Up with the sun, they ate, loaded the wagons and left. They would be at the site that evening and as they had become better acquainted the night before, there was more conversation between them all.

Dana rode beside Akl's wagon, his laughter ringing out loudly at whatever she had said. He shook his head calling to his sons who giggled, the youngest calling back with laughter in his words. Dana's familiar laugh floated back to him and Fox smiled.

She seemed happier. Oh, she was generally happy, but today was different. Perhaps speaking her story to him and then the others, she felt a burden lifting. He had to admit that telling his own made him feel better, especially with those who understood how he felt. Every one of them had been touched by the war or another hardship, none of them shying away from the pain.

He never spoke of it at home unless with his doctors. He has seen his mother's expression when he had and so he kept it in, saying nothing.

But last night… last night had left him feeling differently, unable to sleep as quickly as the others. His dreams, once he had, had been confusing. Dana was there with the family she wanted, but crying silently, holding tightly to the chain around her neck. He had wanted to help her, but she could not see him, or did not want to see him.

He had woken up, confused as to where he was, sitting up quickly, both his leg and shoulder protesting. When he had seen the others, the small canvas tent, and the horses standing closely, he had remembered.

Dana had emerged, dressed in the same clothes as the day before, her hair in a long braid down her back, her gray beribboned straw hat in place, smiling and saying good morning. He had nearly wept, muttering excuses as he walked away to relieve himself, his dreams confusing him.

He had watched her throughout the morning, looking for any sign of the sadness he had dreamed of, but she had been happy as she rode near and spoke to everyone. She laughed and smiled, her eyes finding him many times, her smile different when she had.

She was alright. Better than alright.

"She speaks Egyptian Arabic?" Charles asked, riding up beside Fox.

"She does," Fox responded, looking at him with a small smile.

"I wouldn't have expected that," he confessed and Fox laughed softly.

"Nor I, but she worked, or technically still does work I suppose, at the museum in Cairo. She's a researcher, so understanding the language would be necessary."

"She simply doesn't look like someone I would assume could speak the language. I can speak it, but not nearly as well as she does, and I've traveled the majority of this continent."

"I believe she's a force to be reckoned with," Fox said with a smile.

"I believe you're right. We're following her into the desert, with not much more than an idea. Well, that and the fact that Pierre would never have given us a moment's peace if we had actually left you two the other day." He smiled at Fox and he returned it with a nod.

"She does have more than an idea, she's thoroughly researched everything. Could it be possible she's wrong? Yes, and she knows she's taking that chance."

"But you're willing to find out," Charles said with a smile.

"I would say that as we are currently following her into the desert, that's a fair assessment." They laughed and Fox watched as Dana rode over to Pierre with a smile. "How did you three meet? I was wondering last night, but it hardly seemed the time to ask."

"Completely by chance. Like Pierre said last night, we had all scattered after the war, well not Pierre, he wasn't allowed to fight. But after his time in Italy, he wandered around and one night we all happened to be in a bar in Morocco. Some men were pushing Pierre, taunting him, and John and I, though quite intoxicated, came to his defense. When it was over, all of us with swollen knuckles and faces, we knew a bond had been formed." He smiled and Fox nodded in understanding.

It was late when they stopped for the night, once again setting the tent up for Dana, the men sleeping by the fire. Everyone was tired from their ride and the warmth of the day, going to sleep soon after they had eaten.

Fox had no dreams that night, his mind far too tired.

Up with the sun again, they were slower with their movements, bodies still aching and tired.

Another long day of heat, ended as they arrived at their final destination. After speaking to Akl for quite a while, it was decided they were close to where she believed the hidden temple would be found.

Her excitement was infectious as they began to make camp. Akl built a fire and began their meal as they unloaded the majority of the wagons, setting up the tent for food, Dana's smaller one and the larger for the men to share. Rugs, cots, blankets, and trunks were placed inside the tents.

As they sat around the fire, a bottle of wine was brought from a crate to celebrate the beginning of the expedition. It was passed around, no glasses required as they all sipped from it happily.

Dana did not join them, her concentration elsewhere as she sat looking at her journals. The pages turned back and forth as she read and reread the words she had written, her fingers absentmindedly rubbing against her lips.

"Dana," Fox said, bringing her the bottle, wanting her to be a part of the celebration.

She looked up at him, a far away expression on her face, and he swallowed hard as the glow of the fire light emphasized her beauty. She smiled and took the bottle from him, taking a large drink and handing it back to him.

"I just… I needed to check again. To be sure," she said, looking down at her journal. He sat beside her and looked at her neat scrawling words. "It seems so impossible that we are here, and yet I know it's true." She raised her eyes to his and smiled. "I'm so incredibly happy."

"Might change your mind when you tire of life in a tent," he teased and she laughed softly, looking down at the journals.

"No. No, I don't believe I will." She looked at him again, her expression different, her eyes flicking briefly to his lips, before she took a deep breath and closed the journals.

"I think I'll say goodnight and get to sleep. Tomorrow's a big day."

"Indeed," he agreed, setting the bottle of wine in the sand, and standing to his feet. Reaching out his hands, he assisted her in standing to her own.

She wobbled a bit and he caught her around her waist, keeping her steady. Her hand pressed to his chest and for a moment they existed in that moment, no one else mattering.

She cleared her throat and moved her hand, his arm moving at the same time, both of them stepping back to a safer distance. He looked into her eyes and watched again as her eyes dropped to his lips.

"Goodnight," she whispered, her eyes back to his.

"Goodnight," he whispered. She touched his arm as she walked past him, calling goodnight to the others. They answered, with a wave and a smile.

He watched her walk into her tent, his thoughts confused. He would not do anything to make her uncomfortable, especially after hearing her story. Her heart belonged to another, and yet…

He sighed as he looked away, walking back to pick up the bottle of wine, and rejoin the men. He smiled as he listened to them speak, though his eyes strayed to Dana's tent many times.

Had he been paying better attention, he would have seen Akl watching him as he eyed the tent. He would have seen the way Akl shook his head with a knowing smile, not needing to speak the same language to understand the heart.

Starting out the next morning to where she believed the site may be, they watched her pacing, stopping and looking at her journals and then around her, shaking her head.

Turning around, she looked at them, her mouth open to say something when Pierre signed something and she frowned.

"Trust yourself," John translated with a smile and Pierre nodded. She smiled and nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Here," she said and Pierre clapped.

Staking out a perimeter, they began to dig.

The day was warm even in the early hours of the morning. Taking a breather, he watched her; her straw hat on her head, wearing a dress, which she had told him was an older one and one she wore when she cleaned, thus making it perfect for digging in the dirt.

She exhaled as she leaned back, looking up to see he was watching her. She smiled and waved, her spade in hand to dig once again.

Though hope was high, nothing was found that day aside from sore muscles and tired bodies. Dana began to doze off as they were eating. Fox reached to take her plate and she awoke, startled at his nearness. He smiled and she sat up, shaking her head.

"I think I should probably go to bed," she said, sleep in her voice and he nodded in agreement.

She stood up, thanking everyone for their help that day. They nodded with a wave, all of them looking just as tired. Fox stood as well, taking her plate, as she smiled, her eyes barely open.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he repeated, watching her walk slowly to her tent.

February 1924

A month passed with nothing changing. They dug, the area becoming a deep square, stopping when the sun went down, ate dinner and fell asleep to do it all again the next day.

Grumpy and sore, everyone was quietly digging, until a shout was heard and they all looked up. Charles was waving them over, pointing excitedly at the ground. They ran over to him and saw that he had found a clay pot. They looked at Dana and she grinned, taking off her hat and dropping to the ground to investigate what they could see, the pot still partially stuck in the sand.

She dug carefully and methodically, the men talking around her excitedly. When the pot was finally free, she asked for some water and John handed her his canteen. She wiped the pot gently, pouring water over it slowly. They all knelt in the sand, no longer speaking, watching as she cleaned off the pot, hoping it was what they were searching for.

When her thumb wiped it clean, her fingers covered in muddy sand, the symbols on the pot were now more prominent; a woman on her knees, face raised to the sky, her arms up in supplication. Dana drew in a deep breath and began to laugh. She looked up, tears in her eyes, and she nodded.

Charles whooped, tossing his hat in the air, John jumping up with a yell. Pierre nodded with a huge grin, grabbed her face in both hands, kissing her once on each cheek before standing up and celebrating with the other two.

She turned a surprised face to Fox and he searched her face, looking at the pot and back at her. She smiled and nodded again and he stood up, pulling her with him. Lifting her, he spun around with a shout of happiness, the clay pot momentarily left in the sand, their laughter and celebration echoing through the air.

That night, wine was brought out again and they danced and sang, the clay pot held lovingly and carefully on Dana's lap, then placed just as carefully into a crate in her tent. One bottle of wine became two, having much to celebrate, and the next morning they were slower to rise, their heads a little foggy and thick. But there was a renewed vigor in all of them, determined they would find more evidence soon.

August 1924

Months passed, the summer days long, the heat oppressing. They were all browner, leaner, their hair lighter. The gray ribbon in Dana's hat was long gone, the sun having bleached and then reduced it to shreds, the hat itself beginning to break down.

She had also changed some of her faded skirts into, not exactly trousers, but something similar. At the fire each night for a week, she had sewed, not taking much part in their conversations, her attention on her task.

"I'm not that great at sewing, so we'll see how it turns out."

When she had worn them the first time, John and Charles had whistled and Pierre clapped. She had spun around, showing them off, laughing at the crooked stitch lines and oddly shaped legs.

Once the laughter had died down, her eyes had found Fox's, asking silently what he thought and he smiled, enjoying the sight of her in trousers that she had created.

"Quite sure you're ahead of the fashion now," he had joked and she laughed, tugging at the waistband with a small grunt.

But they had worked out perfectly, allowing her to move with more freedom, and she had claimed once they had found the temple, her next mission was to make trousers like hers for other women.

"Except with more pockets," she had said with a sigh, needing to ask Fox for the knife he carried in one of his many pockets.

They had found other items, but nothing like the clay pot, intact and perfect. Everything found, was in the crate in her tent, dated, and recorded in her journal, sketches drawn by Fox for more clarity and in case anything were to happen to the actual items.

October 1924

Weeks passed and nothing new was found, creating some tension. Everyone was tired and tempers were short. Coming back at sunset, after another fruitless day, Dana excused herself without eating any dinner, a sob heard as she hurried past them and went into her tent.

They all stared after her, each of them feeling guilty for the tears she was now crying. Three pairs of eyes turned to Fox and he sighed with a nod. Ignoring his growling stomach, he walked to the door of her tent, but was stopped by Akl, a plate of food in his hand.

"For Miss," he said softly in his thick accent, a handful of the new words he had added to his vocabulary.

"Thank you, Akl," Fox responded just as softly, taking the plate and patting his arm.

Walking in without announcing his arrival, he found her pacing the area and crying, a hand at her mouth to keep her tears quiet. She stopped walking when she saw him, shaking her head.

"I'm not… not hungry," she said between sobs and he nodded, setting the plate on a trunk and walking closer to her. "I'm so sorry." He looked at her in surprise, watching as she covered her mouth again, crying harder.

"Why would you be sorry?" he asked softly and she shook her head. He reached for her and she fell into his arms, her own wrapping tightly around his waist, her face in his chest as she cried.

He held her, closing his eyes, brushing a hand over her hair, saying nothing as he let her cry. Exhaustion, disappointment, tediousness, he understood why she was upset.

She began to calm, his eyes opening as he waited to hear what she would say. A few sobbing breaths and she pulled back, her hold on him lessening, though not moving completely. He wiped her tears away with his thumbs, her eyes closing as she took another deep breath.

"I think I got it wrong," she whispered, tears again spilling down her cheeks. She opened her eyes and stared at him, sobbing silently.

"What did you get wrong?"

"All of it. What do I know? More than scholars? More than people who have studied this for years? Fox…" She shook her head and started to pull away, but he would not let her go, shaking his head as he gently stroked her cheek.

"We've already found proof that you're not wrong," he said, gesturing to the crate.

"Those could have been dropped, set down or left behind…"

"I don't think that's the case. I think we just need to keep looking."

"Fox…" She pulled away and began to pace again. "I feel like I let everyone down. Myself most of all."

"Nobody thinks that, I promise you they don't. Would you like me to ask them?" He smiled and started toward the door, but she shook her head.

"No, please."

"You sure?"

"Please. Stay." He nodded, picking up her plate and bringing it to her.

"I'm not-"

"Let's sit and we can share. Come on." He sat down on her bed and patted the space beside him. She nodded and sat down with a sigh.

They shared the food, him eating the majority of it. She was quiet, sighing and shaking her head a lot. When the plate was empty, he started to stand up, but she stopped him.

"Please don't leave," she pleaded, a hand on his arm. "Will you… will you stay with me?"

"Stay?"

"Yes." He stared at her and she nodded. "I'm so tired and I don't want to be alone."

"Alright," he agreed softly, moving to allow her to lie down, intent on lying beside her on the rug.

"No… I meant…" She gestured to the bed and he raised his eyebrows. "Could you… hold me?" Tears filled her eyes and he hurried to do as she asked.

It was a tight fit, the cots not hardly big enough for one person let alone two, but it did not matter. Her arms around him as they lay on their sides, her head fitting perfectly under his chin, and the lingering scent of the soap from her morning wash, caused his eyes to close, feeling a sense of peace and comfort.

"You haven't let anyone down, Dana," he said as she began to cry quietly, clinging to him. "Not in the slightest."

"It feels like it."

"I know, but I speak the truth. We need to keep looking and we'll find it."

She cried herself to sleep, his fingers running gently through her hair, hoping to relay with his touch how true his words were, and to transfer back to her the comfort she had given him.

November 1924

Two weeks later, Fox having spent three more nights holding her when the discouragement and pain of finding nothing had become too great, a crack was suddenly heard, followed by a scream. They looked up as Dana toppled out of sight, falling beneath the sand as they ran to her, yelling her name.

A hole in the ground greeted them, as they shouted for her, trying to see into the darkness. They fell silent as they heard her stunned voice trembling as she told them she was alright.

She came where they could see her, her hat gone, hair messy and full of sand. She looked up and shook her head, unable to speak.

"Are you hurt?" Fox called to her and she shook her head again, looking to her right.

"No…. I think… I'm… I'm not sure..." she answered dazedly.

"Dana? What are you saying? Did you hit your head?"

"I found it," she whispered, though her voice seemed to carry up like a shout. "We found it. I was right. Fox… it's here. It's right here."

She looked up at him as John yelled for her to be careful, that he and Charles were going to get the wagon and some ropes. Pierre clapped happily and Fox stared at her in shock.

She had done it. She had been right.