Chapter Text
‘Jonathan?’
‘Yes?’
‘That’s my husband and my son down there. Make me proud.’
And that Arab fellow, Jonathan added petulantly in his mind. Don’t forget about him.
By all rights, Jonathan ought to be mainly concerned for his nephew and brother-in-law. And he was. He was also ever so slightly ashamed for being just as deeply worried about a man he had not even seen in ten years until one short week ago. But Ardeth had melted irremovably into Jonathan’s psyche like ice into brandy, diluting his every thought, a constant reminder that Jonathan Carnahan wasn’t what he used to be. Not since he had to deal with the distracting tightness in his chest, the embarrassing physical response every time he turned around and saw those dark eyes, that long black hair, the unfairly beautiful lips and the dramatic silhouette offered by the drapery of the man’s loose clothing.
The possibility of losing that, of not seeing Ardeth any more hurt badly enough when it was just the looming truth of having to say goodbye when his family left Egypt again. The prospect of having to watch Ardeth get shot or stabbed was infinitely worse. So, bringing himself back to the present, Jonathan double-checked to make sure his shotgun was fully loaded, and focussed in on the pair of familiar torsos, his brother-in-law and his paramour, making their way toward the mass of black and red and torches that made up Imhotep’s entourage.
.
If Jonathan hadn’t been mesmerised by the sweeping, lethal grace of Ardeth’s skill with a sword, he may have missed the red-clad mercenary whose gun was suddenly, too suddenly, pressed into Ardeth’s back. So he did not think when he squeezed the trigger. He aimed, he shot, and he dimly realized,
I just killed a man.
Not so dimly, his heart hammered in his chest, hoping against hope that the shocked expression on Ardeth’s face was not that he had just been shot, but that he had just been rescued.
And, thank god, he had. The gunman fell back, and Ardeth glanced up and nodded to Jonathan as if this was just another day at the office.
But he was alive. Breathing, now running, very much alive.
‘Let’s go,’ Evie said.
‘Thank god for that,’ Jonathan said breathlessly, and followed his sister.
.
The sight of him again, the salute surely meant for Rick, the rearing horse and the red sun, were all too romantic for Jonathan. His heart seemed to cringe in his chest and he waved dismissively to the black figure far below, returning his attention to the diamond he had risked his life to retrieve only moments ago; the diamond that seemed, really, just like a fancy rock now. A fancy rock that would make him filthy rich, but a rock, all the same.
He would rather have swung down to lift up Ardeth in his arms. To bring him back to the boat. To cling to him in joy.
But it was all silly and wishful thinking, and really. What would his sister think? Never mind his sister, what would Ardeth think? If he ever found out the truth of Jonathan’s feelings he would probably behead him with that fancy curved dagger of his, in defence of his medjai honour.
Jonathan stuck into a heated debate with Izzy over whose the fancy rock really was. After all, he had the diamond.
And that would have to do.