Egypt, 1937

The air down here was musty, and though she knew that this place had been sealed airtight for the last three thousand years, she still expected to see cobwebs every time she shined her flashlight down a new corridor. Katniss paused for a moment to admire the hieroglyphs. The craftsmanship here was exceptional. She'd spent the last ten years between the dig sites and her post at Marhsall College, and only once or twice had she seen anything comparable.

She fumbled for her notebook. Everything needed to be recorded as she found it. The Supreme Council of Antiquities was very strict on that point, and in any case, she would want copies for her own files. Her flashlight dropped, its light suddenly gone. "Shit," she whispered, though there was no one else about to hear. She couldn't get on her hands and knees to search for it, not here. Yes, she had matches, but she really didn't want to burn them in here if she could help it.

But if she could just… there. Katniss could just make out the shape of her flashlight, a black just ever so slightly deeper than the shadows surrounding it.

Wait, this tomb had been sealed for millennia, and by now, she was far from the entrance she and her team had discovered the day before. There shouldn't be enough light to see even that. Katniss waited to turn on her flashlight, instead trying to figure out which direction the light came from. Once she found it, she clicked her light on and followed the narrow, mazelike tunnel towards the source. All the while, she checked the walls for anything out of place. This wouldn't be the first time she ran into booby traps deep within the tombs.

She walked such a long ways and rounded so many corners that Katniss was certain she must be going in circles. Still, none of the walls looked familiar, and she couldn't find her way back now. Best to keep going and see where her path took her.

Katniss immediately knew that this room was special. Easily ten meters tall, it was big enough to swallow her little house in Bedford ten times over. Its designers had covered every surface with the most beautiful ornamentation she had ever seen. Gold, jewels, a golden boat large enough to fit thirty people, everything she could dream of was here. She could make an entire career, ten careers, just off the contents of this single room, but the light still compelled her forward. Worry knotted deep in her stomach, and she wanted to run,

She froze when she saw him. The man did not turn to look at her, instead continuing to stare up at the enormous sarcophagus. "Hello? Sir?" He didn't move, not even a hair. Katniss took another step forward. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

Still no reply. She flicked her flashlight away from the man to survey the rest of the room. Just like the other rooms, the walls were beautifully decorated. Katniss spent a long moment studying a scene of farmers on the banks of the Nile, a gorgeous example of eighteenth-dynasty craftsmanship. Her breath caught in her chest when she saw the next panel, and she felt she should pinch herself to be certain she wasn't dreaming. Katniss' jaw hung open at the mural of the sun disc Aten, and the two figures seated before him. Akhenaten's tomb had long since been discovered, and that could leave only…

She looked up towards the sarcophagus again. The high cheekbones, the long neck, Katniss knew this face.

Nefertiti. She had found Nefertiti. A huge grin spread, unbidden, across her face, and she felt the oddest urge to laugh. This was what she had dreamt of from the moment she first stepped into Oxford twenty-odd years ago. A find easily as great as that of Tutankhamen, and it was hers. She would have to share it with the rest of the world eventually, of course, such a discovery couldn't be kept for one person alone, but for now…

She turned her flashlight back towards the man, who still hadn't moved. For now, she had to share. He had been staring up at that sarcophagus for long enough. Surely he could spare her a minute or two of his precious time. Katniss had met more than her fair share of chauvinistic men too bullheaded to let any woman, even a well-respected archaeologist with several papers to her name, even near their dig sites, but none had ever gone so far as to pretend not to hear her before. And certainly none had ever broken into her dig and tried to claim the fortune and glory that came with success for himself. "Excuse me," she said, "are you looking for something?" She tapped him on the shoulder, and she was surprised to find that his skin was cold. A chill went down her spine, and suddenly, Katniss felt as if she was being watched.

"Excuse me." She tried his hand next, found it just as cold as his shoulder had been. The man could have been carved of stone. He was handsome enough, if not in the lithe, youthful way that eighteenth-dynasty Egyptians had preferred. He was perhaps ten years older than her, probably in his later forties compared to her thirty-nine. Gray hair still tinged with blonde stuck up every which way, a remnant of the strong winds that blasted through the Valley of the Kings, and she had to stop herself from smoothing it down. His shirt was old. Not worn, just old. She hadn't seen anything in that style since she was a child, and even then, it had long since been out of style. When she touched the fabric, it was stiff, as if it had been hanging the same way for years. Were it not for his lamp, still lit and with enough oil left to last several hours, she might have thought him as much a statue as the sarcophagus behind her.

Katniss set her flashlight down a safe distance away and put her hands on his shoulders, and, ignoring the sound of sand dropping, pushed him just a few degrees away from where he had been staring. Immediately, his skin warmed beneath her fingers. She watched, dumbstruck, as he blinked and lowered his lantern.

"Who are you?" His voice had that clipped, upper-class British accent that so many of the older archaeologists retained.

She shook her head, unable to find the words to introduce herself.

He switched to Arabic and tried again. "Who are you? Can you speak English?"

"Yes," she answered, extending a hand for him to shake. "Katniss Everdeen. This is my dig site. And you are?"

He took her hand, and something warm and pleasant curled low in her stomach. "Peeta Mellark. Pleased to meet you."

The sound of sand hitting the floor was louder now. "Do you hear that?" she asked.

"What?" His eyes widened. "We need to get out of here." He pulled on her hand, tugging her towards the door. Katniss pushed his hand away and leaned down to retrieve her flashlight. By now, it was deafening, and the room itself seemed to rumble.

She screamed when the first stone fell only inches in front of her. "Keep going! Run!" Peeta shouted.

Katniss jumped over the rock and hurried out into the corridor. Peeta paused for a second at the threshold, and she could practically see the thought process play out before her as he contemplated going back for the treasure. "No, don't," she said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him out into the antechamber.

The sound was no less overpowering out here. Her heart pounded as rocks fell all around them, destroying the priceless treasures buried here to accompany Nefertiti to the afterlife. Some them by as little as an inch, but they could not stop. The shaky light of Katniss' flashlight guided their path, and together, they scrambled through the winding corridors, neither daring to let go of the other's hand for fear they would be lost forever. A stone clipped her shoulder, and she stumbled, but an instant later Peeta was hauling her back up to her feet. "Come on. We need to keep going."

Everything was speeding up now. The rocks fell more and more quickly, and they had increased in size from pebbles to bricks and boulders. Peeta's foot was nearly crushed beneath one the size of her Model T.

They weren't going to make it. It was too much, too fast. No one escaped the wrath of the pharaoh. But now the only light she saw was not that of her flashlight, and though her body begged her to stop, Peeta still sprinted, dragging her half a step behind. They might, they just might make it, and -

After hours spent in the cold, still air of the tomb, the heat was welcome. Katniss leaned her head back and allowed the sun to bathe her face in its warmth. "We made it," Peeta said, and it sounded as much like a question as it did a statement.

She grinned, and laughter bubbled up from some hidden well inside her. "Yes!"

"We really made it." Amazement, now. He hugged her tight against him and did some kind of strange, shuffling dance. "We made it!"

"Yeah." She ought to say something more, but it's all she could think. They were alive. There's no reason they should be, but by some sweet grace of God, they were.

Peeta's next words pulled her from that happy daze. "Pardon my asking, but what were you doing down there?"

"Excuse me? I think I'm the one who should be asking you that."

He looked genuinely puzzled. "This is my dig site. I've been working here for months."

He was lying. She had been here since April, and her crew had hardly seen more than a handful of other archaeologists about. Handsome as he was, there was no chance she would have forgotten about him. But then she remembered his odd, old-fashioned shirt and the way he had been so still, almost frozen before the statue. "When did your dig start?"

"November."

"Of what year?"

Peeta's forehead creased in confusion. "Eighteen ninety-eight, of course. Last year."

Katniss nodded, eyes serious. "Would you like to go back to our campsite for a drink? I think the two of us have a lot to discuss."

A/N: This piece was inspired by the Indiana Jones film series… and I fully admit that about the same effort was put into ensuring historical accuracy here as in the films. I apologize in advance to anyone who actually knows anything about Egyptology. This was written as a oneshot, but considering that I can't seem to stop daydreaming in this universe, I'm guessing there will be more chapters in the future. Originally posted on Tumblr for District 12 Drabbles.