With all the hype and excitement surrounding the release of Indiana Jones IV next May, I end my long hiatus (though it was never stated as so, but yeah) from Indiana Jones fan fiction, with this idea that came to me this afternoon, and was expanded and completed in a few hours.
This scene is mainly from Marion's POV, and is set in the scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark when Indiana Jones returned to Nepal, in search of the bronze medallion, and Marion.
So read and review, please!
She fixed her gaze vaguely in front of her as the man raised his glass, a swagger of confidence in his demeanor. The dull light flickered and glanced off the eager, expectant, bright with anticipation faces of the audience that crowded around her, and persisted in responding rambunctiously to very action they could see, every flicker of movement she made.
Absent-mindedly she watched mildly as the ruddy-faced man raised with a wrist so thick and elephantine it repulsed her, and downed it in one gulp, even letting out a loud sigh of satisfaction, or contentment, maybe, as the people around him roared triumphantly (though it was hardly a victory of theirs), congratulated him, patted him on his back as he beamed back at all of them. She watched silently, sat there with quiet repose, as it suddenly occurred to the crowd that this was, in fact, a competition, and competitions involved competitors, and in this case the other had yet to take her turn. She felt a dull ache settle into her head. So this was what her life had been reduced to: one-handedly manning a bar in a dingy neighbourhood of Nepal, right next to a seedy hotel which she happened to know thrived on the skimpily-clad, young girls with make-up caked, congealed on their faces. This was what her life had been reduced to, meaningless days followed by even more meaningless days, of her meaningless existence.
She elegantly extended a slender wrist--she might be stuck in this filthy manhole, but well, she could at least still maintain whatever shred of dignity she still possessed-- and gripped the glass, practically throwing the odious liquid down her throat. She closed her eyes, drawing in a shaky breath as the sensation overcame her, and the alcohol dulled her vision, elevated her pain. A collective gasp of disappointment rose around her.
"Stop!" she protested, in the local tongue she had grown used to using, but still sounded so crass, so incongruous, coming from a person like her. "Stop." She repeated calmly, firmly, as her supporters glanced up at her hopefully. I never disappoint. Never. Cheers rang out as she slammed the glass back down in the tray with a ringing resonance of finality, a hint of a smug smile playing on her lips.
The evening continued in a hazy blur of people. drunken fights, tips, and before she knew it, she was herding stragglers away from the bar, as if she was working solely on autopilot. Holding a half-full (always half-full, never half-empty, she thought wryly) glass in her hand, she stared pensively at the peeling yellow plaster that coated the walls, and with an alarming jolt saw a shadow lurking behind her, advancing...she could make out the rim of a wide-brimmed hat, a fedora all too familiar to her, and her throat tightened as her heart palpitated painfully in her chest. Nonononono, she told herself wildly, he wouldn't come back after so many years, it can't be him, it's not him, it's not it's not, stop with the delusional fantasies, Marion...
And he spoke.
"Hello Marion."
A twinge of pain. That was what he said, when they first met, of course she remembered. She could recall, bring that instant to her memory so easily, when in the field, the baseballer, most popular hunk in school, strode towards her, and her posse of giggling excited girls...and he had uttered 'Hello Marion' in that smooth, deep voice of his, and looked at her, and her only, with his enigmatic dark hazel eyes...the way he pronounced her name, it had this certain twang to it, a kind of smooth quality, like he enjoyed saying her name, was savouring the sound of it on his tongue...and that was how he was saying it now.
She whirled around, stunned, unnerved. Is this actually happening? Is he standing here, in Nepal, right in front of me Ohmygod i look terrible! She let go of the glass, hearing a faint crash as it shattered to pieces on the floor, but she was transfixed, by him. And he was waiting for a response, some sort of reaction.
She suddenly let out a laugh in her nervousness, scrambling to regain her footing. "Indiana Jones." she drawled, walking towards him deliberately slowly, smiling, purposely choosing to use his nickname, from so long ago. Well, two can play the game. "Always knew someday you'll come walking back through that door. I never doubted it," Ohno what are you saying, Marion?? ," Something made it inevitable." He was grinning then, that familiar cocky grin she had once been charmed, lured in by, so easily. Anger surged through her, rage and fury threatened to break free inside her and envelop her in its depths. How can he come back to my life like this, 10 years on, and act like nothing happened? She resisted the urge to throttle him violently, and continued casually, careful to keep her tone civil, " So what are you doing here in Nepal?" Maybe he's not so bad after all. Maybe all he wants is my forgiveness, maybe he still loves me, maybe, just maybe...
"I need one of the pieces your father collected." he said abruptly.
He's still the same; I'm stupid to expect an asshole like him to change his bloody ways. All they care about, all their worthless crap, and he still comes back here after all that has happened, to use me again, I suppose, at his own convenience. Unable to suppress it anymore, she countered with a roundhouse punch on his face. "I've learnt to hate you in the last ten years." she snarled bitterly, rather delighted as he winced in pain.
"I never meant to hurt you," his voice is gentle, mild, condescending, even, as he nursed his jaw.
Like hell you didn't! "I was a child, I was in love, it was wrong, and you knew it!" she spat vehemently, feeling the familiar rage that had come over her, so many times before.
He walked towards the counter, not meeting her eyes, and stated flatly, "You knew what you were doing."
"Now I do. This is my place, get out!" she gestured fiercely towards the door, her eyes flashing vengefully. A lone man appeared at the door, an unwanted distraction, and impatiently she gabbled to him and waved him out firmly.
Indy turned around to face her, a look of resignation on his face. "I did what I did. You don't have to be happy about it. But maybe we can help each other out now." His smoldering gaze locked with hers, and unwillingly, she broke it off, and turned away, wordless.
Why is it he can evoke such feelings in me? Why is it when I look at his face--gosh he's still unbelievably gorgeous--I just want to forget everything that had happened between us, and just kiss him? Bastard. She stared resentfully at the glass,
He appeared to take her momentary silence as consent. "I need one of the pieces your father collected, bronze piece, about this size," He held out his hands to gesture, and Marion couldn't help noticing they were not scholar's hands, pampered, soft hands he ought to have, and felt a secret thrill, immediately berating herself for succumbing to her feelings yet again, "with a hole in the centre with a crystal, know the one I mean?" his voice is low, brisk, business-like, and she hated it. It provided a reminder as to how her, and everything else, ceased to matter if there was an archaeological artefact around. And I know it's foolish, but I'm constantly jealous of them hah.
She shoved the wine glasses into a tray, purposely clanging them together. "Yeah I know it." she said dismissively, trying to keep her voice level. She lifted the tray and walked past him without as much as a glance.
Indiana, unfortunately or fortunately, decided to switch tact. He leaned against the counter to scrutinise her intently. "Where's Abner?"
The question, innocuous as it sounded, unleashed a surge of emotions in Marion, and she bit her lip, ignoring him determinedly. It had happened so long ago, yet the wounds were still raw, the remaining embers still burning, why couldn't she let it go?
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Where's Abner?" This time his question was more insistent, urgent.
She froze in mid-motion, taking a deep breath. "Abner's dead." The statement had a finality and melancholy to it that made her feel like dropping all her inhibitions and hurtling forwards to bawl in his arms. NOOOO, Marion, don't be foolish. It'll just complicate matters.
He looked away, and Marion detected hurt and pain in his eyes. There was an awkward, fraught silence, then Indy sighed, looked into her eyes. "Marion, I'm sorry." Goddamn it, why does he have to sound so freaking sincere?
She evaded his gaze. "Do you have any idea what you did to my life?" she stared pleadingly in front of her, and he saw at that moment how vulnerable, how fragile she actually was, under that steely veneer.
He looked down. "I can only say I'm sorry so many times."
How can he still be so slick when this is his mentor, my father, that he's talking about? She shoved the glasses off the tray angrily. "Well say it again anyway!"
His gaze followed her as she headed to the table. "I'm sorry." he sounded genuinely contrite, and Marion felt like breaking down.
"Yeah, everybody's sorry." she said, breathing heavily. "Abner was sorry to bring me around the world in search of his little bits of junk; I'm sorry to be stuck in this dive, everybody's sorry for something." she rested against the counter with a tired, resigned sigh.
"It's a worthless brown medallion. Are you going to give it to me?" Marion was surprised by the hard, harsh tone of his voice, but promptly reminded herself that after all, he was an idiot, and was thus at liberty to do so. Heartless mercenary. She rubbed at a white splotch on the table vengefully. The prize is always all that matters. Hah, and he thinks I'm going to help him.
"I don't know where it is." she lifted her chin up, trying to act nonchalant, all the while eyeing it through the fabric of her shirt furtively. It suddenly felt heavy against her slender collarbone.
"Or maybe you could find it." he drawled, reaching into his jacket. "Three thousand bucks."
"Well that will get me back," she conceded, "But not in style."
"I can get you another two when we get back to the states. It's important, Marion." he emphasized, turning her to face him.
Interesting choice of pronoun. But I can do with the money, and being with him, hmm...
"Trust me," he assured, smirking.
Why would I, when that was exactly what I was doing before you broke my heart?
But she reached out in a visceral action, and immediately Indy crammed the wad of cash into her fist. "You know the piece I mean? You know where it is?"
Oh my god he looks so handsome like that...and he's so close, so near to me...Hurriedly she snapped out of her daze before she did something she would regret. A mischievous grin flashed across her face for a fleeting moment. She stared at the notes she grasped tightly in her hand, and at him in front of her...her gateway to freedom, away from this place, this life, with him. She would be a fool to turn him down. But...she had to know. She had to think through it, and somehow find out if he just wanted her along just so he wouldn't be alone, so he could have sex with her whenever he wished, if once this medallion thing was over, she would be forgotten and left behind again. She bit her lip indecisively, then she was certain what she had to do. "Come back tomorrow." she looked at him defiantly, daring him to object.
"Why?" he asked warily.
"Because I said so, that's why."
From his smile she knew he was relieved, pleased that she was still the plucky, bold girl he knew so well. She tried to tear her eyes away from him, but she was mesmerized. His eyes gazed deep into hers, expressive, but of what emotion, she could not tell. Her lips parted unconsciously as her eyes traced out the curve of his lips, the solid, chiseled features of his face.
Once upon a time, she had loved him, had kissed him on those very lips with such passion, had given her entire heart to him, and received his in return. But it wasn't happily ever after, not for them. Perhaps now, with this chance, they would make it right, make it a perfect, complete fairytale.
She sat on the edge of the table, watched, grinning, as Indy walked past her, towards the door. "See you tomorrow, Indiana Jones." she called out after him, not without scorn.
He paused for a brief moment at the door, his form silhouetted in the shadows, such that she could not see his expression. She felt a sudden urge to run after him, grab his face, kiss him, but no. She had to know. And it would be worth the wait, to see if he would come back.
He strode out, leaving the door to bang shut behind him.
The smirk, the confident facade disappeared and she stared gloomily at the window, gripping the medallion tightly. She knew, all too clearly, that she didn't just want him to come back the next day, to retrieve this medallion that mattered so much to him. She wanted him to come back to this bar the next day, or for that matter, whenever would be fine, for her, and to her.
Now that you've been awesome enough to read this, please drop me a review, and I will love you muchly, and continue writing Indiana Jones fics. ;D
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