A/N: To whoever gave me my first and only review: THANK YOU! My faith in the Indy fan base is coming back. It's not just my story that I wish had more reviews. I've seen a lot of awesome Indiana Jones stories that have, at most, 10 reviews. They deserve more.
I feel completely ridiculous as we approach the castle, Dad dressed as a Scottish lord while Elsa and I are his 'assistants'. This is Dad's master plan?
"This will never work.." I mutter. Dad overhears and ruffles my hair.
"Keep your mind open, Kiddo. This just might work." I laugh lightly. All my life, Dad has always known the right thing to say in every situation in order to make me feel better. He always puts me first. The least I can do now is go along with this facetious plan of his. He knocks on the door, giving Elsa and I a thumbs-up. Oh, Dad... When a man in a trim and fit suit opens the door, Dad almost lets himself in.
"Well, it's about time. Were you just going to leave us standing there in the rain all day?" he asks in his fake Scottish accent. I'll admit, if we weren't in a life or death situation, I would laugh. Elsa has a slight smirk playing on her lips, which I have the strongest urge to smack off her face.
"And who, may I ask, are you?" The butler's voice is cold and dismissive, like he would much rather be dealing with someone of importance than with us. It's almost insulting.
"Don't take that tone with me," Dad snaps, though I'm sure he doesn't care. "Now buttle off and tell Baron Brunwald that Lord Clarence and his two lovely assistants are here to view the tapestries on the east wing of the castle." The excuse is stupid, but I trust Dad knows that.
"Tapestries?" Dad looks at us with his hand raised towards the butler.
"Is this man dense? Yes, the tapestries. This is a castle, is it not? There are tapestries?" The butler nods tersely.
"Yes, of course we have tapestries. But, if you're a Scottish lord, then I am Mickey Mouse," he spits. Dad turns back to us, shaking his head reprovingly.
"How dare he?" Then he turns punches the butler in the face quickly and calmly, knocking him out cold.
I throw my odd hat at a hat stand, not caring when I miss. Hey, it's Elsa's, not mine. Elsa and I follow Dad down the long, narrow corridor with no idea where we're going. Dad has a gut feeling about a lot of things, and this is probably one of them. We stop in a hall, right above an opening. Inside, soldiers surround a map, pushing targets into various places. The Nazi flag is displayed proudly.
"Nazis. I hate those guys," Dad says. I nod.
"Ditto." He makes a sharp u-turn, bringing us to a wooden door.
"This is it," he says.
"How do you know?" I ask. Dad looks at me, shrugging.
"I just know these things, sweetheart. Years of practice." I notice the wire running across the frame of the door. Dad is right; this has to be where they're keeping Grandfather. Dad starts to move again. This time, towards a window. He looks up at Elsa.
"You two stay here. I don't know what's waiting for me over there, but it could be dangerous." Before he embarks on the climb to the window across the alleyway leading to the room their keeping Grandfather, he bends down and kisses my forehead.
"I love you," he whispers in my ear. I almost say something back. He must think he's in danger. Pretty bad danger if he's telling me he loves me like this is his last opportunity to.
"Be safe," I call as he throws the rope onto the balcony. Dad smirks at me, looking like he's saying 'when am I not safe?'. He climbs the rope expertly, disappearing from sight very quickly. I stare at the empty balcony for a few more seconds before turning back over to Elsa. Elsa, however, is not what greets me. Two towering guards stand on either side of her, but they aren't threatening her. They aren't even touching her. She has a smirk on her face as they stare at me.
"Vogel, Krammer, this is Charlotte Jones, Dr. Jones's daughter. She could be of some value to us."
Elsa.. she's working with them.
"Nazi!" I scream angrily, finally knowing what felt off about her to me. She laughs, a cold and hollow sound.
"Smart girl. Vogel, hold her." Two huge arms wrap around my waist. I feel one move and then something cold and metal touches my head. A gun. My immediate reaction is to wiggle and squirm, but I realize my attempts are useless. I can't get out of this one, not like last time. Krammer grabs Elsa, just in time for Dad to slide down the rope with Grandfather.
Dad is carrying a machine gun when he lands on the ground. Suddenly, Krammer throws Elsa into his arms. She looks up at him with a pathetic, and fake, look on her face. From my small point of view, I can see Elsa reach into his pocket and pull something out; the grail journal. She starts to step back from him. Dad has confusion etched on his face. Elsa holds up the grail journal.
"Sorry," she says with no remorse in her voice. Dad and Grandfather stare at her in anger, while Vogel just laughs.
"Put the gun down, Jones, or your daughter dies," he warns. I can see fear flash through Dad's eyes, just like they probably do mine. I thought I'd be safe here, and I guess Dad thought that too. Dad freezes, though he does not look conflicted on what to do. Vogel runs the gun down the side of my face.
"What a shame," he begins. "She's such a pretty girl. She has your eyes, Jones." Just my luck, getting the creepy Nazi. Dad has had enough.
"Don't shoot!" he pleads before he slides the gun down the table to Vogel.
"Let her go," he demands. I feel Vogel push me forward, straight into Dad's arms much like Elsa. I hug his middle tightly, scared to let go. He pulls me up and squeezes me back. I know the offspring of Dr. Indiana Jones should not be scared of anything, but there can be exceptions, right?
I rest my head on Dad's leg, looking at my surroundings and pondering a futile plan of escape. What use is it while we're tied to a chair? Grandfather is on another chair tied to Dad's by a rope around their waists, while I'm tied to the leg of the chair, right next to Dad.
"We'll get out of this, Char. Don't you worry." Dad never lies, ever. I think this may be the exception to that rule. He doesn't know we'll be alright, nor do I think he thinks it. He just wants to comfort me.
"I know, Dad," I lie.
"Are you alright, Charlotte?" Grandfather asks.
"Yep."
We remain silent afterward, waiting for whatever is sure to come next. The door to the lair they're keeping us in opens slowly, shocking us out of our depressed haze. Much to our horror, it is not Vogel or Krammer or some other Nazi minion that stands at the door. It's Walter Donovan, the man who informed Mr. Brody about Grandfather's 'disappearance'.
"Donovan," Grandfather spits out like venom in his mouth. "I didn't think you'd sell out your country for something as vile as this." Donovan laughs, unfazed by Grandfather's insult.
"Oh, Jones, don't act like you don't understand why I'm doing this." He stalks over to the side that Dad and I are facing.
"Now, Dr. Jones and..." He looks down at me with a sickening smile on his face. "Miss Jones. Where is the map?" he demands.
"With Marcus Brody," Elsa answers for him. I turn to glare at Elsa, relishing in the fact that my hate for her is now vindicated by her betrayal. Donovan laughs.
"Marcus Brody? He sticks out like a sore thumb. He'll be found and brought back her within two days tops." Dad smirks at him.
"Like hell you'll find him. Marcus has friends all over the world, and with the two-day start, he'll be long gone by now. He no doubt speaks every language known to man. He'll blend in, disappear. I wouldn't be surprised if he's found the grail already." I have to contain my laugh at the ridiculous lie. We all love Mr. Brody to death, but he's not the brightest or most aware person in the world. He once got lost in his own museum. Donovan nods slowly as he circles the chairs.
"You know, Dr. Jones," he starts, directing it at Dad. "You have quite a lovely young daughter." I can feel Dad stiffen in anger. They crossed the line when they mentioned me.
"What is it to you, Donovan?" he questions. Donovan laughs coldly again.
"Calm down, Jones. We just want to get to know your dear Charlotte. We could use her for many, many things. She's very pleasant to look at, and she is a Jones. She must know all about the Grail by now." Vogel winks at me, making me squirm uncomfortably.
"You won't touch her," Dad says through gritted teeth. Donovan smirks, realizing he's found Dad's sore spot; me.
"Oh, and how can you be so sure of that? We already have some plans in place for her. Hmmm.. Vogel was right. She does have the Jones eyes. Yes, I know quite a few of us who would be happy to have a little fun with her." I shake persistently despite myself. I'm terrified of Donovan. One man managed to fool us all. What is he going to do to me?
"Leave her alone. She has nothing to do with any of this." It's Grandfather who says this instead of Dad, surprising me. Donovan raises his eyebrows.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Henry." His statement is matter-of-fact, making me wonder; his words, Kazim's warning. Why am a part of all of this craziness?
"Dr. Schneider, your presence is requested in Berlin," Vogel tells Elsa. She looks at him and nods. Reaching for her pocket. She pulls out the diary.
"I'm taking this with me, right?"
Vogel smirks and looks directly at us when he answers, "Yes, you will." They exit the room, leaving us tied up and helpless. Dad looks down at me.
"I promise I won't let them hurt you," he says seriously. I nod on his leg, but I'm still terrified. What are his 'plans', and where do they include me? His mentions about my involvement and what Kazim said are connecting in my head. I relax, closing my eyes and letting my head rest on Dad's leg.
"Son," I hear. It must be Grandfather.
"Don't get sentimental with me right now, Dad, save it for when we get out of here."
"The floor's on fire." I jump up.
"What?!" I ask.
"The floor's on fire," Grandfather repeats. "And the chair, too." Dad bolts right up, desperately trying to move the chair over to the right to escape the growing flames. I push with him, though my strength is nothing in comparison to his.
"Into the fire pit," Dad tells us. Of course Grandfather got us into this situation. He should really stick to working at a desk all day instead of trying to work like Dad does. We slam into the fire pit, which, ironically, is the only thing not on fire.
"Hold on, I think I can loosen these ropes," Dad says. I can see him struggle with the ropes binding his hands. I try, too. They're just too tight... When I look up, we're not near the fire anymore. We're in a completely different room. Wait... how the heck did that happen?! The room is inhabited by Nazi commanders who are overlooking something on their board. We stay deathly silent, afraid of them seeing us. I hold my breath when a female Nazi starts to look over in our direction.
She sees us. What do we do now? Dad and Grandfather wave to her weakly, like that will solve anything. She waves back, dazed and probably scared. It's like something out of a comedy. For a second, I think we're safe. Until she screams something in German. All the soldiers look over in our direction. A loud alarm sounds off.
"Oh God!" Dad exclaims. In a panic, I thrash around. There has to be a hidden lever somewhere that makes this fire pit move. Why else would we be here? I'm rewarded when I feel us begin to move again. Suddenly, we're back in the other room. The fire has spread everywhere. I see no escape.
"Dad, what are we supposed to do?!" I scream over the sound of the flames. The chair itself is being eaten by the fire, which is coming dangerously close to our bodies.
"I broke free of the ropes!" he yells back. The feel of the scratchy ropes against my skin fades away. Suddenly, I feel him grab me and throw my body upwards so I can escape.
"Run, Char!" he yells. Scrambling to my feet, I start to bolt from the room. It's worse than I thought; the fire is consuming the whole building, not just the room. The wooden castle is catching fire quickly. Most of the obvious pathways are blocked by flames, but I manage to jump to the less obvious ones. The smoke gets into my lungs and eyes. I starts to cough violently. Why can't I see that well? I need to push on. C'mon, Char! You're the child of Indiana Jones and Marion Ravenwood. You can get past a little fire. A fiery stick from the ceiling lands on my hand, burning it intensely. I scream and shake it off my throbbing hand. It suddenly occurs to me that Dad and Grandfather are nowhere to be found. Dad was the one who told me to run. He can't be that far behind, can he? I wouldn't be able to see them beyond the smoke, though
"Dad!" I scream, coughing afterwards. "Grandfather!" I don't get a response. Stumbling forward, I feel my head start to pound. My vision is leaving me. Must... rest... A hand grabs my shirt and pulls me forward, away from the heavier flames. It must be Dad. He came to save me.
"So, Miss Jones," a chilling voice says. "We've found you at last." I freeze in terror.
I know that voice, and it's not Dad.
Indy POV
"Where is Char?" I ask Dad. We've escaped the burning castle, but I thought Char would be here, waiting for us. I pushed her ahead of us so she could escape, but I can't find her. She's always been a resourceful girl who I thought would be able to find a way out before us. Dad shrugs.
"I don't know. She probably made it out another way or..." He pauses. He doesn't want to say the other option, and I don't want him to, either. We already know what it is. The mere possibility that Char could be dead or captured makes me dizzy with grief. I thought I knew pain when I lost Marion, but when I saw Char with a gun pressed against her head, I felt a small flash of what life is like without her. It wasn't pleasant.
"I need to go back to find her," I say, almost to myself. Dad puts his arm out to stop me from walking back into the castle.
"Son, you can't go back in there without being killed," he tries to reason with me.
"My daughter is in there!" I exclaim. Dad puts his hands on my shoulders.
"There's nothing we can do," he whispers. His words hit me hard. There's nothing we can do. She could be suffering in there right now and there's nothing I can do about it. It kills me.
"Let's hope that they captured her, then. She can find her way out of that." I don't mean the words I say, but I know it's better than her being killed in the fire.
"Let's go," I say reluctantly. I run towards the Nazi motorcycle in the grass, Dad following me closely. I jump in the driver's side while Dad jumps into the side car. The soldiers are pouring out of the castle in droves, all of them running in our direction. I slam on the motorcycle gas without looking back. It hurts too much to look back.
"Stop!" Dad exclaims. I slam on the breaks at the cross-road between Venice and Berlin. As far as I know, we're safe for now.
"What?" I ask quickly, turning my head to see if the soldiers have caught up to us. Luckily, they seem to be far behind. Far behind and dead. I turn back to Dad.
"We need the journal," he says. I laugh. Has he forgotten that we only needed the map?
"Dad, we need the map, which is with Brody. He's not in Berlin." He looks at me nervously and scratches the back of his neck.
"The journal had the key on how to pass the three tests when you find where the Grail is being held. No one else has the key but us." I smile. I knew Dad had to come through for us sometime.
"Well, what are they?" I ask. Dad's own smile fades and he looks down at the gravel. I have to restrain myself from smacking him across the face right here, right now.
"You remember them, right?" I ask through gritted teeth.
"I wrote them down so I wouldn't need to remember them." I sigh in defeat. Just when I thought it was over, we need to go back into the belly of the beast. Back to Berlin.
"Dad, we're at a crossroads between Berlin and Venice with half the German army on our tail, and you want me to go to Berlin? Into the lion's den?" I ask exasperately. He nods, as if it's such an easy task. If we weren't family, I would despise him with a passion.
"Okay, let's recap; we have no map, we're being followed, we have no idea where my daughter is, and now we have to go back to Berlin. What about Marcus?" Marcus is Dad's best, perhaps only, friend. How could he leave him out in the cold like this?
"Marcus would agree with me!" He exclaims. "The Grail is the only thing that matters." I cringe. To him, the Grail is all that matters. It was that way when I was a child, which is the reason why I left home. Nothing has changed at all. Not even for his granddaughter. I shake my head.
"Two selfless martyrs. Jesus Christ..." This earns me a slap across the face from Dad.
"That's for blasphemy," he tells me sternly. That's it. This has gone too far. I lean in closely, keeping my voice down to a minimum, but still with a sharp edge.
"This is an obsession, Dad. I never understood it, and neither did Mom!" Our conversation sixteen years earlier, the day he first met Char, rings in my mind. I said the exact same thing, though with less harshness and more regret. He doesn't say anything today, unlike that day when he defended himself, saying Mom understood it all too well. Dad looks away from me, lowering his head and taking a sudden interest in the dirt. I sigh, knowing that maybe I was a little hard on him. Maybe he's thinking of our other argument from that day; my leaving to join the war effort. When he looks back at me, I know he is. There's no need for words; we're both thinking it.
"I'm sorry I left, Dad... but I had to go." He looks up at me with a pained expression on his face.
"But why did you have to join the war? You could have been killed." I've never seen him be this concerned about me before. Usually, I'm second best to the Holy Grail. The gosh darn Holy Grail.
"I didn't get killed," is my lame excuse. Truth is, maybe I'm just used to running. I ran away from my problems with him and risked a permanent rift, I ran away from my feelings for Marion and risked losing her forever. The only thing I've never run away from is Char.
"I started my own life. I thought you wanted me gone," I admit. He never seemed like the best choice for a parent.
"You didn't even tell me when you got married.." he starts.
"We didn't tell anyone. Who would approve of a twenty-eight year old man marrying an eighteen year old girl?" Dad looks at me angrily.
"I would have." I look at him, shocked. Would he have?
I start to drive the bike to Berlin, not bothering to argue with Dad. The sooner we find this Grail, the sooner this will all be over.
A/N: The next one will be up soon! As always, please review or fav or follow... I like them all. :)