Disclaimer: see chapter 1

Marion Ravenwood sat on a bench in the small community building in southern Nepal. She brushed the strand of silver from her face to join her otherwise ebony black hair. Her thin frame huddled inside a blue-grey parka; she waited for another letter from her daughter. Small, weather-beaten packages and letters were exchanged between the newly arrived mail pilot and the store owner. Her icy blue eyes scanned the names as they were shuffled into the pilot's sack or stuffed under the counter. The pilot turned, and grinned. "Good Morning Tashi." She smiled back at the young man. He was tall, with short but shaggy black hair hidden under a knit hat, and dark, piercing, yet incredibly warm brown eyes that were framed by squared but soft features. "A nice warm blanket is waiting by the hearth for you; as always."

"I am eternally grateful to you, Mrs. Ravenwood."

"Please, for the thousandth time, call me Marion. And you should know that it's still only 'miss'" She wished she could have changed that. 'Miss' seemed far too…too… She scoffed inwardly, unable to put words to emotions, and settled for questioning Tashi about any mail of a personal nature.

"Sorry miss," He added the extra emphasis for her benefit, "But there's none for you this week."

"Are you sure?" She asked, already knowing the answer, but needing to hear it again.

"There is no mail for you this week." The pilot said simply.

Marion hung her head, hoping her daughter hadn't forgotten about her. She chided herself for such thoughts, it was impossible for her dear Anna to forget her mother. But this was strange; the second week in a row that she hadn't sent anything. Over six full months of a letter a week, then she sends nothing. Tashi approached.

"I'm sure she'll send something. She's probably all caught up in midterms. I'm sure she'll write soon, maybe even send you her A+ report card." He laughed gently and put his arm around her shoulders; she was glad for the comfort.

"You're right. She'll be writing again soon." She said; more to reassure herself than anything. Together they walked out of the little building, and out into the freezing snow. The crows' feet at the corners of her eyes became more apparent as she squinted against the cold. "I don't care how long you've lived here; you can never get used to this." She laughed softly as they made their way to her inn. Tashi immediately wrapped the warm blanket around himself, as Marion made her way around the bar. "Blanket for the outside; drink for the inside?" she inquired.

"The usual," Tashi said, not even glancing back at her.

She poured them each a shot of her favorite whiskey, and brought them to the hearth. "You know where the guest room is. I think I'll turn in early." She downed her drink, and made her way to the rear of the little tavern. In her room she found everything the way she had left it: Her thick, warm pajamas lay neatly folded on her bed; extra blankets on the chest by the closet; and Anna's letters in a neat stack on the girl's untouched bed on the opposite wall. Marion moved to her desk, where in the middle drawer on the right side she kept her photographs, most of them of Anna. She pulled out a small stack, and only glanced at each one. She slid the stack away and was about to close the drawer when she felt a sudden urge to find a specific photograph. She pulled out the stack again and set it aside, and continued to look in the rear of the drawer. Buried under an old book she found what she was looking for. A photo of herself and the man she loved; taken soon after they had recovered the Lost Ark. She smiled wearily; years of work and worry showing themselves. "I wish I could've stayed." She tucked the photo back where it was, and put everything else back into its proper place. "I hope you know that." Without even changing clothes, she slipped beneath layers of blankets and drifted to sleep.

They had been walking in the slowly spiraling underground tunnel for some time, occasionally stopping to catch their breath. In the distance, they heard Picarde and his crew throwing themselves against the little door. They had managed to find a torch and Indy lit it with his new 'lucky charm.' Indy judged that they were roughly one hundred meters down. By now, the tunnel had opened up into a more spacious walkway; the walls adorned with paintings and engraved images.

"Can we – please -- stop for a minute?" Anna huffed between breaths.

"Just one more corner. We'll stop then." He replied; undaunted.

Anna rolled her eyes as she had become so fond of doing. They turned the next corner and she slumped to the dusty floor. Indy remained standing; leaning against a wall for support. He examined the markings on the wall where he stood. Nothing significant. He then thought it best to sit as well. He winced at a sudden pain in his back; not having dealt with anything this strenuous since his last escapade. He certainly wasn't as young as he once was. Anna watched him inquisitively. He saw her; and she looked away.

"I once told your mother that it wasn't the years; it was the mileage. Now I think both are taking their toll." He cringed again as he adjusted his position to face her more. "Y'know you look just like her."

The corner of Anna's mouth flinched at his remark. This was followed by a long pause. A full minute passed before Indy spoke again.

"I loved her."

Anna only raised her eyebrows momentarily as if to say 'yeah right.'

Noticing this, he continued. "No joke. Marion was the best thing to ever happen to me. Loved her. Wanted to marry her. Heck, I still love the woman. Haven't been able to really love anyone else since she left."

"Then why didn't you come after her?"

Her question caught him completely by surprise. He blinked. He didn't know. He honestly had no idea why he never followed her; why he never tried to find her; tried to tell her he loved her and wanted her to be with him. For once in his life, He had absolutely no idea whatsoever. Knowing Anna expected an answer he fumbled, "I—I guess I -- didn't know…I was—supposed--to come after her."

"Pffst." Anna huffed. "You didn't know?" she asked, incredulous. "How could you not know? Guys always make the move. That's how it's always been, and always will be."

"Well, excuse me." Indy said, and moved to stand.

"I'm not done yet," Anna stated.

Indy paused and looked around, "well, I'm only going one direction and Picarde's not even in the tunnel yet or we would've heard him, so just catch up when you decide to come along."

"Not with my break; I'm not done with you."

"What more is there? She left, I screwed up by not following; end of story." He turned to leave.

Anna couldn't believe this. "There's a LOT more! What have you been doing all these years? Have you ever really thought about her, I mean really thought about Mother? And a future with her? Have you been able to be with anyone else without feeling any sort of guilt about not being with her? Did you ever once stop to consider what your not following might have done to her?" Moisture collected in her eyes. "And what about me? You haven't asked me once about what it's been like growing up without a father. You haven't even asked about my life once. Not even one 'how's your mum?' or anything." All of the stress of the last couple of weeks was released as tears started to roll down her face. She curled up and grabbed her knees to her chest, her back to him. She had never felt more alone or uncared for. She wished that Mother was there to hold her. Memories of falling and scraping her hands or bumping her head on the counter played themselves out in her mind. And every time, Mother came to her rescue with a bandage or a bag of ice and always a warm smile. She comforted her when the bigger kids at school took her lunch, and encouraged her to fly to the States. Yet right now, when everything she knew was so far removed and everything around her was alien and unsure, was when she needed her most.

"Indiana…" Indy kneeled down next to her, and very genuinely asked, "How's your mum?"

Anna threw herself at him, wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could. She buried her face in his leather jacket and grabbed him like she was clinging to life itself. She didn't know why she was hugging the man she currently hated, but it seemed the most natural thing to do. She was still clutching him as he helped her to her feet.

They stood like that for a short while, painting a picture not unlike that of nearly eighteen years ago at the train station. Images of that day melted and morphed themselves into what was happening right then. The sunlight drifted through nonexistent windows, and the train whistle blew faintly in the back of Indy's mind. The steam from the engines wafted over the dusty stone. There was one distinct difference, though. Rather than saying goodbye to a life that could have been, he was greeting a new life where he and Anna would start over together as Father and Daughter.

Her crying had softened to quiet, shuddering breaths, and he held her like he would have had he been there all those years. Anna was the first to break the virtual silence.

"She's fine."

"Hm?" he replied, loosening his embrace enough to turn to her.

"Mother. She's doing fine."

Picarde stood in the temple, perplexed at the little door. This was the only possible place for Dr. Jones and that wretched brat to have gone. He growled, and turned away from his crewmen. Frustrated, he stared at the dusty stone beneath him. When I get my hands on him …wait. He blinked. There was a streak where dust had been swept aside. Over there…another one. Footprints. His eyes followed them near the position of a table that was far past its usefulness. The pedestal near it; something seemed different about it. He moved closer, and discovered that it continued into the floor, rather than merely resting on top of it. He pushed his weight onto it, and heard a soft rumble. The little door was moving. He narrowed his eyes and grinned maliciously. Now things were going his way. He quickly shoved his way past the others and shone his flashlight into the tunnel, and they all descended into the dark abyss.