Short oneshot. Beginning of Last Crusade in both Henry and Indy's POV.
Henry's eyes studied the Grail Diary, seeking any signs of recognition of the symbols. His fingers traced over a certain illustration.
"May he who illuminated him… illuminate me."
Suddenly the door burst open. Henry knew only too well who would slam doors with such force in his home. He acknowledged his son's presence without turning around.
"Dad, I have to tell you something."
"First count to ten." Henry was a little miffed at his son's lack of patience.
"No, Dad! You listen to me…"
"Junior!" Henry's patience was wearing thin. His son always had an air of impertinence around him now. Junior was as stubborn as an ox. It puzzled Henry. After his mother's death, Junior had become astonishingly rebellious and nearly impossible to live with. Henry didn't understand. He didn't bother Junior. He let him be independent- self-reliant. But yet his son, his own son, still seemed to hate him- loathe the very presence of him. But what was it that would make him happy? What did he want?
"One, two, three…"
"In Greek."
Young Henry Jones sighed in aggravation at his father's lack of understanding in an emergency. He never understood. Ever since his wife's death, his father didn't care about him, what he did, or where he went. He just sat in his study, hour after hour, researching Grail lore and writing it down in his Grail Diary- his life's work. He spent hour after hour looking after that diary, not he, Indiana. That diary was his most prized possession; his reverence. Father loved that diary more than he loved his me, his own son. Did he even love his son at all?
Really short and kind of cliche, but please review anyway!