Kiss Me, Mummy (10/12)
Title: Kiss Me, Mummy
Author:
hopelesswreck
Prompt: The Mummy
Character/Pairing(s): Jack, Ianto, Owen, Tosh, John Hart, Gwen Cooper; Jack/Ianto, slight Owen/Tosh
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Slight swearing, mild violence
Spoilers: TW- to mid-season 2, before Something Borrowed
Word Count: 49,600
Disclaimer: The Mummy is property of Universal Pictures. Torchwood is property of BBC.
Summary: An adventure involving time travel, a mysterious golden key, a treasure map, and--kissing?--oh and there's a mummy in there too...somewhere. You know-- Torchwood.
Beta: XCandypopX
Author's Notes: Written for
reel_torchwood . Most dialogue taken from the film The Mummy (1999) but with a Torchwood flare. Most likely a bit of a crack fic so enter with an open mind-
Chapter 10
The Royal Air corps was only about five miles out from Fort Stack, but Owen's beat up car still barely made it. In the middle on the rickety runway, with no foreseeable control tower, was one lone plane that stood like an ancient relic, much like its owner. Winston Havlock, the lush from the tavern.
"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Owen whispered as they neared the man, sat under a giant umbrella with a bottle of opened bourbon beside him.
"Desperate times, Owen." Really desperate.
It looked like a flying deathtrap if ever Jack saw one.
They stood, he, Owen and Tosh all but begging the giant mustached man to take them to Hamanaptra.
Havlock was frowning in thought-face overly flushed and bright, "So what's your little problem got to do with His Majesty's Royal Air Corp?"
Gunnysack in hand, Jack said, 'The creature we're chasing killed two men at Fort Stack yesterday."
Two bushy eyebrows rose, "Two men you say? And he's taken this young man, this Mr. Jones, with him as well?"
Jack nodded.
"By Jove man, that's kidnapping."
Owen closed his eyes; how had it come to this, their destiny in the hands of a booze-drenched, over aged British fly boy? Basically, it was like him-minus the over aged part-flying the plane. They really were doomed.
"Tell me," Havlock said. "Would you call this mission, dangerous?"
"We'll be lucky to live through it," Jack said.
Havlock beamed at his answer, "By Jove, do you really think so?"
Owen shrugged, "Everybody else we've bumped into has died, why not you?"
"So what's the challenge then?" Havlock asked.
Jack shrugged, "Just your average rescue, kill the bad guy and steal his treasure. Interested?"
Havlock straighten and gave a slightly sloppy salute, "Winston Havlock, at you service. Now which one of you gents, or lady, is coming with me?"
"All of us-"
Havlock shook his head, "Only one vacant seat, I'm afraid."
But that wouldn't do. Jack shook his head, he wasn't splitting the rest of his team, not now, "Sorry chum, but we need everyone-"
Havlock tutted, "Then you'll need a bigger plane, I'm afraid."
"We can share," Owen said indicating himself and Tosh. "We're both small."
Jack stared at him, "And where does that leave me exactly?"
Owen grinned, "There's always the wings, old boy."
***
Ianto Jones fell from the whirlwind of sand, picking himself up slowly, or trying to, before another body came crashing through, dropping on top of him. The second, shorter man landed with a thud, crushing Ianto's ribs and sending the two men rolling in the sand.
They finally landed at the end of the hill of sand, Ianto on top, staring in the light and amused eyes of John Hart. The scene was familiar (minus one flying dinosaur and talk of suits and coats), but not in a way Ianto wanted to remember with this man, who was most definitely not Jack Harkness.
"You!"
John sneered, "Me! Good to have you back, eye candy.”
“You did this,” Ianto accused angrily. “All of it. You brought us here.” To Egypt, to a time they didn’t belong, and worse he’d made a bloody mess while doing it.
John eyed him, “You really want to play the blame game, Mr. Egyptologist. I’m not the one who raised the three thousand year old walking, talking corpse.”
Ianto glared, lips pursed. “No, but you are the reason we’re here in the first place. Just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, could you?”
“Never could I’m afraid.” John wiggled underneath him, “So tell me, is that a gun in those trousers, or are you just happy to see me?"
"Piss off," Ianto snapped. He looked around, mind still whirling from the actual whirlwind and the bringing back of his true self. "So what's going on then?" It was all a bit fuzzy.
"You're on top bright eyes, you tell me."
Ianto gave a disgusted sigh and removed himself from atop John, dusting sand off his shirt and trousers.
John sighed at his actions, “Well to make a long story short, you've just acquired yourself a new boyfriend, and let's just say he puts the term cradle robber to shame."
"How did we get here?" Ianto pointed at the sand beneath them, "I remember sand and then-"
John dug some pebbles from his ear, "It's his transporting method. He likes to use sand, don't ask me why."
"You mean like that?" Ianto pointed.
A little ways off, the swirling particles of dust seemed to be condensing, forming, fashioning something in the sand. Ianto watched as the sand seemed to transform, textures shifting and changing until the regal form known as Imhotep, formerly the rotted corpse of a mummy, stepped forth.
"Bugger." He was kind of hoping this was all just a bad dream, that he'd wake up in Jack's arms and they would laugh this off together.
Unfortunately, the man before him was very real and as he walked towards him, Ianto couldn't stop staring at his cold, hard eyes and muscular frame. Then his eyes shifted, the scenery it was all a
bit-familiar.
"Oh god, we're back."
Hamanaptra, the city of the dead, they were back.
"Apparently, Prince Charming has plans for you."
Ianto turned to John, "What kind of plans?"
"I don't want to ruin the surprise, but I do hope you're not squeamish," John smirked.
Ianto's eyes widened, "What?"
Then a biplane swooped in overhead, its engine sounding its presence loudly in the air.
"Jack-" Ianto's eyes lit up. "That has to be Jack."
John shaded his eyes against the sun, "He really doesn't know when to give up, does he?"
"He's not a coward, like some people I can think of," Ianto said.
John snorted, "You really have no idea about the real Jack, do you?"
"Are you sure it's not you who doesn't know him?" Ianto countered.
"Trust me eye candy, I could tell you stories about your precious Jack that would keep you up for days."
The plane came closer and Ianto could see the anger darkening the mummy's face. He scowled at the sky and once again unhinged his jaw, emitting a hideous screech and battle cry that seemed to cause the sand to awake at his command. A sheet of sand rose from the dessert, right in the path of the biplane.
"Stop it!" Ianto shouted at him. "You'll kill them."
Imhotep grabbed him and Ianto froze as he stared up into those intensely hard eyes, beautiful, but deadly. Then he kissed Ianto, hard. This time there was no slime, just two firm lips that invaded Ianto's own, forcefully. Then he laughed as Ianto pulled away, disgusted.
"I think that's the point," John mumbled.
In the biplane, Jack had just noticed the desert virtually coming to life, looking to attack them. He held on for dear life, though he knew he’d come back, he didn't exactly want to see how long or hard it would be to regenerate if he fell to the ground below (or into the damn propeller for that matter). Havlock threw the throttle back, "Hold on men!"
The sandstorm chased the diving, twisting biplane, getting closer and closer, ready to engulf it. Jack looked back into the blinding sand, noticing the sand was forming a shape in the sandstorm. A face. It was a damn face, and it was grinning at them. The giant face began to laugh, its jaw unhinging, mouth widening to swallow the small plane.
Winston blindly fought for control, elated, "We're going down."
Perhaps choosing a drunk, suicidal pilot hadn't been one of Jack's better ideas.
Down below, Ianto paced, watching the scene, yet unable to do anything. The plane was going to crash! Imhotep was locked in concentration, arms outstretched to the sky and Ianto could think of only one way to break his concentration.
He strode up to the handsome mummy, grabbed him by the arms and pulled him to him. Ianto licked his lips, hooding his eyes in what he hoped was an alluring way and kissed the taller man full on the lips. The man drew away at first, then he gazed into Ianto's eyes and his surprise turned to lust as he kissed Ianto, deeply, hungrily.
John flicked an eyebrow in surprise.
Unaware that the interruption had dropped his wall of sand, the mummy deepened his kissing as the biplane emerged into a clear sky, still spinning, yet still managing to drop into the valley of Hamanaptra. Safe from anymore sand the mummy could throw at it.
Ianto pulled away with a smug smirk as he watched the plane make it safely inside the city. Imhotep's face turned from confusion to full on rage as Ianto did nothing to hide his triumph at having been a distraction. "Serves you right." he told the man with a sneer. The backhand he received was fierce and hurt like hell, but Ianto was expecting it and only smiled at the man's growing anger.
Then the man rose up and grabbed Ianto fiercely by the arm, muttering to himself in a language Ianto no longer understood. As he pulled him along, nearly yanking Ianto's arm from its socket, the words got shorter and angrier and Ianto was almost glad he didn't know what the man was saying.
The plane landed belly side up, a little worse for wear but still in one piece. Jack wasn’t sure when or how he awoke, but judging from the look of shock on Owen’s face when he did, and the rushing feeling of oxygen escaping his lungs, he must have bitten the bullet along the way.
Again.
Owen’s eyes bugged, “But you were,” he pointed and fumbled. “I could have bloody sworn you were-” He looked around as if searching for something, his sanity perhaps, “-you were dead.”
Jack smiled weakly, “Seems I got better.”
Owen remained alarmed. “You had no pulse, I bloody checked. I thought for sure you were-”
“Yeah well, you’re not a doctor are you?” Jack asked with the greatest hint of irony. He rose to his feet, dusting himself off.
Owen slowly shook his head, “No but-”
Jack grabbed his shoulder, “I’m fine Owen,” he assured with his most charming smile, “must have just
really hit my head. Where’s Tosh?”
The woman appeared, took one glance at Jack, and tightened her lips, “I thought you said he was dead?” she asked Owen mildly.
“I did-he was!” Owen shouted and threw up his hands to Tosh's brow of disbelief. “Sod it all, I don’t know anymore!”
Jack almost felt sorry for him, “How’s the Captain?” he asked Tosh, changing the subject.
Tosh’s face was somber. Jack joined her by the smoking cockpit and could see the mustached man's neck had snapped on impact. With a huge smile on his face the man had clearly gone out in a way of his preferred choosing.
"Poor sod," Owen lamented. "Crazy as a loon, but alright in the end."
The sand beneath the plane began to shift inward like a vortex and the vessel started to sink into the ground.
"Quicksand," Tosh warned them.
The team of three ran from the site, watching as the plane was slowly swallowed into the earth below.
Jack threw the plane and its eccentric captain a salute and nodded the other two on towards the ruins that lay sprawled out before them. Time for round three of this damned place, he thought. And time to get back Mr. Jones, Ianto Jones.
***
It was as if they'd left the site hours ago not days. The rope still dangled into the crevice near the open shrine by Anubis. Jack knew the mummy had beaten them here, that the handsome, but crazed man was already underground, preparing to raise his dead lover at the expense of Ianto Jones' life.
They dropped back into the embalming chamber and Jack clapped his hands while speaking to his team,
"Okay, now what the hell does this Horus guy look like?"
Owen motioned two fingers atop his head, "He's a big fellow with pointy ears and a face like a falcon."
Jack nodded, "Got it," he stopped at a sudden thought. "Can either of you read from the book once we find it? Ianto may not be in any condition to." Or more likely the man wouldn't be able to, not anymore.
"I've had some training," Owen said stiffly.
"Is that a yes or a no, Owen?"
"I can definitely-possibly-read it."
Jack winced, Ianto's fate was resting on a wishy-washy Owen's translating abilities, not exactly comforting, but what other option did they have?
They made their way through the chamber, eventually reaching a narrow, winding staircase, heading right into the dark depths of the city. The stairway looked to be reaching right into the bowels of hell itself.
They finally reached the bottom, moving across the sandy-covered floor. Falcon head, Jack told himself, they needed a statute with a falcon head-the twin to Anubis. Unfortunately, they reached a dead end, a passageway which had caved in on itself.
Jack just knew, despite the rubble blocking them, they needed to get through it. "We need to clear this," He said to the other two. They did, slowly but surely and with each second that passed Jack became more and more worried, they were taking too much time. Ianto could already be-
No.
Upon clearing the blocked path something on the wall caught Owen's attention. A grouping of glittering purple gems arranged in the shape of a scarab. The shimmering jewels looked prime for the picking and Owen, not knowing, or rather not thinking, plucked one in between his thumb and forefinger and dropped it onto his open palm. He moved it to and fro, watching as the gem sparkled, memorized, "I say, take a look at this-it's quite..."
And then the scarab stone broke open of its own accord and suddenly a real beetle was wriggling from the quartz cocoon.
Owen yelped, trying to toss the disgusting insect away, but the vicious thing had already begun to burrow into and under his flesh.
"Dear god, get it out!" Owen screamed, dancing in pain.
Whirling around, Jack's eyes widened, "The hell?"
Tosh raced into action, grabbing her blade and ordering Jack, "Hold him."
Reaching behind, Jack grasped Owens waist, holding him in place.
Tosh ripped the sleeve of Owen's shirt, where they could all see something was burrowing up the poor man's arm. They could see it, running right under the skin-a bubble of moving flesh.
"Get it out-get it fucking out!" Owen shouted hysterically.
If he hadn't been hysterical with pain, Owen might have screeched at Tosh's blade as it sliced through, cutting the flesh and stopping the beetles' progress. Digging in with the tip, Tosh flicked the insect onto the sandy floor, covered in Owen's blood.
The black bug wasn't finished though and it scurried its way back towards Owen, intent to finish its job.
This time it was Jack's turn for action as he grabbed his Webley and blew the nasty little bastard to what looked like a big blob of jelly.
Owen's eyes bugged and he looked unusually pale, "Cheers," he said to them both, seemingly ready to faint at any second.
Jack snickered, but it seemed completely out of place. Fainting at the sight of blood, Owen would have had kittens if he could see himself now.
Tosh used the discarded sleeve to stanch the bleeding. Her voice was low and surprisingly soothing, "It's not bad, just superficial. You'll be fine."
Owen gave a weak smile, "You're a top notch gal Tosh, you know that?"
Tosh returned the smile, "Fool," she said fondly.
"Do us all a favor," Jack said. "From now on don't touch anything unless I tell you too, kapesh?"
Owen nodded, a bit sheepishly, and they continued on their way. No doubt this was only the beginning of more horrors to come.
***
John Hart was in the back of the three man procession, Imhotep leading the way and eye candy sandwiched in the middle. They were already deep in the catacombs heading for the necropolis, where three thousand years ago Imhotep and his lover had both died.
Romantic to some, but John had been there, heard that, and written the bloody book.
Imhotep's black robe flowed before him and Ianto was surprisingly not as frightened as he probably should have been. All he had to do was keep Imhotep interested in him long enough to stall, until Jack and the others came to find him. The one unfortunate side of this was they could no longer communicate as Ianto didn't know ancient Egyptian anymore and he had no clue what the mummy was saying.
Ahead of him, Imhotep held his torch aloft, the massive hinged book of the Dead under one arm. They approached a stone slab that served as a bridge over a moat of black liquid that reminded Ianto of oil.
John knocked his revolver once again into Ianto's back and the taller man looked back at him with disdain, "You know Jack is never going to forgive you for this."
John shrugged, "He might be mad, but trust me, he'll get over it. He always does."
A flicker of uncertainty flashed over Ianto's face and he looked forward again, "You won't get away with this."
"Au contraire, I believe you're the one who won't be getting away from this."
The small group reached a deep, cave like chamber with a smooth, stone floor. The room tinted orange as Imhotep glided around, lighting the torches attached to the walls. While the room had a somewhat majestic feel to it, Ianto couldn't help noticing the imposing looking stone slab in the middle of the room.
He would call it some kind of ancient work table, but something told him it had a much darker purpose than that. It was decorated quite beautifully, in a morbid sort of way, with winged scarabs, cobras' heads and rams' horns.
Despite its dark beauty, the slab was not a reassuring sight in the least.
A gunshot echoed into the room and Ianto's heart beat with renewed faith. Jack, it had to be him, Tosh and Owen too. They were somewhere nearby, they had to be.
Imhotep scowled at the sound. Face twisted with rage, he reached into a jar atop the slab in the middle of the room and pulled out the decayed remain of a human heart. He gazed upon it reverently, before he
crushed the organ, grinding it to powder.
"Harsh," John noted.
Imhotep strode to a wall in the chamber, reading an ancient incantation from the Book of the Dead. Then he blew on his hand, scattering the dust upon the wall-
-upon contact, things began to squirm, coming alive.
From behind the crumbling walls came two living mummies, exactly like something out of a horror movie. They stumbled toward the ex-high priest and bowed.
Imhotep pointed at them and shouted something in Egyptian and the horrible creatures marched purposefully away.
Jack, Owen and Tosh, he'd sent those two horrors upon them, Ianto was sure of it.
Satisfied, Imhotep swept to the slab and reached inside his robe. He retrieved, as if by magic, one jar after another and set them gingerly atop the stone surface. As he arranged them in a row, his dialect changed from Egyptian to what Ianto swore was Hebrew.
He turned to John, because there was no one else he could really communicate with, "What is he doing?"
John shrugged casually, looking at his nails in disinterest, "Preparing, I suppose."
"Preparing?" Ianto swallowed against a boulder sized lump. "Preparing for what?"
"Well I guess the cat’s out of the bag," John said. "You see eye candy, Imhotep here wants more than just your heart."
Ianto watched as Imhotep began to rearrange the jars, chanting softly to himself. His stomach was suddenly filled with thousands of sharp knives as John continued.
"In fact, he'd quite like to see the rest of you too. For instance; your brain, your liver, your kidneys-damn, what's the last one-"
"Intestines," Ianto offered weakly.
John's eyes lit, "You have been paying attention. Bravo."
Suddenly it hit the Welshman, exactly what the cold looking slab actually was. An altar. He was going to be sacrificed!
"That's it?" Ianto looked at the mummy with contempt, "You only want me for my bloody organs?"
Imhotep moved toward him, looking him up and down as he did. A leer in his toothy smile. Ianto didn't expect the blow this time. It was savage and brutal and he felt the ring in his ears even as the darkness came upon him. He didn't hear or see himself being picked up and moved, nor did he hear two more gunshots go off.
***
Chapter 11