DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact.

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Rome, Italy, 3rd August 1903

Franklin Roberts inhaled sharply as he exited his hotel room. The view from his balcony had been astonishing, and the pictures in his textbooks had been amazing, but none of that compared to actually standing on the historical streets of Rome.

Unlike the rest of the world's most popular cities, car fumes didn't pollute the streets. Of course, there were cars driving around, but not so many that would cloud the sky with the dark exhaust gas. Franklin took a moment to revel in even that small fact.

Of all the other places that he had been to, in his life, none of them even slightly shadowed the magnificence that was the capital city of Italy.

Venice was amazing, with the canals and the boats, and Florence was breathtaking with all the Renaissance Literature. But the grandeur of the cobblestone streets, and the monuments that outlived the majority of the rest of the world were just too much to be ignored.

Rome was almost too amazing.

Franklin had been planning this trip since his first year in college. His studies to join the profession of archaeology were paying off now. Finally, he was out of the classrooms and the libraries. He was in the real world, standing in the presence of some of the most amazing historical monuments in the world.

When his plane had touched down, about two o'clock in the afternoon of the previous day, Franklin had been too tired and jet-lagged to really pay any attention. As soon as he had reached his hotel room, he fell into a sleep from which he could not be disturbed. But the long hours he had spent sleeping now paid off.

The other Tourists— American, English, Chinese, Japanese and more— they were all walking around looking as though if they lay down, they would pass out. As they took photos and tours around Rome, it was easy to see that they weren't really registering exactly where they were.

Franklin would not permit that to happen to him. He saw everything in Rome with perfect clarity. He could see the clear contrast between the sky and the clouds. He could see the restored parts of the old buildings. And he could see the parts that had been there since the start of Rome.

"So Frankie, where to?"

His travelling companion, Thomas Jackson, was not so shocked by the presence of Rome. He was here, quote, for the "Beautiful Italian women that walked around in all that leather." While that approach to the Historical city was less than what Franklin had expected, it was easy enough to ignore.

"The Trevi Fountain? Colosseum?" Franklin couldn't really choose between all of the options. They were all so fabulous. Everyone said that they were fabulous. How did you choose between the most famous places in the world?

"Which one has the most babes?"

Franklin threw his friend a dry look. Rolling his eyes he looked down at his map again, trying to make the proper decision. "Why can't you figure it out?" He muttered, not really focusing. The Colosseum had seen great warriors meet their match. It had held thousands of spectators, there solely to watch men walk out to their deaths. What was the downside of that?

But on the other hand he could go to see the wonderful alluring Trevi Fountain? The fountain that held the coins of all those wishful souls, it was The Fountain that inspired hope in so many people? The evidence of the blinding faith lying beneath only about a foot of water. It was basically the fountain of faith. How could one not want to visit that?

"Let's go to the fountain." Thomas said decisively.

Franklin turned an incredulous eye to his friend, "On what basis?" He asked.

Thomas shrugged, "The fountain? It's beautiful, peaceful, and grants wishes. It's practically walked straight out of a fairytale. If a girl had to choose between that and a place where people were brutally murdered, which do you think they'd choose?"

Trust Thomas to make the decision based on the ratio of woman.

"Don't you think that's rather—" Franklin inhaled deeply. Best to just go with what Thomas suggested. He would ever been able to make the decision himself, and this way he had a clear path. The ultimate goal at the end remained the same, no matter what had inspired his friend to make the decision.

"Alright then," Franklin changed his sentence, "Trevi Fountain."

Thomas grinned at Franklin's conformity. "Excellent." He muttered. "Lookout ladies, I'm coming."

He strode briskly down the cobblestone rode with a distinct jump to his step. Franklin rolled his eyes and shook his head, but smiled at his friend's retreating back. Stowing the map in his back pocket, he followed his friend down the road.

The two young men walked down the streets of Rome, purposely putting their discussion of women behind them. At that moment, they were there for Rome. Well, Franklin was, Thomas not so much. But Franklin wasn't going to let his friend's odd ways effect the holiday that he had been looking forward too ever since he started studying archaeology.

When the two reached the fountain, neither of them was disappointed. Franklin's eyes were instantly drawn to the fountain that had heard so many people's innermost desires. Thomas, on the other hand, was only thinking about his desires.

"Ciao…" He said with a smirk, leaning up against the side of the nearest building to grab the attention of another woman. She stared at him for a second, before a large blonde man walked up and pulled her away from him.

"Charming…" Franklin muttered under his breath as Thomas walked past him. Thomas just winked at his friend and made his way, this time, to a pretty young blonde.

Franklin knelt down in front of the fountain. Even at that moment, a small girl was throwing her own coin into the water, whispering something under her breath. Franklin looked away quickly, feeling as though he was almost invading. That little girl was asking the fountain for what she wanted most in the world.

It wasn't his place to stare.

His gaze remained stuck on the ground. He didn't want to look up again. He felt that being here, just listening to every one else wish for their desires, was too personal. He hadn't even wished for anything himself. He was only here for the historical aspect.

Wasn't it ridiculous to wish for something that would never come true?

Waiting for the luck that would never come?

At that moment, he looked at the old Roman gods who stood up in the middle of the clear water, waiting to grant those wishes, to give that luck. Even looking at them felt too personal. He averted his eyes for the third time.

He ran his fingers across the old stone that made the walls of the fountain. That had been there so long. So many people must have touched the exact same place he was touching. A glint of sunlight from beneath him caught his gaze.

Franklin looked closer at the floor, studying what could have caught the sunlight like that. He stared at the dirt that had been caught in the thousands of people's shoes and come onto the stone. He blew a bit of it away, and then brushed some more of it away with his fingers.

"Oi, Frank!" Thomas called out, "What are you doing?"

Franklin ignored him. He stared at the floor beneath him. Embedded in between the stones were three rings. They were all the same size, and all sort of scattered. The first was up to the top of one of the larger stones. To the left of a small stone beside the large one, was another ring. And beneath that smaller stone, was another part.

Franklin attempted to grab at them with his fingers, but he couldn't reach in-between the stones.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. From that he extracted a small coin, and then used it to dig between the stones. It was small enough to fit, and it also proved to be useful in levering the first ring out of the dirt.

After he managed to pull the first one out he stared at it, sitting in his palm. It was old, extremely old. Rust had formed on what was probably gold. On the outside of the ring was a tiny mosaic, depicting a man, wrestling with a lion.

Hercules…?

Franklin made quick work of pulling up the two other rings. He stared at them, all three of them now lying in his palm. He blew on them for a second, before stopping and attempting to analyse the other two.

They were both also decorated with tiny little mosaics. On one of them, the same man from the first was this time holding a three headed dog over one shoulder. In the third ring, the same man held the world on his shoulders.

All the tasks that Hercules had been ordered to perform.

Franklin stood to his feet, too interested in the rings to worry about invading personal moments. He held the rings up in the sun, comparing the mall figure to the face of the statue gods from the fountain. They seemed to be watching him now. Waiting to see what would happen next,

Franklin rolled the coin that he had pulled from his wallet in his other hand. Slowly, he turned away from the gods, and closed his eyes— back now to the fountain.

He threw the small coin into the water, and listened to hear it drop. The noise coming from the people all around him ensured him that he couldn't, but he still imagined watching that same coin fall into the water with a 'plop' and slowly sinking to rest with all the other coins.

There was an echoing slap sound, and everyone who heard it jerked in surprise. Eyes sought out the source of the slap, and people smirked when they realised that a young blonde woman had slapped a man who was talking to her. Franklin smirked because he knew that for once, Thomas was getting what he deserved.

His best friend turned red, and looked ready to hit the girl back, but thought better of it. He turned on his heel and stalked away. Glancing for a final time at he gods, Franklin pocketed the three rings and ran after his friend.

He caught up with him in a matter of minutes. "What happened?"

Thomas shrugged. "There was a bit of a misunderstanding…"

Franklin raised an eyebrow, "Bit of an extreme reaction to a misunderstanding."

Thomas shrugged. "You don't need the Details, Frank." He told Franklin this in such a tone that Franklin suddenly decided that no, he really didn't want to know. "Doesn't matter, she doesn't know what she's missing.'

Franklin smirked, "Oh yeah? What's she missing?'

This time is was Thomas who raised the eyebrow. "Are you joking? Franklin, please…" he scoffed. "I'm a young, good looking boy fresh out of College. What wouldn't she be missing out on?"

Franklin was about to reply with something sarcastic and ego crushing, deciding that his best friend needed it, when a thought struck him. He flinched at the idea. Then he managed to say quietly.

"Please tell me that you didn't endure College, just so that you would seem more appealing to women?" He asked his friend, finally walking with him.

Thomas didn't even bristle. "Well," He said with a shrug, "It worked didn't it?"

Indeed it did. If that had been Thomas's ultimate goal when he decided to go into College, then he had succeeded. Every night, Thomas would return either late at night from a nameless woman's home, or from a bar. Sometimes, he wouldn't even return until early morning. He would stumble through the doors loudly, and wake Franklin from sleep, and then begin to recount the tales form his latest 'adventure.'

At that moment, back in New York, was on specific girl who was currently awaiting his return. Usually, Thomas didn't enter into long relationships. His idea that woman could be tossed aside was highly frowned upon by all that knew of his habits. His family had no idea, and neither did the professor's at their College.

Long brown hair and sultry eyes—Kimberly was what most men would spend their lives looking for. But Thomas saw her as the latest thing. She had impressed Thomas and he had suddenly decided to break his 'no serious wooing' quota.

Franklin raised his eyes to the heavens and let out a hearty sigh. "Thomas, my friend, you will never cease to amaze me."

In direct contrast to the reaction most men would have to this remark, Thomas just laughed. "I will never cease to amaze you, you mean…"

Franklin shook his head instantly. "On the contrary, Thomas, I mean exactly what I said. I don't think I will ever begin to understand your strange addiction to being with so many women." He stared at his friend, awaiting and answer. When one didn't come, he rolled his eyes again. "Will you help me understand, Thomas?"

Thomas grinned broadly, "Of course, my good friend." He said with a smirk. He turned away from Franklin and scanned the crowd that they were walking through. Finally, his eyes found what they were looking for.

"Take for instance, that beautiful Italian woman." Thomas suggested, subtly pointing at one tall, pale woman only a few meters form where they walked. "She is so gorgeous. Would you not feel blessed for even an evening with her?"

Franklin stared at the woman, attempting to feel exactly what Thomas felt. Maybe if he knew the feeling, he wouldn't secretly hate his friend so much. But to no avail. All that came into Franklin's head when he looked at this woman were thoughts of his love, back in New York.

Franklin met Elaine Saint-Clare when he first moved to New York. After being accepted into a college there, he left his small home on the outskirts of the city to attend. She was the daughter of the man who sold him his home. She had waltzed into his life, quite literally.

He had been finalizing arrangements for his apartment with her father, George Saint-Clare, when she had exited their ballroom spinning with an invisible partner. When she had realised that her father was not alone, the blush that had tinged her cheeks had instantly enthralled Franklin, and he made no haste in asking her to accompany him to the opening evening of the College.

In fact, he planned to buy her an engagement ring here in Italy. After two years of no thought of marriage, Franklin saw it as the obvious step, to marry the woman of his dreams.

And as this faceless Italian women walked past him, he felt no lust or want for her, only a swift sweep of desire to see Elaine's face again.

He turned to Thomas. "I felt nothing." He said bluntly.

Thomas rolled his eyes. "You're so proper, Frank." He decided, just as blunt. "You've got to learn to cut loose."

xXxXx

New York, America, 4th February 1954

Franklin had never been brave enough to go to funerals. They were too sad. They signified the finality for the person's loss. If he went to funerals, then it sealed the deal— he would never see those people again.

It was truly a sad thing that the first funeral he had to attend was that of Molly Jane Roberts, and her husband Richard Timothy Jenkins. Those were the names on the church doors. Those were the names that would mark their graves. But Franklin had never known them by that name.

He called them Daughter, and son-in-law.

He was an old man now. But his daughter wasn't. She was only Forty-eight. That was too young for a person to be ripped form the world.

Franklin felt the pain of the loss with insane clarity, despite his age. Almost his entire remaining family, taken in one clean sweep. His family had once been so big.

He had returned to New York, after his holiday in Rome, and instantly proposed to Elaine. She had accepted and their wedding was one of the largest that anyone had ever seen. They had been happy newly-weds, honeymooning in Venice for two weeks, before returning. Elaine announced she was pregnant a year into their marriage, and Molly was born.

Franklin had been the proudest man on earth that day. He was married to one of the most important people in the world. The one woman he loved in this entire world loved him back and how they both shared a child, who would grow to be just as fabulous as her mother.

Molly grew to be just as talented as expected. She went to her own female college, and studied medicine to become a nurse. She did and worked at that hospital for the rest of her life. Franklin had watched as his daughter had fallen in love with Richard, and he in love with her.

He was shaking as he walked down the aisle, his even more nervous daughter hanging onto his arm. He wasn't ready to hand away his baby to another, but at that moment, he saw the look Richard had for his daughter and had known she would be safe. It was a look of pure adoration—the same look he had worn when he had watched Elaine Saint-Claire walk down he aisle to him.

"I love you, Daddy." She had whispered in Franklin ear, before turning and looking at the man she was binding herself to. Franklin took his seat, and had to refrain from crying as his own wife clutched hysterically at his still shaking hand.

On her twenty-first birthday, Franklin gave those rings, the three that he found in Rome, to her. She wore them whenever she could.

It was by simple chance that she wasn't wearing them during the car trip that inevitably ended her life. Franklin didn't even know where they had been heading. All he knew was that their plane had encountered technical difficulties while flying over the rural part of Australia. He knew that Richard had been killed instantly on impact. He also knew that Molly had been alive, for at least three minutes, and while the emergency services made their way to the crash site, she had passed.

Franklin also knew that the distraught fifteen-year old girl sitting beside him was now in his care. His daughter had trusted him enough to leave her own daughter under his protection. Katerina was almost exactly like her mother as she grew up. Smiling, energetic and loud, Kat lived for the adventures she could find in her back yard.

As she grew up, Kat turned into Kitty. Of course, she was always Kat to him, but everyone else began to call her Kitty. Richard and Molly had been less than impressed when Kitty, at fourteen, came home with her first boyfriend. The boy was rude and impatient, and the two parents had revelled in watching, three weeks later, as Kitty slapped him across the face.

He wasn't quite sure if he could raise her from fifteen though. Those years had been the most difficult with Molly, and it was Elaine who had managed to keep them all on good terms. Franklin felt a pang of loss for his wife.

In the middle of the war, they were in London. And the bombs had taken her life. Hers would have been the first funeral he attended, but she had known of the deep-set hatred Franklin held for the things. She had requested in her Will that they don't give her a funeral, and simply cremate her without a service. Franklin and Molly and a six-year old Kitty had been the ones to scatter her ashes in the canals of Venice, just like she had asked.

Franklin could barely stand at that stage. The cold reminder of the last time they were her—newly married and young— was almost too much for him. But he had managed, and endured for Elaine. And now, he would persist with this new challenge.

xXxXx

Rome, Italy, 27th May 1958

Staring at Rome for the second time in his entire life, Franklin Roberts couldn't help but think that it had faded. With Kitty now Twenty-One he had too much spare time. And despite his age, Franklin had decided that he couldn't stay in New York for to long alone, otherwise he might just go insane.

So he let his archaeology come forward again, and returned to Rome. The rings that he had found here last time, that had been his daughters until her death, were now safely on Kitty's fingers. When he gave them to her, it was a way for her to stay close to her mother.

Franklin had expected Kitty to go to College, and she hadn't disappointed. She had been accepted into the same college that Franklin had attended, which had come as a shock, because Franklin hadn't taught that girls could get into the college. It wasn't as though he wasn't proud of her. He was extremely proud.

She still lived with him, in the small apartment that had seen Franklin through his entire life. The memories from that place sometimes became too much for the both f them, but neither of them ever thought about moving. Those memories were some of the most intimate— Molly growing up and maturing, Franklin growing up and maturing, Franklin's marriage with Elaine. Those memories weren't meant for someone who would come in and strip the walls of their old wallpaper.

She was there now, by herself. But Franklin trusted her to be there alone. The five years that they had spent together, they had come to rely on each other fully. They had both endured the same losses, even if they dealt with it differently.

Franklin couldn't bring himself to return to the fountain. With a sigh, he turned around, intending to head right back into his hotel.

He jerked in surprise as a hand was clasped over his mouth. Smells of toxins from the handkerchief that covered his nose were over powering, and Franklin attempted to struggle he felt himself weakening. The hands were tight, already pulling him somewhere.

As the blackness over came him, he heard a vaguely familiar voice.

"You're going to help us, Roberts…"

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A/n: Hey. It's Grace and she's back. I hope you guys (who have actually been bothered to read the authors note) are satisfied with the way this story is going to go.

I wasn't sure if I should start this fic, and let it become another of the fics that just sit in my profile completely untouched for ages. But I decided that it would probably be a good way for me to get over the horrible writers block I'm suffering with all other stories.

I hoped you guys all liked. I like it. The rest of the fic is centred more on Kitty than on Franklin, although he is still a very prominent character. Please Review and tell me what you thought.

Cheers.

Grace::