Carrie is packing, and I'm helping her.

Okay, so maybe I'm taking her knickers and hiding them so it wastes time, but either way I'm still helping her.

"Marion, give me my bloomers or I swear I'll.." She breaks off into a string of cuss words that even make ME wince.

With a sigh, I toss them to her, averting my eyes and looking at the ground.

"What's wrong?" She asks. "You've been acting all weird since this morning."

I shake my head defiantly, biting my lip. Carrie throws the underwear in her suitcase.

"You know," she begins, folding a random shirt into fourths, "All your problems can be solved if you simply talk to me, Marion."

With a forlorn groan, I throw my head in my hands, leaning forward on my knees as I sit on my cot.

She continues to talk, probably not caring if I listen or not. "I am, after all, your best friend since we were little. And you won't see me for a long time, depending on when you come back to the States."

I sneak a glance at her, and she's giving me a half-hopeful, half-worried expression.

"Just tell me one thing, name the thing that's bothering you. That's all I want to hear."

I sink back on the bed with grumble, closing my eyes. After a moment of pondering, I mutter, "Indiana Jones is my problem."

Even though I know Carrie is aware of this already, her reaction is still very energetic. She jumps up, muffling her squeals with a fist in her mouth.

"Why are you excited about this? This is horrible." I say, bewildered at her excitement.

"No, Marion. This is GOOD. Now, why is he the center of your problems?" She asks, packing some more clothes.

"Because I don't know what to think of him. I don't know if he's good for me or not."

"Why do you need to know?"

I pause, not wanting to make my answer seem to eager or--dare I say it--lovelorn.

"Because if we're going to be friends, then it will need to be a clear friendship, no murky things that confuse and blur it."

"You mean you need to know the good reasons to be with him and the bad reasons to not?" She zips her suitcase.

"Yeah. I guess you could put it that way."

Blue eyes alight, she pulls out pen and a paper, drawing a straight line down the middle. "Now," She begins, gesturing me over to the desk she sits at, "Every time you think of something positive about Jones, I'll put a tally mark on this side," she pointed to the right side of the paper, "And every time you think of something negative, I'll put a tally mark on the other side." She indicated the left side.

I scan the plan of hers, trying to see through any facades made to make me say things that I shouldn't say, but can't find any.

"Okay." I agree, pulling a chair over to her and sitting.

"And...go."

I decided to start with something positive, seeing as we were best friends.

"He can be courteous."

She marked a little notch on the right side.

"But he can be extremely invading of personal space, putting me in compromising positions at the worst times."

She tallied the left side, rolling her eyes.

"His sense of humor can be coarse, sometimes cruel." I say, twisting the truth only slightly; despite the blatant honesty of his humor, I like it.

I thought some more, twirling a strand of hair on my finger.

"He is a know it all, thinking that just because he's an archaeologist he can tell anyone whats good for them."

I glanced at the sheet and decided to balance the sides out more evenly, seeing as their were three cons and one pro to Indiana Jones.

"He's er...classically handsome." I murmured, much to Carrie's muted enthusiasm.

"He IS smart; he helped me pass History class after all."

"He's got a great sense of humor." I add, staring off at something that not even I can see.

"He's really strong, yet gently so."

"He's patient, he knows when I need to be talked to, and when I just want to stay quiet."

I find myself going over every quality in him, thinking about them all with a nostalgic smile, as if I'm looking back on a childhood memory.

"He's got this look, this stare that he reserves for me only when I do something that surprises him. It's this intense, bare, raw stare that makes me feel naked in so many ways."

"He knows what its like to lose a mother and have a father that doesn't care. I can relate to him."

Carrie suddenly clears her throat, and I glance down at the list, mortified to find the pros way ahead of the cons. With a gasp, I scramble to think of something negative.

"He infuriates me, though. He never seems to get truly mad, even when I try really hard to get him there."

"I hate the way he says my name. Like its some special piece of glass that he doesn't want to break."

I stopped, unable to think of anything else about him that absolutely peeved me. But I had to think of something, because if the pros outweighed the cons, that would mean that I...

Stop it, Marion. Don't even think about saying that.

"Anything else you want to add?" Carrie asks, raising a single eyebrow at me.

"N-no." I answer quietly, sinking down on the floor.

"So you know what this means, don't you?" Carrie questions, putting away the paper and pen in my drawer.

"No." I grunt.

She bends down, clasping my hands with hers.

"You love him."

Though I knew those would be her exact words, I'm still startled as she says them.

"Don't you dare deny it, Marion Elena Ravenwood."

Ouch, the middle name threat.

I look up, and then lunge at her, wrapping my arms around her. My face is moist. Am I crying?

"It's okay." She whispers, patting the back of my head and rocking me back and forth.

I hear this odd choking noise, and then realize its me. I'm sobbing.

How pathetic.

I sit there for a few more minutes, just gripping Carrie with all the strength I can.

"Carrie, we've got to head out to the airport. Come now!" Abner calls from outside the tent.

With a sad smile, Carrie stands, ignoring my apologies for her tear stained shirt.

She grabs her suitcase and then looks at me. I'm not sure what she's trying to find in my puffy, wet face, but she obviously locates it, giving a big I'm-so-up-to-something grin that I know I'm going to miss.

With one last warm hug, Carrie Smithers walks out of my tent, with one last muttered means of farewell.

"Well, I guess my work here is done."

But is Carrie's work done? Will Marion ever really admit to her love for Dr. Jones? Will he reciprocate it? Tune in next time for the phenomenal experience that is, 'Thoughts of Crazed Archaeologist's Daughter!'

Sorry, I had to do the over dramatic newscaster for a while.

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