"Thank you for coming so quickly."

Ahmed's dark eyes grew into globes, the rest of his features taught. Besides that, his disposition remained calm. Thea moved aside, letting her co-worker in. She was a little surprised when he showed up in a suit. It was quickly forgotten, mind befuddled with her fever.

"Are you alright?"

Thea lurched forward then, pulling Ahmed into the threshold where she held him. She shook her head. "Ahmed--I've been shot."

His brow furrowed as deep as the Nile. "Shot? What do you mean? Why did you call me and not an ambulance?" 

Thea shook her head, clinging to his upper arms for stability. She was absolutely frantic. "No--in my dream. There was an assassination attempt on my friend, Lapis, with poison arrows, and I was grazed on the arm, and I don't think all the poison got out of me, and I woke up sick, and--"

Ahmed gently removed himself from her clutches. Even so, he quickly looked about them, seeing if anyone was around. Once he was sure they were alone, he gently maneuvered her into the apartment and shut the door behind them.

"Thea--that doesn't make sense," Ahmed told her gently, though his face showed something all together different.

Thea was crushed. "Ahmed--you have to believe me! Look, look here, at my arm, this scratch here--"

Ahmed glanced at her arm and pursed his lips. "I see nothing, Thea."

"Are you blind?" she snapped. "It's right here--"

"You have a flu," Ahmed said, gently leading her further into the apartment. "Lets get you into bed. Where is your room? I'll get you medicine and make you some soup." 

"No--Ahmed. My life is in danger, and so is Ankh's--"

"Thea," the man insisted, still guiding her to where her room was. "Lets get you into bed, my dear."

The next few hours were a confusing, hazy, scary blur. Thea was sure of a few things. Ahmed led her to her bed, and tucked her in tight. When she tried to get up, he forced her to stay. She was sure he had brought her a bowl of some sort of soup (which he claimed was chicken noodle, but it didn't taste like it, at all, and it was lacking noodles). Also, she knew he was putting a cold rag to her forehead repeatedly.

Then there were disturbing images. She found herself transported back in time, somehow, in a similar sick room that Lapis had been treated in. But there were no medics, just her and Ahmed. Sometimes Ahmed was dressed as he was, while other times he was dressed in the ancient Egyptian garb. This image seemed to shift and change, mercurial before Thea's eyes. 

For a long while Thea resisted Ahmeds help, but he always spoke soothingly to her. He spoke in the ancient language, reciting beautiful poems and chants of healing. All at once she realized she was looking at Aqen, the perfect visage of the statue she had seen in town with Ankh. When she realized this, she saw flashes of Ahmed, in his suit, standing at the bow of a papyrus boat. This melted into an image of him, as Aqen, standing before her. He opened his mouth, just like in her nightmare, and swallowed her whole. 

Darkness. Darkness, and Ahmed's voice in prayer:

Sister, my sister, hear my plea. I beg of you, patron of healing, averter of plague and disease, all knowing, and all kind. Please bestow your hospitality.

I am the flame that shineth in the sanctuary. I am Sekhmet. O Sekhmet, Eye of Ra, Great of Flame, Lady of protection who surrounds her creator! Come toward the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, the Master of the Double Land, the Son of Ra, the Lord of crowns, the Living Image!

Then nothing.

~

Thea slowly opened her eyes. She felt better, despite the fact she was covered in a thick layer of sweat. Her bedside lamp was on, the sky outside well into darkness. Confused, she looked the opposite way. 

Ahmed was in a chair he had brought in from the kitchen. He sat, perfectly perched, book at hand. Sitting next to him on the bed was an empty bowl of soup, a glass of water, and a bowl filled with water. Thea touched the damp rag on her forehead and sat up.

Ahmed's eyes flicked up, and the briefest flash of Aqen filled her vision. He smiled, gently shutting the book and placing it besides himself. 

"Good morning," Ahmed greeted, a twinkle in his eye. "Or should I say, good evening."

"It's--it's you." 

Ahmed looked amused. "Of course it's me. Who else would it be?"

Thea shook her head, taking off the washcloth. "You're Aqen."

Ahmed still looked amused, but slightly less so. "Excuse me?"

"You saved me."

Ahmed chuckled, uncrossing his legs and giving her a look, a solemn look Thea couldn't quite match an emotion to. "If by saving you, you mean giving you soup, water, and administering some Tylenol I found in your medicine cabinet, then yes, I saved you."

"No," Thea insisted, narrowing her eyes. "I'm sure of it. You're Aqen. I saw you on your boat--you're the one who pulled me through time."

Ahmed tisked and bent down, scooping up his book. Glaring a little, he got to his feet. "Nonsense. They were fever dreams, Thea."

"You said it yourself!" Thea snapped, getting up on her knees. Ahmed paused, half turned from her. "You believe me and my dreams! You saw how the vases changed!"

Ahmed flushed his body with hers once again. "Just because I believe that something unexplained is happening, that does not mean I am a God."

"But you are! When I saw your statue in town, I thought it looked familiar. It looked familiar because it's you, Ahmed!"

Ahmed turned his head to the side. "Nonsense."

Thea's eyes fell to the book. He had come to her apartment empty-handed. It wasn't a book she owned. In fact, it looked old. Very old. "What is that?"

Ahmed became uncomfortable. He clutched the book to his chest, wrapping his arms around it. "A book."

"I can see that, Ahmed. What book?"

He shifted on his feet. "A prayer book."

Thea cravingly reached out her arm. "Let me see it."

"Excuse you?"

"Let me see it."

He held it tighter to his chest. "It's a sacred text, passed down in my family for generations--"

"Let me see it, Ahmed!" 

"Why?"

"I think we both know why, Ahmed! Or should I say, Aqen?"

Ahmed's eyes flashed in anger, lips pursed into a thin line.

Still Thea pressed. "I bet if I went to my supervisor, a Ahmed Hassan from Egypt was never assigned to me as assistant curator. In fact, I bet if I asked around, no one except Rose and I will have even known you've been in the museum!" 

"Thea--I have been making notes in the system, my signature is on several documents--"

"Give. Me. The. Book."

For a moment, the air between them became thick with tension. Finally, the corner of Ahmed's mouth twitched into a smile. Relaxing, he held out the thick tome to her. Thea grabbed it. She opened it; while she was expecting what she discovered, it shocked her nonetheless. Shaking, she traced her fingers gingerly along the old papyrus and fading hieroglyphs.

"I am sorry for not revealing myself earlier," Ahmed spoke. "Seriously though, dearest Thea, would you have believed me had I come to you and told you I was an Egyptian God bequeathing a task to you?"  

Thea looked up and gasped. Ahmed stood before her in his true form. Around his taught frame was a shendyt made of silver thread. Silver sandals covered his feet, a crook and flail tucked into his waistband. His chest was bare, smooth, hairless and perfect. His eyes were outlined in shimmering silver, and a crown with a uraeus sat atop his hair, which was now cropped about his chin.

Thea dropped the book, her lips parting in shock. Aqen simply smiled.