Meela's Story

Mummy Fanfic by Katie Sullivan
Rated PG-13 for innuendo, mild cussing and mature themes
Disclaimer:  Meela/Anck-su-Namun, Imhotep, and all other characters besides Jeffrey are (c) Universal and are used without claim to copyright as a fan tribute.  I maketh no money from this fic.  Sueth me not.

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Chapter Two:  Where's a Good Librarian When You Need One?

It had been a full week since the incident.  Meela's fellow students treated her like a lunatic and the Curator did his best to ignore her when she brought up "that nonsense."  Still, she refused to let the matter drop.

She was ordered to stay away from the dig for health reasons--she wasn't sure if they were referring to mental or physical ones.  No matter.  Her time was better spent in the university library, devouring everything she could about the reign of Seti the First.   She was surprised to find no mention of his murder until he realized that the Med-Jai would have carefully hidden that information.  A divine ruler simply did not get killed by a concubine and a High Priest.  It was unthinkable.  Instead, she found no mention of his death at all.  Neither could she find any mention of Anck-su-Namun or Imhotep.  There were references to an Imhotep, but this one was an architect (among other things) during a much earlier dynasty.  She found nothing about herself or her Imhotep.  Apparently their names had been struck from the history books as well, cursed to eternal obscurity for their deeds.  Such a thing was horrible for the ancient Egyptian mind, and wasn't exactly desirable even to a modern one.   To be utterly forgotten, with no trace of you lasting through the ages...

Meela swore and slammed the thick, musty tome shut, startling some others studying nearby.

If her past life had been excised from history, there would be no record of her burial place.  And wherever that was, Imhotep had been very recently.  She didn't understand, unless he had been reincarnated, too...  But no, it didn't feel that way to her, and one thing recent events had taught her was to trust her gut instincts.

She put her head down on the table and sighed into her arms.  There had to be some clue or angle she was missing, but what?  Curses, she griped silently.

Wait a minute...curses!  That was it!

She flew out of her chair to the card catalog and began frantically searching.   "Egypt, Ancient...  Art...  Burial customs... Cats, and...   Chariots...  Curses!"

Minutes later, she was sitting on the floor in front of a bookshelf, poring over a dusty book on ancient Egyptian curses.

"What's the worst thing you could do?  Kill Pharaoh.  So what's the worst curse they could give you?" she mumbled to herself, aimlessly flipping pages.

She stopped, and the blood in her veins turned to ice.  The Hom-Dai.  Of course.

The Curator was wrong.  Imhotep hadn't been dead for over three thousand years.   He'd been undead.

The full implications of it all hit her like a physical blow, and she flopped back on the hard floor with a stifled moan.  Her soul mate had been essentially mummified alive, his tongue cut out, buried in a sarcophagus filled with flesh-eating scarab beetles, deprived of all protective spells and charms, then was doomed to roam as the undead forever, forced to steal life from others to regenerate and unleash plagues upon the earth.  All these horrors, because they had loved each other.

Well, okay, they had sort of murdered the Pharaoh, too, but from everything she remembered about Seti the perverted old toad deserved it.

But Imhotep...how he must have suffered!

Meela's heart swelled with love, despair and sympathy.  She clutched the volume of curses to her chest and held her breath to keep from weeping.  Somehow she would make this right.  She would find a way to rescue her beloved from his eternal torment and ensure that such misfortune never befell them again.

It was far, far easier said than done, but she vowed to herself that no matter what it took she and Imhotep would be safely together once more.

 

Meela stood before the Curator's desk, dressed in her nicest blouse, trying her absolute best not to seem insane.  Judging by the expression on his face, it wasn't working.

"Give me one week," she said again.  "Just one week to poke around Thebes, to find something to prove this to you.  I swear if I can't find proof in one week I'll never mention it to you again."

"Meela, please.  I understand you've been unwell, but you really must abandon this fantasy and resume your studies.  You're far too bright a student to--"

"No!" she interrupted.  "It's not a fantasy!  If you'd just give me a chance--"

"Listen to me.  These sorts of things simply don't happen.  You're an intelligent young woman, Meela.  Think about it.  Do you really believe you're the reincarnated form of a three-thousand year old concubine?  Do you really think some cursed Egyptian priest is still walking around after all this time?"

"Yes," she said stubbornly.  "Do you honestly believe that everything in the world can be explained with logic?"  She captured his gaze with unwavering black eyes, her lips tight with determination.

He hesitated, sighed and stood up.  "All right.  Tomorrow is Friday.   After class you and I will get on a ship and go down to Thebes.  You'll have the weekend to look around.  If you can't show me concrete proof of your fantastic story, you'll promise never to bring this nonsense up again and return to your studies."

"And if I can prove it?" she asked, raising her chin in defiance.

The Curator gave a snake-like smile.  "I'd like to meet this three-thousand-year-old priest of yours."

She finally grinned.  "Me too..."

 

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