This was, hands-down, the most difficult chapter to writeD: I'm lucky to have made it through. So, review please? I'm quite apprehensive and I'd love some concrit.

I love you guys: Westlight (you so have to watch 30rock!), Geeky13 (thanks!), Jac Danvers (Thanks so much! You know I find it kind of hard to believe you're still reading this when you don't 'know' Indy/Marion, but that's a good thing! Reading this, that is.) , Cali Lindsay (sorry to disappoint, I was seriously considering doing a M part for this, but then again I don't think I can make it sound not Lolita-esque, and I'm not about to ruin it :D but hope you enjoy this anyway!), koolioettetheweirdo (thanks! and might I say, cute name!), ziggythebratt (aw thanks, hope you like this too!), Speedgirl85 (great to see you back!), Kat1021 (well you got your wish! Enjoy this one :D), FieryBrunette (thanks, hope you continue with Indy/Marion!).

Yes I know Gone with the Wind wasn't out yet if Indy was 27 at the time. But I was itching to include that line! Marion could have felt that way too (I always thought Rhett/Scarlet were the teeniest bit Indy/Marion), or it could be an anachronism, take it however you wish.

If you've been reading this, it'll probably be a good idea to check out Five Things That Never Happened, another Indy/Marion of mine I'm quite happy about, and I'd love to get more comments on! I might not be writing here for a while (school & commitments beckon), so yep I'll be really glad if you'll read my other stuff!

Okay, that's enough rambling!


Part 7: First Reunion

I love you, please say
You love me too, these three words
They could change our lives forever
And I promise you that we will always be together
Till the end of time

-I Love You (Celine Dion)

-

Three months my foot.

He probably just plucked it out of his head or something. Maybe he's going to be gone for three years (ohgod I don't think I would survive, I'd be 20 and oldoldold!) Maybe he doesn't know. Maybe he should've been back ages ago but somehow…things happened.

Okay let's not go down that road.

Maybe he's not coming back at all.

!!!

I am such a wreck.

I cannot believe I just teared at that thought. Goddamn Indiana Jones.

And I'm even writing in this stupid diary, just because I'm not going to study (trigonometric equations aren't much easier when all you can think of is that scoundrel and his smile) and I'm so so tired of reading on the porch and tensing hopefully each time I hear tires scrapes against the gravel.

Traitor.

I feel like slapping him hard and shrieking into his face.

And now I feel like kissing him and framing his face and feeling his arms around me…

Maybe I should bake him a cake. He likes chocolate fudge (I think).

...I am such a wreck.

---

Indy tugged at his collar for the umpteenth time, as they crept slowly down the road towards home. Abner was a notoriously slow driver, and it definitely did not help that once in a while he would start nodding and it fell to Indy to stay awake and nudge him once in a while. Not to mention while he was doing that he was having very improper thoughts about his daughter, and trying to shield himself from Abner's occasional unnerving mind-reading skills.

"Henry? You awake?" Abner asked loudly, glancing over at him slumped in the passengers' seat. Indy scowled. If he hadn't been, he would definitely have been now.

It wasn't that he felt any animosity towards Abner, he was fun and knowledgeable, but then again Indy was three days without sleep, and was in the middle of a rather good thought of his girlfriend (Illicit lover?). Well, thinking about Marion just about every waking moment anyway. She would probably pummel him when he got back though: it was two weeks past three months, and he could just imagine her fury. He grinned wryly.

"Henry?" Abner nudged him on the leg.

"Sorry, kind of spaced out there." He sat up, sighing. tilting his fedora away from his forehead and gazing out of the windshield, mentally taking bearings. They were on a long dirt road that eventually led to a town-like establishment a few hundred feet down: probably another hour or so before they reached home.

"I've been meaning to ask you, what do you think of Marion?" Abner asked casually, narrowly swerving from a herd of sheep.

Indy looked up, startled at the sudden question as fear clutched at his heart. Did he suspect something about them? Was he going to confront him, tear them apart? He swallowed, and wondered how long he could keep silent before Abner began to suspect anything.

Just act normal. "Well, she's a fine young girl, got lots of spirit in her." he drummed his fingers nervously, desperately racking his brains. "She's got a lot of…you in her." Great, Jones. Just great.

Abner beamed. "Yes, she does, doesn't she? I just wish she'll act more like a normal girl sometimes, you know. Care for her studies and boys and all.."

"Does she care for boys and all?" Indy interjected, wincing immediately after. Could you have asked that any quicker, idiot.

"Oh, I'm not so sure." Abner said airily as Indy tensed. "She had this annoying friend a few years back, I think you saw him at the diner? Never really liked that fella."

Indy murmured indistinctly. His mind was in a different life, a different time, when Abner approved and he courted her without the cover of darkness and guilt and fear.

---

The telegram was the stupidest excuse for one.

THIS IS INDY STOP THE EXCAVATION IS DELAYED BUT ABNER SAYS WE WILL BE DONE SOON STOP I CAN'T WAIT TO BE BACK STOP MISS YOU MARION STOP

No details of reason of delay, where he was when he was sending it, his thoughts on the delay, why he couldn't wait to be back (she would have loved a detailed dissection of this question), etc etc. Abner always claimed her telegrams read like short novels but it was common sense, really. Which the two main men in her life conveniently lacked.

And there it was, the screech of tires again. Marion sighed, not bothering to look up from her arithmetic assignment. Now all of a sudden while she was waiting it seemed her front road was suddenly the equivalent of Route 66, and it was driving her crazy.

She listened distractedly, x squared to the power of 6..considering the sine of angle z…Then a door slammed shut and she leapt up immediately, her heart thumping. Was it—was that-

A loud holler proceeding confirmed her suspicions. "We're back to civ-vil-liz-zationnnnn!"

Definitely Abner. No one else announced their presence with that greeting coupled with an enthusiastic whoop and a prolonged revving of the engine.

She flew down the stairs, almost tripping over the cat reclining on the bottom step, skidding to a stop and flinging open the front door, squinting a little in the bright light. Was it—was that-

"Inn-deeeeeeee!" she shrieked, hurtling towards him. He grinned (ohgod I've missed those eyes) and waved back with a tanned hand, but when she started towards him with wild abandon he backed away, gesturing frantically, just as Marion saw Abner stroll up the path, staggering with two suitcases under his arms.

Oops.

Thinking fast, she veered slightly off her original path. "Ab—nerrrrr!" Indy relaxed visibly, evidently hiding a smile as she shrieked again, knocking the wind out of him and the suitcases off his hands, a convincing grin on her face. Abner awkwardly slid his arms around her, and he wondered if it was depraved in any way to be jealous of his mentor.

He could see her face, and although she had a mile-long dazzling smile on her face (that looked very attractive, exactly how he had imagined it digging in the desert, he fleetingly thought), her eyes were on his, and he could feel the melancholy he had not felt in three months (plus excess of weeks) seep in again, and he turned away.

---

In typical Abner fashion, he was most ebullient: from the snippets of which Marion heard when she managed to keep from losing herself in the depths of Indy's eyes, it was a successful mission, and he was especially proud of Indy (but not prouder than he was of himself of course, because that was impossible) because of some medieval sewage discovery or something.

Marion hardly cared.

And then when he insisted they go out 'someplace nice' to celebrate (what exactly, she still hadn't the slightest clue), she thought she would wrench out her hair, but that would be far too dramatic and telling (yes she was seriously considering it) and gsettled for gazing at Indy mournfully. Indy shrugged resignedly and flashed her a quick grin. She felt like smacking it off his darned handsome face.

And then after that, in line with her very enthusiastic welcome of Abner, she was forced to grin and nod excitedly at everything Abner said, and occasionally commented. She thought (hoped) she managed not to make too many non sequiturs, though there was this odd little moment when she replied very simply, 'Yes,' and Abner looked at her strangely and Indy snorted in laughter.

"Now then," Abner let out a satisfied belch, and Marion wrinkled her nose in disgust. And he claimed she had no table manners-well he was one to speak. She fidgeted, annoyed. Cook had pulled her bodily into a skirt and blouse, and she couldn't bloody move. Indy, however, seemed to find it terribly amusing. "I'll go and settle the bill, why don't you two wait outside."

They exchanged flushed glances immediately and scurried out as fast as they could without being conspicuous. She felt a gush of crisp evening air and the vague aroma of boiled apples, and then he was kissing her, wrapping his arms around her and practically bending her over backwards against the wall. She gasped against his mouth in surprise, sliding her hands around his neck, closing her eyes. God, she had missed him. They stayed like that for a moment, arms around each other, then Indy slowly withdrew. She murmured against his chest in protest, but he tugged her hands away insistently. "Another time, Marion." His voice rumbled into her ear. She nodded reluctantly, knowing the truth (and hating it) and let out her breath in a resigned sigh. "I missed you."

He smiled. "I missed you too." He took her hand and she clung on desperately, squeezing it tightly between them, anchoring herself to him.

---

It had been an exhausting day, and overwhelming in a sense. Marion carelessly pulled on a shirt and some pants, then settled into bed, closing her eyes. There wasn't exactly much she could do now considering Abner was awake (and jabbering excitedly to some visitor in the living room who was jabbering equally excitedly and unintelligiby back) and Indy was exactly above her. She stared at the ceiling. It would be awfully romantic if they created some signals, like she could thump on her ceiling there times for "Good night", and "Sweet dreams", he'd say, stamping on the ground.

But Abner was sure to hear, he was exceedingly paranoid about thumps in the night. (Hmpph.)

Before she knew it, she was jolting upright on the bed, glancing blearily around, her senses alert when she heard the sound again, an irregular scrabbling from above. She scrambled off the bed, wildly surveying the room, then grabbing a pitcher of water and, as an afterthought, yanked her pillow towards her.

She breathed heavily, staring hard at the window. The scrabbling sound was louder now, and somehow hesitant. Then all of a sudden a black shape slid in through her open window, and she shrieked loudly, upturning the pitcher of water and swinging the pillow at it with all her might. It bent down, winded probably, and she let out a grunt of satisfaction as she launched her pillow at it again.

The shape choked, and she paused as she recognized that gravelly noise.

Oops.

She lowered the pillow and tucked the pitcher behind her back sheepishly as the figure rose.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

It was a very unhappy, drenched Indiana Jones, struggling to his feet and removing a stalk of lilies (what?) from between his teeth.

She choked, trying desperately to stifle a laugh at his disgruntled expression.

Granted, he had been expecting a secret rendezvous and he was attacked and soaked.

"Is that a lily?" she asked incredulously, hoping fervently the Egyptian sun hadn't done anything funny with his head.

"Yep. Unfortunately couldn't find a rose." He grinned devilishly. "And you were supposed to recognise me through that."

She snorted through her laughter, trying to ignore the fact he looked devastatingly handsome in the light from the streets. "You think that's funny, huh?" he grabbed her around the waist, tickling her. She shrieked, kicking out at him as she wriggled, laughing uncontrollably.

"You deserved it." She righted herself primly, feeling a surge of annoyance at the memory. "You told me three months! It was three bloody months two weeks ago, can't you count? And that telegram, honestly, did you get some digger to do it for you? No date, no descriptions, how am I supposed to know what you're talking about? –"

As she went about her diatribe, Indy rolled his eyes. She seemed to like launching into these once in a while, and while it was adorable, there were better things to do.

He reached forward even as she continued indignantly, and kissed her briefly.

Her eyes widened as he pulled away. "That's not fair." she pouted, but he could see the hint of a smile on her face.

"What do you think you were doing anyway?" he chortled. "Is that how you defend yourself? Pummel intruders to death? Let them choke on the feathers of your pillow? Lethal. I'm shaking in my boots."

She crossed her arms, trying not to grin. "Oh shut up."

"And the water," he continued, shaking his head slightly as droplets flew off his slightly bleached hair. "Was I supposed to drown in it?"

"You were supposed to catch your death in pneumonia." Marion corrected, dignified.

Indy laughed, and she whacked him in response. He pulled her towards him, and they gazed at each other, growing serious. She kissed him first, shyly, and he caught on, but this was different from their kisses, different from the one they shared three months (and two weeks) ago and had assaulted Marion in her dreams every night, different from all the chaste pecks they started off with. This defied boundaries and defined new ones as a new passion emerged, rough yet tender, ardent yet languid, in love and in lust.

"Wait." Indy spoke softly, pulling away and reaching into his pocket, withdrawing something wrapped in tissue paper. He met her curious gaze and smiled confidently. "This is for you."

She took it from him gingerly, peeling off the paper, revealing what looked like a little holder made out of ceramics, with intricate carvings at the edge and tiny claws at the base. Looking closely, she could make out stars and hearts, intertwined.

"A friend of mine found it, gave it to me, told me to present it to a special someone." He shifted closer, wrapping his hands around hers. "Have you heard of Abelard and Heloise?"

Marion wrinkled her nose, shaking her head, and Indy continued amusedly, "Peter Abelard was a French philosopher, and he was well-educated. He wanted to get to know Heloise, thus got permission of her uncle to tutor her, and moved in with them." Just like us. his voice was low, husky, and something about it and his close proximity to her sent shivers up her back. "But she was 20 years younger than him, and her uncle loved her dearly, protectively-"

Why didn't her father ever tell her stories like this?

(to prevent me from committing the same mistakes.)

"-and when he found out, he was furious." His voice sounded almost sorrowful now, and she felt a tightening dread in her throat, and glanced at the door furtively. Just in case. "To cut a long story, Heloise was forced to be a nun, and Abelard buried himself in being a monk. His last words were 'I don't know.' His remains were secretly given to Heloise and she took care of them before she herself died eventually." He paused. " This…" he weighed the holder on his hand, "was given to me by a friend. An archaeologist. It was given to Heloise by Abelard: some said she stored her love letters in boxes like these."

Marion bit her lip, overwhelmed. "That's depressing." She stated, burying deeper into his arms.

He chuckled. "Yes. But very romantic."

He drew closer and kissed her again, this time more insistent than before, angling his lips against hers, his hands under her shirt, pressing against her back (he's never done that before…), lifting her on the balls of her toes against him. And she kissed him back, ferociously.

He pulled away slightly, a question on his face and she stood there, breathing heavily. She could see it in his eyes, and she knew what she wanted. She swallowed, a lump in her throat, and she nodded.

---

She felt herself stirring, waking up again, but somehow she had the most surreal feeling that centuries had gone and worlds had whirred past as she sat up in bed. And then she remembered why, and a slow smile and blush spread across her face. She snuggled closer to the form next to her, closing her eyes again.

He grunted, groggily, and she saw brief disorientation in his eyes for a moment before they lit with recognition, and without warning, he bent down and kissed her slowly.

"'Morning, Marion."

She could think of nothing save from cheesy maudlin lines to reply, so she settled for a contented little sigh, shifting further to lean into his chest.

It was odd, really, how that day felt like any other, when in fact she was waking up with a man in her bed. But it didn't feel wrong. Because they were in love, weren't they? Well, I know I love him so much it hurts. And she never wanted him to leave again.

The moment was shattered as there was a loud clanging from what sounded like downstairs, and they bolted upright immediately.

"Why're you still here!" she shrieked, slapping his shoulder.

He ducked, indignant, and smirked. "Well, I didn't think you'd forget, but last night you-"

She flushed and interrupted him. "You're supposed to creep back up by dawn!"

He spluttered, eyes wide. "Wha—since when did we make such an arrangement?"

"No, but that's what happens all the time, idiot!" he scrabbled around for his clothes, yanking them on with superhuman speed as she, the sheet wrapped tightly around her, threw herself against the door just as the doorknob turned from the other side.

---

"Marion?" She latched the door with trembling fingers, calling, "I'm changing, Dad!"

"Very well then!"

She breathed a sigh of relief as Abner descended down the steps, whistling with every stride, and gasped as Indy grabbed her from behind, pulling her half onto his lap, kissing her neck. "Changing, huh?"

She rolled her eyes, unsuccessfully trying to push him away. "You men. I have to get dressed!" she wriggled half-heartedly as Indy kissed her.

"Henry? Henry?"

"Oh shit." Indy jerked away abruptly, and pushed the window open, glancing down. Marion hopped on her feet anxiously, grinning despite it all. This was exactly how she imagined it would be with Indiana Jones. Not that she had been, you know, thinking about it.

Abner's voice sounded at her door again and she almost jumped out of her skin in shock. Indy was halfway out of the window. "Do you know where Henry is?"

She hopped even quicker from feet to feet, on the brink of panicking. But since they had been together, she had done this a lot, so it was relatively easier. "Why don't you try the kitchen? I'll be down in a moment." She suggested calmly, narrowly avoiding the table, but letting out a muffled moan as her knee smacked against the shelf.

"Wow you're good at this." He spoke from the window.

"I have to be." She smiled warmly, and for a moment they allow themselves to lose themselves in the moment, when Abner's footsteps reverberated past the door again, and Indy scrambled up the window.

Marion leant out of the window, peering out anxiously, not quite sure what sort of sign she was waiting for.

There was a loud thump.

Indy must've taken a nasty tumble.

"Indy?!" she hissed. His head poked out, hair tousled, still grinning.

"I'm fine." Then something seemed to strike him, and he heaved himself over the window again. Marion backed away instinctively to give him space, protesting, "Wha-"

He kissed her soundly on her lips, their usual goodbye kiss, then shimmied back up. "Sorry, I forgot to do that."

She couldn't help the delighted smile that sprung onto her face. "Idiot."

"Love ya." And his head disappeared behind the curtains as quickly as he had uttered that phrase.

He—what?!

Abner was pounding insistently on her door again. She tore herself away from the window, still stunned. Well, she would have to deal with that later on.

---

She snuck another glance at Indy across the table, and their eyes met and he grinned flirtatiously. She ducked her head down, warmth spreading through her cheeks. She glanced up at him again, but this time he was peering at her unabashedly and she blushed again, suddenly shy. Then he grinned smugly. The idiot. He likes making me blush. Somehow, exasperatingly, that thought just made her face redden even more.

Abner sauntered in, carrying jars of his favourite jam, shooting a glare at her across the table. Ouch. Someone got out at the wrong side of the bed today.

And she blushed at the images that thought elicited; Indy grinned on cue.

They ate in silence for a moment, her mouth going through the mechanical motions of chewing. Indy had a bit of jam caught on his lip, and he licked it off.

Oh, what she'd do to be that bit of jam.

--No, she most certainly did NOT want to be jam on Indiana Jones's lips. She didn't want to be jam on anyone's lips. She didn't even want to be jam, for goodness' sake! She wanted to be...everything but it. Anything but it. Why was she even thinking about this anyway?

"Really, Marion, sometimes I just don't understand." Abner spoke suddenly, irritated. "Why can't you be like Henry? Just look at his room, his neatly-made bed, not like yours, such a huge mess, like a hurricane flew through it, huh?" he glanced at Henry for affirmation and Indy hid a grin behind his hand, as he nodded, his mouth full. Marion looked quite horrified.

"Yes, that's right. Marion, I always find it much easier to do things when everything is organized." He declared, in what he knew was a maddeningly righteous voice.

By now, Marion was blushing to the roots of her hair, and he winked cheekily at her. She responded with a savage kick under the table, and he doubled up, wincing, but managing to snag her foot between his. He scowled in pain at her, as Abner absently shook cinnamon into his oatmeal. He vaguely wondered what happened to toast and tea.

Marion shook her foot, glaring at him expectantly. And he saw the perfect moment to reaffirm what he started. Mouthed, "I love you."

Marion froze, stared at him, open-mouthed, disbelievingly. She probably didn't believe he had just done that. Smiling tenderly, he repeated the gesture, rounding his mouth over the words such that there was no question about it, no question about what he said, what he meant.

Marion glanced down at her bowl, nonplussed. What on earth is one supposed to do at an admission like that? It seemed to fully register in her head only then, and her lips curled into a smile. He loves me. She felt an inexplicable euphoria rise in her chest, and a sense of eager hope and anticipation for the future, for the times she would spend with him, together. And she replied, mouthing out the words so unfamiliar to her, "I love you too."


So?

(Review, in case you didn't quite understand.)