring rain in Brooklyn. Ugh. Hormones. It would be so much easier if she could just ha-di them and all the rest of her problems.

And anyway, there were other problems that would arise from Zia turning around and kissing Carter, no matter how handsome or sweet he was. Problem number one: Kissing in the rain was so cliché. Problem number two: She was standing in flip-flops in the middle of a puddle, shivering and soaked to the bone. It was all utterly unromantic.

So, instead, Zia just said, "Thank you." She turned to look at Carter, who was smiling down on her with a slightly goofy expression. Zia frowned. "Shouldn't we get inside? Now you're soaking wet, too." Carter's dazed expression disappeared as he looked down at his shirt, which was clinging to him. He looked surprised, as if it had only just occurred to him that running out into the rain would make him wet. His expression was so confused that Zia laughed lightly.

Really. He would have done almost anything for her, and in all honesty that made Zia feel special. It was rather endearing – the way he had rushed out to help her, with no thought for himself. "Are you going to invite me in or not?" smiled Zia.

Carter smiled back. "Of course. And I've got to dry myself off, anyway," he said, gesturing for her to follow him into the house. She followed him past carved stone pillars, to the main living room, where Sadie lounged on a leather sofa. She looked up as they entered.

"Zia? What are you doing here?" Sadie's eyes scanned Zia up and down. "You're soaking wet! How long have you been outside? What were you even doing in the rain?" At this, Sadie shot Carter a questioning look. Carter turned bright red, but paired with his coffee-colored skin it gave him more of a dusky rose color.

"Nothing," he mumbled, glaring at Sadie. "She was just standing outside, that's all. I'm going to go change."

"Okay." Sadie turned her attention back to Zia. "Do you need some clothes?"

"No, I'll be fine," assured Zia. "I'll just…" she peeled off the jacket, casting it aside on the ground, and closed her eyes. She brought her staff up and hit it on the ground. Immediately, a blast of hot desert wind billowed around her, ruffling her hair and drying her clothes. When Zia opened her eyes, Carter was staring at her, dumbfounded.

"Instant dry-cleaning. Nice," stated Sadie appreciatively.

"Thanks," Zia accepted the praise. From her shabti's memories, she hadn't gotten along well with the Kane girl initially, but they were fine, now. If anything could be said about Sadie, it was that Zia admired the girl's spirit.

"So anyway, not to be rude or anything, but why are you here?" Sadie asked, at the same time Carter inquired, "Do you want to sit down or something?"

"Gladly." Zia accepted the offer and sank back onto the couch. "To answer your question, your uncle sent me. He wanted to check up on how you guys were doing."

"Uncle Amos!" Both Sadie and Carter's faces brightened at the mention of their uncle. "How is he?"

"He's well," answered Zia. She fiddled with her staff. Carter came and sat down next to her, albeit tentatively.

"And you? How's life in the First Nome?" he asked, scrutinizing her face. Zia exhaled, blowing her hair out of her eyes.

"It's…busy." Her unspoken thoughts lingered in the silence – And not the same without Iskandar.

"Are you – what did they do to his body?" Carter started the question before he could censor his thoughts. Immediately, raw grief welled up in Zia, but she struggled to fight it. Now is not the time to burst into tears. You had your time to mourn, she reminded herself. But it was so hard. She should've been by his side when he died, not her fake clay replacement. Even though Amos had told her a thousand times over that Iskandar had done what was best for her, with the intent of keeping her safe, sometimes she despised how much the old man had cared. Wasn't it bad enough that she'd had to watch her parents perish before her own eyes? Iskandar had been the only other important person in her life for so long. He'd been like a father. And what sort of daughter was she, who hadn't even been there for his final moments? No, she'd been locked away, sheltered in a godforsaken crypt with the spirit of Nephthys within her.

Carter seemed to sense her conflicting emotions, and awkwardly he reached out to touch her shoulder. "It's okay, you know. Iskandar was a great person, and I know he meant a lot to you. If I were you, I'd still be bawling my eyes out." Out of the corner of her eye, Zia saw Sadie flash a warning look – "You idiot! Don't bring it up!" – but it was too late.

The sniffles started. Zia hated the sniffles; she hated appearing weak, and here, in front of Carter, it was ten times worse. But Iskandar's kind face flashed before her eyes, and suddenly the tears were tracing tracks down her cheeks.

From beside the couch, Sadie shoved Carter towards Zia. Comfort her, you bloody git. It's your fault she's crying, after all.

Zia felt a comforting weight settle around her shoulders. Turning her head to one side, she saw Carter's arm draped around her.

"That's it. Just let it all out," soothed Carter. Sadie rolled her eyes. He really didn't have any experience when it came to comforting girls. But despite Carter's inadequacy, something worked, and Zia sagged closer to him.

It felt nice being held by someone, Zia thought. Carter felt warm and comforting. Somehow, his touch seemed to gently ease away her grief. It felt as if everything was just washing out of her system, and she was finally starting with a clean slate. Zia studied Carter. Come to think of it, maybe he deserved a clean slate.

Suddenly self-conscious, she eased out of his grip. "Thank you," she mumbled, studying the swirls in the coffee table. Carter shifted beside her.

"No problem," he said in return. Silence fell over them, before Carter turned to her and looked her in the eye. "Zia…" he started, faltering, "…you know how, after the battle, you said we'd talk?" Zia nodded slowly. "Well, you're here now, and I…" he trailed off. "Do you remember now? Everything that happened…between us…before?"

"Yes, Carter, but that…that wasn't me," she told him, unsure of how to say it gently. "You haven't spent much time around the real me. Maybe you were just infatuated with the idea of it and the shabti, but not me." Carter shook his head adamantly.

"No!" he said, forcefully. Sensing Zia's discomfort, he eased off a bit. "I mean, I know what my feelings are, Zia. And I really like you."

Zia kept her eyes trained ahead. "It's just a phase," she insisted. "It'll wear off in time."

Carter shook his head. "I know it won't."

"How? How do you know that?" challenged Zia, amber eyes flashing. She didn't want to get her hopes up. She'd lost too many people, and the war between the gods and Apophis wasn't even close to over. She was afraid to place too much trust in anyone else.

"I just do," Carter said simply, before he blurted out something embarrassing like, "I know because I've never seen a girl as pretty as you and I'm pretty sure you're the love of my life!" It was quiet for a while, before Carter spoke up again. "I don't want to pressure you or anything. I know you must have a lot on your mind, but trust me, please. At least give me a chance. I'm not a bad guy." At that, Zia smiled.

"I know you aren't," she said, softly. Carter. So noble, so considerate. They were qualities that would serve him well. Outside, the soft glow of a sunset streamed through the windows, and Zia's eyes took on a faraway look. "I should be heading back to Amos now," she told Carter and Sadie.

"Do you really have to go?" Carter looked crestfallen, and Zia felt a pang of sorrow for leaving so soon.

"I must," she replied. "But I'll be back soon." She gathered her staff and stood up to leave, before considering for a moment.

In a quick motion, she bent and kissed Carter on the cheek. She lingered for a while, trying to express her gratitude without words, and promised in the silence that when she next visited, maybe Carter would actually get a kiss on the lips.