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

Beneath the trapdoor, it was darker than it had been when I initially peered into the room. I couldn't see anything this time—even though the light from the room above should have lit the area where I was standing. I kept my ground though, momentarily thanking myself for sending that postcard to Nancy, before I took a nervous step forward.

Nothing happened.

"I can't see a thing down here." I called back up.

The trap door wasn't that far about my head—barely a foot. I watched as Sawyer poked his head down. He pulled it out of my view again, and shoved the lantern he was holding in someone's direction, before ordering me to move away from the hole. I did, and watched as Mutt's body dropped thought the hole, the lantern in his hand lighting up the space.

"Why do we have these stupid things?" Mutt asked me, even though I had no more clue than he did. "Why can't he just bring a torch?"

I shrugged, and then turned my attention to the contents of the room—now visible by lantern light.

"Uh…" Mutt said slowly, confused.

I shared his sentiments.

We both jumped as another pair of feet appeared in the trap door, and Mutt hastily got out of the way as the nameless thug of Sawyer's joined us in the room.

The room was long—at least twenty metres long until the door that we could just see from the bad lighting. The room had seemingly been made to house the long eighteen metre long table that sat, piled to the roof with food, in the middle of the room.

Or, maybe the table had been built to fit the room.

It didn't really matter. I wasn't too distracted by the actual length of the table, but more so by the food on top of the table.

I could see gourmet food from every single culture in the entire world. There was Japanese sushi, and the puffer fish dish that I recognised from one of my old geography assignments in middle school. I could see Italian pasta dishes, Europeans delicacies like lobster, and caviar and everything else that I could think of. There was Chinese food, Greek food, and even a few hamburgers on the table.

And that wasn't even the most impressive part.

The table, for starters, was covered with a huge table clothe of lace—that sparkled with the gold that had been sewn into it. Diamonds and gems were also sewn intricately into the lace, hanging delicately off the side of the table.

Every single meal that sat on the table, the thousands and thousands of them, had been presented on unblemished plates of gold or silver, or bronze. They were sided by smaller plate and cutlery of the same materials. Every ornament on the table was embedded with the same impressive gems that had been sewn into the lace. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds—any jewel you could imagine.

Every now and again, down the long, long table, were small statues; golden statues of the gods and goddesses—Athena, Aphrodite, Poseidon and more. The statues were covered—clothed, even—in expensive materials. Not the lace of the tablecloth, but softer, thinner silks and satins.

I was distracted from my analysis of the room by the familiar old scuffed shoes sinking into the hole, and I quickly got Mutt to help me get Franklin slowly to the floor. Dusting himself off as he steadied himself Franklin looked up.

He too saw the content of the room and took a step back. This time he didn't say anything. Instead, his jaw dropped, and he stared, with wide awe-filled eyes at the room that we were in.

Unlike Franklin, Mutt and I, however, Sawyer's man—who had come in before Franklin—only hesitated momentarily before stepping forward to stand closer to the table.

"No—Don't!"

He reached forward and lifted one of the bejewelled pieces of cutlery up, staring at it in awe.

"This is amazing." He said to us, clearly not worried that we were supposed to be his prisoners. "This would cost how much?"

None of us answered, staring at him in horror. Franklin and Mutt had clearly seen this situation enough times to know that touching without thinking was a bad idea. Me? I'd just seen the horror movies.

I whimpered slightly, as he lifted the knife and put it in his pocket. He was still smiling at me when he froze. I didn't notice Sawyer dropping from the roof, followed closely by Marion and Indy. I could only focus on the enthusiastic man who was now staring at me in horror.

His eyes were widened to the limits. His mouth was opened, as though was was screaming, but no sound came from his voice. For a moment, I thought he was just playing us—since nothing was happening, but then I noticed it. I could see the table through him.

The man, like the candles in the lantern that Mutt was holding, was flickering. He was solid, and then see-through and then solid again. It continued for seconds like this—his face frozen in the eternal shout of terror—when he didn't become solid again. Everything was changing with him; his clothes, his hat… even his gun. Everything that touched him was changing like him—except for the golden knife in his pocket—that I could see through his jacket.

I moved forward, trying to touch him and comfort him and maybe help him. But Mutt caught my arm in his firm grasp before I could take more than one step.

And then, I let out a shout, as the man was lifted into the air. He hovered above the table for a moment, his eyes still wide with fright—before he was pulled back at a startling pace towards the door that we could only faintly see at the other end of the room. As he flew down the room lights-that I hadn't seen before—came on, flame igniting and lighting up the large room perfectly.

Then the door flew open.

I could only stare in horror as thousands and thousands of grey see-through faces appeared at the door, eyes opened in the same petrified fashion as Sawyer's man's was. They held out see-through arms to catch him—and as soon as they did the door slammed closed.

The room was silent.

The knife, that had been removed form the table, fell to the ground with a thunk, before it too zoomed back to the table of it's own accord, settling itself perfectly back in it's old position.

Everyone in the room who had seen what transpired—Mutt, Franklin, Me, Marion, Indy, Sawyer, and three of his men who had dropped down while I had been watching—all stared, silently at the door.

"Well," I concluded loudly. "This is clearly not the right way."

The only other people in the room who shared my sentiments were two of Sawyer's men. With their face pale, the two of them bent over and held out their hands, as a step for me to walk up. I was walking towards them already, when Sawyer's hand caught the back of my shirt and flung me away from the exit.

I shrieked as I fell towards the table, but it was unnecessary, since I landed on the floor good few feet away from the actual table itself.

I glowered up at Sawyer as Marion helped me to my feet. Sawyer ignored me, walking over to Franklin and clapping him on the shoulder.

"You go first, old man." He told him.

I frowned, considering that the age gap between Franklin and Sawyer couldn't be more than five years, but no one else pointed out this little inaccuracy.

Franklin didn't hesitate, however, confidently stepping past Sawyer closer to the table. He walked past it, being careful not to touch the actual table but not too worried about it himself.

I frowned, horrified.

Mutt rubbed my back comfortingly as he followed Franklin past the table. He put himself between the table, and me in some sort of subconscious gesture that I recognised, even if Mutt didn't. "Remember Doll?" He murmured in my ear. "Chose of pure intent?"

I frowned, confused.

"That was the second one." I told him hastily. "What about the East and West one?" I could remember them by heart—having been the one to read them from the actual Labours.

"We already used that one," he told me quietly. "The basilica? It's to the west of the Temple. Franklin and my dad both think that when it says the 'sun rises' it's talking about Zeus, you know? And you have to go west to find him?"

That made sense. But it was guesswork.

If Franklin had this wrong then not only was this going to be Sawyer's biggest find, but Franklin's grave.

As the large group of us walked down, following Franklin to the door at the far end of the room, no one else was foolish enough to touch the table. But when Franklin reached the door, and extended his arm to pull it open, even Sawyer stepped back in apprehension. Indy lunged forward however, stopping Franklin before he could pull the door open.

"Franklin!"

Franklin smiled at Indy. "I've been studying the Temple of Zeus all my life, Indiana. He was known as a patron of hospitality for his guests. Zeus Xenios."

Indy frowned. "That wasn't very hospitable." He motioned to the table, but everyone knew he was referring to the demise of Sawyer's man.

Franklin smiled sadly. "He wasn't a good guest. He was always ready to avenge wrong done by a stranger."

Which made sense. Because Sawyer's man had lifted one of the golden knives, and pocketed it—with every intention of keeping it. And if what Franklin was saying was true—and it usually was—it meant that he had died for his greed.

Nonetheless, that didn't stop me as I held my breath and squeezed Mutt's hand while Franklin pulled the door open.

And it was certainly the definition of an anti-climax. The door was just like any other—normal and only a gateway to the next room. Not to the next realm or to the life after this. Simply to the continued passage.

It seemed Franklin knew his stuff.

xXxXx

Despite the fact that Franklin had clearly displayed his knowledge of this place, there was still some trouble getting everyone to walk through the door. Sawyer was happy to do so, as soon as Franklin, Mutt, Indy, Marion and I had done so before him. And the men, anxious for their payment, followed nervously after Sawyer—none of them were too enthusiastic about it, however.

I couldn't help but think about what could possibly be in this space.

This was less of a room, and more of a passage. The stairs were carved into the floor, and they led deep into the ground—where it was getting more and more humid and dark. There was a noise, at the bottom, that I couldn't quite distinguish, and since I couldn't see the bottom there was no way to tell what it was.

We stared at the top of the stairs, the large room at the head of the passage where everyone could see the stairs.

"At least we have the lights." One of Sawyer's men commented sarcastically, as we all considered the large trek we had coming up.

It was unnervingly still in there, even though I didn't know exactly what else it could have been. It was wet—I could hear dripping as the drops from the ceiling hit the floor.

"Alright," Franklin called out. "I'll lead. Then Indy and Marion, and then Kitty and then Mutt—" he caught Sawyer's angry eye, and coughed slightly. "I assume you still want us to go ahead, Hugh?"

Sawyer scowled. "Don't make the mistake of thinking you're in charge here, Franklin." He snarled.

Franklin shook his head. "I wouldn't dream of it, Hugh."

Sawyer's scowl deepened.

"You will have some of my men, up the front with you." Sawyer declared. "Between your granddaughter and your Mr. Jones. Daniels! O'Neil!"

The two reluctant men—one of whom I recognised to be the man who had slammed his gun into my face—stepped forward and placed themselves between me and Indy. We then organised ourselves in the fashion that Franklin had suggested, and Sawyer positioned himself directly behind Mutt. The trek down the stairs began with everyone nervous. I grasped Mutt's hand tightly, holding my hand back to find some comfort in him being behind me. The steps continued down, winding in what seemed like a ridiculous fashion, zigzagging continuously and going on for what seemed like forever.

Every now and again, Franklin would call out a warnings that would worry me. Warnings like: "It's slippery, here," or "There's a particularly large step here."

He was beyond seventy, I reminded myself, and this was no place for a man that age. His reflexes weren't as quick as they once were.

But I soon forgot this.

I think it may have been Indy who noticed the disparity first. He hesitated, suddenly, causing Sawyer's two men to almost fall over him as he disrupted the pattern walking that everyone else had fallen into. He recovered quickly, leaving me and Mutt puzzled, while everyone else wrote it off as an old man's mistake. But it didn't take long for me to notice anyway.

Even as I focused intently on the stairs that we were walking down, I noticed every few seconds movements in the corner of my eye that made my head flick to see what they were. Every time I looked, there was nothing there, so I disregarded it as my imagination.

Mutt, it seemed, had been subtler as he searched for what was making me jump. I didn't see what he saw, and didn't know what he was going to do until he reached out and grasped my shoulders quickly—as though he was saving me from stumbling, even though I hadn't stumbled.

"Careful there," he warned me jokingly, before bending over slightly—as though he was still steadying me. I felt his hot breath on my ear. "Watch the walls…" He warned me quietly. I had pressed a quick kiss to my head, and ignoring Sawyer's obnoxious laugh, had straightened and continued walking normally.

I did exactly what he told me. Watching the walls, this time out of the corner of my eye, rather than obviously staring at them, and for a few minutes I had no idea what I was doing—until I saw it.

There, right in front of my eyes, I watched as something on the wall face moved—as though a bug had been caught beneath a sheet of material, until it opened, and I realised exactly what it was.

An eye.

I managed to stop myself before I made too much of a noise, and took a deep breath. There was no way we could let Indy or Marion know, and certainly not Franklin, without alerting everyone—including the eyes—that we knew something was wrong.

I noticed them more obviously now. They were jumping out of the walls everywhere—and the roof as well. Every few seconds they would appear, for milliseconds, before disappearing back into the wall again and showing up somewhere else.

"Oh god," One of Sawyer's thugs muttered as he slipped on the stair and steadied himself. "What are we doing here?"

His friend, the one who had hit me, rolled his eyes. "Don't be a girl, O'Neil," he ordered his friend. "We're here for the money—!"

I screamed as hands shot out of the wall and grabbed him. I couldn't help it. Daniels—I assumed that was who he was—struggled momentarily against the pale, deathly white hands that had him, but was no match for them. Within second they had lifted him off his feet and pulled—pulling him against the wall.

I expected, for a moment for Daniels to simply hit the wall. But I shouldn't have. Instead of colliding with the wall like any physical body would have—Daniels disappeared through, screaming at the top of his lungs as the hands clawed at him.

It was deathly silent. Mutt had slammed a hand over my mouth in the middle of my screen, keeping me entirely quiet and everyone was sensible enough to be still and silent on their own.

Well, except of O'Neil.

"What the hell was tha—?"

This time, I knew it was coming, I watched as the hand sprung out of the wall, and flinched violently when one of the fingers brushed past my skin. They didn't seem to care for me; it seemed and went straight for O'Neil, pulling him into the wall exactly that same way that they had pulled in Daniels.

This time, no one waited to see if O'Neil had survived his trip through the walls. All it took was Indy's loud and urgent shout: "RUN!" to have everyone sprinting down the stairs at double pace.

I could still feel the fingers on me though. Where they had touched my arm.

It had left a cold feeling.

A cold, uncomfortable empty feeling that felt like death.

xXxXx

A/N: Well? Wasn't that dramatic? Before I get called for plagiarism, I got the idea for the eyes in the walls from a brilliant Buffy the Vampire Slayer fic that I read about three years ago, and I always intended to feature the eyes in the walls in this fic. Unfortunately, the author of this fic is unnamed, and I can't credit it to her/him. Let it be known—IT BELONGS TO THAT ACTUAL AUTHOR AND IS NOT MINE! (Even if I wish it was.) :P

Thanks to everyone who stuck with me over the past couple of chapters, and I promise to update soon. We're nearing the end, so extra feedback would be brilliant! Keep up the good work you guys! :P

Thanks for reading!

G.