Why the bleeding hell can't they just SHUT UP?!

I mean, really, I expected Abner and Oxley to party and drink themselves silly, but is all this shouting truly necessary?

I mean, Lord, I can't even tell what they're saying, they're THAT wasted. It sounds like some mix of French and German, but I don't even think Abner speaks those languages.

I'll give them five minutes to shut it.

Or two.

Or one.

Or twelve seconds.

I stand up, kicking off my covers and slipping out of my tent. The camp is oddly quiet and I have to wonder what time it is.

Because honestly, no sane seventeen year old should be awake at this hour.

Who am I kidding? I am most certainly not sane. Having a gradually-losing-himself-father and a very-secret-very-sexy Indiana Jones on my mind gives me no right at all to be even remotely sane.

So there.

I consider going to Indy's tent to wake him up (He's always a convenient asset when it comes to convincing a rather grumpy Abner to go to bed) but decide against it.

I cross the camp, blending in perfectly with the starless night. As I near the main tent, I notice that the yelling has decrescendoed to near whispers. Rolling my eyes at the thought of the dirty joke that Abner ad Ox are probably giggling about right now, I walk towards the entrance of the tent and prepare to go in

"We're simply curious about Egyptian history and artifacts; we don't want to start trouble or anything." Abner's voice drifts out of the tent.

I freeze. Is this the punch line of the joke or something?

It must be some Archaeologist thing.

Or is it another conversation that's taking place?

I stand there at the doorway, debating with my clearly suicidal curiosity.

To eavesdrop, or not to eavesdrop?

Giving into my evil side, I tiptoe to the right wall of the tent and press my ear oh-so-lightly to the canvas.

Yeah, call me nosy all you want.

Psh.

"Any particular artifacts, Dr. Ravenwood?"

I blink widely at the sound of another voice, far different than both Oxley and Abners'. It's thickly accented, and I can now see where the earlier French was coming from.

I should leave.

I should go RIGHT NOW.

The punishment for eavesdropping on Abner's personal affairs is death. So frankly, I don't know why I'm risking my neck.

But, I repeat, some part of me wants to die young and my desire to hear the other muffled voices gets the best of me. Spying a stack of crates, I walk over and cautiously climb on top. The crates wobble unstably, and I'm starting to think I'm not as scrawny as I think. Balancing, I lean forward to one of the holes in the fabric of the tent.

Oh, I am an expert.

"Look," Joins in Oxley's voice, "We don't want a fight. We're just looking around for artifacts of value."

"Then I'm sure you won't mind, Doctor Oxley, if we search the area for what we are looking for?" The other voice replies.

Something is wrong.

Something is very wrong.

Abner and Ox aren't drunk, nor are they alone. I press closer to the hole, or as close as I can without being seen.

"You have no right." Abner bristles, "You are trespassing on private research areas."

Yeah, you tell him, dad.

The French guy (whose name is unofficially now 'Frenchy'; has a nice ring to it, you know) chuckles, a sound that makes my skin crawl. "Of course, we would not dare trespass. But if we have your permission Dr. Ravenwood..."

The sentence dwindles off into silence.

What's happening?

More silence.

WHAT THE SHITTING HELL IS GOING ON?

Right as I'm about to scream in anticipation, I hear something.

A click.

The subtle click of a well loaded pistol.

I cover my mouth to stifle my gasp.

Oh. My. God.

"I'm sure Doctor," Frenchy continues calmly, "That you won't mind if we just take a few minutes to inspect your stock." I can hear the smugness in his voice. "I'm sure we will be--"

The bloke's sentence is cut off by a crash, a grunt, a thud and then another silence.

I'm staring at the wall of the tent, wishing I could see through it into that room.

Another click.

"Put the gun down." Growls another voice, much more familiar to me than necessary.

Holy.....

WHAT IS HE DOING HERE?

I'm so shocked by the sound of his voice that my foot slips on the crate I'm crouched on.

From then on, all else goes to hell in a hand basket.

Of course.

I slip, the crates come crashing down, and in my sad sad SAD attempt to stay upright I grab the wall of the tent, tearing through the fabric and falling right in.

Ha, eavesdropper extraordinaire my ass.

My landing is neither as painful nor as graceful as my previous accidents/mishaps. I land on Oxley's cot, a complete mess of limbs and bed sheets. When I straighten myself and look up, I notice several things.

a) The big gap in the tent. I didn't MEAN to rip it wide open, but damn my klutziness, it just had to bloody happen! I'm for sure going to be forced to sew it together again by Abner.

b) There's going to be a bruise on my shin (Which painfully collided with one of the tent poles on my way down) the size of my fist tomorrow.

c) Two guns are being pointed at me, though I'm not exactly sure whether it's intentional or not. I mean, if some crazy green eyed asylum escapee came barreling into MY tent, I wouldn't hesitate to shoot her. But truthfully, I'd like to live a little longer. Indy is holding the first gun, but after staring at me for a full two seconds, he switches positions and aims it at Frenchy, who is holding the other gun.

I stand, blushing and darting glances around the room.

It's quite a comical situation, for people with my sick sense of humor. Abner and Oxley look more surprised than anything, both wearing expressions that make it look as if they were just hit over the head with a rock. Indy looks murderous, for some reason, glaring at everyone in the tent at the same time. Frenchy looks confused, and his henchmen (three of them, all locals) look the same as their leader. I'm probably quite the sight to see, in my pajamas and all, but seeing as they're the ones who brought me here in the first place, my appearance is justified.

Once I get over the hilarious demeanors of everyone, I look around the room.

There's a henchman stirring on the floor beneath a broken table and now I understand where the crash came from. As he groans in pain and turns toward the light, I can tell there is no mistaking that black covering over his left (or is it his right?) eye.

"Patches?" I blurt upon recognizing him.

He doesn't answer, only staring at me as if I'm some sort of madwoman.

Eh, I don't blame him.

Frenchy drops his gun and makes his way towards me, a rather amused smile on his face. "We seem to have acquired an eavesdropper." He chuckles, giving me an open smile. "Bonjour Mademoiselle. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

'Marion' is on the tip on my tongue, but as I look at Indy, with that bloody gun still pointed at my interrogator, he gives me the strangest look. There's enough fury in it to let me know the meaning: LIE.

Sure enough, the lie is out before I can think about it.

"Helga." I answer with a demure smile.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

HELGA?!

"I'm very pleased to meet you. Your father must be very proud of such a beautiful woman." Frenchy praises, eyeing me.

Um....EW?

I giggle as if this conversation is really very light. "Oh, Dr. Ravenwood is not my father." I smile, eyes flickering towards Indy. "I'm actually his assistant. Dr. Jones is my brother."

Brother?!

Oh, real smooth, Marion.

Of COURSE he's your brother. A brother that looks NOTHING like you and who you often fantasize about without any clothing on.

I'm mad, I tell you.

Stark raving mad.

"And what, Miss Helga, were you doing outside of the tent at this hour?" Frenchy questions while leaning in to me.

I'm vaguely aware of my father turning beet red with anger, Oxley glaring and Indy readjusting his grip on the pistol. I consider warning this poor idiot that he's about to die a very painful death but change my mind. Instead, I make up another lie.

"I was checking the tent canvas for any scarab beetles. I was told to make sure they don't puncture the tent." I answer, choosing to turn flirtatious (Hey! Desperate times call for desperate measures, so bugger off!).

"So, I take it that Dr. Ravenwood trusts you with all of his personal affairs?"

I don't get why I was worrying about this. Lying comes too easy for me.

"Yes, all of them. He says I'm very consistent and trustworthy."

I should be a professional liar, I should.

Indy's previously grim-set face shifts slightly as the corner of his lips form a small smile.

"Well, then maybe a girl of your intelligence will know of a certain artifact we are seeking. It's rumored to be in these outskirts of Cairo. My friends and I had come by to see if your boss has heard of it."

"Dr. Ravenwood has acquired many artifacts on this dig." I reply coyly. "But yes, I probably know what you are looking for."

"It's the headpiece to the staff of Ra, perhaps you have seen it?"

"Why, of course I have, its--"

The look on Indy's face makes me stop mid sentence.

Oh shit.

Why the fuck did I just say that!?

The words 'My father is wearing it around his neck right now' almost escaped my mouth. The tent is silent for a few minutes and I feel like I'm going to pass out.

SAY SOMETHING YOU DOLT! I scream at myself.

"It's mentioned in all of the stories the workers tell, but we've not seen it." I assure Frenchy, maintaining my sweet layer.

He bows his head with a smirk.

"Very well, I must go now and look for the headpiece elsewhere. It's nice to meet you, Helga." He lifts my hand and kisses it. I suppress a gag.

Patches barks something in the local language to the other men, who all saunter out of the tent. Frenchy himself begins to walk out, but then turns to Abner and says, "You're rather lucky your assistant has such good timing. Good night, Doctors Oxley and Ravenwood." He nods at each of them, and then turns to Indy with a rather contemptuous expression. "Jones."

And just like that, I'm left in a tent with three pissed-looking grown men.

Oh Sweet Mary and Joseph, let me live!

Once the sound of car engines fade off into the distance, Abner speaks. "Indiana," He grunts, his beady eyes on me, "Take my daughter to her tent, please."

Jones nods, placing the pistol back on the table and grabbing me by the elbow as we leave the main tent. As happy as I am to be with this guy again, the fury emanating from him is enough to keep me from saying a word. He's angry, and that's all the back-off-or-else warning I need.

The poor, overprotective sap walks me to my own tent as if I can't do it myself. We both stand dumbly in the dark, me in my frumpy hair and boy's night clothes (Which I now wish I had traded out for that prettier, much more FITTING nightgown) and him in his flawless appearance, slacks and button down shirt. We're quite the pair, aren't we?

Wow, this is awkward.

He's staring at me, face unreadable and I'm once again captivated by his mere face.

Of all the things I SHOULD be thinking about right now....

"Stay here." He commands in a soft voice, gripping my elbow tighter. "I'll be back in a few hours to explain what I can to you."

I nod, the intensity of his tone making my eyes water.

"Promise not to wander off, especially now?" He pleads, hazel all but boiling within his irises.

I nod and he leaves.

I sit down on my cot and rub my temples, so as to dull the throbbing of my head from all the questions zooming to around inside it. The precise perfection of eavesdropping and lying has truly drained me, yet I have no will to fall asleep as the most important question of all presents itself me.

What the hell WAS that?

Well, obviously I'm still alive, though just barely. Excuse the language, but I warn you that there may be more to come as the plot lengthens.

I've been gone for so long that I thought I'd give you this way over the limit update, so please enjoy. Read, review, look for typos, beat me with a stick for not updating enough, and check out my profile for information on updates and other crap.

I love you all, you know I do.