Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Indiana Jones. This is just an idea that popped into my head and it will not leave me alone.
Title: Through the Looking Glass
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Oxley had always been there, from the moment Abner Ravenwood discovered his daughter's relationship with his favorite student to the wedding that came twenty years too late, and the years of broken hearts in between. These are his thoughts.
Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! You all rock. I'm glad you enjoyed this being told from Oxley's POV. But keep this in mind. He's an unreliable narrator. He doesn't understand everything that has happened between out starcrossed lovers.
Chapter Two: New York, 1937
Through the Looking Glass
New York, 1937
In the years that had passed, Oxley had begun to grow closer to Marion Ravenwood. He could never see her as anything more than Abner's little girl, but he still cared for her. It wasn't long until he had started seeing her as a sister, and he started to look after her as an older brother would. He would write to her about his adventures, send her money whether she needed it or not, and he even showed the proper amount of disapproval as an older brother should when she announced that she was opening a bar in Nepal. And more importantly, he never brought up the name he knew she never wanted to hear — Indiana Jones.
Henry had done surprisingly well in the past ten years, considering he travels and various run-ins with trouble. Oxley was surprised about how much Henry had to write, and the stories that he would be regaled with whenever he and Henry crossed paths. It was amazing what the man would do, and still have enough gall to go back to Marshall to teach a class. Still though, what struck Oxley the most was that whenever they met, Henry would inevitably ask about one person: Marion Ravenwood.
He cared for her. Henry Jones, Jr. truly cared for Marion Ravenwood in his own special way, and that shocked Oxley. Of course, he still had his conquests, such as that one singer, but Marion was the one he asked about — especially when he got particularly drunk. Yes, she was fine, in her own way, but Oxley knew never to bring up Cairo around her — or him. Henry always got a strange look in his eyes whenever Marion was mentioned, as if he was regretting his past mistake.
"Ya…know wha', Ox, buddy? I was goin' tah come back fer her…Mar'yun" Henry told him once, completely sloshed. It was a drunk man's confession, he was giving, and Oxley was going to listen. ". I was…Buh…buh…tah cross…Coronado's cross…I found ou' where it whas, an' an'…I had tah get it Ox…Tha' cross. I whas so close… But I lost it…an' an'…I lost her…I didn't come ah…back fer Mar'yun. Shoulda gone tah her…but tha' cross… Still doan have tah cross…Doan have Mar'yun either."
Oxley had been surprised by Henry's revelation. He had never believed Henry had actually been serious about coming back to for Marion. But that cross had seduced him away from her. Oxley knew how obsessed Henry was with the Coronado's Cross. It resembled Abner's obsession with the Ark of the Covenant and Henry Jones, Sr.'s obsession with the Holy Grail. Hell, Oxley, himself, had always kept an eye on the Crystal Skulls. (All the better he had never found a wife) But the pain! It wasn't worth it. He never wanted to hurt someone like Henry had hurt Marion. He never wanted to get too distracted by fortune and glory to cause himself to lose something like that.
Truth was, it was probably better that Henry had never come back. They would have found happiness for a short time, but it would have all fallen to oblivion eventually. Oxley had no doubts that Marion would make a good wife, even if she seemed a bit too opinionated at times. It was Henry who Oxley had placed his doubt in. Henry was a fickle man. Oxley had seen the myriad of women on his arm at various times and how Henry always seemed to be on some adventure somewhere. Oxley knew that it would only have been a matter of time before some adventure, or some other woman, would seduce Henry away from Marion. It was better for him; it was best for her.
No matter how many times Oxley had been told by Marion that she had long since forgotten Henry, no matter how many times she tried to convince herself that she hated the man she called Indiana, Oxley knew that it was not so. Marion was a rotten liar. Though she spoke of indifference and at times hate, her eyes told a different story. The story of girl left broken at seventeen, who couldn't seem to eat for a week after her first love had left. She was still the girl who hoped that the man she had loved would walk right through her door, no matter how much she tried to convince herself.
Fate, however, seemed to have different plans that Oxley didn't quite agree with. Henry had shown up on his doorstep one day, asking where he could find Marion to find the headpiece to the Staff of Ra. Henry Jones, Jr. was going to find the Ark of the Covenant. Oxley had been reluctant. He didn't want to drag up the past. He didn't want to see Marion hurt again. Even if there wasn't a fling, he knew that seeing Henry would be enough to open up the wounds Henry had left years ago. But then Henry had to bring up the Germans, and Oxley knew of the threat that would rise if the Nazis discovered the Ark of the Covenant. With a guilty heart, Oxley told Henry where exactly he could find Abner Ravenwood's little girl, and prayed to every god that would listen to protect her.
Henry returned weeks later without the Ark, but with a different prize: Marion. Over the course of their excursion, something had changed. The fire they once held for each other had rekindled, and they weren't going to let that go. Oxley didn't like this development. Henry and Marion weren't meant to be. They were oil and water. They didn't mix. In the end, there would only be pain. Oxley knew this, so why didn't they? He never made his misgivings known. Both parties were too stubborn to listen to him on this issue. That may be the one thing they do have in common, Oxley thought humorously. Still, he was waiting for the pieces of this picture to break. It was only inevitable.
However days passed. And those days turned to weeks. Weeks soon became months And for once, Oxley began to grow hopeful. Maybe Henry had in fact grown up. Maybe he realized that he had a good woman here. True, Henry and Marion had their arguments. Ones that would end with one of them storming out of their home, and going to the bar. Henry would be the one that would come back rather drunk, Marion could always drink him under the table. Words would be traded, but they would still fall back together. It was…a marvel to see it happen. And then something happened that Oxley never believed would happen: Henry proposed.
Henry Jones, Jr. was actually committing! Oxley briefly considered that the apocalypse was coming, but the Mayans believed that wouldn't occur until the new millennium, decades, and impossibly number away. But Henry had actually proposed. They all had celebrated, Oxley, Henry, Marion, and one of Henry's friends, Marcus Brody, at the Raven's Nest, the bar Marion had set up. Why must continue with the bar? They had gotten drunk, but it was a good kind of drunk— the happy kind of drunk in celebration. Not the drunkenness found desperation, like the time Henry had admitted the real reason for his not coming back. Things finally seemed to be coming together, and Oxley's doubt had finally begun to ebb away. Then came the beginning of the end.
Henry got another lead on the accursed Cross of Coronado. He wanted to leave, to find it and he went as far to tell Marion to stay behind, plan the wedding. She didn't want to listen. She wanted to follow him. She wouldn't become one of those wives. They had their rows over the issue, and a day or two, and many bottles of scotch later, Henry had left. Oxley still wasn't quite sure what he had said to Marion to get her to stay, but she did. Marion never did tell him why. She was angry, though. No, angry may have been an understatement. Furious fit the bill better. She never had liked to be left when adventure reared its head her way. But, it seemed to Oxley, that in her own way, she understood Henry's need to go after the cross. Marion saw its meaning in Henry's heart. Oxley knew she hoped that Henry would finally find it.
He didn't, and Henry's anger and desperation at that fact seemed to seep through when he had returned. But soon he was distracted again by the looming wedding, but something seemed different about him. He didn't approach it with the same attitude that he had before the failed attempt to find the cross. At times, yes, Henry was as giddy as a schoolboy, but at other times, whenever the topic of the wedding was broached, he would get a peculiar look on his face, as if he was going back to some far away place that only Henry knew about. Frankly, this bizarre behavior had Oxley worried. Sadly, Oxley's worry was placed right. Henry Jones, Jr. abandoned Marion Ravenwood just one week before they were to wed.
Marion had arrived at Oxley's doorstep, pale, eyes red, as if she had been crying. Shock had been clearly written on her face. The moment she saw him, she had collapsed into his arms, and let out sob. In her hands, was a wrinkled letter, as if she had held it in her hands, reading it over and over again, as if she couldn't believe its words. Oxley couldn't quite believe them, himself. Not that Henry had left, the thought had always been in the back of his mind, but of how little he seemed to care. All that was written was a scrawled, 'Marion, this isn't working. I'm sorry. Indiana.' Nothing more. Nothing less.
Rage had bubbled inside of Oxley. How could Henry have treated Marion so callously? She was his fiancée! This was far worse than first time he had left. It was as if Henry ignored their past altogether. He treated her as if she was some random woman after some one night stand, not the woman who he was betrothed to! It was intolerable! Later, when Marion had fallen asleep, exhausted from heartache, Oxley had gone out in search of Henry. He couldn't let his 'friend' — was he really one anymore? — get away with hurting her again. Oh, why couldn't I have said something, Oxley though, angry at himself, full of regret. He had known this was going to happen, but he had been too much of an idealistic fool to act upon those fears.
He found Henry in a bar, nursing a bottle of whiskey. Oxley had come upon Henry, and when their eyes locked, Henry's was full of something akin to sorrow. But Oxley was beyond caring, and made this rightfully known when his fist connected with Henry's jaw. Henry had jerked back, and fallen from the barstool. Eventually he stood, but his movements were that of a drunk man, and thus very clumsy. Oxley readied himself for a fight; Henry had never been one to back down. Even as a drunk, Henry was a good fighter — they had been in enough brawls at old speakeasies to prove this. However, Henry stood there, his hand holding his jaw, studying Oxley carefully.
"It…ah...I tol' 'er I whas sorry, Ox…" he seemed to struggle on what to say, and he swayed slightly from his drunkeness. Oxley didn't care. "It…ah…it…wouln' tah worked. Yah know thah…"
"Sometimes, sorry doesn't work." Ox turned his back to his former friend and collegemate. "Damn you, Jones. Damn you to hell."
To Be Continued
Next Chapter: New York, 1957