"Please Abner!" I beg, giving my most impressionable puppy dog face. "I need my sleep! I don't want to stay up all night!"

"Oh Marion," My father huffs, stroking his short beard aggravatingly, "It's just for two hours before the next shift. You'll get your sleep."

"But dad!" I whine, scrambling after him as he walks out of the main tent, "I wouldn't be a good watch guard!"

Yeah, you heard me right.

Watch guard.

He wants me to take one of the watchman shifts and observe the camp for two hours, looking for intruders (A.K.A.- Frenchy and Patches). He seems to have no clue how utterly WRONG I am for this job.

"Marion, you will take two hours and sacrifice your time for the sake of everyone else." He commands. "I don't want another word about it."

"Another word about what?" Indy asks, walking up to the two of us. Abner, who is busy glaring at me, misses the lazy wink that Jones gives me, a flash of hazel that makes my heart skip.

"Marion is going to take one of the watchman shifts tonight." Abner puts flatly.

"As of now, it's watch woman." I point out.

"Silence, Marion!" Abner barks.

Well now, someone seems to have gotten a little too much sun out here today.

"Sir," Indy casts a worried glance my way, "Maybe you should have someone else take the shift. I don't mind doing a double one, or better yet, I'll do the shift with her."

Psh, as if I would be able to watch the entire camp with HIM next to me.

But still, it's the thought that counts, right?

"Marion is old enough to handle this." Abner says, fixing me with a blank stare. "Plus, this is her chance to prove her responsibility."

"I WANT TO SLEEP!" I yell rather loudly, causing some of the workers to laugh at my outburst. Indy makes a hacking cough sound but I know that he is hiding his own laughter.

"Marion Ravenwood," My father draws himself up to his full height, which is about two inches shorter than Indy, "You will take this shift, or you will be sent back to your trip for the remainder of this dig."

I gape angrily as Indy tries to convince Abner otherwise. "Sir, the night shift isn't something for a young woman to be doing. Especially your own daughter. It's not safe, sir." His voice becomes urgent. "If someone did try and get into the camp, she would be the first to--"

"Indy, I think I know my own daughter and her capability." Abner says icily.

Whoa. I never think I've seen Abner reprimand Indy so heavily, nor have I ever seen Indy argue with Abner.

This is a first.

They glare at each other, a foot apart. The workers watch all of us warily from the sidelines.

"Do you?" Indy asks curiously, his voice more gentle than dangerous.

"I'll do the shift." I blurt it out because I hate seeing my father so close to an aneurysm, and I also hate the feeling that Indy could get easily kicked off this dig if he continues arguing.

"Then that settles that." Abner says softly.

I see Indy visibly struggling not to defend my wishes, so I give him a warning look which he luckily obeys.

"Fair enough." He says, backing away from Abner and I. "I'll show her what to do tonight."

He walks away.

I wouldn't blame him. We mad Ravenwoods are no small joke.

"The thing about being a watch man," Indy begins as we trek to the edge of the camp.

"Watch woman." I remind him.

He smiles down at me, "WATCH WOMAN, is that you have to be vigilant at all times."

He gestures to the stool at the edge of the camp, and the whistle sitting on it.

"These are your only tools."

I nod.

"And here are the rules to this job," He says very seriously, "Number one, your butt does not leave the stool until someone comes to take its place." He gives me a fierce and rather distracting look while telling me this, "I don't care if you have to go to the restroom or need a drink of water, don't leave."

I nod again, both because I need to show I'm listening and because I need to clear my addled head of that look he gave me.

"Rule Number Two," He continues, holding up his index and middle finger, "Only blow the whistle if you see someone trying to get into the camp. All the workers have either gone into their tents or have gone to their real homes for the night, and they won't be back until tomorrow morning. So, if you see anyone, blow."

"Alright." I take a seat on the stool and clutch the whistle in my hands.

He stands, feet away from me, giving me that incredibly amused grin of his as I rock back and forth on the stool, staring out over the desert floor.

"What?" I ask indignantly. "Isn't this what I'm supposed to be doing?"

"I'm sorry," He laughs, shaking his head, "You're just too cute."

Yeah, because telling me I'm cute REALLY makes me feel better when I'm in the midst of becoming the first official Watch Woman of the Ravenwood Camp.

"Hmph." I turn away from him, facing the desert with a determined face.

He doesn't say more, but I can still feel his presence. He's probably grinning ridiculously at me and wondering exactly how crazy I am. I do not turn around to see if I'm right.

"C'mere." He suddenly lifts me off the chair and I'm plastered right up against him.

It's a good thing we're hidden from view by several tents and empty crates.

I remain motionless as he reaches onto his head and plucks the Fedora off his head. His other hand slips behind my head, pulling out the messy bun I have my hair up in. Slowly, keeping one hand on he back of my back, he places the hat on my head.

"There." He says quietly, tipping the Fedora slightly to the side.

"What? Do I still look cute?" I raise an eyebrow.

He shakes his head. "No."

"Gee, thanks." I reply sarcastically, turning my face away.

"You look beautiful." He says softly, moving the hand at my neck to cup my cheek and lifting my chin so my face is THIS CLOSE to his.

Finally, a real compliment at last. Took him long enough.

I grin slowly and wrap my arms around my neck, kissing him.

Oh, what I wouldn't give to do this all night instead of watch for intruders.

When we resurface, I disengage my hands from his mussed hair and take my spot once more on the stool, waiting for my breathing to calm down.

He mutters a 'goodnight' and starts to walk away. I remember with a start that I still have his hat.

"Jones!" I call after him.

He turns. "Yeah?"

"Your Fedora." I hold it out for him to take.

He shakes his head, "Keep it."

I narrow my eyes, puzzled. "Why? Don't you want it?"

"It'll give you luck." He answers simply.

"Luck for what?" I ask disbelievingly. "Nothings going to happen."

He doesn't reply to that, only smiling and giving me a small peck on the lips. "Just keep it. Besides, sweetheart, you always complain about how much you want it."

We give each other once last kiss and he walks away, only turning back once more to give me that cocky trademark smile of his.

I turn on the stool, facing the cool desert air.

Let the next two hours begin.

Being a first time Watch Woman, there are several things I wish I had done before starting this shift:

1) Bringing a watch. So maybe I don't own one, but how the hell am I supposed to know when the next person should be coming to take my shift?!

2) A water skin. I'm dying of thirst.

3) Food. I'm dying more of hunger than thirst. Must. Have. Chocolate. Chip. Pancakes.

4) A coat. So, I know it's like....November or something, but we're in the middle of the bloody desert. Why didn't anyone warn me how freaking cold it gets out here?

So here I sit on my stool, butt sore, shivering, stomach growling and eyes drooping. I scan the empty desert for what seems the 356th time before rubbing my arms to create some warmth.

This is all truly a RIVETING experience, but I'd much rather be in my own tent. Honestly, I don't know what I'd do if I had to stay here longer than two hours. Probably eat the stool and the whistle, but I'm not sure.

I hum a random tune under my breath. The camp has long since gone to bed. Indy walked by once and smiled at me, but I was on the shift and had to concentrate.

A flicker of movement to my left draws my attention. Something lands in the dirt with a soft thud.

I can't make out the object from where I'm standing. My curiosity pricks within me, even though I know I'm supposed to stay on that stool, just like Indy told me to.

Five seconds later, I leap up and walk wearily over to the object. It's a small arrow, like a child's play thing. I get the sense that something is wrong, very wrong indeed. I snap up, scanning the desert harder than ever before. Nothing gives any further evidence that something is amiss, yet the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as fear trickles into my system.

A gust of bone-chilling wind blows my hat off of my head a few yards away. I look for it, following the ground till I reach the hat.....as well as a pair of shoes.

"Good evening, young madam." A thickly accented voice greets me.

Warning bells go off in my head and I decide it's a good time to blow the whistle.

But I left it at the stool.

Shit.

Before I can gather enough breath in me to scream, two hands lock around my mouth. I squirm, trying to beat the person holding me. Another pair of hands of grab my wrists and force them behind my back. I start to scream, but the hand around my mouth stifles it. Something is placed in front of my nose and as I breathe in a sickly sweet smell wafts my nostrils making my eyes water and my head spin. Bile rises in my throat as the smell makes me choke.

I'm forced to my knees, as the person in front of me walks forward, kicking the Fedora out of their way.

I make one last attempt to call for help as I begin to pass out.

"Indiana Jones." The name dies on my lips, barely a whisper.

Blackness swims over me, cutting off my last thought and leaving me with nothing but a name.

Indy.

A/N: Yay!!!! Suspense!!! The next chapters are going to pretty lengthy and full of various emotions. And you know what else? It would be so spectacular if I could get more than twelve reviews or so for each chapter. Call me crazy, but I think I would die a happy girl if I could just get to 1000 reviews. It's a lot to ask for, I know, but we can do it! Please?