Indiana Jones and the Book of the Palladium
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Disclaimer: As mentioned before, Indy's not mine. Neither is his car, if he even has one. Everything else is, though - minus the Palladium - so everybody gets cookies.
A/N: Ladeeda. If you're looking for action, this chapter won't give it to you. I'm basically trying to work on emotional feelings that don't involve nausea or anything of the sort, and who better to try it on than Indy? I realize the end's quite.. unfinished, shall we say, but it'll all come in chapters yet to be typed. Thank you.
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The dim light the candle gave flickered as fingers turned yellowing pages of old books. Dust that had been settled for tens of years was now exactly the opposite, floating around the air and making one of the figures hunched over the table cough.

There were two of them, silhouettes in the old, musty room. A man and a woman, both excitedly going through decade-old books and maps, a growing pile of the ones already looked at on the floor. The small, packed room was illuminated by a single lantern, the candle of which was burning dangerously low. The shelves lining the walls were packed with yet more books, and a thin rope hanging from the ceiling indicated they were in a basement, or a room that needed to be accessed by trap door. The only sound was the rustle of papers, and the coughing of the woman; otherwise, everything was completely silent.

Finally, the woman sat back, sighing. "I don't think it's here, Indy."

The man replied by slamming his hand onto the table, raising even more dust. "It's got to be! We've looked everywhere else—"

She coughed and placed her hand on his. "I know, Indy, but we've been through more than half the books and—"

"So?" he replied angrily, snatching his hand away. "It could still be here… just because we haven't found it; it doesn't mean it's not here."

The woman sighed again. "I know, believe me – I know. But it's getting late, and we should be going. We can always come back tomorrow, and go through the rest."

Indeed, the watch the man was wearing showed a shocking 1:27 AM. The two had been in the room for approximately four and a half hours continuously.

"Well… fine. But I'm taking this home." The man picked up the book he had been reading.

For the third time, the woman sighed, this time in exasperation. "Alright. I've got tomorrow off; I'll take this along as well." She held up the next book in the 'To Be Read' pile. "Let's go."

The man nodded, and stood up to fetch a ladder propped up against one of the shelves. Pulling the rope, the trap door swung open, and he placed the ladder under the exit. "After you."

She rolled her eyes and climbed up, and he followed her, carefully closing the door again. Then the two of them exited the old library, respective books tucked under their arms.

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After dropping the woman off at her house, Dr. Henry 'Indiana' Jones, the man, began to make his way home, brow furrowed and thinking about the book he was planning on studying. Recently, the professor had become quite interested in different sorts of mythology, and while going through various books in the public library situated conveniently near his home, he had come across a small reference to a certain Palladium. The Palladium was said to have been a statue that fell from Heaven and was kept at Troy to keep the city safe. Its location was uncertain – surely, it was just pure myth – but nevertheless, he was intrigued, and had begun to look through the rest of the books on Ancient Greek, when Hope Walters walked back into his life.

Hope was someone he had never thought he would ever meet again. They had been friends at college – even gone out for a while – but then one day she had quite mysteriously vanished. The last time – or so he thought – Indiana had seen her, she had been in tears and packing to leave. Her departure had been quite strange, and had been the topic of discussion for the next few weeks, but nobody had ever discovered what exactly had happened to her – until the previous day.

As he had been sitting in his corner of the library, ignoring the others around him, the chair in front of him had slid backwards on its own accord, and suddenly he found himself sitting face to face with a slender woman of about his age, dark hair tied up in a ponytail. Elegant fingers clasped in front of her, Hope smiled at the professor.

"Hello, Indy."

"Hope?"

He had been, to say the least – astounded.

Reaching the place he lovingly called home, he fumbled around in his pocket for the key, and finding it, unlocked his door. As he stepped through the doorway, he realized exactly how tired he was really feeling – and staggered off to his bedroom, leaving the book haphazardly on the table.

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To Be Continued