sacajawea and ahkmenrah would so be besties. you cannot change my mind.
okay, imagine. you've been stuck behind a glass wall for 54 years, with the two same dudes for company for years. the people outside can't hear you, you can't hear them. you pace around, you wait, you watch. you have some idea of what'd going on, stilted difficult conversations with friendly exhibits allow you this much. there is a tablet? that allows you and this entire museum to come to life? and now, it has been stolen, and the new night guard shatters the glass wall.
life outside those walls was jarring. you didn't expect it to be but it was. years and years of watching did little to prepare you for the noise. you get caught up in it, the blur of movement all around, the welcome cacophony of chaos. you drink it in.
the night passes in a blink of an eye. you help the night guard track down the thieves, the man who you often catch watching you saves your life and you meld him together, they catch the thieves, you got to know teddy, a ridiculous man- silly and kind, and the night is over.
a day or two later, you wander down the halls of the museum. drinking in the sights you never got to see for years, meeting people from all over the world, listening to them talk. you make your way down a random corridor and then you meet the boy.
he is a king, proclaimed so by the crown heavy on his head. but truly, to her, he is no more than a boy. ahkmenrah, you remember, owner of the tablet. you owes him for your life you think, for is it not his tablet that gives it to you every night? he doesn't look like much of a king right now. head bowed, hands clasped over his knees drawn to his chest, seated on the floor outside his exhibit.
you found out about him from teddy. what had happened to him, what role teddy himself had played. and you see the guilt raging across his face, and you slip a little further into this thing you dare call love. ahkmenrah, had been trapped, not unlike yourself, yet so very different. trapped away in his coffin, his sarcophagus. kept their for years on end, no room to move, to stretch, barely enough to breathe. apparently, he kept screaming. screaming to be let out, for hours every night until it became background noise. you can't imagine it. tears well in your eyes. 54 years stuck in the dark, stuck with himself. at least you got lewis and clark. at least you got light and attempted companionship. he got harsh words and orders for silence.
so when you find him outside his exhibit, a picture of pity, though you suppose he would not like to be called so, you move towards him. you feel a sense of kinship with him. you want to tell him, "yes, i too was kept trapped. i know what it is like. perhaps not exactly, but i "know"
instead, you tap his shoulder. he looks up and you are struck by how young he is. you smile, and he hesitantly smiles back. a quick introduction, an offer to roam around together, and before you knew it, a tentative friendship that soon grew to more.
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