Author's note: This story has a weird history. I started writing it in July 2003, found a great beta reader, and thought "I'm not posting it until it's finished". Turns out it was wishful thinking. My beta had to bow out and I started publishing it in September 2004, hoping to find another (which I did – and may I say I was extremely fortunate in beta readers). I wrote and wrote and hit a snag in 2006, then finally got the 16th chapter out in 2008, and then lost the spark. Said spark came back from the dead after what felt like millennia but was actually a dozen years. And then I finished it in October 2019 (and published the remaining chapters from March to May 2020 as they were proofread). So it's FINALLY complete. It's kind of nuts, really.

Since this is set two years after TMR and most of the plot was planned before 2008, needless to say there will be absolutely no reference to Tomb of the Dragon Emperor.

Disclaimer: Stephen Sommers owns and developed The Mummy and The Mummy Returns; the characters, places, some situations are his creation. Some things I did make up, but every character here is fictitious, and doesn't have anything to do with any person, living, dead, or in-between. Who knows.

FAIRY TALES AND HOKUM

Chapter 1: Overture

Cairo, July 1937

A tourist's first impression of this part of Cairo was mostly a blinding white light. The little houses, the blazing sky, the glittering sun, even the dust flying around helped complete the effect.

Of course, as soon as your eyes – and mind – adjusted, you could see and feel the dust settled on absolutely everything, including your ears and nose, the layers of grime, the heaps of donkey and mule droppings in the streets… and if you were very careful, you could catch the hand of the passing pickpocket sneaking for your wallet, as it was in any metropolis big and noisy enough for passers-by to be distracted.

Not that this particular thought worried one particular Englishman currently sauntering across the streets of Cairo. As a fairly skilled pickpocket himself, Jonathan Carnahan didn't need to eye every corner warily – all he needed to do was to watch his own self and make sure that no belongings of his landed in anyone's pocket. Or vice versa.

Jonathan turned round a corner, whistling a jaunty jazz tune. Despite his cheerful demeanour, he was feeling slightly miffed, having gone out in the hopes of finding something for Evy's birthday and come home empty-handed. Lucky thing that he still had a couple of weeks to go. After years of searching frantically for a gift at the very last moment, he was determined to get his hands on something she might like – and preferably something that didn't involve puzzle boxes, big black books, and three-thousand-years-old mummies rising from the dead. That was over. He, for one, had had his share of insane stuff like that.

Thinking of their last trip to Egypt together wiped the smile off his face. It had been two years, but how could he ever forget that horrible, ice-cold feeling that had left him completely numb, as he knelt next to the dead body of his sister, trying to comfort his nephew and failing so thoroughly? He had never felt so miserable in all his life. Since his life included a stint in the trenches and being chased by the undead more times than was necessary, this was saying something.

There it goes again. Jonathan shook his head, and quickened his pace. He'd got fairly good at actively ignoring this kind of memories, but it was getting harder when they kept popping back up without a warning. Unlike his brother-in-law, for whom this part of the world meant little else than bloody unnecessary conflict, the inside of a gaol, and the aforementioned undead, Jonathan didn't really mind returning to Egypt. He'd had quite a few fond memories of the place before the whole nasty mummy business. It was the reason behind the trip that bothered him a little.

Two years ago, the second before the oasis of Ahm Shere sank into the ground, Jonathan had taken as a souvenir – and compensation for his troubles – the enormous diamond resting atop the pyramid. He'd felt very proud of himself for that, and it had come to him as a nasty bit of shock when Evy had told him there was absolutely no way he would take it to London. Yet, after much arguing on his part, and even more talking and coaxing on his sister's, he had finally admitted, despondently, that she might be right after all.

The Cairo Egyptian Museum of Antiquities had offered him a tidy sum, but it had not really consoled him – not when he had been strong-armed into giving a substantial part to Izzy as compensation for his troubles. Since the man never knew the real value of the gem, however, said compensation amounted to a quarter rather than the half he had been demanding, a fact which Jonathan adamantly refused to feel guilty over.

Even Evy reminding him that the diamond couldn't be safer than in this hidden room, under the constant, hawk-like watch of the Medjai curator, had not been quite enough. The diamond was beautiful, gleaming white, inlaid with elaborated gold and pearls, and so big the weight of it had nearly pulled Jonathan down from the dirigible. Parting with it had not been easy.

And then, just a few months ago, the British government had contacted Evy and Rick through the curator of the British Museum where Evy oversaw the seven Egyptian galleries. They had decided that the diamond was no longer safe in Egypt, with the Italian army invading Ethiopia not so long ago and the ominous tidings from Germany, Italy and Spain. The O'Connells had thus been kindly asked to return to Egypt, and accompany the diamond on its way to England. Which had meant, to put it more prosaically, that they were mandatory volunteers. The look on Rick's face when he had explained it to his brother-in-law had been a murderous one – partly because he hated the idea of being ordered about, mainly because Evy was more than enthusiastic about it.

Alex had told his uncle afterwards of the row they'd had one night, thinking he was sound asleep. Poor kid had never heard his parents truly fight in the space of ten years, and it had obviously disturbed him. To tell the truth, it had disturbed Jonathan himself, who saw Evy and Rick as the perfect couple in so many ways it was disgusting. Egypt – especially its supernatural side – had lost its charms for Rick ever since Ahm Shere. There was no way in hell he'd let his wife go there alone.

"And he said that Mum was 'a magnet for trouble', that each time they went to that 'damn place someone died', and after that Mum shouted something rude –"

"Rude? Evy? Are we really speaking of my baby sister there?" Uncle and nephew had been sitting on the carpet on the floor of the latter's bedroom, back against the bed. Jonathan quite liked it when he went over to 'baby-sit' Alex – Evy had finally come to trust him when she and Rick had to go out for whatever reason, and they usually had a good time together. That evening, though, Alex had sat silently, looking crestfallen. When Jonathan had eventually managed to get him to talk, it was rather late in the night, and Alex ought to have been put to bed long ago. But neither of them were very eager about it just then.

His attempt at humour got a reluctant smile from Alex; he repeated what Evy had said to Jonathan, who let out a low whistle. "Indeed. Even your dad would call it rude, I guess."

Alex gave another slight smile, and snuggled beside his uncle. A tad uncomfortable at first with this rather unusual display of emotion, Jonathan put an arm around his nephew's shoulders and pulled him closer. "Hey. Want a piece of advice from your old uncle?"

Alex nodded, not saying anything.

"Don't worry too much. I've seen your parents together for eleven years, and if there's only one thing I'm sure of in this world – they are so in love it's sickening. It's always been this way, and I'm sure it'll always be this way." Alex raised his eyes. Jonathan looked down at him, winking. "Get used to it, partner. We're doomed."

A moment's silence passed, more comfortable and relaxed than it had been a few minutes earlier. Then Alex raised his blond head to ask, "D'you think we'll go back to Egypt, then?"

"I don't know." Jonathan shifted slightly on the floor. "I wouldn't say no to a trip there – the country's a fine one. And after all, we're talking about my diamond here, dammit." Alex snorted, and Jonathan chose to ignore it. "Seriously, I like the place. I spent most of my time as a kid there."

"Well, I'd love to go." The passion in his nephew's voice echoed his mum's whenever she spoke of Egypt, and it wasn't lost on Jonathan.

"You sure? I would've thought that you would hate it, actually. You didn't have what I'd call a good time last time you went there."

"You only say that because you were scared to death most of the time."

"That's not true."

"Like hell it isn't!"

Jonathan managed to give Alex what he thought was a stern look. The boy just grinned.

"And you kiss your mother with that mouth."

"Bet Dad hasn't taught me half of what he knows."

This time, they both chuckled. Then Alex scrambled out of his uncle's arms and looked at him in the eye. "Why won't he go back to Egypt?"

"Well, it's – it's complicated." No it's not. "I guess he doesn't want to – lose you or your mum again." Jonathan swallowed. "And to tell you the truth… I have to agree with him on that one."

"But it's only for the diamond!" Alex exclaimed. "No Book of the Dead, no mummies, no ancient curses. Only a stupid diamond to take to England."

Jonathan grinned. "The problem is, each time your mum begins her sentence by 'It's only' something, the world gone upside down and your mum and dad have to save it. Mostly because they doomed it in the first place. If my memory serves me right, it was first the Book of the Dead, then the chest with that bloody Bracelet of Anubis." Jonathan shook his head. "Seems you take more after Evy than I thought." He winked at Alex to make him know he was only being half serious; but Alex went on.

"Okay, I understand that he doesn't want to lose me or –"

"Let me clear that up, Alex," Jonathan interrupted, his voice low and serious for once. "It's not that he 'doesn't want' to. You know him, there's not many things on earth he's afraid of, but he's scared out of his wits at the mere thought of losing one of you two. And that's saying something, because your dad's one of the bravest blokes I've ever known."

Alex was silent for a moment, pondering his uncle's words. Then his jaw clenched, and he looked away. "Uncle Jon?"

"Yes?"

"At Ahm Shere, I was – I was scared to death when – when Mum…"

Jonathan felt a knot tighten in his chest; he shifted closer to his nephew and put an arm around him again. "I know. I was, too."

After a whole week of deliberation, Rick and Evy accepted the government's mission. And after another fourteen days of heated debates, Alex was allowed to go with his parents to Egypt, apparently thanks to the high marks he had received in school. But Jonathan suspected that this decision had a lot to do with his nephew's ability to wear out any guardian when he didn't want to be left out. Thankfully the boy had never tried his infamous tricks on him, a fact that made Evy wonder endlessly.

In the end, Evy and Rick officially broke the news about the trip to Jonathan; not wanting them to realise that he had known for almost a month, he feigned to be pleasantly surprised, and asked if they minded him going along for the ride. Evy accepted almost immediately, but Rick muttered something about the return of the whole O'Connell-Carnahan family to Egypt bringing down plagues and destruction upon the world.

So, after a surprisingly uneventful flight from London to Cairo, and an equally calm trip to their 'old haunt', as Jonathan liked to put it, they were settling down peacefully. The lack of major events so far had made Rick more relaxed, even if he still looked as if danger was about to bear down upon his family any time. But the fact remained that they were to stay in Egypt until the London and Cairo Museums agreed on several points which still needed to be discussed. Ah, the joys of bureaucracy.

Jonathan was jerked out of his train of thought when he finally felt the afternoon sun's fantastic heat on his head and neck, and wished he had taken Evy's advice to put on a hat. They had arrived the day before, and while Evy discussed the diamond case with the curator of the Museum of Antiquities, and Rick took Alex to see other things than desiccated corpses, Jonathan had sneaked out to take a stroll, and to try to find a fitting birthday present. Evy was a tricky one when it came to gifts; she didn't seem to like flowers, trinkets or pretty dresses like other women Jonathan knew, but she was crazy about anything that reminded her of Egypt. It had been that way ever since she was old enough to know what she wanted, which had come very early indeed.

Maybe the best thing was to ask Rick what he would be giving her, and either get ideas or just contribute to the purchase, as he had done before. But that bothered him. After all, as his one and only sister, she did deserve something special.

Quite lost in his thoughts this time, he barely registered that he was walking past the Museum before somebody knocked into him, hard enough for both of them to crumple, breathless, on the ground. It took Jonathan thirty seconds to get his lungs in working order again and, instinctively, check his pockets for anything missing.

"So sorry I bumped into you, mate, didn't mean to," came the voice of the attacker. Jonathan's eyes widened at the sound of this voice and he squinted up at its owner.

"Tommy? Is that you? Tommy Ferguson?"

The fellow shook his head, still looking a bit dazed; then his own eyes, round and brown, went even rounder as he stared at Jonathan. "Jon! What the hell are you doing 'ere?"

"Glad to see you too, old chap," laughed Jonathan, standing up and dusting himself off before offering a hand at the man on the ground, who accepted it gladly.

He hadn't seen Tommy Ferguson since some time after the end of the war, what felt like ages ago. They'd made quite a pair at Oxford, the two of them – the scrawny, foppish Southerner with the quiet grin and the sticky fingers, and the broad-shouldered, round-faced Scouser with the laughing eyes and the deceptively innocent face. They'd got each other through Latin classes and rowing practice, got properly pickled on pub nights, and helped each other out of many a tight spot; they had shared everything, it seemed – books, cuffs and socks, even a flat for a while, not to mention a great many escapes when one of Jonathan's bright ideas turned out to be not so brilliant after all. Oh, for the halcyon days of youth.

As soon as Tommy was on his feet he was wringing Jonathan's hand with all the energy he'd been famous for as a boy. "Sorry, Jon, mate, I was a bit stunned –" After all these years, he still retained some of that accent, too! "– En't everyday you bump into a pal from Oxford in the middle of Cairo! How'd you get here, for starters?"

"Well, I followed my sister," Jonathan replied, grinning. In fifteen years or so, he had not realised how much he had actually missed this accent. "She's giving a hand to the curator of the Museum of Antiquities – she's something of an authority now, as a matter of fact."

"Oh aye? That's fantastic. I en't forgotten how you'd talk about her, y'know. On and on and on. I'm curious to see what she looks like."

Jonathan stole a glance at the entrance steps of the Museum, and turned to Tommy with a smirk. "Really? Well, if you really want to, I suppose I could…"

His sister had just appeared on the stairs, accompanied by the curator, an elderly man with greying hair and whiskers. Tommy followed Jonathan's gaze and looked at them, goggling at Evy in particular.

"Jon – are my eyes mistaken, or is this gorgeous woman Doctor Evelyn O'Connell? I've read about her, she's famous in my line of work… According to what I've read, she was one of the first people to make it out of the City of the Dead alive –"

Jonathan's grin widened as he nodded. "Yes, that'd be her."

Tommy rambled on as they walked closer to the stairs, "That's bloody amazing! I thought she'd look, you know, like in the pictures in the paper, the bookish type with glasses – your typical Southern spinster," he added with a wink. They waited for the curator to bid her goodbye, and Jonathan, greatly enjoying the situation, crept up on his sister to kiss her on the cheek.

"Hey there, old mum – how's your day been?"

Evy started, then her expression shifted from slightly irked to a smile at her brother's laugh. She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Jonathan, the things that amuse you…"

"You're just miffed that I startled you. C'mon, I'd like you to meet someone – an admirer," he added with a grin to Tommy, who stood there, his eyes wide. "Thomas Ferguson, an old school friend of mine. Tommy – Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell, my famous baby sister."

Evy held out her hand, which Tommy grabbed and shook heartily. "So you're the old scoundrel's sister? No wonder he talked about you – though you don't quite fit the description now…"

"What exactly did you tell your 'school friends' about me?" asked Evy, warning in her voice, though the twinkle in her eye did not quite disappear. Nevertheless, Jonathan preferred to ignore her question, earning a hard nudge in the ribs.

"So, what did you say your 'line of work' was?" he asked Tommy.

"Well – don't laugh. I work at the British Consulate in Cairo, specialising in antique stuff. Oh, I'm sorry, Dr O'Connell," he stammered with a glance at Evy who had an eyebrow raised, "I mean I'm one of the chief agents in the British Antique Research Department."

"I've heard of you!" exclaimed Evy. "At least of that Research Department. They're gradually cutting off public funds – encouraging individual financing – but that won't do any good for scientific research! Such a stupid decision is only going to –"

"So you lot are the ones she kept fuming about for half a year!" Jonathan snorted. The infamous Ferguson rotten luck struck again.

Tommy looked dejected. Evy must have seen this, because she bit her lip and said, in softer tones, "Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you. But as my brother said, I've been… rather upset over this. There's been some pressure on the British Museum lately by private patrons who threatened to pull out their funding on some… sensitive collections. Without the Crown to back us up, we might have to cave in to their ridiculous demands."

"I'll – I'll tell my superiors about it," said Tommy, still looking unsure. "See what I can do. I'm sure it won't be much, but… Well. I'll have tried."

"That's nice," Evy said cheerfully, taking Jonathan's arm and starting to walk. "Look, the two of you – I've had something of a rough day, so I'll go home, if you don't mind. You can –"

"Brilliant idea!" said Jonathan, flashing a grin at his sister. "I thought of going to the Sultan's Casbah, but you might find it a tad – let's say – dingy, my good friend."

"Worse than the Turf?" Seeing Evy's puzzled look, Tommy explained, "Sorry, private joke. I mean the Turf Tavern, that's where I saw him for the first time. Me family didn't 'ave much money, so I used to work there to pay for my studies. Very nice pub, didn't deserve the reputation."

"I'm sure you did indeed see a lot of my brother there," Evy slipped in slyly. Jonathan threw a mock glare at her.

"To think you are almost my only family. What a shame." Then, as Tommy looked uncertain, he added, "Carry on, Tom."

"All right. So I was one of the only students who needed a job, and there were some others who thought that it was – how'd they put it? – a 'disgrace' to our university."

"Preposterous," said Evy sternly. "As if money could take you further than talent."

Jonathan bit back on the cynical comment that crossed his mind. Sometimes Evy's naïveté baffled him.

"Right," said Tommy uncertainly, glancing at Jonathan. "So, one day, a little bunch of lads come in, and Jon here was sometimes hanging with 'em at the time –"

Evy glared at Jonathan in advance, and he threw his hands in the air. "Don't look at me like that! I haven't done anything!" Evy's gaze softened, and Jonathan finished, "…Yet."

That earned him a playful slap on the arm, and a laugh from Tommy, who went on, "Anyway, one of the blokes orders somethin' or other, and starts to poke fun at me. Well, I was used to it, so I let them be. Then they continued, and I finally noticed that skinny lad in the corner who was makin' fun of them for making fun of me. Didn't quite understand what the hell was going on – oh, sorry, Dr O'Connell – what was happening."

Evy smiled. "You'll have to watch your mouth in front of my son, but otherwise it's fine. And please, call me Evelyn."

Tommy beamed. "Right, uh, Evelyn. So, uh –"

"What he didn't know at that point," interrupted Jonathan, "was that I had my eye on that fellow – what's his name – Farbow. He owed me quite a bit of money, but wouldn't repay me. So I was looking for a way to get him back for it."

"And get the rest of his wallet in the process, of course."

"Evy, he owed me seventeen pounds. And he was not what I'd call a 'decent bloke' – nasty, disdainful piece of work he was, and his little friends with him. Always a dirty word about the Scouser who worked at the Turf Tavern, just because he didn't belong to his snobby little world. I did the community a favour, really."

"Don't push it, Jonathan," warned Evy.

Tommy carried on. "Well, I was glad there was at least one person who didn't think like Edwin Farbow – nice change. Then Farbow said something – I don't remember what it was about, I just remember it made me really angry, really. An' it's not a pretty sight when I'm really angry at someone."

Jonathan remembered, but thought it wise to keep his mouth shut.

"An' – an' I just lost it, y'know? I dropped his tea over his 'ead –"

"I say, that one was pretty funny," Jonathan said, smiling widely at the memory. The strangled yelp that had followed had definitely been one of the best parts.

"So they all leaped for me, obviously – began to punch me, the five or six of them – hey, I still managed to get back at them!" Tommy added quickly, as if defending his honour. Evy hid a smile, and it occurred to Jonathan that that last sentence had something very Rick-like about it. "But I en't a fool. I know a losing fight when I'm in one."

"Don't tell me. Jonathan bravely threw himself into the fight to take on as many attackers as possible." There was mischievous laughter in Evy's voice, and her eyes were twinkling. If anyone other than her had quipped that way about him, Jonathan would probably have taken offence, or at least pretended to. But they knew each other enough not to cross the line.

Tommy raised an eyebrow. "Well, that wasn't quite Jon's style – I don' know, might've changed since then. But yeah, he did. One moment I was squashed under five or six fellas, the next I found out we were two on the floor."

Evy began to laugh. "Why, Jonathan? My Jonathan, in a fight, for someone he barely knew?"

At that Jonathan cleared his throat, a mite embarrassed. "I told you, I was looking for Farbow's wallet. That was the perfect diversion – you should've seen that twit looking in every corner for his lost wallet afterwards. It was three months before he gave up." And it's lucky you didn't see me then. I was a bloody mess. "Why're you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing." Evy smiled. "You never told me that."

"Should I have?"

"I don't know, it's – it was nice of you to do that, even for the wrong reasons. I'm proud of you."

Jonathan felt an unexpected lump rise in his throat. Not a very big one, but enough to keep him from talking for a few seconds. It was always like this whenever she said something really nice to him. It caught him off guard each and every time.

After a little while, Evy stopped in front of a door and announced, "Well, we're home."

"Nice house," commented Tommy, taking in the sand-coloured neat front and the curtains at the windows.

"Our 'old haunt' since the family moved to Egypt," Jonathan said, opening the door and stepping aside to let his sister in. "Evy wasn't even walking then."

"I do believe I was," Evy protested.

Jonathan snorted. "Oh, you weren't. You crawled."

Evy seemed to resist the urge to slap her brother and walked into the living room, her nose in the air. She was greeted by two simultaneous voices:

"Mum!"

"Hey, hon."

Jonathan waited a few seconds, then walked into the room in turn, and grinned at the sight of his nephew looking genuinely eager to see him. He was not fooled, however – as soon as Evy wasn't looking, Alex mouthed the words "Got one?" and frowned as his uncle shook his head. No, he still had no present for Mum's birthday.

"Uncle Jon? Who's that?"

"Who, him?" Jonathan pointed at Tommy behind him, looking uncomfortable at the family reunion, and Alex rolled his eyes. "Tom Ferguson, he was in class with me at Oxford. I ran into him by chance today."

Tommy stepped past Jonathan and held out his hand to Alex, nearest to him. "Hi – glad to meet you. Jon's nephew, eh?"

"Yeah," said Alex, eyeing him with all the suspicion of a ten-year-old who'd seen what he had seen. Behind him, Rick's eyes spoke loads about his own distrust. But mistrust towards Jonathan and everything related was par for the course on his part, and, admittedly, reasonable.

"Thomas Ferguson, British Antique Research Department," said Tommy, holding out a hand towards Rick, who shook it slowly, still reluctant.

"Rick O'Connell."

"So you're Dr O'Connell's husband? Pleasure to meet you, sir. I'm impressed, you've no idea."

Rick raised an eyebrow. "Impressed?"

"It seems I'm rather famous in the Research Department," said Evy, laughing.

"Make that infamous," quipped Jonathan.

"The Department owes your wife a great deal. She was the one who uncovered a huge amount of our information about some obscure periods of Egyptian history, as well as the major part of serious knowledge we've got on Hamunaptra," Tommy pointed out, and Evy blushed. "She's a legend – one of the original three who managed to go to Hamunaptra and live to tell the tale! But… I assume you're another one?"

"Yeah," said Rick, looking a bit nonplussed. Jonathan definitely didn't regret bringing Tommy in. Seeing Rick O'Connell confused was a very rare occurrence, too rare to be missed.

"I never knew – who was the third one?"

Jonathan was now struggling to keep a straight face. Rick blinked, and pointed at his brother-in-law. "That was him."

"You!?" God, the look on his face was priceless. "You were at Hamunaptra?"

"Yes," risked Jonathan, laughter rising in his voice. "And believe me, it wasn't exactly a picnic. Oh, by the way, there were four of us, not three."

From the corner of his eye, he could see Rick roll his eyes and grinned, undaunted. This was proving to be a fun evening.

Notes:

1937 was a conscious choice on my part, and so was the choice to make it two years after Ahm Shere. I know that in the film we clearly see the captions THEBES – 1933, but 1935 is the date at the back of the DVD and at the back of the novelisation. Besides, in the film, Red (the bald-ish one of the three thugs) states that the events of TM happened "nine years ago", and Alex is eight. I'm not good at maths, but I chose to trust it nonetheless. There are other explanations to the date goofs, both Doylist and Watsonian, and this is mine.

Hope you liked :o) It's only just beginning!