Thought I'd throw Daniels and Evelyn into a conversation together because I don't see that too often. I love Evey too, so this is also an excuse for me to dabble with her character. :P Takes place after Henderson's death and before they all head for the museum, and ends with Daniels's death. Similar to Terminus, but with dialogue.

Daniels, Evey/The Mummy: (c) Stephen Sommers

The Price of Dignity

She stood with her arms folded crossly over her chest, her chin lifted in a show of defiant determination. The stuffy humidity of the hotel room showed in the loose spirals of her long brown hair, making it look wildly unkempt. "If you won't talk to him, I will."

"Evelyn, a pow-wow is the last thing the guy needs at this point. I don't think any amount of talking is gonna get him to open up anyway. Complete waste of time, time that we don't have." Rick O'Connell placed his hands on his hips, his eyes fixed firmly on hers. "He just needs to be left alone." They were in the middle of escaping from a plague-mongering monster, and her stubborn side was showing again. He admired Evelyn and her show of grit; he even secretly envied her, knowing she had more guts than him when it came to taking on the Creature. She had awoken it after all, and she had more gumption than ever in her to stop it.

But her mind was elsewhere now. It was focused on Daniels, the last of the American trio, and the last victim in the Creature's sights.

"What he needs is compassion. He is all alone, Mr. O'Connell! I cannot stand here and pretend that I don't care about the horrid situation he is in, a situation that I regrettably put him in." She tilted her chin a little higher up, squared her shoulders and spun on her heel, turning and walking away from O'Connell. "You can stay here if you like. I'll only be a few minutes."

O'Connell huffed, rolling his eyes and throwing his hands hopelessly over his head. "You think he's gonna care about what you have to say? Don't come running to me when Ugly interrupts your session!" he called, his voice trailing out the door.

She ignored him, marching quickly down the hallway to Daniels's room. Although she hid it well from O'Connell, she was harboring some nervousness about trying to pry open the Pandora's box of emotions that was Daniels. The normally brash and straight-shooting fortune hunter was now clammed up tighter than a crocodile on a wildebeest's throat. She was certain that any opinion he had of her at all would be less than rosy now, and she wouldn't blame him for seeing her as responsible for the deaths of Burns and Henderson. Yet she maintained an open mind, not fully sure how the tomb raider would receive her presence, but hoped for the best.

The door to Daniels's room was open, and she bravely peeked her head in. "Mr.

Daniels?" She scanned the room, opened the door a little more. "Mr. Daniels, are you there?"

"Over here." The response was more of a half-hearted growl than anything, bringing Evelyn's guard up slightly. She opened the door completely, caught him leaning heavily against a windowsill. His eyes stared blankly through the grimy glass, his shoulders slumped, his wounded left arm cradled close to his chest. Even in this clear posture of defeat, he still managed to maintain an air of intimidation, like a sick animal snarling at its rescuer.

Evelyn proceeded cautiously, her hands folded tightly as she walked towards him. "How're you feeling?"

Daniels turned his head slowly, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "Is that a serious question?"

The tone of his voice was laced with an acid irritation, the kind that made Evelyn feel very unwelcome in the room. She continued to tread carefully. "I came to see you to...to offer my sincerest apologies. Words can't express how sorry I am for the loss of your two companions."

Daniels muttered something unintelligible, reached a hand into his pocket. Evelyn stiffened, fought to keep her composure, but relaxed when she saw him pull out a silver flask and not a firearm. She watched him take a copious swig from the flask, said to him, "I also wanted to tell you that I will do everything in my power to stop this creature. I know this is all my fault..."

"Ain't that the Lord's truth," he grumbled. He now turned fully around and faced her, set the flask on the sill. She flinched at the sharp glare he held on her, noticed that the deep blue in his eyes was now dulled down to a cloudy grey. "So where's O'Connell? How come he ain't in here offerin' me his sympathies?" he said bitterly.

"Because Mr. O'Connell is not to blame for this mess, and I'm afraid his pride is anything but tempered at the moment." She took a quiet breath, her hands still clasped tightly. "I feel quite awful about everything that's happened, and I have no shortage of guilt to remind me." Her eyes dropped to the floor, her voice an audible decibel lower. "This will hang over me for the rest of my life."

Daniels huffed indifferently, looked at the ceiling. "Well gee, don't that just break my heart."

Evelyn felt a twinge of agitation, but did not let it show. Rick was right: Daniels didn't want to talk. She was far from discouraged though. "However, I do believe that I have a way to get-"

Daniels abruptly shook his head, held out a dismissive hand. "Look, Miss, um...ah, Miss-aw hell, what's yer name again?"

She blinked in mild surprise. "Evelyn."

"Right, Evelyn." Daniels snorted drowsily. "Look, Evelyn, I don't wanna hear it. I just wanna be left in peace." He reached for the flask, swallowed another generous swill from it. He shuddered, felt the caustic trail of the liquor burning all the way down to his stomach.

A look of deep concern passed over the young librarian's face. "Perhaps that's not the wisest thing to be doing at a time like this," she said, nodding towards the flask. If there was one thing Daniels needed more than anything at the moment, it was a clear head.

Daniels narrowed his eyes defiantly, jabbed an accusing finger inches from her nose. "You ain't got no business tellin' me what's wise an' what isn't."

Evelyn kept her poise, tried not to sound desperate. "I know you're upset, but please hear me out. I think I may have an idea of how to put a stop to this. But I'm going to need your help."

Daniels didn't seem to hear her, was fidgeting restlessly in his spot. A visible line of sweat was painted across his forehead, his breathing hitching erratically through his mouth. What sounded like words came tumbling from his lips in a string of incomprehensible mumbles, and Evelyn strained to pick up any solid sentences. She took a timid step closer. "Mr. Daniels?"

She finally began to hear some of his words. "I ain't...I ain't gonna. I can't," he muttered, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Can't what?"

Daniels snapped his head up to her, startling Evelyn to the point where she stumbled back a couple steps. He gripped the flask, brought it to his mouth, then surprised her with a question that seemed to come out of nowhere. "Ya know who James Bowie is?"

Evelyn furrowed her brow in bewilderment. "I'm afraid I don't."

Daniels gave her a deeply unimpressed look, waved the flask around as he spoke. "Knife fighter, lent his name to the Bowie knife. Got me one back home. Natchez sandbar, 1827. Brawl broke out, an' some fellas put three bullets an' a sword cane into 'im. Nearly killed him, but he lived. Became the stuff a' legend after that." He suddenly began to pace, satisfying a nervous tick he had from standing stationary for so long. "San Antonio at the Alamo, 1836. Sick as a dog in his cot, but still lends any strength he's got to defend it. Killed in his bed by Mexican soldiers. You know what his mama said when she heard of his death? 'I bet there weren't any bullets in his back.'"

Evelyn tried to follow, wasn't sure she understood what he was trying to say. He was obviously rambling, but she took it that he was finally releasing his pent-up emotions, and she knew better than to interrupt.

"He never cracked under the Goddamn pressure, never turned tail an' ran, even with death starin' at him plumb in the face. And I ain't about to neither. My daddy even told me when I was no more'an six years old, 'Son, when you grow up, you're gonna be just like Big Jim Bowie. You ain't gonna take anythin' lying down, even when ya got everythin' to lose.'" He drained the flask, frowned when there was nothing left, threw it roughly to the floor and kicked it away from him. His voice lowered, the muttering starting again. "I ain't gonna crack. I ain't..."

It was evident now to Evelyn that Daniels had been waging a fierce battle with himself to stay brave, even with the thought of unavoidable death hovering over him. Any normal person would have lost their sanity at this point. "It's alright to be afraid, Mr. Daniels. We all are."

He glared at her intensely, stopped his pacing, the scolding finger pointed at her again. "Don't you go accusin' me a' bein' yellow-bellied! I ain't afraid!" He was almost shouting, the muscles in his neck tightening as he fought to control his anger. "None a' this woulda happened if you hadn't read from that Goddamn book!"

"I know, and I'm sorry," she said, her countenance falling dramatically. "But like I've been trying to tell you, there may be a chance-"

"Look at what happened to Henderson an' Burns! Didn't deserve to die the way they did!" The volume increased, his eyes wild with vitriol. "What if I never make it back home, huh? What about Gracie?"

Gracie? Evelyn struggled to keep up with his scattered state of mind. Then a pained look crossed her face. Oh dear, that must be his sweetheart. "Mr. Daniels, please..."

"I love her more than anythin', even gave her my word that I was comin' back!" There was an audible break in his voice, the raw anguish seeping from every orifice. "Now I might never see her again because a' you! Ya ever stop to think about that?"

"If you could let me explain-"

"No! I don't wanna hear it. Ain't you done enough damage already?" He waved her off in a harsh, dismissive manner, turned back to the window. "Go on back to O'Connell now, will ya? Jus' leave me the hell alone." His shoulders slouched, and he fell silent.

Although Evelyn had been expecting an outburst at some point during the conversation, she certainly wasn't expecting so much passion. She felt her guilt magnify ten-fold, the weight of it crushing her like a ripe blueberry between an eager set of teeth. She could not just turn around and leave though, would not grant Daniels that one wish he so desired at the moment. Determined as ever, never once pondering just how bold or stupid the move might be, she went up to Daniels and stood beside him.

She took a silent breath, noticed the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he fought to keep his composure. "I understand how angry and upset you are, I truly do. But time I'm afraid is running out for us...for you." She placed a cautious hand on his forearm, felt him stiffen and pull it closer to him. She did not move her hand though. "I know I'm to blame, but I'm trying to make this right, and I cannot do it without your help."

He didn't turn to look at her, his enmity towards her still very much fueled. Every word she spoke to him was one more ounce of kerosene on the flames. "You jus' don't know when to quit, do ya?"

"I'm offering you help-"

"I'm beyond help, okay? I'm as good as dead like Burns an' Henderson." He lowered his head, seemed to deflate greatly. "Jus' let me go out with dignity."

Evelyn couldn't take the uncharacteristic show of pessimism anymore, knit her brows tightly in a reprimanding scowl. "Do you want to go out with bullets in your back then?" She could see that her inquiry struck a nerve, his head turning around precisely so that he was staring at her directly in the eyes. Undeterred, she continued, "What dignity is there in the way Mr. Burns and Mr. Henderson perished? If you won't do it for yourself, then do it for them! Do it for Gracie! Just don't think you've exhausted all your options yet!"

Daniels was genuinely startled by the young woman's forceful tone, not sure if he should be impressed by her gutsy display or even angrier for blatantly defying his desire to be alone. He saw how serious she was, the meek demeanor she came in with bowing completely to the sudden burst of temperament. He blinked hard, felt the swelling of his heartbeat in his ears. Using his own words on him was a shot in the dark for certain, and he hated to admit that it was actually working. He was stunned into silence, disbelief evident on his face.

Certain that she had his whole attention now, Evelyn went on firmly, "I know it's hard for you to trust me, but I'm only asking you to do it this one time. Now, will you take that trust and come with me?" She gave him an earnest look, one that practically begged him to answer yes.

Daniels was about to offer his reply, whatever it might have been, when the hulking figure of Rick O'Connell materialized at the door. He looked exasperated, catching his breath and holding out his hands. "Well, we going or what?"

Evelyn trained her eyes on Daniels, didn't even bat an eyelash at the sound of O'Connell's voice. She wouldn't leave without an answer, and Daniels didn't have the patience or stamina to continue ignoring her. He was in enough of a bind already; whatever idea Evelyn had this time couldn't be nearly as bad as the book-reading fiasco. Not to mention that Evelyn was correct in saying his options were severely limited but not completely used up, and he hadn't the slightest inkling of knowing how to take on the undead by himself. The nagging image of his beloved Gracie would not leave his mind either, and that was perhaps the biggest influence on his final decision.

Drawing in a deep breath, Daniels swallowed hard and answered hoarsely,

"Alright, I'll go."

Evelyn felt the smile spread across her face, happy that she had succeeded in getting through to him. "Then we've no time to waste." She spun around towards O'Connell, tipping her head in an affirmative manner and leaving the room, Daniels trailing not too far behind. "Let's go."

O'Connell was already more than eager to leave. "About damn time! Jonathan's been waiting outside with the car."

"Great. We're going to head to the museum first, start from there," she said, turning to Daniels and giving him an expectant nod. Although she had gotten him to follow her, he still looked very much uncertain and very gloomy. She tried to lift his spirit up somewhat, said to him, "You have my word that I know exactly what we need to stop him."

He could barely look her in the eye, shook his head with a grunt as they exited the hotel. "I hope you know what you're doin', I really do."

Despite her good intentions and best effort, Evelyn was not able to keep her word to him. No sooner had they started their escape did the Creature finally have his last victim captured for the grim harvest. Daniels never had a chance in hell against it, succumbing in the same horrific way as his two late friends, the life literally sucked from him as he stood helplessly pinned against a wall. No one would ever know what David Daniels's last thoughts were, but anyone who witnessed the man's death would recall that despite the terrible odds against him, he stood his ground for as long as he could, facing the Creature head on and knowing the inevitability of his fate.

There would be no bullets in his back.

Now I'm off to toil away on the other oneshots that are taking me forever to finish. :P