A/N: I don't have a formal introduction to this...it's a one-shot that I've been itching to write for a couple weeks now, ever since I became hooked on Aida. Very obviously, it's my version of Radames and Aida meeting in the museum, modern-day. Italics are echos or thoughts. I think you'll get it once you read.

Disclaimer: Disney, Tim Rice, and Elton John own all of this.

Every Story is a Love Story

Ali smiled fondly as she gazed upon the familiar Egyptian exhibit before her. She had always been fascinated by pyramids and pharaohs in a way she couldn't explain. Ever since her 4th grade class had visited a traveling King Tutankhamen collection, she couldn't seem to learn enough about all things Egyptian. Her friends teased her about it as kids, and they still did as college students, but the "mummy" jokes didn't faze Ali. There was something special about the culture – all the secrets and legends – and if others couldn't see it, they just weren't trying.

But it wasn't just that Egypt was so interesting. As soon as Ali began to learn more, she felt a sense of comfort in the country, as if it was a long-lost friend and they were meeting for the first time in a very long while. It was odd, because as far as she knew, there was not a drop of Egyptian blood in her veins. Perhaps it could be attributed to her African heritage, but somehow Ali didn't believe that.

This particular exhibition had come to the museum a year before for a permanent stay, and Ali visited as often as she could. She knew every artifact and plaque by heart now. Sighing in contentment, the young woman began a circuit of the room, avoiding the massive tomb in the center as usual. Ali always got a funny feeling when she wandered too close to the grave, something she supposed must have to do with her claustrophobia.

A statue of the pharaoh Amneris gazed sternly at her from its glass case.

"Hi," Ali whispered to the figure. It had become a habit, talking to this long-ago woman. Even though the expression on the stone face was firm, Ali got the feeling the real Amneris had been a kind, gentle person. "I'm back."

The statue winked.

Ali jumped, looked around, and looked back through the glass, blinking rapidly.

It must have been my imagination, she told herself firmly. Amneris was as still as ever.

Still, she was shaken, and passed the former pharaoh quickly. On the other side was a model of an Egyptian slave camp. Solemnly, Ali gazed down at the tiny figures posed in place. As much as she loved the Egyptians, she always hated the reminder of how cruelly they had treated their Nubian slaves.

The gods loves Nubia…

Ali jumped for the second time in that number of minutes and glanced around quickly. There was no one even remotely near her. Then where had that whisper come from? She shivered involuntarily, confused. The exhibit had never been like this before for her. It was odd – as much as she suddenly wanted to leave, she knew she wouldn't be able to. Instead, she felt herself moving towards the tomb. Terrified, she struggled to stop. But her feet pulled her on.

Don't be frightened. This is meant to be.

The voice came out of nowhere, echoing clearly in Ali's head but apparently inaudible to anyone else in the room.

Ali's heart jumped to her throat, and a ridiculous idea, borne of too many late nights reading scary stories, sprang to her mind: What if she was going to be forced into the tomb and it swallowed her whole?

But she felt herself skidding to a stop just before the barrier separating the tomb from the rest of the room. Gasping as if she had run a marathon, she took hold of the rail, closing her eyes against the yawning mouth of the tomb before her. Her feet were once more in her control, but now she was curious. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes.

--

Roger paused as he entered the large exhibit hall, his eyes roaming the room before him. He didn't know what he was doing at a museum – he'd never been one for history, and he had just moved to the area and could be doing plenty of other things. But when he found the flyer in the mail, with a picture of an Egyptian tomb prominent on the front, he'd felt compelled to come.

He shrugged and turned away – he still had plenty of unpacking to do – but something made him change direction and enter the hall. The exhibit closest was a sarcophagus inside a glass case. Roger glanced over it without much interest. The next few cases – containing artifacts discovered from ancient times – weren't of much interest to him, either. But when he came to the statue, he stopped.

He looked up into the frozen gaze of the woman. Her name was Amneris, and she had been a pharaoh once, according to her plaque. There was something about the figure, something familiar. He imagined she was reaching out to him, a sweet smile on her face…He shook his head to clear it. Why would this random stone statue invoke such feelings in him? Yet the curiously alive feeling he was getting from it put him on edge, and he stepped away, nearly backing into yet another case. This one contained a spear-head and a sketch of an Egyptian army.

Roger felt himself lean closer, his fingers suddenly itching to hold the spear, to use it. His heart beat heavily against his chest.

Fortune favors the brave…

The echo came suddenly through the air. Spooked, Roger glanced around furtively. No one was looking his way; no one else appeared to have heard anything. Breathing heavily, Roger moved rapidly to the wall and leaned against it. An odd feeling was smothering him, as if some remembrance was eluding him; close enough to touch, yet unreachable. He couldn't think of anything he might have forgotten, but the feeling wouldn't let go.

His eyes strayed to the tomb in the center of the room – the reason he'd come in the first place. Now that he was so close, he felt a strange sense of foreboding coming from the structure, warning him away. But he took a breath and began to move purposefully toward it, promising himself he would leave as soon as he'd had a look. Besides, he couldn't seem to stop himself from moving closer and closer. He seized the railing.

--

Blackness greeted the two strangers, as they stared, oblivious of each other, into the depths of the tomb. Slowly, a vision appeared. Two figures huddled in the tomb, a man and a woman. They were dressed in ancient African garb, and the man held the woman as she sobbed into his shoulder.

"Give me your hand. I'm right here with you. There is another world waiting for us, Aida. I can feel it. The way I always knew there was a world beyond every bend in the Nile. Just waiting to be discovered."

"You will find me in that world?"

"If I have to search for a hundred lifetimes, I will find you again."

The vision faded and Ali and Roger looked up instantaneously. Their eyes locked.

Recognition flooded the couple as hundreds of memories washed over them - memories of a past life they had been on the verge of remembering since entering the exhibit that day. Since being in each other's presence.

Ali swayed with the force of the truth and the emotions welling up inside her. Roger caught her smoothly in his arms and held her close.

"Radames?" she whispered hopefully.

"Aida," he breathed, pressing his lips against hers.

She returned the kiss eagerly, and for a moment suspended in time, they clung to each other, love dissolving the hidden longings they'd unknowingly harbored within.

When they broke apart, they still held each other. Ali was crying.

"How can this be?" she whispered, her voice shaking. "That I remembered nothing until today?"

"The gods work in strange ways," Roger reminded her. "Today was fate."

"I remember it all now," Ali said, her eyes glazed over as she looked into the past. "Everything. The two of us…my father's escape, our arrest, and then…" she shuddered.

Roger held her closer. "Don't think about it," he said gently, "I remember it all, too. But we're here now, together…I told you I'd find you."

"You feel exactly the way I remember," Ali murmured.

"You do, too."

They were silent for a moment, taking in the familiar and long-missed feel, smell, and sight of each other. Then Roger shifted.

"Let's get out of here," he said. "Away from this place."

Ali took his hand and they left the exhibit, drifting through the museum as if in a dream until they reached the bright outside.

"By the way," Roger said as they blinked in the sunlight. "It's Roger now."

"Roger." Ali smiled. "I'm Ali."

The two leaned against each other as they moved away from the museum, away from their past, and towards a new future…together.

A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed it. If anyone cares, I chose the name Ali because it means "noble" in Arabic. Roger means "famous spear," and is English. Review?