Author's note: Sorry this took so long. I've been going through a lot of stuff, and I'll save you the details. Let's just say it was more than a vengeful case of writer's block. This is kind of a long one, but I don't think you'll mind, considering that I'm long overdue. That's if anyone still reads this. I really do apologize.
Disclaimer: By now, you should be wise to the fact that I don't own the original Indy characters. I do own Ivan, Alicia, Gregory and a few others. Booyah.
.IX.
A few minutes after Indy had left his apartment, he found himself skeptical of his hunches, but at the intersection of LaSalle and Claremont nevertheless. Looking up at the thirteen-story building, the archaeologist took a breath so deep that his lungs ached.
Indiana pulled the first door open and entered the building's vestibule, focusing beyond the view of the lobby through the glass of the second set of doors. Indy emerged into the yellow-lit space; something about the warmth and brightness send the circus in his gut into intermission. Indy felt he was close.
A meandering thought connected. For some reason that Indy couldn't contribute to clear memory, the eleventh floor seemed to ring a bell. Thinking back to the last time he'd been in this building, the archaeologist fuzzily recalled standing downstairs, here, with Alicia saying his goodbyes. She'd invited him up to prolong the visit, but Indy had declined. Surprising, especially to anyone who knew anything about Indy's usual mischievous tendencies; however, he hadn't wanted to complicate that parting any more than it already had been. God knows that sort of thing had happened enough times. Gregory Hamilton – Uncle Gregory to Alicia – was quite a good friend, and technically, at that point, a partner-in-crime of sorts. Alicia was a beautiful girl, and interesting, certainly, but it was a situation Indy smartly restrained himself from. He remembered her slow, charming smile. "The elevator only takes a minute to go up eleven floors, if it's the prospect of climbing the stairs that you don't like," she'd said. He could almost feel the tingling pressure of her lips on his cheek, where she had kissed him that day. Indy could also recall the essence of moist breath on his ear, but not the room number that she'd whispered into it, in case he ended up changing his mind.
Definitely the eleventh floor, though. That, at least, was a solid start. Wait. As the archaeologist exited his reverie, something reoccurred to him. The details. Marcus, you're good for way more than I ever give you credit for. Indy glanced to the wall housing the tenants' mailboxes, right next to which were the intercom buttons. Each was linked to its prospective tenant by a number and a last name. Porter, 21. Bingo, mystery solved.
Behind Indy, a mover struggled with a grossly overloaded cart. The impending disaster was clear; Indiana witnessed the lopsided mass tip with merely an eye-roll, turning toward the stairs as the sound of boxes colliding with the floor continued for several seconds. Not willing to wait for damage control to clean up new arrivals' belongings, Indiana turned to the stairs with a rueful groan. Eleven floors – Alicia's comment may have been sardonic, but it was no joke. The archaeologist pulled himself up the first few tiers with the handrail, and commenced a lengthy ascent.
Ivan pulled the apartment door closed as he passed through. Alicia, whom Ivan had ushered in ahead of himself, turned to him seeming bewildered and spooked. He perceived, by the turbulence in her deep green eyes, that she wanted answers; all he was willing to – or would – provide were more questions.
Alicia meant to stand defiantly, but the uncommon weakness that overtook her still lingered. She felt still, a corrugate copy of her usual willful self. Her arms ached as she held them crossed. For a second, the blonde's attention flitted to the foyer mirror. Her reflection came back to her in the amber-colored afternoon light – a dissatisfaction. Whereas Alicia's features normally held a healthy blush, her flesh looked pale. Instinctively, Alicia was on guard without quite being able to understand why. Whatever this feeling is, she thought, I'm here now, so I'd better figure something out. The silence had become an uncomfortable barrier.
Ivan was feeling increasingly less of the adrenaline that had followed him from the museum. His thoughts had been racing ahead of him on the way here, and he easily collected them at the doorstep like so much baggage. He noticed Alicia's furtive glance toward the mirror and took note of all the same abnormalities. Sliding back into his casual self, Ivan examined Alicia, instantly catching the gist of her concerns when she returned her attention to him. Departing from his standoffishness, Ivan affected a reassuring vibe.
"God, what insanity," Ivan said, breaking the barricade with a touch of irony in his voice. The statement emerged with exactly the right salve to momentarily soothe Alicia's suspicions.
He moved toward her slowly, like someone approaching a wounded and wary animal. Alicia's posture lost some of its rigidity, but still she hesitated. Unconsciously, she fingered the bruise on her wrist. A wounded animal she was, indeed, but one suppressing the impulse for flight in favor of curiosity. Ivan continued to move forward until he was quite close enough to touch her, but stopped a foot short. He could hear her heart beating – not pulses, but insecurities. He inclined his head toward her.
"Are you alright?" asked Ivan, his words so soft that they rested upon the vessel of his exhalation like a feather on a calm wind.
She closed the space between them and timidly slipped her arms around him. The action of it felt so wonderfully routine, yet it was hard to ignore a certain minute, unexplainable discomfort. "Yes," came her prolonged response, "I think so."
Unexpectedly, Alicia pulled back. Still posing as emotional therapist, Ivan was careful not to make any sudden or out-of-character movements; he merely looked at her questioningly. Judging by the girl's troubled visage, obviously she wanted to say something, but couldn't decide on the right way to put it.
Finally the words bubbled to Alicia's lips. She attempted to relay them without any sense of accusation; Ivan's behavior very much perplexed her, and just in case he was in any way unstable, Alicia wanted to avoid upsetting him. "Do you have any idea about what that was? Back at the museum?"
The query was completely anticipated. Incredulously, he conjectured. "Hell if I know." He paused, as if connecting fragments of ideas. Alicia had tried to do the math earlier but ended up with nothing. This was considerably unfamiliar territory for the blonde; the common opinion of Alicia held that she was an astute and discerning individual, far from prone to having the wool pulled over her eyes – in some ways, a regular Holmes. Ivan turned to what he considered to be the obvious. It was probably best to work from the basics anyway. "That man was certainly pretty serious about whatever he was doing. What with waving those guns around." He flailed his hands around in the air for emphasis, as if she couldn't remember the terrifying even detail by detail. Her heart nearly stopped when she realized that Indy hadn't ducked beneath the table to seek cover. She had peeked out, fretful that an ill fate might befall her former friend. She'd heard dozens of times from her Uncle and other friends and colleagues that the young Jones was more than able to take care of himself; his tendency to cheat death was relatively well-known. Regardless, Alicia didn't trust that streak to continue indefinitely. She had kept her eyes trained on Indy up until the point that Ivan dragged her out into the corridor. Alicia fought the urge to tear free of his restraint and run back into the boardroom. What could she have done anyway? She would have probably gotten herself killed.
Alicia got a bit defensive, annoyed that Ivan apparently had no concern for Mr. Hastings or Indiana. "Well, certainly. They must have been after something. I'd already thought of that. What I'm trying to get to is what." She spoke with a bit of a sting, her arms folded across her chest. A welling up of emotion pursued her, which she did her best to elude. "For all I know, Indi–er, Henry could be dead." Alicia closed her eyes and willed the moisture to subside.
"Nonsense." Ivan brushed that possibility aside. "Now, think. Is there anything that you could have that would be valuable to someone?"
The blonde took a glance around the apartment, the rooms within her line of vision didn't hold much: the kitchen contained the expected hardware; the living room, a few books and nothing else. She took a quick mental inventory. Her Uncle had been mentioned – could it have anything to do with him? "What if it isn't me? It could be Rawlings, or someone else. We weren't the only people in that room."
"Well, of course. But really, you were the topic of discussion, indirectly." Ivan grew impatient. Alicia seemed to be dodging his initial question. "Alicia." He took hold of her hands and looked into her eyes, assuring her attention was again fully his. "Anything that you know of." His speech was slow, almost as if he was talking to a child. In some ways Ivan recognized Alicia as grown-up, but he also detected insecurities and remnants of the childhood she was never wholly granted clinging to her. Sometimes she needed to be shepherded.
"Well, nothing that I would consider important, really. Maybe some stuff from Uncle Gregory… I've looked through that though, and it wouldn't really be of use to anyone other than him. Even I can't read some of it, and I lived with him."
This is what he had been hoping to hear. Something like this might actually get them somewhere. "Maybe I could help you look through it again?" he suggested. "If you looked at it a long time ago, you might have a better insight now."
She hesitated, unconsciously pushing his hands away from her. It had briefly crossed her mind that this might be the best route to take. A flat, briefcase-like safe sat tucked in the back corner of Alicia's bedroom closet. She hadn't opened it within the space of a few years. The top of it was probably host to a reasonably thick layer of dust now, but for as little attention as she paid it, its contents had been an underlying presence in her life. The documents and small items within had been awfully important to Uncle Gregory, some written in a script even he said he couldn't decipher. When his niece had inquired why she had been asked to watch over them, the archaeologist seemed not to favor a direct answer. With caring warmth in his eyes and a smile that emphasized the well-worn laugh lines in his face, Uncle Gregory only said that he'd wanted to get them off of his mind for a bit. Out of sight, out of mind, he had figured – as per the old adage.
Even though Gregory carried and portrayed himself as a businesslike "serious type," an inescapable aura of charm and slight silliness sat like a halo over him. He had passed this illumination on to his niece during his adventure as a parent to the free-spirited blonde, who at the beginning of their match-up was only eight. She was more familiar with him than anyone else he knew, and yet even the closest people to mysterious men cannot explore all of their enigmas. Therefore, instead of pursuing what she thought must be a real reason underlying Gregory's dismissive response, Alicia allowed the whole thing to be swept under the carpet and played along. Curious little girls grow up into curious adults, though, and so it had simmered continually upon the back burner of her consciousness.
Ivan paced in a small circle across the carpet, watching the track of flattened fibers form in the pale cream.
"If we're going to do that, maybe I should get a hold of Uncle Gregory," proposed Alicia. She hadn't much of an idea concerning where to start with the contents of the safe. "I don't even know very much about any of it. He just sort of passed his things off to me to hang onto for a while, which probably means he wants them back." This was most likely true – if Gregory seemed to leave loose ends, it was only because he intended to come back later and tie them up in his own good time. It had occurred to her that if there was a reason for leaving his things with her, there was also probably a reason why he kept it in a safe. "My little confidant," he had used to call her, stressing the importance of trust between them. A life-lesson held dear to her heart from the man she considered a truer father than the one to whom she owed her pretty looks. Even if he hadn't explained himself, she was decided that he could trust her now.
"Well," returned Ivan, "what if we don't have the time?" His eyebrows slightly raised, Ivan's handsome face donned lines of worry and insistence.
The shrill, tinny ringing of a phone permeated the apartment. Alicia wondered if she should let it go, but Ivan waved her away. As she walked toward the persistent jingle, Ivan turned and let himself fall backward onto the leather divan. The ringing ceased as Alicia's fingertips contacted and lifted the receiver. Her soft and controlled greeting floated to Ivan, who was slouched forward, resting his forehead against the fingers of one hand contemplatively. Unexpectedly, Alicia's voice became more brisk and pleasantly excited. The thinker straightened his posture with interest, looking toward the kitchen, or rather at a wall behind which the kitchen and Alicia were. From this angle, they were out of view. Getting up, he traversed and leaned against the doorless frame. Alicia glanced over her shoulder, aware of Ivan's presence behind her. She met his inquisitiveness with a congenial smile as she continued to converse. Alicia mouthed "Uncle Gregory," pointing a finger at the phone, during a pause which meant the unseen party was speaking.
"Tomorrow?……….. I see… Yes, it's quite a surprise! I should scold you for not telling me beforehand, but I've missed you so much that I'll forget about it…… Mmmhmmm……….. Hold on a second, and I'll get some paper." She set the receiver down and began hunting through drawers. Ivan tapped her on the shoulder and kindly handed her a sheet of stationery. Returning to the phone, Alicia held the receiver between her chin and shoulder. Her hand moved quickly across the paper, she said goodbye, and hung up.
With a sly and interested finesse, Ivan said, "What a coincidence, huh?" The news from her Uncle had lightened Alicia's mood significantly. Upon receiving his call, it felt as if everything dismal had lifted. Gregory was slated to arrive in the City sometime late tomorrow afternoon. What a breath of fresh air it would be to see him. She didn't feel silly communicating her misgivings to him, the way she did when she considered telling anyone else those secret, silent things. And he could shed a lot of light on this situation, she was sure of it.
"Yes, it's very interesting timing, isn't it? Truthfully, it's been far too long since I've had the chance to really talk to him. And after all this, I could really use his company." She quickly added, "Not that you haven't calmed my nerves, Ivan." The color had returned to Alicia's flesh, even to the point that she appeared a little flushed. She felt much more alive than she had ten minutes ago.
"So you want to wait for him then?"
Her mouth dropped open slightly in shock at Ivan's statement. "Of course I am! How could you think that I wouldn't?"
"I'm just looking out for your safety. You know that." Ivan approached Alicia, appealing to her sense of caution with an unspoken plea that resided in the depths of his metallic-blue eyes. She stared into the limitless abyss, so deep did it seem that she could not even see her reflection. Ivan's ability to speak volumes without words had always intrigued Alicia. Communication was always so much more powerful when language didn't get in the way.
She touched his arm tenderly. "I know." Pausing, her brow furrowed. Alicia didn't want to leave before Gregory arrived, yet she realized the tangibility of the danger that had so far pursued her. "If it does have anything to do with Gregory or whatever I have of his, I think it would be wiser to wait until he can help us clarify all of it."
Ivan was stubborn, persistent about his earlier proposal. "I really think we should at least see what we're dealing with. If we look over it and none of it seems overly important or – I don't know – threatening, then we can move on to another possibility. We may not even need to waste the time."
"Maybe you're right. But I'd really rather have him here." A mental picture of the safe flashed into her consciousness. She trusted Ivan, didn't she? He'd just recently moved in with her. That must mean something in the way of trust… And still, something within her was utterly against it. She considered once more.
"So?"
"I've decided I'm waiting. Something doesn't feel right."
Ivan was exasperated. "All I'm asking you for is one simple thing. I'm trying to protect you, for God's sake!"
Alicia chewed on her lower lip. She didn't want to deal with this, half imagining turning heel, grabbing her coat, and escaping out somewhere into the streets. There she could blend in. These people wouldn't find her, she would be part of the crowd, the antithesis of an individual. But that was ridiculous. Alicia was angry at herself for even inventing the scenario of running away, and without knowing it, bit too hard. A trickle of blood met her tongue with a metallic taste.
"Just show me where it is," implored Ivan in a soft voice, leaning close. You don't have to even look at the stuff if you don't want to. I'll take all responsibility in the case that your Uncle gets a little upset about the invasion of privacy."
Alicia said nothing, thought nothing, looked at the floor.
Sudden anger got the best of Ivan. "Damn it Alicia!" he growled. "You won't do anything to help yourself. Do you want to get me killed too?"
She hardly even felt herself move, nor did she plan the outburst. "No! I don't know what to do!" Tears threatening to spill from her eyes, Alicia bolted for the door. She felt cornered, as she always did when people pressed her for answers she hadn't had the time to come up with.
Ivan's longer strides brought him into her path well before she reached the exit. Still in her instinctual fog, Alicia struck out, inflicting insignificant blows onto the chest of her blockade. Ivan reached up. A powerful grip connected with Alicia's slender neck. She sputtered, surprised and alarmed as he backed her up against the wall. When the impact of what had happened fully reached her, she would not have been able to breathe even if Ivan's fingers had not constricted her throat. The tears that had been on the verge leaked from her eyes as she choked. The man she saw now was a terrible creature, unidentifiable as the Ivan she knew, or thought she knew.
Ivan's blue eyes glinted like steel in the fierce glow of a forge-fire. Alicia was unable to tear hers away, bloodshot and watery though they were, regardless of the fact that she could hardly see. Angry and terrified, she locked her jaw and squirmed against the wall. Her arms felt weak and useless, but she clawed at Ivan's hand anyway. It didn't seem to have any effect.
Darkness crept into Alicia's vision. She felt sick, and time seemed to stop entirely. She fought the slip into unconsciousness, at last hearing Ivan speak. "You will show me what your Uncle gave you, Alicia. I'm not asking." His lips barely moved.