"Now dear, take this here tea and drink. Then we can talk."

I raise my head from my knees, taking the cup from Fayah's hands with a sniff.

I'm sitting in Sallah's kitchen, scrunched up in the reclining chair with a throbbing headache. Fayah, Sallah's wife, has had me here for about two hours now, and I'm seriously a mess.

"Thanks." I croak, taking a sip from the mug. The lump in my throat fades away just a little and I feel not so lost.

Fayah sits across from me, watching my every move. I probably look wretched, all red-eyed and disheveled. My tears were short lived, but I'm guessing they left a big impact.

"I'm not going to ask what happened." She informs me, folding her hands in her lap. "Only tell me what you feel should be heard."

I ponder silently, looking over the intricate tiling of the kitchen floor. What should be heard? I ask myself. Am I blowing this whole thing out proportion?

"Have you ever wanted something? Wanted something so bad that you'd do anything to get it?" I'm talking to myself as much as I am to Fayah. "But as soon as you got it, you didn't know what to do with it, or how to handle it? That's how I feel."

The lump in my throat grows again, so I gulp some more tea. "Today I got what I wanted more then life itself. I had him, and--...and we were bloody kissing in a shovel cupboard and I just panicked! It's wrong, it's dangerous and it's only going to hurt me."

I cut off, not realizing the words coming out of my bruised lips. I lightly trace them with my fingertips, remembering the feel of that kiss. The urgency yet complacency of the moment.

My thoughts have been scattered like this for the last two hours, ever since I ran from Indy down in the tomb. I feel like a guilty coward, an idiot, and someone not worthy of sharing that electrifying kiss with Indiana Jones.

It wasn't until I made it to Sallah's house that I had let my emotions run rampant, screaming into a pillow for minutes on end. I shed a few tears, obviously enough to make me look like a depressed loser, and I banged my head on the wall a few times. I think I was simply overwhelmed by everything, the kiss, my reaction, my cowardice, my wants and needs, the humongous amount of stress that I was/am drowning in.

But now, I'm fine.

Okay, so maybe I'm still dying. But I'm getting better at this.

"Do you love him?" The question is soft and kind.

"Down to the last cell in my whole body." I answer with a harsh laugh-- I sound far too cliche for my own good.

"Then what are you afraid of?"

I look up from the floor into Fayah's brown eyes and the lump in my throat grows even bigger.

"I don't know how to love him." I say quietly, personally shamed. "I'm not sure what I want from him or what he wants from me. I don't know how to respond to him or how to treat him. I don't know how to be any good at this." A tear races down my cheek and I feel very stupid.

Fayah lets out a laugh, and I half-wonder if it's directed at me. She continues to smile as she says, "Marion, do you think anyone simply knows how to bake a chocolate cake? Or read a book? Not at first, no. Practice. If you want to love this man, then you have to give it your best and not expect everything to fall into place."

I don't answer, but I am listening intently.

"The thing I know about love," She begins, wiping a dark curl from her eyes, "Is that most humans can do it expertly without even trying. Sure, it takes work, and sure it takes dedication, but you, Marion, will never forgive yourself if you give up on him now."

"But how do I know if I'm doing it the right way?" I ask.

"You'll know because he will return your affection's just as ardently." She explains simply. "I've been married for two years now, and I've never had a day where I want my own life to be any different. Don't deny yourself happiness, Marion, go out and chase it."

My eyes widen as I figure out what I have to do. I jump up, dropping the mug of tea.

"Sorry!" I wail.

"I'll get it dear. You go work your problems out." Fayah says sweetly, waving me away.

With a smile and a thank you, I run out to my car and jump in, throwing it in reverse.

It's time to quit moping, Marion Ravenwood.

Please review and find typos, because today I was too lazy to do anything myself. Oh, and do vote on my profile poll. Love you all!