Author's Note: Okay, this is it, folks - the finish post, the end of the line, the conclusion. In other words, it's all over now. Thank you so much to everyone who has read it, reviewed it, encouraged and inspired me. There are far too many of you for me to mention here - and I wouldn't want to leave anyone out - so this is a huge 'THANK YOU' to you all. I had no idea when the idea for this story first occurred to me that it would take 18 Chapters before it was done, but it has and I hope that you've had as much fun reading them as I have writing them.

I won't be posting anything for a while, but I am going to start on some new Mummy fics soon (yay!). In the meantime, enjoy the end of 'Deeper Within Darkness' ... who knows, there might even be a sequel to it one day...

Chapter Eighteen: Song of the Wind

"CAIRO-The recent sequence of unusual events in the Egyptian capital culminated this week with the death of promising young archaeologist David Barton. Mr Barton, it is believed, was caught in a hazardous sandstorm that struck the Giza plateau in the early hours of Thursday morning. Despite the rumours circulating amongst the English contingent of Cairo society – as well as the more sensational publications – that Mr Barton was a believer in the occult and had possible dealings with persons involved in the illicit trade of stolen antiquities, the Cairene authorities have pronounced Mr Barton's death as accidental and are not looking for any other persons in connection with his unfortunate demise."

Evelyn folded up the newspaper soberly and replaced it on the table. 'I wonder if his mother is still alive. Cheltenham, I think it was...'

Rick, Ardeth and Mansour had dug Barton's body out from under the sand in the ruined temple. Rick would have been perfectly happy to leave him there, but Ardeth was determined to recover the amulet. In the event, there had not been much to recover. They had located his partially burnt remains easily enough – and what was left of the amulet. The pieces of lapis and carnelian had been shattered into what they could only guess were innumerable pieces; the gold setting had melted into a shapeless mass under the ferocious heat – and intermingled with the gold was the casing from Evelyn's bullet. Of the papyrus, there was no trace on Barton's body. But as it was useless and harmless without the amulet, Ardeth had graciously stated that Evelyn could do with the document as she saw fit, should she find it.

'Consider it a wedding gift, Seshat,' he had said, with his habitual enigmatic smile. The twisted remnants of the Amulet of Horus, that one-time vessel of ancient divine power, would be taken deep into the desert to be guarded by the Medjai elders. Ardeth had made a solemn vow, however, that he would be back in Cairo within a week for Rick and Evelyn's marriage.

The Cairo police had examined the scene, the body and, after wondering at the eccentricities of the Westerners and scratching their heads in bafflement, had pronounced Barton's death a tragic accident and washed their hands of the whole affair. After all, what was another dead Englishman in Egypt these days?

And so all that remained were a few lines in a newspaper.

Despite the terrors and agonising grief she had endured, Evelyn indulged in a brief nostalgia – bittersweet memories of a person she had once known.

'I wouldn't dwell on it, Evy,' Jonathan said airily. 'It's all over now. Best forgotten.'

Forgotten? Evelyn was not certain that she would ever forget the horrors of the last few days. In many ways, it had been far worse than dealing with a resurrected mummy - that had simply been the visceral horror of walking corpses, scarabs that devoured human flesh and the fear of being offered up as a ritual sacrifice. The horror of confronting the deaths of the two people she loved most in the world was far worse than anything Imhotep had ever done to her.

However, Jonathan's statement had been partially accurate - it was over. In the past. And she had a future to concentrate on. And not really a future that she had envisioned for herself. Her eyes alighted on Rick. It was probably not the future he had ever envisioned for himself, now that she came to think about it. A soldier, an adventurer...not really the sort of man to marry anyone, let alone a librarian.

In the lamplight, he looked surprisingly mellow, as though some of his restless energy had abated momentarily.

Evelyn watched him thoughtfully for a moment, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

'What?'

'I was just thinking of you – Mr Richard O'Connell, the married man.'

Rick grunted. 'Call me Richard again and you may never make it down that aisle. Jonathan will have to take you back on.'

'Oh God no!' Jonathan interjected feelingly. 'You wanted her; you're bloody well taking her. She's off my hands once and for all – your bloody look out now, Rick.'

Evelyn eyed her brother sardonically. 'It's so nice to see that fraternal affection is still springing in your breast.'

He returned her gaze in mock innocence. 'My dear, darling, baby sister – there comes a time in every man's life when he must grasp at the straws of his bachelor freedom before it is too late, and old age makes pleasure seeking both impractical and impossible. The presence of one's younger sister is, not to put too fine a point on it, something of a hindrance.'

'Never seemed to stop you before,' Evelyn thought, but decided to refrain from stating the obvious.

Jonathan stood, straightened his tie and adjusted his silk handkerchief with a flourish. 'Well, children, on that note, I bid you both a goodnight – and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest, as it were.'

'You're in a disgustingly good mood tonight,' Evelyn remarked and then narrowed her eyes suspiciously. 'Where are you off to at this time of night, anyway?'

'Ah, well, I have a very promising rendezvous with a very promising little redhead...'

'That's probably more than we needed to know, Jon,' Rick observed.

'Spoken like a respectable affianced man,' Jonathan said admiringly. 'Well done.' He wandered towards the door. 'Goodnight, mes enfants. And, er, Evy – try not to raise any mummies or anything while I'm gone, will you? There's a good girl.'

'Ooh!'

The door banged shut behind him and they could hear his cheerful whistle echoing along the corridor.

'Is he always like that when he's, er, got a, er...'

Evelyn nodded. 'Always.'

Rick nodded wisely. 'Ah.'

Evelyn sighed and stretched her arms along the top of the sofa, letting her head fall back as she uttered a little sigh of contentment. Rick watched her, fascinated by the curve of her exposed neck and the movement of her soft curves under her starched blouse. He wondered vaguely if she had any idea of the excruciating effect she had on him – a definite glint in his direction from under her half-closed lids left him in no doubt. He remembered another similar encounter – the night of the Embassy reception – and his thoughts at the time. That Evelyn Carnahan could tease him half to death without even trying; when she did try, his chances of survival were zero. Still, if he had to choose a death, it was one hell of a way to go.

She arched her back luxuriously and then sat back against the cushions. 'It's late,' she observed softly.

'Great. Here we go again,' he thought. 'Ready to go to bed?'

She nodded, her eyes smoky in the dim light.

'Want me to talk to you while you're getting changed again?'

Her breath seemed to catch slightly in her throat and her cheeks were suddenly stained with a faint pink flush. 'Um, yes.'

She wandered into the bedroom, Rick trailing obediently behind her, already steeling himself for the inevitable moment when he would have to forcibly remove himself from her side. But if that was the way that Evelyn wanted to play it for now, he wouldn't try to pressure her. She was a lady and he would attempt to play the part of a gentleman until she was ready.

Once he had entered her room, Evelyn turned to him as though about to speak and then suddenly frowned. She moved passed him, back into the sitting room. Unsure what to do, Rick remained where he was. He could hear her moving about – what sounded like the door being locked and then the handle tried to make sure. Evelyn re-entered, closing the bedroom and then locking it. She removed the key and then walked across to her dressing table – two keys were deposited into a box before she turned to face Rick triumphantly. 'There.'

Her eyes were luminous, expectant and her cheeks were still slightly flushed.

'Er, yeah...' Rick looked over his shoulder at the door; but, finding no answers, he returned his gaze to Evelyn.

'Jonathan did say that we should keep the door locked,' she explained.

Rick stared at her for a moment before realisation of the implications of her statement sank in. A jolt, like a current of electricity, suddenly ran through him and for a brief moment he experienced that bizarre sensation of being completely separate from his physical being. That sensation did only last for a moment: the next second he was all too aware of his own body – and hers, on the other side of the room.

Evelyn's mouth had gone very dry. She wished that he would say something – or, better yet, sweep across the room and carry her off. Once again, however, real life bore no resemblance to novels or films. In fiction, the dashing hero would simply grab hold of his chosen female and have his wicked way with her, whether she was willing or not. The girl did not usually have to ask him to indulge in said behaviour. Evelyn swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and forced herself to meet her fianc's uncharacteristically subdued expression. 'I, er, I know that I must have seemed the most terrible tease to you, of late... I just – Rick, I never meant to be! I know that it must have been very frustrating...'

'That's one way of putting it.' His voice sounded strained.

'It isn't because I don't want... I mean, I thought...' Evelyn let out a shaky breath and started to feel increasingly foolish. Words, which had always been one of her talents, were failing her. Maybe it was best to keep it simple. 'I don't want to wait anymore.'

His body was tensed, but something in the rigidity of his gaze flickered. 'Are you sure that's what you want, Evelyn?'

'Yes.'

He held her eyes, looking intently into their depths. What he found there snapped the tension in him; Evelyn was barely aware of him moving toward her before he caught hold of her. His mouth took possession of hers and she responded with a fierce passion that surprised her. Her feet were no longer touching the ground and she had the dizzying, thrilling feeling of being carried through the air, a pair of strong arms supporting her.

Rick lowered her onto the bed and then looked down at her – her spread wildly across the pillow, her eyes dark and inviting. He ran his thumb lightly across her lips and then across her cheek, slowly tracing the line of her neck until he was following the unbuttoned collar of her blouse. His fingers brushed softly against the exposed skin just above the first button and a shiver ran through her.

He looked at her questioningly one last time. 'Are you-'

'I'm sure,' she replied. Evelyn sat up suddenly and began her own assault upon the buttons of his shirt. He caught hold of her wrists and pushed her back down, shifting his grip so that his fingers interlaced with hers. A playful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

'Okay then.'

Fiction, Evelyn decided, had nothing on real life.

---

Rick, still half asleep, reached for her in the darkness. His hand groped blindly for a moment. The sheets still retained some of her warmth, but Evelyn was gone. His eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright. Through the soft folds of the mosquito netting, he could see a glow of light from the adjoining room. Rick brushed the netting aside impatiently, almost bringing the entire structure down on his head in the process. He gritted his teeth – Evelyn's influence was obviously manifesting itself in a number of wholly unexpected ways. He didn't bother to dress, but strode across the room and then paused in the doorway.

Evelyn was on the sofa: her hair was loosely pinned and she had pulled on Rick's shirt – he observed her exposed legs appreciatively, even if they were tucked under her. She was examining what looked suspiciously like a papyrus by the light of a lamp she had placed on the coffee table. She was surrounded by numerous other manuscripts and books and Rick felt his heart sink. After the death of the late, unlamented David Barton, the authorities had sent all of the papyri and other accoutrements they had recovered from his lodgings to the museum. Rick recognised one or two of the more choice items as belonging to that particular collection.

'Are you supposed to have those here?'

She started slightly and then looked at him over the top of her glasses. 'Did I wake you?' she asked softly.

'Me? Nah. I was just lying down in a darkened room with my eyes closed, but asleep? 'Course not' He padded across the room to her and leant against one arm of the sofa before inquiring conversationally, 'Honey, whatcha doin'?'

'I remembered looking over this papyrus earlier, wh-when I first unpacked it – it really had been stored and handled in the most atrocious manner. You know, I may need to have a word with the Chief of Police about the way in which they care for stolen antiquities that have fallen into their possession.'

'Yeah, good luck with that.'

'Anyway, I hadn't really examined the specimens properly, but then I remembered this papyrus-'

Rick groaned audibly. He could already see the danger signs – Evelyn's face had flushed pink and she was almost stammering with excitement. 'Great. Another piece of old paper-'

'Papyrus, Rick. And it isn't an antique, that's just the thing. Although it's written in hieroglyphics and hieratics, and it's written on papyrus, it's fairly new. I-I don't even think it's one hundred years old. You see... Rick?' She looked at the place her fiancé had recently inhabited and frowned. Carefully placing the papyrus on the table, Evelyn moved silently back into the darkened bedroom. She stood, her arms folded, and regarded the recumbent form on the bed, the sheets pulled up over his head.

'Rick. Rick, I know you're not asleep.'

Nothing.

She sighed and pulled at the mosquito netting. A few minutes passed as she attempted to find a convenient opening, her irritation mounting. When she finally had access, she perched on the edge of the bed.

'Don't you want to hear what I've discovered?'

'No.'

'As I said,' she continued briskly, 'the papyrus is not an antiquity, but – oh Rick, one of the hieratics pertains to Cleopatra's Needle! If we could just-'

He sat bolt upright, the sudden movement almost knocking her off her seat – his eyes shone silver in the dim light. 'You want to go marching around the desert to look for a needle?'

'Ooh! Don't shout!' She scolded.

'I am not...' He took a deep breath before continuing in a more reasonable tone. 'I am not shouting. But seriously Evy – a needle?'

Evelyn sighed and removed her glasses. 'It isn't an actual needle; it's just called a needle. It's an obelisk, Rick, and it isn't in the desert, it's in London. On the Embankment'

'Oh...okay.' He blinked. 'Hold up... There's an Egyptian obelisk in the middle of London?'

'Yes. It was taken over there to celebrate Napoleon's defeat. Although, it was about sixty years after Napoleon's defeat, but-'

'Evy...'

She broke off at his long-suffering plea.

'From what I can make out of the papyrus, it may describe the resting place of ancient treasures – hidden in London – to which Cleopatra's Needle may be the key.'

She saw the flicker of interest in his eyes and decided to press home her advantage. 'After all, we are going to be leaving for London soon anyway and-'

'Evelyn,' Rick said firmly, holding her gaze, 'we're getting married next week, remember?'

Her eyes widened indignantly. 'Of course I remember that!'

'Uh-huh. And I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that you're planning on Jonathan travelling with us all the way back to London for this little adventure?'

'Well, we can't very well leave him out of it...'

'Evelyn,' he said her name with as much patience as he could muster, 'let me just say this again: we - that's you and me - are getting married. Next week. My plans for after that are made up purely of you not wearing any clothes until... Well, ever.' Rick gave her what he fondly imagined was a roguish smile. 'Now, fond as I am of your brother, us all hanging out together is gonna ruin the plans - you understand what I'm saying?'

Evelyn bit her lip, raising her eyes to his face slowly. In her excitement over the papyrus, that particular scenario had not entered into her considerations. 'It would be a little...inconvenient.'

Rick snorted. 'You think? Jeez, you English really love your understatement, don't you?'

'Don't try to change the subject - I know you too well now, remember?'

'I remember. And I plan on us getting to know each other on a regular basis over the next few weeks.'

Evelyn laughed slightly, but then a frown spread over her face like a shadow. 'Rick, you know when you euphemistically referred to Selina as a man-eater?'

'Actually, I think that was you. I was gonna say-' Evelyn's eyes narrowed. 'Good time girl?' he offered, weakly.

'Anyway, as I was saying - well, what I mean is... You-you don't think that I'm a... Now that we've-'

The laughter died out of Rick's face. 'Evelyn...' He was speechless for a moment. 'Are you okay? Have I... Did-didn't you enjoy-'

'Oh no, I didn't mean that! It-it was wonderful,' she breathed, her face suddenly radiant. 'I just wondered if-if you...'

Rick took hold of her fluttering hands and leaned forward, gazing deeply into her eyes. 'We haven't done anything wrong. We're engaged - and even if we weren't, we still wouldn't have done anything wrong,' he added, defiantly. 'And there is nothing you could do that would ever make me think any less of you. You...' He released one of her hands and cupped her face, gently caressing her face. 'You're amazing. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and now that I've got you, there is nothing that would make me let you go again. I love you, Evelyn. You know that don't you?'

She felt something catch in her throat. It was more the way he looked at her than what he said that made her heart lurch so painfully.

Rick cleared his throat self-consciously and then added, 'Of course, if you did want to become a man-eater, you can eat me any ol' time you feel like.'

'Ooh, and just when I was thinking that that was the closest to a flowery speech you've ever come.'

'You better take that back or you won't be getting your honeymoon. If you want flowery speeches, go talk to Ardeth. He's got a whole bunch of 'em. Even one specially for us.'

'Really?' She shifted position, causing the half-buttoned shirt to display a tempting amount of skin. 'How did it go?'

Rick dragged his eyes back from the half-hidden view of paradise her attire afforded him. 'Huh? Oh I dunno, something about wind. And sand. Guess if you live in the desert, that's pretty much all you've got to work with.'

'You mentioned something about a honeymoon,' she reminded him, briefly fantasising about a few blissfully uninterrupted weeks alone with her handsome Legionnaire. Not that she was about to let him know that she would give into him so easily. It was far too dangerous a precedent to set.

'Right. Which brings me back to what I started saying...' Rick slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. 'Now, I'm guessing that your needle thing-'

'Obelisk.'

'Yeah, that, has been hanging around London for a while now, no?'

'Hanging around? Is that a technical archaeological term?'

Rick applied a swift squeeze to her ribs, effectively silencing her. 'Cut out the wisecracks, Carnahan.'

'Bully,' she muttered. 'Yes, it's been there for about-'

'My point is,' he interrupted hastily before being given an in-depth history lesson on Cleopatra's Needle and Napoleon's Egyptian Campaign, 'I don't think that anyone is gonna be running off with it anytime soon. And we are the only ones who know about this papyrus, right?'

Evelyn sighed heavily. 'I suppose so.'

'So...' His hands started to trace lazy patterns along her back and he leaned closer to her, kissing the soft hollow behind her ear. 'I was thinking we go to London, but Jonathan goes on ahead. Y'know, sorts out your flat, stuff like that...' His lips traced the line of her neck down to the base of her throat. 'We stop off somewhere in Europe for a few weeks... Rome, maybe. Or Paris...'

'Mm, I've never been to Paris,' Evelyn said indistinctly.

'That way Jonathan gets us out of his hair for a few weeks; I get you all to myself and you get your obelisk when we reach London.' His voice was a low purr against her neck, his lips brushing tantalisingly over her skin as he spoke.

'Oh, that isn't fair,' she murmured. Evelyn suddenly pulled back and looked at him severely. 'Don't think that you can simply kiss me into letting you have your own way.'

He grinned. 'Why? Would that work?'

A playful glint entered her eyes. 'Maybe.'

Rick O'Connell knew a challenge when he heard one. Evelyn Carnahan had been a challenge ever since he had first laid eyes on her – there was no reason why that should change now. Besides, he liked a challenge.

'Want me to give you a hand out of that shirt?'

'Will it still be in one piece afterwards?'

'Probably not.'

'Poor shirt.'

'I'll buy a new one.'

There was no sleep that night. The first rays of the dawn sun had long since entered the shuttered room, gently illuminating the tangle of sheets and bodies on the bed, but the two occupants were oblivious. The low murmur of their voices was punctuated by laughter and the occasional sigh. After the darkness there is light; and after the storm there is peace. It is doubtful, however, that such thoughts entered the lovers' conversation. They were aware only of each other – and possibly the knowledge that their adventure was only just beginning.

THE END