"Aw, Moll, will you quit being sore?" Mutt pleaded while they were sitting on their suitcases, waiting for a car to pick them up. Isay had gone ahead with strict instructions on how they were not supposed to behave in his absence. He had contacts that he had to meet.
Molly had not spoken to them all through that Roman lunch, nor the entire flight, and she was still silent, staring ahead in the distance, her small hands fisted under her chin. The warm night in Jerusalem could have been much nicer had she been somewhat more obliging. In fact, Mutt thought up a few activities they could get up to… involving those slim, smooth calves of hers in particular.
He closed his eyes, trying to shake the thought from his head. Thoughts of her calves, and the thighs they were attached to… wrapped around his waist as she-
"I am so incredibly angry!" she suddenly burst.
"I was-" Mutt began, but she held up a hand to silence him.
"This is not a film! Nor is it some kind of pulp fiction adventure story! This is my life, Henry! I don't have time to drop everything and chase some… mythical, stupid artifact around the world! I am a scholar not some good for nothing adventurer… I am a Harvard graduate for crying out loud-"
Something about her condescending tone, her tight-lipped expression on the plane, and her outburst made Mutt's blood begin to boil. She was still going on, throwing her hands around, pointing a finger at him, and referring to him as an oaf- did she really just call him an oaf?
He grabbed her fist in his hand.
"Now, hold it right there," he said, his voice deadly calm. "You need to just relax a little, Miss Ivy League."
She was about to open her mouth, but he swiftly pressed his finger against her lush, wide lips. "You need to take a moment to realize that this isn't about you anymore. This about something bigger than the both of us right now, and its so big that there are countries, and presidents, and the possibility of innocent lives at risk.
"And I know I didn't graduate from somewhere like Harvard, but I also like to think that there's more to an education than sitting in a classroom, listening to what some stuffed shirt tells you about history. You're out here Molly, really out here, doing what's right. And you're here with me because you're smart… you see through things and make them right again- not because you can translate some Latin off a sheet of paper."
She tried to open her mouth, but Mutt wrapped a hand around the base of her skull, fisting his hands into the multitude of her soft, flaxen hair. The finger that was pressed to her lips removed itself to take off her glasses.
Her eyes were wide, settling on his own lips, watching them with intent. Mutt pressed her up against him, sliding the glasses into his pocket.
"So," he finished, nearly going wild when she stuck out her tongue to wet her lips, "if you pay attention, Little Miss Harvard, you might actually learn something."
He leaned in, ferociously kissing her lips; drinking from her all the words they did not share in the past day or so. She opened up to him; allowing Mutt to taste her mouth, explore it. She fisted her hands in the lapels of his shirt, pressing herself flush against him. That was it- there was only the two of them there, in the arrivals terminal, waiting for a stranger to bring them to their latest location.
She took a moment to come up for air and Mutt kissed her neck. "If you think you're going to bed alone tonight," he growled, "you're very wrong."
Her skin erupted into goose bumps. He affixed his lips to hers once more, firmly wrapping his hands around her waist.
"Hey!" A loud shout came from the window of a car. "You two lovebirds with Isay?"
Molly slowly took her hands off of Mutt's shirt, smoothing out the winkles. She smiled, trying to regain some of her dignity. Mutt looked annoyed with the interruption.
"Yes," she answered, fixing her hair, "yes, that's us."
"Well, there's been a change of plans," the cab driver said, coming to collect their bags.
"What do you mean?" Molly whined. "No hotel?"
The cabbie shook his head, "I'm afraid not someone wants to see you as soon as possible. Has a private house here, where you'll be staying."
"What's his name?" Mutt asked.
"Oh, he says you know him pretty well."
"I don't think you heard me. What's his name?" Mutt asked again, tense.
"He calls himself the Professor."
Immediately Mutt smiled. "Take us to him."
Molly nearly wept when she saw Dean Henry Jones standing in the doorway, casually leaning against the frame. His figure was darkened by the backlight of the room, the streetlamps casting shadows on the porch and walkway. The house was situated on a tall hill overlooking Jerusalem. The view would be breathtaking in the morning, she noted.
"Hi dad," Mutt said from behind her, grabbing both Molly's and his suitcases and striding through the front gate.
"Hey kid," the old professor said easily, smiling lopsidedly at his son as he approached.
"Hello sir," Molly said, managing her best smile though she was weary and beat-up from travel and adventure.
Jones regarded the two ramshackle youngsters with the same practiced and tired eyes he used to look over ancient artifacts. Molly Moore had her arms folded across her chest, a bit of slip showing from the hem of her skirt, her blond curls barely held together by a clip at the back of her neck. Mutt stood next to her, rocking back on his heels, his hat pushed up so he could wipe the sweat from his forehead, his hands punched in his pockets.
"Well," Jones said tiredly, "I think you'd better come in. We woke the cook up to make you something to eat."
Molly's eyes immediately brightened at the prospect of food, Mutt blowing out a sigh of relief. Leaving their bags in the front hall they quickly followed Jones into the kitchen where a spread of leftover meat, cheese, pita bread and vegetables were neatly laid out on the kitchen table.
Molly had to remind herself to be polite as she tucked into the spread. Mutt didn't feel the least bit embarrassed as he stuffed himself full of good, Mediterranean food. He hummed his appreciation for the meal as his mother walked into the room.
"I'm glad we were able to catch you!" Marion said happily, throwing her arms around Mutt.
I'm not sure who he's more like, Molly mused to herself as she watched Mutt interact with Marion. He was more reserved around his father… Not completely comfortable with him yet. But around Marion she saw that he was totally himself, almost like he was with her.
"And you must be Molly!" Marion chirped happily, coming over to offer her a hug. Molly found herself engulfed in her warm, strong arms and nearly sank into the comfort they offered. "It's about time he brought home a nice respectable girl!"
"Oh, well I'm actually his-"
"How were you able to find us?" Mutt asked, cutting her off.
"I have some Intel that's been keeping an eye on the two of you. We decided to intersect in Jerusalem."
"We have people tailing us," Mutt said, a mouthful of pita nearly blocking his words.
"You'll be safe here for a little while at least. We can offer you food, shelter, and a place to rest for the next bit," Jones answered steadily. "How much do you know?"
Henry shrugged. "Depends. We found a letter in Rome that led us to the Vatican."
"To the sarcophagus of St. Helen, to be precise. There was information in the letter that suggested that she might have been buried with the spear. Instead we found an inscription that showed the spear head missing and gave us a biblical passage speaking about the chosen land," Molly finished.
Mutt nodded, "That's right. But there's also this small problem we have with alchemy."
Jones seemed to perk up at the comment. "What do you mean?"
Mutt shrugged, palms facing up, "We were attacked by this man from a Christian brotherhood. Claimed he was protecting religious artifacts and told us that the spear was hidden away safely. He had the same symbol tattooed on his chest that an FBI agent showed Molly and I a few days before this whole… situation began."
Jones felt the color drain from his face. Marion, noting the sudden change in her husband clapped her hands together. "I think that its time for bed!" she stated, standing up and clearing the plates of food.
"I'll help you," Molly said, gathering up the large tray.
"Where was the symbol from?" Jones asked his son.
"Whaddya mean?" Mutt drawled, running a hand through his hair.
"I mean the picture, the one the FBI showed you? Do you know where that photo was taken?"
"I think it was Nepal, or some kind of Eastern, Oriental country," Molly said over her shoulder. She helped Marion load the dishes into the sink.
"So," Marion said, smiling, "how long have you known Henry?"
Molly, who was straining to hear the men in the background, formulated an answer as quickly as she could manage, "Oh about eight months now."
"And I'm only just meeting you now!"
Molly thought she heard something about a murder. "How did you meet?"
"Um," she began, gathering her thoughts, "I was finishing up some of my Master's work at the university. He needed someone to teach a class for him, and I was a last resort that turned into a secretarial position."
"Oh," Marion said, cocking an eyebrow, "you're also his secretary?"
"Assistant actually," Molly corrected. "I help him out with classes, writing, organizing his day to day life, his publishing, excavating… basically everything." Molly paused suddenly, "Did you say also?"
Marion was about to answer, but Mutt put an arm around her shoulders. "We'd better get to bed," he said, stifling a yawn.
"That sounds like a great idea," Marion agreed. "We'll put you up in the bedroom upstairs… Last door on the right."
Molly's eyes began to droop as she nodded her head lazily, taking Mutt's arm. "Thank you for everything," Molly added, smiling warmly at Marion and her husband.
"Of course dear!" she said, squeezing her forearm. "Henry's lucky to have you!"
"I tell her every day," Mutt said charmingly as they climbed the stairs.
"I want that in writing from now on," Molly said waspishly.
As they were walking down the hallway, Molly smiled contentedly. The whole house was filled with large windows overlooking a deep valley where the rest of Jerusalem resided. She felt drunk on jet lag and good food, leaning on to Mutt and he led her down a series of doors.
"Your mother really seemed curious about me," she said, leaning her head against his arm.
"Yeah, she can be like that with women in my life," he said non-chalantly.
"She kept on asking about how we met and how long we'd-"
Molly suddenly stopped, nearly tripping Mutt. "Henry," she said, suddenly coming to her senses. "You told her that we- that we're together, didn't you?" She put a hand to her mouth, her voice deadly low.
Mutt laughed, shrugging his shoulders, "I might've mentioned it… that we you know, were working closely together…"
Molly was just about to rip her own hair out. "Why?" she demanded hurriedly, in a whisper that could have been a yell.
He faced her, an innocent look on his face as though he had not done something wrong. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his eyes wide.
"What do you mean?" she asked angrily in a hushed tone. "She was acting all friendly with me as though I were your fiancée or something…"
Mutt smiled and scratched the back of his neck. Molly threw her hands in the air, "So not only do I manage your entire life in and out of the university, but I apparently I've also agreed to bear your children and feed you potato and leek soup until I die. Excellent! That was exactly the kind of life I was hoping for with my education!"
"Oh relax! I just told her so she'd get off my back about the girls I was dating before. Its not like she's hopeful or expects anything!" he countered with a complete admission.
Molly half expected him to continue denying it. "Well," she said, folding her arms across her chest, "I am far too tired to be fully angry about this right now. And don't you dare think this conversation is over."
He shrugged, reaching forward to toy with the sleeve of her top, "Well after that kiss in the train station I thought we could settle everything in the bedro-"
A prompt slap sung across his cheek. Shaking his head to abate some of the pins and needles which struck he turned to Molly. She held a pointer finger in his face, "Don't you dare speak to me like I'm some common woman Henry Jones."
Molly promptly shoved past him on her way to a bedroom door. She opened one that housed a very comfortable and enticing king sized bed. All he really wanted was to fall into it with her and stay there for twenty-four hours. Unfortunately, the scowl on her face and the slamming of hard wood into the frame was enough to let him know none of those things would be happening… at least yet anyway.
"Hey!" he whispered after her. "It's Williams."