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.

xXxXx

We pulled up at a nice looking hotel, and I quickly got out of the cab. The Jones's and Franklin followed.

"Indy?" Marion said, obviously shocked. "How are we going to pay for this?"

I seconded that. When I asked for the Jones's help, I didn't expect first class treatment. But it looked as though I was going to get it.

The building was at least ten stories high—probably higher but I couldn't see that far up. Fountains and archways decorated the entrance, and lights made the building look as though it was a soft pink. Trees decorated it, making it look like a wonderland, especially with the snow.

"Don't have to." Indy answered. "I've got connections. They guy who just bought it, is a guy who I helped out of a sticky situation when I was in Antarctica. He has a deadly fear of Penguins, and there were a couple of them right outside his igloo."

"I love your connections…" Marion sighed, staring up at the hotel.

Indy frowned. "I'm not sure what I think about yours…" He muttered.

Marion grinned.

The Cabbie honked, and Indy hastily spun round to pay the man. The rest of us made our way into the hotel.

Indy gradually caught up with us, and we walked to the front desk. "Hi. We've got a reservation for three rooms, under Jones." He said. The man behind the counter frowned.

"I can't seem to find you—" he began, in rough English.

Indy waved his comment aside. "Call Josef Gonzalez… Tell him Indiana Jones is here."

The man made the phone call and within seconds I found myself being ushered onto an elevator with the three Jones's. "Monsieur Gonzalez says to thankyou once again for the help, and he hopes that the hotel will satisfy your needs."

I grinned at Dr. Jones. "Exactly how many people owe you favours?" I asked excitedly. "Your life must be boss."

Indy grinned. "Thanks, kid." He never did answer the question though.

Franklin laughed. "Such is the life of an arrogant young archaeologist, Kat. Never forget that every job has its perks."

And its downsides, I thought bitterly, risking a glance at Mutt.

He hadn't looked at me since his explosion in the Café. We had caught all sorts of strange looks from the Paris people in the cafe, who really didn't have a clue what he was saying. But they saw my reaction, and luckily enough for me, they reacted angrily toward Mutt.

I was ready to cry back at the Café. But Franklin, Indy and Marion had returned and they had suddenly decided that we were creating too much attention and needed to get out of there.

We hailed a cab, but not all of us fit inside, considering there was now five of us. So Franklin, who looked exhausted, got in the first of two cabs, followed closely by Indy and Mutt.

Marion and I went in the other. Then Indy decided that it was unsafe for both of the women to go without a 'guardian' and joined us in the second cab.

"Good work on getting out of there, kid." Indy said as soon as the car had started. We were all crammed in the back seat now.

I sighed. "It was mostly Mutt, as embarrassing as that sounds." I grinned slightly; glad to be free of his annoying presence.

Marion chuckled, shaking her head. "You're just like your mother, Kitty." She told me with a sigh.

I hesitated, my grin fading a bit .I struggled to remain calm—but offhanded mention of my mother often did the complete opposite. I forced the grin to remain on my face. "Really?" I asked, "How?"

I didn't have to feign interest. I was very interested in how I was like my mother. She died when I was sixteen, at an age when I spent the majority of my time thinking she was a psychotic alien dinosaur with nothing in common with me. And I had no hesitation in letting her know how I felt.

Marion sighed. "You're so…" She sighed. "I don't know… you just remind me of her."

While this response would have bothered some people—the people awaiting an answer that would help them know what their lost ones were like—I felt a warm sort of feeling spread through me.

To know that I could connect with her, to the point where I perhaps resembled her was almost self fulfilling.

I smiled at her. "How did you know her?"

Marion smiled, almost wistfully. "Franklin and Abner,"—I could only assume he was her father—"were good friends when Molly and I were both young. It meant that we spent a lot of time growing up together."

I smiled wider now, no longer having to force my expression. "What was she like?" I asked curiously. "When she was young, I mean."

Marion grinned. "She was quiet. But when she had something to say, that was important to her, she made it known. She completely hated your father when they met. He was technically, below her, and she made it known. But he won her over. No one was more surprised than Molly, when she accepted to see him again. I think after she accepted his marriage proposal, she sat in her room in shock for three days."

I grinned. From what I could remember—the laughter, the smiles and the love between my parents—that side of their relationship sounded out of place.

But if I focused on the arguments that they had, the ones I tried to block from my memory, it would easy enough to find the hidden sparks of annoyance beneath all that love.

"That sounds like her…" I said fondly.

Marion and Indy both smiled, amused. "She would be extremely proud of you, Kitty." Marion said with a smile. "Doing all this to make sure your Granddad's alright."

I smiled faintly back at her. "Any one would do it."

Marion shook her head. "It's amazing the strength you've showed. Don't let anyone tell you that what you've done isn't worth anything."

I sighed. Would she say the same thing if she knew it was her son who said it?

"Did you know my dad?" I asked.

Not many people talked to me about Richard. I heard that he was a good man. I knew that he had shielded my mother in the crash with his own body—and action which killed him instantly— and I know that my mother loved him very much. He was a school teacher. He taught maths for a few years of his life, before he applied for the job as principle. People told me that they loved him. That they thought him to be a hero. There was still a shrine in that school, dedicated to their principal.

My dad.

Indy nodded. "We went to the same college. Of course, he wasn't very interested in Archaeology. But I saw him occasionally, figuring out quadratic equations and what not."

I smiled at the thought of my father, the nerd, studying at lunch time with his friends. It was a nice sight.

"He was extremely convinced of his own skills." Indy continued. "He knew that he was an excellent mathematician, and he didn't hide away from it."

Marion laughed. "Molly always called him the most obnoxious boy she had ever met. She hated him for the first many years of their acquaintanceship. Constantly telling him exactly what she thought of him."

"That's what made him love her." Indy said. "Her determination to make him look like a fool. In any other man, it would be irritating, but not Richard. He loved her, and he didn't hide away from that, either."

It was almost as good as a romantic novel. Boy adores girl. Girl detests boy. They end up falling in love and then, tragically, die in a plane crash together leaving their fifteen year old daughter behind.

"Franklin said that he always liked Dad." I said with a grin.

Indy nodded. "He admired Richard's spirit. He told me that any man willing to brave the wroth of his Molly, was a good match for his daughter. He also thinks that Richard's spirit passed to you."

I almost laughed sarcastically, but for the sake of not being rude, I nodded and grinned. "Thank you, Dr. Jones." I said with a smile.

Indy smiled. "Don't mention it, Kid."

xXxXx

I sat in my own room, about three minutes after talking to the people at concierge. It was a wonderful room.

The interior obvious designed by some famous man who was fabulous at his job. The couch was black leather, and there was a shag pile carpet in front of it. The TV sat in front of it, with a guide beneath the remote.

It had a remote.

It was all in one large room, with a large wall going through half of the room. There was a small suite area with a bathtub, Shower and toilet inside, located just beside the bed. The bed was a large canopy, with many black and white pillows all over it.

As promising as the concept of TV with a remote sounded, I was too exhausted to actually watch it. It wouldn't really interest me anyway.

All I could think of was how normal I was.

Freddie had been right. I was a cube. I couldn't imagine any moment, aside from the past couple of days, where I had ever done anything adventurous. I mean, I had spent the majority of my time in Middle school working to get in the good books of the people I thought would be the Cheerleaders in high school.

I had been right, and my work had paid off, letting me get a part in the team. I spent the next years of my life, working harder on impressing all the right people, than on my education. No one had been more shocked than me when the university I had applied to, actually let me in.

And then, when I had gone to college it was the same deal. She hung out with the jets, but only the pretty ones, like Nancy and Karen. And of course she had made it her goal to date the good looking blonde captain of the Football team. It didn't matter if he was a jackass, who looked at my boobs whenever I walked towards him and my ass whenever I walked away from him.

And her friends, they were still Cheerleaders. They entered into a club which had boys with even larger arms and they wore even shorter skirts.

I was exactly what everyone expected me to be.

But hey—who were they to tell me it? Freddie and Mutt?

Freddie, I barley knew for three minutes before he got into that massive rant about me and my being too much of the social norm. I got every part of me taken out and dissected by a guy that I didn't even know.

And Mutt? He judged me without even telling me about it. And he was open about it to everyone else. Like his parent's. When Indy first told him they were going to help me I could hear his yell of protest. He thought I was a stupid little girl. I was a stupid little girl who couldn't handle any of this. And then I'm fragile, and he's helping me out and we're sort of acting like friends.

And then I make one mistake and he goes off and pulls a tantrum worthy of a paper shaker.

I got up from my bed, where I had fallen to reel in all my thoughts.

I wasn't going to let him think about me as the little fragile doll he obviously thought I was. I would prove to him that I wasn't as small and helpless as he thought. I pushed the door open and made my way down the hall to his door, which was right beside mine.

I knocked on his door, my stomach fluttering and my heart thumping in my chest. I heard creaks of whatever he was sitting on lift, and then I heard his heavy footsteps coming towards the door. He pulled it open and stared down at me.

My memory wiped. His raised eyebrow and the smell of leather was my kryptonite. He could disarm me by just looking at me.

"What is it, doll?" He asked.

I stared at him, suddenly not sure of what I was here to do. I pushed my memory into gear and it ran to me like a stampede of animals. I swallowed, nervously. "Can I come in?" I asked, anxiously.

Mutt looked at me for a moment, silent. Then he nodded and opened the door, holding it open for me to enter. I took another deep breath and walked into the room.

The piece of furniture which he had been seated on was quite obviously the couch. The TV was on, and there was an opened packet of crisps sitting on the table. I swallowed again, attempting to dry my throat.

"So…" Mutt said, leaning on the back of the couch. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, doll?"

I continued to look at him. He was staring at me, his eyebrow raised. He looked incredibly carefree as he sat there, his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms holding him up on the couch. I inhaled deeply and then dove in.

"I heard what you said." I said quickly.

He frowned, in confusion. "What did I say?" He asked.

"You said that that I was a stupid, superficial, shallow paper-shaker." I said. Reminding myself of his harsh words made me angry, and more upset at the same time. I stood a little straighter, not feeling so exposed in his room. In his foreign presence.

Mutt's eyes widened in realisation. "That was back in Bedford, doll." He said slowly.

I nodded. This was me, proving my own point. This was me telling him, proving to him, that I wasn't quite as fragile as he automatically assumed.

I straightened my back and fixed him with my best glare. This was me stepping outside the cube. This was me proving myself. I was proving my worth. "I just wanted to let you know," I continued, "that I don't appreciate it." I said trying to sound confident. "I didn't then, and I definitely don't now."

Mutt nodded. "Right."

I felt flushed, but happy with myself. I had done it. I had proved i wasn't fragile. I was made of harder stuff than he thought, and it wasn't up to him to make me feel bad about who I was. I was working on becoming a better person, but now he knew that it was most deficiently not for him.

There was a momentary silence, in which he stared at me expectantly. When I didn't say anything, he took it upon himself to say, "Anything else, Doll?"

I deflated. I was stunned, my minimal confidence wavering. I sighed, staring at him, trying to not let him see my disappointed expression—mostly at me, but some at him. "No…" I said a bit pathetically. "That's all."

Mutt smiled and nodded his head. "Right, then." He walked over to the door and opened it, holding it for me.

I sighed and walked out of the room, head hung.

All of a sudden, before I could even think about what had happened, Mutt had the power again. He was in charge. He knew what he was doing. He was confident. He had made we walk out of his room like the unconfident cube he thought I was.

I hadn't proved anything just then. I may have just emphasised how pathetic I really was, and I know I made a point of how easy it was for people to walk over me. But I didn't make any positive change.

Mutt would look at me the same way.

He would always see me as the stupid, superficial, shallow paper-shaker, who cared more about her looks and what other people thought of her, than whether or not the people around her, and her family and friends were safe.

I would always be that girl in his eyes.

The Stupid Cheerleader.

The Cube.

My fists bunched. Oh no. Freddie had laughed enough at me. Mutt had called me fragile enough times. I was changing. It wasn't up to them to choose the way I had to be, and the date by which I had to have changed completely. I was changing. I was adapting.

I wasn't stupid.

I wasn't a Cheerleader.

And I most certainly wasn't a cube.

I spun on my heel and stormed back through his door. He had long since closed it, but I didn't knock this time. Instead, I pushed it open. He looked up at me from over at the TV, where he had attempted to entertain himself once more.

"You know what?" I demanded, kicking the door close, with my foot. "That's not all. Far from it, as a matter of fact."

He looked shocked, as I glared at him. I was still unsure of what I was doing, but at the moment, my insecurities weren't going to stop me getting this off my chest.

"I'm sick of it." I said loudly. "I'm sick of you, waltzing into my life like you're some sort of Casanova, and then telling me how I should live my life. You had no right to insult me when you met me. Did you know who I was? Did you know what I was like? No! You didn't. But you went ahead and judged me anyway. Where did you get the right to do that?"

He stared at me. I didn't stop.

"And you call me all those stupid pet names? What makes you so much better than me, huh? Who decided that you could call me all those names? Doll? Cutie? Baby? Since when did you become so superior to me? I'm done with it. No more fragile! No more quaint. No more amusing. I'm none of those things."

His newly raised eyebrow—which caused the traitorous butterflies in my stomach to do back flips—seemed to call my last statement into question. Obviously, I was very amusing.

I fumed.

"And what about that kiss, huh?" I demanded. "Since when are you allowed to kiss me, and then insult me some more when I get annoyed about it? Who said you're allowed to suddenly tell me how horrible a person I am for not being ecstatic."

Mutt frowned. "You standing up for yourself, doll?"

I felt like screaming at him. Oh, my god—I hated him.

"Don't!" I shouted at him. "Don't you dare! You did this to me! I was extremely happy and then you decided that you could come into my life and tell me how to live it."

"Happy?" Mutt echoed with a scoff. It would seem he's a bit over the initial shock and wasn't so happy I was ranting at him. "Doll, you were miserable!"

I shook my head. "No! I wasn't. I was satisfied. I had a boyfriend, whose faults I didn't even think about. I had friends who weren't horrible. Suddenly, I meet you and I hate my boyfriend with a startling passion, and my friends are all superficial and shallow."

Mutt raised an eyebrow. "Right. Like… you?"

Oh, he didn't just go there.

"Oh, yeah?" I said glaring at him. "What if I'm working on it? Freddie and you may have opened my eyes to what I am, but it's not up to you to tell me what I have to become. It's my life. You barely even know me."

He was silent again.

"And hey, now you're probably thinking about a way to make me feel even worse about myself. Listing more of my faults, which I've been working to fix?"

I crossed my arms across my chest.

"Why don't we skip over my faults, and look at yours. You and your stupid leather, and your smirks, and your smell, and your hair. And you're nicely sized arms and your annoying comb. And your stupid obsession with that stupid little knife of yours. And what about you're stupid ability to make me still think you're hot, even though my brain is telling me to shut up?"

Indeed it was. But I wasn't going to. I wasn't nearly done talking.

"You are everything I hate. You ride motor bikes, you we're too much leather and the grease in your hair could fill an entire pot of car grease! But you're hot, and right now, my brain is telling me that I'm blabbering and that I should really stop talking now. But I'm not going to. Because that's exactly what you want me to—"

He crossed the floor in a matter of seconds and dipped his head to reach mine.

I suddenly found it very hard to concentrate on anything other than the fact that his lips were pressed against mine. The smell of leather that I smelt first when I woke up in his arms, was stronger now. I inhaled sharply, trying to hang onto it.

Why was it, whenever this boy kissed me, I lost all will power?

His hands came up to my back, pressing me a little closer to him, his fingers moving slowly across my back. I didn't even consider thinking about an answer. My own hands went up to the back of his neck, playing with his greased hair.

Mutt was kissing me. Mutt Jones. I was most certainly kissing Mutt Jones back. Which didn't make much sense. Plus, he had kissed me. It wasn't me. He had kissed me.

And to make everything more confusing, there weren't any suits coming at us this time. Were there?

I pushed him off, with a frown. "Where are they?" I hissed in a whisper.

He frowned, confused at me. "What?"

I frowned. "Don't mess with me, Mutt. You'd only kiss me if Suits were here. So tell me where they are. Although…" I said as an afterthought. "I don't really understand the plan now anyway; considering we're obviously wearing our own clothes and we're standing in your hotel room, so it's not exactly like they'll not recognise us—"

"Doll?" Mutt said cutting me off.

I frowned up at him, "Yes?"

"Cut the gas." And then he pressed his lips firmly back against mine.

xXxXx

A/N: This is one chapter in which I would ADORE reviews. They make me happy. I would love to know what you thought of Mutt and Kitty's final outburst, and the kiss. I hope I made my readers happy. It made me happy writing it.

Oh, and the hotel? The wonderful one that I wish I could visit? Doesn't exist. Sorry. I made it up. I'm not even sure if there are any ten story hotels near the Louvre, especially ones that look pink. If I ever do become an architect, I'll look into it. Sorry about that.

So PLEASE, PLEASE review. That would be WONDERFUL!

Thanks,

Grace