To Breathe or Not to Breathe (Night at the Museum fanfiction)

Chapter Seven: "Speak At My Funeral?"

"Some help you are." I muttered to Ahk, flopping down next to him on the bench. This was my fifth night without Larry, and I was finding it extremely difficult to cope with everything.

He grinned, looking the picture of relaxation with his legs crossed and arms folded loosely. "I think it's fun to watch you try to do everything at once and then get frustrated and shout something cute like, 'son of a nemo'."

I glared. "Nemo is actually no one in Latin, so you're not allowed to tell me it doesn't make sense. It does."

"Whatever you say." Ahk replied with an exaggerated incline of his head that was almost a bow.

I jumped up and stopped Dexter from pulling the fire alarm lever... again. He had figured out how to use it just fifteen minutes ago, and my ears were still ringing from the shrill sound of the fire alarm ringing. The exhibits hadn't liked it all that much either, and I'd been frantically trying to calm everyone down ever since.

I groaned and sat down again. "I swear, this museum is going to be the death of me."

Ahk only looked at me, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

I shot him a pleading look. "Speak at my funeral?"

A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he pretended to be intrigued. "Will it be at night?"

I sighed. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. I'll try to arrange it after sundown and before sunrise. Maybe in this very museum. Just don't let Dexter jump on the casket."

At the mention of his name, Dexter shrieked and bit my fingers. I let go, yelping and dropping him on the ground. "You little demon!"

He bared his teeth at me, then reached for the fire alarm lever. Too late, I tried to catch him.

He pulled it.

Screeee, screee, screeee!!!!! Came the piercing, high-pitched wailing that I was certain had already sufficiently decreased my hearing abilities. Maybe I'd be deaf before the night was over. Then Ahk would be sorry he hadn't helped me....

My hand felt wet. I glanced down and saw red. My fingers were bleeding from puncture marks where Dexter had bitten me. "Ohhh." I groaned, collapsing back onto the bench in a theatrical manner. "I'm bleeding. I'll probably get rabies and die, and then you really will have to speak at my funeral."

Ahk finally got up. "Don't be too dramatic." he warned. "You're milking things for all they're worth."

"Ugh." I grunted. "Kill me now. I can't do this anymore." The loud wailing of the alarm cut into my ears and made my head throb.

Ahk took my hand, examining the puncture wounds. "First things first. Let's do something about that hand."

"No." I replied immediately. "The alarm first."

"Which is more important?" Ahk asked patiently, tugging me gently to my feet. "You, or the fire alarm?" It wasn't a real question, but I answered it anyway.

"The fire alarm." I mumbled.

"Wrong." Ahk tsked and shook his head. "Sounds like we need to help you get your priorities straight."

I pulled away. "Just... I can take care of it. You do the other stuff."

"Nope." He shook his head. "Come with me."

With that, he grabbed my hand again and pulled me with him out of the main room, through the hall, and up the staircase. I protested weakly, but honestly, I was too mentally and physically tired to really care.