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When she told him that there would be rules in their relationship, Rick was prepared for the usual litany of female complaints he had heard other men discuss. Things like leaving laundry on the floor, putting up groceries, the toilet seat saga. When, after three days and two nights of married bliss, these "rules" had not been introduced, he thought that perhaps they were not needed.
"Rick, rule number one: Do not interrupt me while I am in the library."
He already hated that rule. It ruined so many things he had planned for the library. On the library stairs. Under the library tables. He had even made plans for the shelves that didn't involve knocking off the books.
"Rick, rule number two: Please clean your guns outside or in the garage."
That one was due to the gun oil spilling on some (luckily for him) present-day copies of ancient Sumerian texts she had been translating for the Museum. Yeah, any plans he made for that day were shot to hell.
"Rick, rule number three: Please stop waving the swords at the staff."
He had only nicked Percy a little. More plans went out the window. Rick was getting desperate. Not so much about the plans as he was growing even more bored than before the wedding. And that had been a near disaster.
"Evy, are there any rules that don't ruin our honeymoon?" he asked one day, staring out the window at the crowded street in Cairo. He had a surprise for her and he didn't know if she was going to let him spring it on her. Evelyn, as she had been for the last three days, was sitting at her small desk, writing notes. Aside from their nightly plans, Rick was sure this was the most unexciting honeymoon ever. She stopped her note-taking and looked at her newly acquired husband. Rick was never the most patient of men and he was closing in on his breaking point, she could tell.
"Itching for an adventure?" she asked with a saucy grin. Rick blinked, surprised she could go from studious librarian and sometime archaeologist-cum-adventurer to the little minx he was discovering he had landed by pure chance. He shook his head, trying to calm his libido and to tell her his next plan.
"Itching for this honeymoon to start," he finally responded, his voice cracking slightly. She frowned and cocked her head one side as she was sure their "honeymoon" had been a success so far. She worked, he tried to distract her, a variety of relations occurred nightly. What more could he ask for. "Evy, I need more. I'm dying here."
She finally put down her pen and gave him her full attention. He drew a breath and began to tell her his latest plan.
"Istanbul? Why ever would you want to go there?"
"I'm less likely to be shot at in a place I haven't been to," he stopped, and thought for a moment. "In a few years. Where, quite possibly, any law enforcement officials who once knew me are dead. But that's just the start." His foot slipped under her chair and he drew her closer. He smiled his most devilish smile and continued. "From there we'll hop on a train and head back to England, to make certain your brother hasn't sold your parents' house from under you. Four or five days, alone, no book, no museum, no ancient doohickeys. Just you and me and a bed." She returned his smile, but was already plotting a few stops she could make along their intended route.
Istanbul, three weeks later
"Rick, I thought you had taken care of the tickets?" Evelyn sat in the cell next to her pacing husband. Rick was angry, and an angry Rick was a dangerous Rick.
"The guy said they were paid for," he mumbled. Her head shot up at that.
"What guy?" He stopped and looked sheepishly at her.
"I won them in a poker game a few days before we left," he said, not sure how that bit of news would go over with Evelyn. She looked at him, mouth agape. He nervously laughed. At this point in his life, he was starting to wish a dark curse would come in and lead him out of this predicament he found himself in. Never mind that all future plans he had been making were probably shot.
"I don't think I want to talk to you," she finally said, turning her back to him.
Yeah, this was a great idea, he chastised himself.
Bucharest, three days later
Rick was sure he had never retched as much as he had on the way to Bucharest. The seas were turbulent, the atmosphere in the room was chilly, and he was pretty sure the meals were laced with arsenic. The fact that no one else was sick convinced him the cook hadn't enjoyed their witty banter as much as he had let on.
But they had arrived here in one piece, more or less. Then, something else happened. Evy disappeared.
He had gone to every official he could find in fifteen minutes, but all said the same thing. No one had seen a librarian being kidnapped, gagged or even tousled up. He was at a loss.
"Rick!" he heard and turned in the general direction. There was his bride, grinning from ear to ear, carrying a stack of books. She'd left him for books. He glared at her from across the station. She stopped in front of him, grinning brightly and started babbling about a book dealer not far from the station with whom she had being carrying on a conversation about various Sumerian texts. She had decided to stop and pick them up, saving the man the chore of bundling them up and shipping them to her.
Rick was sure he was going to strangle her.
Budapest, the next day
The Hungarian police were waiting for their train when they arrived. They questioned Rick for several hours about his array of weapons he had brought with him on the trip.
Evelyn didn't talk to him for several hours after he was returned to the train. His guns stayed in Hungary.
Vienna, the day after that
Evelyn disappeared as soon as the train stopped. She returned with a new cache of books. Rick figured tit for tat.
After he got her to promise not to break open any of the new books for at least 48 hours once they arrived in London, they resumed the well thought-out plans he had made for their journey.
Paris, 36 hours later
They arrived in Paris, worn around the edges but relieved to be so close to England. Evelyn promised that she had no book contacts in Paris, and Rick promised he wasn't wanted by the police. So when they found themselves surrounded by French officers four hours after arriving, they were more than a little surprised.
"Rick O'Connell, we have been instructed to take you to the American consulate," the officer in charge said. The duo suddenly found themselves at the American embassy, surrounded by American and French soldiers. And a very put out American ambassador.
"Mr. O'Connell, I thought you were told never to return to France," the ambassador asked him grimly. Rick looked confused, and then understanding flooded his face.
"That was over ten years ago. I thought these guys would have forgotten it by now." Some of the French soldiers frowned and started towards Rick. The American soldiers intercepted them, and looked towards the ambassador. He shrugged.
"The French never forget a slight, Mr. O'Connell. I suggest you and your wife get on the first boat to England, tonight." As they were being escorted out the embassy, the ambassador could hear Evelyn ask loudly, "What the hell did you do to the French, Rick?"
London, sometime later
"And that's how I was recruited into the French Foreign Legion," Rick finished his tale. It wasn't one that he was particularly proud of, but it got him to Egypt, to the city of the dead, and finally in this place he loved dearly: next to his wife, in a soft bed, and not an adventure in sight. Evy stretched and smiled at him adoringly.
"You are so full of it, you know that don't you?" she asked, doing that thing with her eyebrows that drove him completely mad. He kissed her, deep and true, making them quiver in response to each other.
"And you love it, don't you?" He asked with a grin. She laughed and brought his head down again.
And neither thought of an adventure other than the one before them for a long, long, long time after that.