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Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader

(The Mummy AU)

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✽ Part 6 - Just a nice relaxing boat ride

So this one is a bit long guys ^^; To give you an idea, part 5 had a little over 2k words... and this one has over 9k. I swear, it was like every time I thought I was almost finished I went back in and added a little bit more.

I tried figuring out a way that I could cut it in half and not disrupt the flow of everything, but there just really wasn't a good spot for me to do it in so I'm just opting to leave it as is. It's also why this took me a couple days to finish so please forgive the wait.

Also I'm slowly but surely getting the hang of making everything aesthetically pleasing so bare with some of the changes going on with my blog!

You shuffled down the corridors of the ferry, giving polite smiles and nods to the individuals you darted past with Kyle trailing hot on your heels. On a boat that size there were only about fifty or so people in total - passengers and crew included. The trip was long enough to require a place to lay your heads down for the night, having secured as decent accommodations as you could for a vessel meant for commoners.

By the time you reached your stay rooms, you paused to find the door to your quarters already swung ajar. You didn't have time to process that entirely as your cousin brushed past you to take the lead, footsteps quiet as he dared a glance inside. His shoulders relaxed considerably as he took up watch leaning against the door frame. Whatever he found inside didn't seem worry him, but it certainly had you on alert once you heard a rustling noise coming from within.

Kyle halted you from taking your intended step further just outside the door with his hand up, eyes cutting sideways to give you a look at the huff you gave before returning to tracking whoever was rattling around inside your room. He lowered his hand and stepped to the side out of the doorway the same time John appeared from your room, flashing you an easy grin. "It's all yers, hen."

He placed a gentle hand on your arm as he maneuvered past you back into the hall, going one door down and to the left as he disappeared into what you assumed was the room the two men would be staying the night in. You gave your cousin a look of confusion as he ushered you inside, giving his own cursory glance around while you walked over to your awaiting luggage left at the foot of your bed.

The space was nothing to gawk at certainly; no finery of silken sheets or elegantly crafted mahogany furniture. It was a far cry from the abodes you'd spent your comfortable life in, but the modest quarters would be more than plenty for a single evening. You weren't highbrow enough to turn your nose down just because this wasn't the Mauretania.

"Is there a reason you just let a strange man root around my quarters, cousin?" You inquired while unlatching the trunk, beginning the process of unpacking and sorting out your belongings.

"Just precautions, dolly." He replied as he came to a stop in front of the modest sized dresser in your room, leaning back against it with his hands tucked in his pockets while he watched you flitter about putting things away in their proper places. "Didn't want you coming in here first to find an even stranger man waiting for a sweet doe-eyed thing like yourself to gobble up. Would have done it myself if MacTavish hadn't beaten me to it."

It gave you pause in the middle of the room as his words sunk in, clutching a small bag of toiletries. There wasn't anything even remotely admonishing in what he spoke, but you hadn't quite considered the possibility in your inexperience.

You were used to a certain way of living, full of servants and chaperones caring for your person. If you had need of something in a part of town deemed unsuitable for a lady such as yourself then you simply sent someone else along to run the errand for you. You'd been born fortunate enough that you hadn't had to lift a finger for anything you didn't want to. The 'real world' was a far cry different. Many a lower class woman had to be on guard for things you'd never had to imagine. It was just a small example comparatively, but the realization caught you uncomfortably unaware.

Despite that, there was a slight warmth in your chest at the thought that your newest traveling companion was chivalrous enough to look out for your well-being.

"Oh. Of course." You tried to brush it off with a small smile as you continued on your way into the attached lavatory beyond, placing the few items you brought with on the porcelain vanity. "I'll be more cautious in the future then, shall I?"

Kyle was waiting for you outside the door once you entered back into the bedroom, giving you a look akin to the kind your father used on you often when gently correcting you as a child, tone full of empathy and understanding. "Hey."

His hands landed on your shoulders, applying gentle grounding pressure that had you releasing a small sigh. "Aunt and uncle raised you to never have to worry about the kind of life the two of us," he nodded his head towards the other room where John was likely getting settled, "have experienced. This is a lot to take in for your first time out amongst the common folk. And it will take time. But there's nothing wrong with your naivety. Everyone has to start somewhere, yeah?"

He was right. Of course he was right. It was no different than the first time you picked up a book and were immediately confused by the jumble of hieroglyphics on the page. There might not have been a helpful dictionary on a shelf nearby teaching you how to navigate this new challenge (unfortunately), but you had a helpful guide in your cousin who wouldn't lead you astray.

"So don't you go worrying your pretty little head, dolly." He added with a lighthearted tone and an affectionate pinch to your chin, glad to see some of that self-consciousness ease from your expression. "You've got two strapping young lads keeping an eye out for you and helping you every step of the way. You'll be a proper adventurer before you know it."

He left you in peace after that, closing the door behind him to give you your privacy as you resumed your task of getting the room situated for your brief stay, hanging up your clothing in the provided wardrobe to keep them from wrinkling too terribly much and placing your odds and ends on the nightstand. You hummed a favored song as you busied yourself, feeling a bit more optimistic about your endeavor than you did when you'd arrived.

The plan for the first leg of the journey was to follow the river upstream until you reached the port city of Abydos, then essentially catch a caravan heading west into the desert until John said stop. The ferry ride would take the better part of two days to arrive at your destination, leaving plenty of time to kick back and sight-see until the real work begins.

You'd wandered out onto the promenade deck once you'd finished getting your room all sorted, leaning against the guard rail as a fresh breeze blew in off the bow. The ferry had left port not twenty minutes prior, but already the landscape had shifted into something only vaguely familiar.

You had not explored all of Cairo in the time you spent living there. It was nice to see the variations of Egypt's different cultures and ethnicities all converging upon the banks of the river. Arab, Muslim, and western elements weaved together along the shoreline. At the narrower points of the Nile when the ferry made way for a larger vessel, you could hear all manner of languages being spoken by merchants and fishermen on the docks; Arabic, Masri, Nobiin, Siwi, even the rare Armenian. You only speak the first two, but have heard enough of the others to at least identify the differences.

You imagined how these shores would have looked thousands of years ago at the height of the Egyptian empire - tall colorful sails as far as the eye can see anchored with the promise of freshly acquired goods, lighthouses dotting the coastline beckoning sailors home, large extravagant vessels belonging to the Pharoah's navy crucial for safeguarding these waters. The Nile has always been the lifeblood of the kingdom, the true source of power in the region with all that it provided for the people. He who controls the ports controls Egypt herself.

Much of the old architecture had been torn down centuries ago, new cities built on top of the foundations of the previous with none to bat an eye at the histories lost. You needn't look far to find an archaeologist digging at something long buried by layers of sand and dirt. Hell, if we had to stop construction every time we found relics underground of societies past then there'd be nowhere safe to build anything.

A stray fisherman's boat glides up alongside yours, an aging man with expressive lines around his eyes glancing up at the ferry floating past and spotting you leaning against the rail. He shouts something up at you in a Nobiin dialect you don't speak, but you offer him a bright smile and a wave he happily returns, steering his small craft out of your way and continuing on to wherever his destination lies.

For a moment, the peace you felt is interrupted by a tall man in a dark suit strolling along behind you, causing you to unconsciously tighten your grip on the rail until he was safely out of your periphery. You'd learnt a gentle lesson this morning that you were out in a world you didn't know the rules of. It was odd how you'd spent so much of your life being trained to enter into the machinations of society, yet here surrounded by working class people you felt more unprepared than ever. This boat was not filled with ladies giggling into their teacups and gentlemen enjoying their brandy; there was no grand dining hall or stately gatherings that called for decorum.

This was the 'wild west' as aptly demonstrated by the cowboys who'd kindly tipped their hats to you as you'd passed them by in the hall during boarding. That meant being aware of your surroundings and keeping even the pleasantest of company at arms length.

You'd abandoned your spot out on the promenade shortly after the sun hit its peak, venturing below decks when the bell was rung for mid-day meal. The ferry was small enough that you took lunch with the crew, grateful for your cousin's escorting hand on your lower back once he met back up with you, John's presence not far behind.

It was hard not to feel incredibly out of place once you'd sat down at a long cafeteria table and had a chance to take stock of the company around you, surprised to see only one other woman out of the whole crowd. Even she felt wildly different from you, dressed in similar western garb to the cowboys you saw hours earlier she was accompanying. You stuck out like a sore thumb in comparison, digging into the small but filling meal provided at a speed normally frowned upon in an effort to not stick around longer than necessary. You were aware of Kyle and John engaging in conversation next to you, but you were focusing too much on the food in front of you to pay any real attention to the subject. Kyle tried including you in their talks, but they must've picked up on your iffy mood and kept the chatter amongst themselves.

You spent a decent amount of time after that in your quarters (save supper time), nose buried in a book about some recent archaeological discovery until well after light stopped streaming in through your porthole. Feeling a bit restlessness from spending so much time in one attitude, you wandered out into the hall in search of your cousin for company, frowning at his empty room and making your way back upstairs.

The atmosphere up here was far more jovial, men crowded around tables smoking cigars and trying not to spill their tumblers over a handful of cards. This felt more familiar, reminiscent of your late father's evenings in the smoking room entertaining his guests with a couple rounds of poker. You weren't allowed in except at bedtime for a kiss goodnight. But on the rare occasion, you were allowed to stay seated on his lap. His 'good luck charm', he called you.

The scent of tobacco smoke had an oddly calming effect on you as you rounded a table housing your cousin and the three Americans, your sociable side starting to shine through again.

"I hope you aren't gambling away your inheritance." Your hand came to rest on the back of Kyle's chair as you stepped up beside him, taking in the empty glass next to him and the looseness of his shoulders. Your words were meant in good fun, but you made a mental note to keep an eye on his consumption. That likely wasn't the first scotch he's had tonight.

"Why use mine when I've got yours?" Came the cheeky reply, one that garnered him a chuckle from his companions and a light smack on the shoulder from you.

"You'll be happy to know, ma'am, that he's currently taking my partner here for every piece of copper he has." A dark skinned man with glasses spoke up, giving his friend a hearty slap on the back that had the other man sputtering out his drink.

"Well in that case, I best stick around to make sure my cousin here stays sober enough to keep it that way, shouldn't I?" You slide the half empty bottle of alcohol away from your cousin with a knowing look, receiving a relaxed shrug in response.

Yeah, definitely three glasses in.

"Do you happen to play, sweetheart?" The one who's apparently losing the hardest inquires while the woman at the table deals in a new hand.

"Not something I learned in etiquette class I'm afraid." Kyle had tried to teach you at one point, but you'd done miserably every time and he'd quickly abandoned the endeavor.

"Ah, we got us a true English high-born lady here fellas. Think we're much too outclassed for someone like yourself."

"Don't worry. She's already done that job for me." Gesturing over to the woman in question with a grin, the boys break out in laughter as their female companion tips her glass at you in respect.

"Well now, can't be havin' a lady standing at attention all night." The dark skinned man gets up off his chair and turns around to the table behind him, tapping a man on his shoulder with a sharp whistle and a 'beat it' that has him scrambling away. Positioning the chair between him and Kyle, he pulls it out for you with a respectful "ma'am" as you slide into the offered seat.

"Nice to see the men in America are still being brought up properly," you teased with a coquettish smile, folding your hands on your lap as the man sat back down.

"Just because we're men of the earth don't mean our mama's didn't raise us to be gentlemen. Speaking of which, I'm afraid we've lost our manners. Name's Darnell Hutchinson. This here's Osmond Ryan," he nods to the man next to him before gesturing across the table, "and that one over there is Rozlin Helms."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintances. Now then, shall we see how you fare when you 'put your money where your mouth is'?"

You enjoyed yourself a great deal more than you originally anticipated, banter flowing between the five of you easily as the night continued on. Roz in particular was a delight as the two of you ganged up on the other three men, glad to have some female company if only for a little bit. Kyle played quite well, though he did better once you'd refilled his glass with water instead of whiskey. Oz had to tap out after a few more hands, but Hutch was giving him a run for his money.

At some point your other travelling companion made his rounds above deck, stopping by the table. He'd unbuttoned the top of his shirt since last you'd seen him, looking just as casual as the others were after hours. You caught a brief suggestion of dark hair underneath, taking a sip of water and averting your gaze back to the cards being played.

"Ah, MacTavish!" Kyle called out once he noticed the man in question. Maybe you'd need to make him hydrate a little more still. "Care to join us for a hand of poker? Could use some backup with these yanks since this one here isn't any help." He added with a playful bump to your shoulder, eliciting a small giggle from you at his antics.

"No thanks, lads. Ah only gamble wit' mah life, never mah money."

"Well your buddy here seems to think ya'll are gettin' to Hamunuptra before we do. So what's say you and I make a little wager 'bout that?"

You frowned at your cousin who had the nerve to look normal at this drop of information. When had this come up? Certainly not since you'd been at the table. Was he really already that deep in his glass by the time you'd arrived that he was spilling your secrets?

John's grin turned tight lipped in response while still trying to play it cool. "That right? How're ye so sure the place even exists? Fer all ye ken we're jus' a couple 'o crazies ourselves."

"Our man Klaus, that's who." Oz points over at a gruff looking man with an impressive beard. "Bit unorthodox of a man, but he's smart as a whip. Fortunately we've also got a guy who's confirmed it's existence. Been there himself in fact. So looks like you three aren't so crazy after all."

You thought you'd gotten lucky stumbling into John when you did. What are the odds there were more people running around who'd seen the lost city? Surely they were bluffing.

Thankfully, this time Kyle was smart enough to keep his mouth shut on the subject.

"So what says you?" Hutch attempts to egg him on again, "Give ya something a little more interesting than just bragging rights."

John let's a wicked grin cross his face, one I'm sure feels quite at home on him. "Alright, lads. Since yer so eager ta part wit' yer coin ah guess ah could lighten yer pockets for ya."

"Hundred bucks?" Roz offers up with a smirk to sweeten the deal.

"Done."

You were surprised he'd agreed, but then again it's not like they knew just how evenly matched you actually were. Otherwise you don't think they'd have put the pot so big.

"Ah'll be lettin' ye get back ta yer game then. Garrick, lass." He nodded at the pair of you in turn before disappearing off to some corner of the ferry again - not like you'd seen him for anything other than meals yet today anyways. Odd considering he didn't quite seem like the type to prefer privacy over socialization. Though you suppose he'd probably spent time around your cousin in their shared space for some of it.

You stayed at the table long enough to make sure Kyle wouldn't be finding himself in even more trouble than he usually did, giving him an affectionate kiss on the cheek and a look that clearly said 'behave'. The others tipped their hats at you, friendly smiles as you said your partings for the night.

There were a handful of men arguing near the main stairwell that seemed heated enough that you didn't want to intrude, opting to go around to one of the side entrances on the promenade to reach your cabin instead. It was much quieter here away from the bustle going on near the bow, a welcome reprieve from the raucous behaviors of the men you'd just left. All you wanted now was to get out of these garments and curl up with your book before bedtime.

Just as you were reaching for the door leading inward, you caught a glimpse of someone at the far end sitting with their back to you, items laid out in front of them on a table you couldn't quite make out from this distance. The hair gave him away though, his dark brown...

Mohawk? Was that what Kyle had called it when you'd asked prior? Either way, it had gotten your attention.

He'd taken off his suit jacket, his white button up stretched across his shoulders doing nothing to hide the broad muscular planes of his back. You knew from previous experience with Kyle that the brown leather adorning him was a holster for pistols, one on each side by the looks of it. Strange to find him out here by himself rather than the privacy of his cabin. Perhaps he had been like you earlier and just wanted to catch a breath of fresh air now that the night sky brought with it a welcome reprieve from the heat. You hadn't even realized you'd been lingering quite so long, until–

"Mah front looks a might bit finer than mah back, hen."

You startled at his voice, lost in your own observances while thinking your presence had gone unnoticed. The man hadn't even turned around once! And considering how short his hair was in the back you were fairly certain you hadn't spotted any eyes there. Your face grew hot with embarrassment at getting caught staring.

"How did you know?" You ventured an ask despite the urge to suddenly hide back in the room you were initially headed towards. Mild curiosity kept you in place.

He still hadn't turned to look at you when he replied with an amused huff, "Easy, lass. Yer the only one on this boat wearin' heels."

You glanced down at the offending articles, growing even more flustered at such an obvious tell. The fact that he'd been paying enough attention to his surroundings to even pick up on it while still being fully engrossed in whatever task said a lot about the man.

"Could have lost them in a wager. With how inebriated Kyle is I'm fairly confident he'd slip a pair on."

"Ah've seen Garrick in women's clothes. Ye dunnae sound enough like a newborn foal fer tha' tae be the case."

So many more questions than answers popped in your head at that tidbit of knowledge, but you weren't sure that was a box you wanted to unpack right this minute.

Your feet took you over to John on their own volition, finding yourself standing adjacent to him while he still kept his gaze on his task. Laid out on the table was a leather carrying case unfurled with a variety of weapons and implements that were designed exclusively for the pain and suffering of others. Blades, hooks, ammo, shotgun shells; it was a veritable treasure trove of weaponry.

The man was spinning the cylinder of a revolver in his hands, eyes down the chambers inspecting for what you weren't sure. His sleeves were uncuffed and rolled up to the elbow, revealing thick forearms tanned from the sun and dusted with dark hair. You watched a vein pulse as muscle flexed and rolled under the skin, closing the cylinder and spinning it back into its spot in the holster. It took everything to draw your attention to one of the blades before his vision finally shifted upwards to look at you, picking up a small hooked object and examining it carefully.

"I'm assuming you have all this simply because it goes everywhere with you and not because you think you'll actually need it."

You were caught off guard by his response. "Ah dunnae ken wha' ah'll need, hen. But ah'll be needin' it fer somethin'."

You looked at him in cautious disbelief, not sure what any of this has to do with a simple expedition to some ruins. "I don't think a bunch of desert dwelling reptiles warrant this much protection."

He plucked the item out of your hand, placing it back in the bundle before grabbing the shotgun leaned against the rail next to him and loading the chamber.

"Seen enough ta ken there's more than lizards hidin' under those sands, lass. Trust me: ye'll be thankful fer all this once it pops it's head up ta say hello."

"I don't know what my cousin has told you about me, Mr. MacTavish, but I can assure you I'm–"

"Johnny."

You blank for a moment at the interruption, gaze drawn away from his calloused hands to eyes blue as a desert oasis. You forget for a moment what it was you were just saying, resulting in a very ditzy, unintelligible response.

"...Huh?"

"Johnny." He repeats again, still not breaking whatever hold he had on you as the corners of his mouth quirked up a bit. "Ye can call me Johnny, hen. None o' that mister shite."

"Oh... alright."

He went back to polishing his gun after a moment, releasing you from whatever spell he had on you in the first place that caused your temporarily lack of bodily autonomy. You floundered to regain some of your previous dignity, hyper aware of your heart fluttering in your chest.

"As I was saying, I stopped being afraid of the scary stories Kyle would tell me by the time I was twelve. The only thing I'll be finding there is proof of the city's existence and the opportunity to step somewhere untouched by man in thousands of years."

"Sure, hen. And the fact that there's a solid gold book of Amun Ra fabled ta be buried within has no interest tae ya whatsoever." The skepticism was heavy in his tone as he began wiping down the barrel with a thin blue rag.

You don't know why that accusation stung a little to hear, but you're tone reflected that vulnerability despite not wanting it to. "Some of us just want the chance to prove that not everything we've believed is just the ramblings of a naive school girl full of silly little dreams and nonsense."

Whatever he detects in your voice has his gaze shooting up towards yours, expression completely neutral if not for a hint of something shining behind those eyes. It's gone in a blink, replaced by the seriousness he's been trying to impart to you during this conversation.

"Ye'll find the validation yer lookin' fer, hen. Jus' hope that's the only thing that finds ye."

He rolled his supplies back up in their leather container and secured it with a knot, shoving it back in his worn rucksack before pushing back his chair to stand at full height. The man towers over you, just about the same size as your cousin if not a hair shorter. There was no denying the bulk he had over Kyle's much more lithe form though. He made you feel small standing next to him, stocky frame close enough to yours you could feel the heat radiating off his chest. How this man kept taking away your ability to think cohesively you had no idea.

He looked for a moment like there was more he wanted to say until his attention was directed to something over your shoulder instead, brows furrowing in a way that had you glancing behind to see what had him distracted. Your search came up empty, turning back to look at him only to find the casualness you normally associate with the man.

"Run along now, hen. Got a big day tomorrow and ye'll be needing yer beauty sleep."

Part of you wanted to push, confused at the sudden personality change before deciding that was not a thread you wanted to pick at tonight. Giving him a small nod and stepping around back towards the entrance, you didn't bother looking back as you returned to your quarters to settle in for the night.

You busied yourself with getting undressed from your day clothes and into the much more breathable fabric of your nightgown, thankful for the fashions of the era making it easy to dress yourself without the aid of another. You weren't always a fan of the currently popular drop waist silhouette, but at least stylists were designing clothes with the modern woman in mind.

Sitting in front of the mirror at your dressing table, you took in the image of the woman who had made it this far in life.

Mother had launched you into society almost a decade ago, a prospect that had initially excited you back in your youth. You'd been full of such enthusiasm and optimism in the days following your coming out ball, but even the sands of Egypt were not far enough away to be immune from the Great War. Once Britain declared war on the Ottoman Empire and proclaimed a protectorate over the nation, the young men went off to defend distant shores - your cousin amongst them. It was a painful thing to overhear whispered conversations between your parents of family friends grieving over the loss of their sons and heirs, remembering their smiles when you'd giggled at their flirtations.

Sometimes it felt like all the boys you'd ever danced with were dead.

The country suffered the after effects for years to come, the men returning home no longer with the bright sparkle of youth but the weariness of those who wouldn't dare speak their stories. In a lot of ways it was not just the end of an era, but a new world entirely after that. Things that seemed of great importance suddenly had little meaning. Balls, etiquette, matchmaking - high society still existed and your family had still been members, but once you'd reached your twenties they accepted their daughter would not be a traditional heiress anymore and were content to let her be her own woman. It did not stop your mother entirely from suggesting suitable partners (nor did you turn down the chance to have a future full of love), but she'd been supportive of you up until her and father passed.

Strange to think where you might be right now if humans had only been kinder to one another. Which lad buried in an unmarked grave might have been your husband?

Running the boars head bristles of your hairbrush down through your ends, your attention turned back to the former soldier you had just left behind a few minutes ago. You didn't actually hate the man; there were no true ill intentions in your words towards him. Even your 'stables' grumbling from earlier this morning had been born more out of an annoyance at your cousin than anything. Sure, you would have felt better going on a journey with someone who'd been a bit more upstanding than previous circumstances suggested, but John– Johnny – was also a long time friend of Kyle's and his word held a great deal of weight with you.

And yes, you weren't quite that out of tune with your emotions enough to deny that there was something about him you found strangely appealing. You could readily acknowledge that he cut quite the attractive figure and your eyes were more than happy to drink in such a sight. There had been a small handful of times over the years where you'd initiated a short courtship with a suitor, but for all the dashing young men of good breeding in their smart tailored suits and gentlemanly auras, you'd could safely say their good looks and pleasant smiles hadn't quite tilted you off your axis the way Johnny did.

Part of you was still being stubborn about it though. This was certainly not the time to be filling your head with such frivolity towards a man you knew enough stories about to grasp he was a troublemaker. You couldn't let this distract you from the real reason you all were out here in the desert in the first place.

You set the brush down harder on the vanity than you'd originally meant to, watching it clatter off the table and come to a stop next to your foot. Letting out a small sigh of weariness, you rubbed the bridge of your nose with your fingertips before bending to retrieve the item, opting to stand instead of sitting back down now that you were finished with your nightly pampering rituals.

The reflection that met you in the mirror was not yours.

There wasn't any scream. You didn't reach out and attack the man in self defense. You froze, plain and simple. The flash of a blade at your neck made you obedient, body allowing itself to be manhandled up against the wall. A man in black robes held your gaze, strange markings tattooed across his skin and under his eyes that glared at you in warning. Your mind was too addled with shock to understand why his attire seemed so familiar.

You'd expected more of a reaction out of yourself, this being the first true taste of danger you'd ever experienced.

But fear became a tangible, living force that crept over you like some hungry beast, immobilizing and seizing every breath remaining in your lungs. Your mouth flooded with the taste of iron, the surge of adrenaline doing more harm than good as your vision went blurry and your hands shook from their spots gripping into the seams of your nightgown. Everything in your life funneled down to a moment of awareness of the sharp pinprick of the blade under your chin. How easy it would be to shove it up into your skull...

"Where is the key?" It was a hard voice; one spent years speaking a rougher language than the English he conversed with you in. You almost didn't even hear it over the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears.

Burning tears welled behind your eyes, a silent sob stuck in your chest. Every atom in your body screamed at you to run, but you trembled from the effort it took to remain standing and still. One wrong move and your blood would flow like the first plague of Egypt. Death was not a friend you wanted to meet yet.

You were aware of the deadly pressure digging in slightly with each movement of your jaw, imploring you to answer truthfully, but all it did was add to your growing panic as you realized with dread that you had no idea what it was he was asking of you.

The noise that came out of your mouth at first was more akin to a small ragged exhale, throat dry as parchment keeping you from speaking words until you forced yourself to swallow.

"I-I don't..." Your voice felt trapped, genuine confusion bleeding through the terror as you unconsciously shook your head. "I don't know what that is..."

"THE KEY! " His voice raised in anger, triggering a small scream of fright from your lips as your eyes closed instinctively, shrinking back away as far as you could with his hand gripping your bicep.

Oh god. You were going to die. You didn't have the answers he wanted and now you were going to die.

The door to your room broke open with a loud resounding BANG, wooden fragments splintering off from where it was kicked free of its lock. You yelped as you were dragged backwards against a firm body, your captor positioning himself behind you for leverage as Johnny crossed the threshold into your room. His eyes were trained on you, brandishing pistols in both hands as he skirted around the broken debris. What a sight you must have made; eyes bloodshot, tear tracks down your face, shaking like a leaf, clad only in a thin nightgown that went to your knees and left nothing to the imagination.

Johnny's eyes were hard, but they were there, holding you in place with a promise of 'I will get you out of here alive'. And you believed him.

"Let 'er go." It was eerie how calm he was, his voice even without a hint of waver. Standing in front of you was a soldier who'd looked death in the face and fought him bare handed, calm and steady and sure of his every move. Even when the man holding you prisoner tightened his hold on you and dug his blade into the flesh of your neck, Johnny didn't bat an eye. The only sign he gave was the brief glint at your whimper of pain.

Movement at the corner of your eye pulled your attention towards the open window to your room, a sign of the intruder's entry that you must have missed while lost in your own thoughts. But it was the person stepping into view on the other side that had made you look this time, mid arm raising the pistol at his side that he never got the chance to fire. You watched as three bullets hit his chest in quick succession; three deafening bangs from Johnny's own firearms that had you clapping your hands over your ears at the noise. You didn't even have time to process seeing a man get murdered right in front of you when another came up to take the place of his fallen companion. Johnny moved with purpose, darting to the right to avoid the gunfire while returning a barrage right back at him.

In the all the chaos, one of the two men landed a shot on the oil lamp burning on the table, shattering the glass container and spilling fire all over the floor. The fibers in the rug quickly started to catch, winding like ivy up the side of the wall to consume the curtains and continuing to spread outwards.

Some small part of you with self preservation reached out to the vanity next to you and grabbed the nearest item, hand wrapping around a vial of perfume and smashing it backwards into his face. You'd gotten lucky enough that the glass broke on impact, sending shards of it alongside burning chemicals straight into his eyeballs.

The robed man howled out a rough anguished cry, relenting his hold on you to claw at his damaged flesh as you threw yourself away from him. Johnny was immediately there to reach for you, pulling you into his side with one arm as the other kept on firing. All you wanted in that moment was to cling to him and let him protect you, but with the fires rapidly taking over every inch of the space and the robed men still coming you needed to escape and fast.

You were pushed behind him as he herded you out into the corridor, providing cover for your escape and finally needing to reload. For a brief moment as you were running down the hallway, there was a nagging thought in the back of your head that you'd forgotten something, but compared to the risk on your life it was discarded quickly in favor of paying attention to your surroundings.

Johnny took the lead, you keeping close behind as the pair of you found your way back above deck. You'd been grateful not to run into any other combatants along the way, but taking a step outside had you eating your words at the chaos unfolding in front of you.

It wasn't just your dwellings that caught fire. The entire vessel was ablaze with more than a dozen black robed men running around hurling torches through broken windows and dragging them through anything flammable. Men climbed down from the guard rails and jumped off the edges, abandoning ship down into the dark waters below. Your breath caught in your chest at the hellish landscape, too caught up in the savagery to notice as Johnny pressed you back against the wall out of view and began unloading into the men firing down on the passengers from above.

So much mayhem and bloodshed. And all for what? Some stupid key?

That's when it hit you: the metal box. It was still in your room.

"The artifact!" You all but shouted as you turned on your heel to head back the way you came, halted by an arm hooking you around the waist and tossing you into the wall with a small oof.

"I'll get ya another one!" Johnny all but growled out as he kept his attention facing the enemy, ducking around the corner to return scattered gunfire only to hide again as they took shots at the spot he just occupied, aiming through the walls to try to get to him and blasting holes in the wood. One came particularly close to his head, grumbling out a curse in what you assumed was Gaelic going by the gruffness of the words.

"If I don't bring that back with me than I'm as good as dead!"

Some would argue you didn't have your priorities in order considering the extreme amount of danger you were currently in. They'd clearly never met Dr. John Price.

You didn't have time to make any more objections before you were on the move again, dodging around overturned tables and flaming fabrics, screaming as bullets whizzed by your bodies with a holler from Johnny to just keep running. Your lungs burned from all the exertion, coughing as the wind blew smoke into your face and down your airways. Where the hell was Kyle in all this?

You get to the side of the boat, catching your breath as you stare around wide eyed for your cousin. Your thoughts are interrupted by your companion, too busy to pay him any real mind. "Ye swim, lass?"

"Very poorly." There hadn't been much occasion to growing up. You'd learned when you were young, but being in deep water as a child made you uneasy and your parents hadn't taken you often enough to really improve.

The implication of his words was completely lost on you right up until the point your legs were suddenly swung out from underneath you and you were being hoisted into his brawny arms. You never even got a chance to question it as the feeling of your stomach dropping was your only hint at being unceremoniously dumped over the bow into the Nile.

You'd shrieked on the short distance down, water invading your mouth from lack of warning as your eyes closed on instinct. The river was mildly temperate, still warm from the day's sun but not yet chilled from it disappearing over the horizon. Your body panicked for a moment as it tried to right itself underwater, unable to distinguish up from down with arms flapping wildly until you at last broke the surface, limbs struggling to keep you afloat while you sputtered out the liquid in your mouth.

Turning your gaze upwards, you saw Johnny lifting himself up over the rail, one boot perched on the side ready to vault over. You didn't have a chance to warn him, screaming as he was hauled backwards and out of sight.

"Johnny!" There was fear and desperation in your voice, worried for his safety and helpless to do anything about it.

Your head bobbed back down under the river, the crashing waves from the ship making an already hard task even worse as you popped back up with a gasp. You still couldn't see him from your vantage point, a tightness in your chest as you cast your gaze around you instead to focus on your own survival. You didn't know which way to go in your panic, seeing most of the other passengers heading for the far shore. Then there was the problem of the steady current trying to drag you further upstream. It wouldn't be impossible to others who were stronger swimmers than you, but the adrenaline was wearing off and the fatigue coming in quick.

You didn't know if you could make it.

Yelling out in frustration as you swam the other way, you begged and pleaded with your body to not give up on you just yet.

You got about halfway to the riverbank, forcing your muscles to go as far as they could and feeling the intense strain from the demand you were putting on them. If this was a lake things might have been different; you'd spent time in those back in England visiting close family friends and relatives. You'd never been taught proper form and even then you hadn't swam as far out as the others had, opting to stay nearer to the shallows where you could still enjoy a refreshing dip in safety. Water was easy when it wasn't fighting against you.

"Please, God, please..." It was hard to tell if your vision was blurry from the heavy tears in your eyes or if your body was just giving up, too tired to carry on. Your throat was choked up from crying and swallowing so much river water, doggy paddling to stay afloat as your strength began to fail. It was getting harder and harder to keep from submerging.

"Help me..." You begged out to empty air, the only sounds being the distant cacophony of the crowd on the far side of the Nile and the burning wreckage crackling and spitting as she sinks. The shoreline was still too far off for how much energy you had left.

You were alone. Completely alone.

You were going to drown.

You were exhausted; head tilted back as you let your body's natural buoyancy do the work you no longer could, breathing hard as you blinked up at the stars sparkling back at you. You tried to keep your legs kicking with what little you had left, but you were spent and struggling to keep your face above the surface. It was only a matter of time.

Drowning was an awful way to die, taking a deceitful breath of air and choking down to a watery grave. Would your cousin even find your body or would it be condemned to the service of fish food?

"...please... I'm scared..." came the whispered broken admittance, resignation seeping into your bones. It was just you and the inky darkness as the inevitability of your demise drew near, the only solace you could provide yourself was the gentle reminder that very soon you'd finally be back in the comfort of your mother's arms once more.

Your name broke through the air, stabbing you in the chest and robbing the air from your lungs. You almost stopped swimming from the shock of it, eyes blown wide as you screamed back his name in a mixture of hope and desperation: "Johnny! "

You spun wildly even though that only cost you precious energy, as you saw a figure heading towards you in the near distance. Long arms made broad strokes that carried him in your direction, prayers miraculously answered by whichever deity deigned to show you mercy.

"Johnny I can't–" you swallowed a mouthful of water as your legs gave out, sending you sinking under the surface.

The pressure from the water's current made it hard for you to pry your eyelids apart - not that it would have made very much difference considering there was not but shadows in the depths. Your hands clasped over your nose and mouth, pinching them tight in an effort to keep the air in your lungs for as long as possible. You hoped Johnny was a strong swimmer, a cramp in your legs keeping you from trying anymore.

'Hurry...' the voice inside your head whispered, lungs burning after countless moments spent floating in darkness.

You could make it. You had to make it.

Hands grabbed at you right as your lungs succumbed to the need to take a breath, mouth open in a silent gargled scream as you clawed at your throat instinctively, convulsing as your body tried to violently expel the liquid drowning you to no avail. What must've been seconds felt like torturous hours as a force pulled you upwards, agony as you sped towards the surface.

You coughed up the water in your system once you breached and hit air again, lungs wheezing from the intrusion as a sturdy arm caged you in to a well-built chest, supporting you with one as he used the rest of his strength in the other to slowly maneuver towards safety.

"Ah got ye, hen. Ah got ye. Jus' hold on tight tae me, yea? There's a good lass."

You could barely keep your eyes open as he swam you both the rest of the distance to shore, pushing you forward to reach the sand first and helping you crawl up onto dry land. You collapsed in a heap, the nightgown stuck to you like a second skin, hair long and stringy like limp seaweed. The sand was abrasive on your face from where your cheek was smushed into the ground, sprawled out on your stomach while your brain grappled with the fact that you were still somehow alive.

Johnny was half draped over your back, breathing hard from supporting the weight of both of you even as he ran his hand across your back with gentle shushing noises to help settle you and your errant tears. He brushed the hair away from your face, blinking down at you with a look of concern for your emotional and physical well-being. He looked just as waterlogged as you, though he at least had the dignity of having saved your life.

"Still wit' me, hen?"

You nodded weakly, hand shakily reaching up to rest over the one he still had near your cheek and grasping it with barely any strength. You hoped despite how wrecked you felt that he could see in your eyes how unbelievably grateful you were to him for his actions tonight. "Thank you..."

He nodded back at you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze in response before resuming the comforting gesture on your back. The pair of you stayed like that for a few minutes, you still trying to gather your bearings while Johnny scanned the landscape, taking in the other passengers still scrambling up the riverbank on the opposite side while keeping an eye out for one person in particular. Once your head was on straighter, you came to the same conclusion as he had: you were missing someone.

You pushed yourself up on shaky arms, scanning the area as the familiar pull of dread once more tugged in your chest. "Where is he? Where's Kyle?"

Your companion gave no answer, face kept intentionally neutral in a way that only made the contents of your stomach churn even more. You tried to get your legs up underneath you to make it to your feet, but a firm hand on your back kept you down to conserve your strength. "He's comin', lass. He'll be comin'."

You weren't entirely sure if he believed that.

"Kyle!" Your raspy voice rang out through the still of the night, pleading for a response. "Kyle!"

"Garrick! " Johnny joined in, throwing his own bellow into the mix that was a great deal stronger and more capable of being carried on the wind than yours.

You called out again, practically sobbing in relief when a faint answering cry came back somewhere to the left of you. Swiveling your head in the direction of the voice, you saw the familiar visage of your cousin jogging down the beach, looking no less worse for wear than the two of you were.

"You two certainly made it a good distance upstream. Been hollering for ya back there." He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder towards the way he came. You were glad for the lightheartedness of his tone as he approached, even as he looked you up and down trying to assess the condition you were in.

Johnny stood from his spot over top of you to clasp arms with him, pulling each other into a hug with a hearty slap on the back. "Fer a moment there ah thought ye might've made friends wit' a bullet."

"Went looking for you two, found a trail of dead bodies instead. Might've been one of them if not for those scrappy Americans tearing up the place like a dance hall."

He swung something he'd been carrying off his back, depositing it at Johnny's feet with a soft tap of his boot. You recognized it as the worn rucksack containing all his ammo and armaments. He must've left it on deck back where you last saw him. "You'll be happy to be seeing this I'd wager. Couldn't go back for mine on account of the whole everything was on fire situation."

Johnny barked out a laugh of delight, kneeling down to start rucking through it while Kyle sidestepped around him to kneel down next to you. Carefree expression turned worrying as he took in your trembling form, caught off guard at the way you managed to throw yourself into his arms. His embrace was a balm to your soul, hold tightening around you as if he needed this almost as much as you did. Placing a firm kiss to your temple, you felt like you could finally breathe for the first time since this night started.

"Let's not do that again, shall we?" There was a bit of forced laughter in your words in an attempt to not appear as fucked up as you felt, voice partially muffled from where your face stayed buried in his shoulder.

"I'll keep that in mind for our next adventure." He pulled back for a moment to give your face a proper inspection, searching for any sign of hidden damage. "Not hurt are you, dolly? Had me worried when I couldn't find you onboard."

You shook your head before closing your eyes, resting your weight against him again. "Johnny found me in my chambers once the fighting broke out. Saved my life more than once tonight."

From your vantage point, you missed the look Kyle gave him in response, a firm understanding passing between the two that needed no words. They both were pulled out of it by the quiet brokenness of your own.

"It's gone... all of it. Our belongings, the equipment. My clothes." Just because you were in a desert didn't mean things stayed warm after the sun went down. A light breeze wafted the air, sending goosebumps down your still dripping wet form, very aware of how thin this nightgown was as you crossed your arms over your chest in an effort to maintain some modesty.

"Ye jus' leave that part tae us, lass. Dunnae worry a hair on yer pretty wee head."

"Hey MacTavish! " Your conversation was interrupted by a far off unknown voice with a thick American southern accent, turning your head to peer through the darkness and locating a figure standing apart from the others where everyone was gathered on the opposite bank of the Nile. Johnny stood up from his position hunched over his pack, walking towards the water's edge at his summons.

"MacTavish! It looks to me like I've got all the horses!" It was hard to tell from this distance, but he had his arms spread wide with what you knew by his tone had to be some sort of smug shit eating grin on his face. Real mature, gloating at a time like this.

You felt an inkling better once your Scottish companion opened his mouth and belted back with a similar smirk. "Hey Graves! Looks tae me like yer on the wrong side o' the river!"

There was a pause as the words were processed. You couldn't be sure, but you swore you heard a faint curse as the man kicked the water, turning on his heel to clomp back to his fellows while barking out orders too muffled to be understood.

As Johnny rejoined the group, the three of you mentally took stock of the situation and everything that was now lost at the bottom of the Nile. At least you'd ended up on the western bank and didn't have to deal with the headache of crossing again. But you still had a long journey to go.

"So what happens now?" You spoke up from your spot still within your cousin's hold, glancing between them with such uncertainty and hoping for some reassurance. "Where do we go from here? The next port is at least twenty miles away and I can't cross the Sahara looking like this."

"We'll stay here for a bit longer while you get your strength back, maybe camp here for the night. Then we'll head south along the river where we will hopefully stumble across a caravan and get our missing supplies sorted out." Kyle's words were helpful and gave you some confidence that there was enough experience between the two of them to get you out of this debacle in one piece.

You could only trust that whatever bit of bad luck you just endured was the worst of what this expedition would bring.

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godihatethiswebsite · 14 days

Text

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

✽ Part 5 - Preparations and impressive second impressions

Since I've accepted this train isn't apparently stopping, I promise at some point this week I'll try to learn how to format things so everything looks better~

Kyle attempted to pry the specifics of what happened in the prison from you on your way back to the estate, badgering you incessantly until you waved him off with the excuse that you needed a chance to sit down for a minute with a hot cup of tea and just breathe. Today had been filled with far more excitement for you than normal and you needed a break from it all to decompress after committing an act of thievery and lying through your teeth to break a man out of jail.

You slipped inside your father's old study upon your return and remained there for some minutes, scrawling out words only to crumple them up in frustration when they wouldn't come out right. Eventually you were satisfied with your task, handing off a few marked envelopes once finished to a passing servant to have them sent out through the post. With any luck the contents inside would assure that you wouldn't eventually end up in the same place you'd just come from for your deception.

Surprisingly Kyle did not bother you for the rest of the day, having parted ways at the bottom of the stairs to 'begin preparations' for this wild endeavor. You also suspected by how quickly he skittered away from you that part of it had something to do with the fact that it was a convenient way for your cousin to avoid bodily harm for failing to mention not only knowing the man you'd just met but also the explicit details of his 'extenuating circumstances' as well. He knew you most likely wouldn't have agreed to it just based off the latter, but after all was said and done it at least gave you some slight comfort to know the ruffian in question wasn't a complete unknown.

That being said, you weren't quite ready to acknowledge the idea that part of you was bitter at the fact Kyle hadn't felt like he could be honest with you either.

It took your cousin a few days to get everything in place for your departure, certain arrangements needing to be made regarding the procurement of supplies, travel tickets, and the handling of affairs here while you were gone. It hadn't really occurred to you just how much needed to be arranged for a plan like this - though to be fair this wasn't exactly your idea in the first place. You may have been the one to bring the artifact up in casual conversation, but he was the one dragging you along as always on this little adventure. Let him fuss over the details. Your area of expertise was within the city itself.

You also knew he would never say anything to you outloud, but you'd be surprised if he hadn't also left instructions for what to do should the worst happen and neither one of you returned. You might have lived a comfortably sheltered life up until this point, but that didn't mean you were naive enough to not realize the foolish dangers you were putting yourselves in either.

Kyle was a decorated war veteran and a man you could implicitly trust with your protection, his comrade just as fearsome if the stories weren't grossly overembellished. That didn't mean the three of you were invincible...

Still, what were the odds that the one person who could lead you to the lost City of the Dead just so happened to be him?

There were a handful of men that your cousin talked about often in years past, but MacTavish's name had come up in conversation far more frequently than the rest. Sure it was obvious that the two of them induced troublemaking tendencies within each other, but it wasn't all mischief and hijinks that he spoke of. There was an honest account of bravery in Kyle's recollections. For as uncouth as he made the man out to be at times, you couldn't deny having previously felt a sense of comfort when letters arrived home from distant battlefields of hard fought victories with John at his side. You'd trusted him enough to to look after your cousin back then.

But how well did Kyle really know this man now? It had been some years since the two of them would've served together, an awful long time for a person to change. How did he know that John was going to be the same soldier that once pushed him out of the way of enemy fire and took a bullet in the side meant for your cousin's heart? He obviously wasn't employed in his His Majesty's service anymore. Did he leave with a medal on his chest or was he dishonorably discharged? His previous incarceration suggested towards the latter, certainly not doing him any favors to earn your confidence in any case.

You were putting an awful lot of faith in this man. Let's just hope by the end of this that you wouldn't be proven wrong.

The servants helped you gather up your belongings the morning of your departure while your lady's maid got you situated, meeting your cousin at the car with a look that said he wasn't quite out of the dog house yet but that there were more pressing thoughts on your mind.

There was a nervous excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach; you'd never done anything like this before. All travels with your family in the past tended to only go between Cairo and London and only for special occasions. This would be the first place you've gone to that was wholly and completely unfamiliar. Uncharted territory in every sense of the word.

The pier was crowded but not overly so, full of bustling tourists and merchants hauling in their wares. You stuck close to Kyle, your arm looped through his as he guided you down the docks towards the boat he chartered for you upriver. You'd kept your eye out for your third companion, the pessimist in you doubting he would even show. Why risk his life on a foolhardy endeavor when he'd just been granted his freedom?

"You trust my judgement so little you think I'd employ a man to help us who I thought wasn't up to it?" Kyle grinned down at you, amusement clear in his tone as he guided you out of the way of a fisherman passing by.

"Well I don't know." You replied in gentle exasperation, sidestepping a shipment of barrels smelling pungently of oil. "You obviously have more experience with him than I do, but I'm just saying: have you even minutely considered the possibility that we're about to board a vessel headed to a place neither of us knows the destination of and the one man who does isn't on it?"

"Relax, dolly. MacTavish is good for his word. No need to go getting hysterical on me now."

How could he be so at ease about this when you're just trying not to jump out of your skin in anxiousness?

"I hardly think expressing concern for the well-being of our expedition warrants the term hysterical. Or have you forgotten the part where your blessed happy reunion took place with one of you two wearing shackles? He's a criminal, Kyle."

The look your cousin gave you at the implication was one of mild disappointment at your faithlessness. "He's no crook, dolly. And frankly you best be getting past that part if we're to spend the next few days with him. Can't go on this voyage without him whether you object to the man or not."

You resisted the urge to pout at the reminder in his words that you did in fact need John for this entire undertaking. It still wasn't fair how Kyle could make you feel like a petulant child even if you thought you were being perfectly reasonable. Didn't mean you weren't going to grumble about it though.

"Can he at least stay in the cargo hold with the horses? Would certainly fit right in with them considering his lack of personal hygiene and barbaric nature."

"Ye wouldnae happen ta be talkin' 'bout me there, would ya lass?"

A surprised squeak left your mouth at the sudden interruption of a voice chiming in behind you, spinning on your heel and almost losing your balance if not for a steadying hand belonging to your cousin on your shoulder. Your face burned from being caught off guard so gracelessly, raising your eyes to view the owner of such a familiar accent and–

Oh.

Oh my.

This was not the same man you met not two days past. This man was... was....

Good lord.

Gone was the ruffian you first spotted behind the bars of the prison courtyard. The sweat and grime had been washed away to reveal fresh tanned skin dressed in fitted khaki; the subtle spice of cologne a welcome change to your senses that had the peculiar effect of blanketing the edges of your mind with a thin layer of warm fuzzy haze. His once fluffy beard was shaved down to a dark layer of stubble showcasing an attractive jawline and expectant smirk.

His hair... you could safely say in all your years you'd never seen a man with hair shorn on the sides leaving a thick stripe down the middle. You hadn't spent much time back in the UK, but perhaps it was a style more common the further you went up north?

And why on god's green earth did such a style have to look so unusually pleasing on him? Bizarre to be sure, but oddly appropriate.

If it wasn't for the familiar sparkle in those vibrant ocean blue eyes of his you'd have been sure you were looking at a different man entirely. This was the MacTavish your cousin spoke so reverently of in days of yore?

"Dolly here was just saying she thinks you'd fit in better company with the livestock rather than up on deck with the rest of polite society."

If you had the ability to speak you would have admonished your cousin for throwing you under the carriage like that. Alas your brain was still trying to comprehend the vision in front of you so at odds with your previous perceptions.

"Was she now?" The sleeves of his jacket strained against his arms as he crossed them over his chest, raising his eyebrows in a manner that suggested interest rather than insult. "Ye think me a brute there, hen?"

Your clever mind could not devise a way to talk itself out of this scenario, having the decency to at least look embarrassed at being caught while averting your gaze to one of the buttons on his white dress shirt instead.

"I apologize for my discourteous assessment of you, Mr. MacTavish. You did not exactly garner the best of first impressions."

"Hmmm. Ah might be a bit of an animal, lass, but one who's been well trained at least."

His gaze flicked down below your waist, shaking his head at what he discovered.

"Garrick, mate. Lettin' a lady carry 'er own bags?" He clicked his tongue in playful chastisement, reaching down to relieve you of the heavy burden with his own rucksack tossed over his shoulder, warm calloused fingers brushing against yours as he transferred your luggage to his hold instead. You refused to acknowledge the way your heart flutters at the gesture.

You stand there in mild shock as John skirts past you and climbs the ramp leading up to the vessel, flashing his ticket at one of the crew members onboard before disappearing inside with a confident swagger.

Kyle delights in your stunned silence, leaning down into your space to gloat over your being caught so impossibly off guard. "Positively barbarous, isn't he dolly?"

The accompanying thwack on his chest and subsequent grunt of pain relieve some of the pent up tension you have as you follow along after your third companion, adding an unexpected variable to what should have been for all intents and purposes a relaxing boat ride up the Nile. The hard part would come once you reached the desired port and began the true struggle through the desert. For now, you just had to survive being in present company for a few days until you could turn your focus on the real challenge and prove yourself useful.

So why did you feel like you were in even more trouble now than when you began?

[Edited 5/8/24: changed formatting, title, tags, and numbering system]

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