Chapter 23: A Piece of Proof

Washington D.C., United States

A few weeks later, December 1934

For Indy, it was strange to be in Preston Whitmore's enormous study with a normal roof overhead after spending the last month or so underground in a strange, exotic world.

With it being a few days before Christmas, garlands of dark green pine boughs, decorated with bright red hollyberries and pinecones had been hung on the mantle and the walls, their needles giving off their fresh pine scent. Along with the warm fire crackling in the hearth, they added a festive, homely feel to the large room.

Audrey sat on the sofa with Sweet, Mrs. Packard and Cookie beside her, with Milo's cat Fluffy sitting in her lap, purring and kneading with her claws as Audrey stroked her. Indy and Vinny stood on either side of them.

Everyone was dressed in their best clothes, surprisingly even Mole, though he was tugging at the collar of his shirt, clearly uncomfortable in his restricting outfit.

Indy watched quietly, arms crossed over his chest as Whitmore flipped through the photographs Mrs. Packard had taken and gotten developed from the trip, staring at them thoughtfully. They had spent the last two hours explaining the extra details of their trek to the old man that had been kept from the press when they had returned to the States. Now, they had to decide what to tell those acquainted with the missing expedition members why only they came back out of the two hundred or so men and women who originally signed up for the trek.

"Now," Whitmore finally looked up from the photos. "Let's go over it again, just so we got it straight." He cocked an eyebrow. "You didn't find anything?"

"Nope. Just a lot of rocks." Vinny replied in his expressionless voice, a crystal earring gleaming in his ear in the firelight. "And fish... little fish... sponges."

Audrey and Indy shared an amused glance.

"What happened to Helga?" Whitmore asked.

Cookie was overzealous to provide his answer. "Well, we lost her when a flaming zeppelin come down on her- OW!"

Packard had reached over and smacked the old cowboy on the top of his head with her parasol. Rubbing the sore spot, Cookie grinned sheepishly, showing off his crystal tooth. "...uh missin'."

Whitmore nodded approvingly. "That's right. And Rourke?"

"Nervous breakdown." Sweet replied. "You could say he went all to pieces."

"In fact," Cookie broke in again. "you could say he was transamorgafied... and then Indiana here busted him into a zillion..." he stopped when he saw Packard raise her parasol again and a warning glare from Indy. He nervously pulled on his shirt collar. "Achem. He's missin', too." He corrected, glancing at them warily.

"What about Milo?"

"Went down with the sub." Audrey answered.

Indy didn't know how, but Mole had snuck away unnoticed until the sounds of digging made them all turn their heads to look behind the couch. They watched wordlessly as the strange little man, having stripped off all his clothes, dug down into a giant flower pot and gave his creepy, contended laugh once his head disappeared from view.

Sweet turned away and slapped his hand against his forehead. "Lord, give me strength." He muttered to himself.

Whitmore hadn't noticed that his plant had been unearthed and dirt had been tossed on the floor. He was still gazing at the photographs wistfully.

"Oh, I'm going to miss that boy." He came to a photo of Milo with Kida and smiled fondly. "At least he's in a better place now."

As Whitmore placed the last picture behind the first, he came to the small paper packet addressed to him from Milo that the young man had given Indy to take back for him.

Indy smiled and waited for the old man's reaction.

Curious and a bit confused, the old man untied the shoelace and unfolded the packet, shocked to see the paper was actually the photo of Thaddeus Thatch with a very young Milo sitting on his knee. An Atlantean crystal pendant had been wrapped in it tied with a leather cord. Written in white ink, Whitmore read the short message Milo had written across the photograph:

Dear Mr. Whitmore,

I hope this piece of proof

is enough for you.

It sure convinced me!

Thanks, from both of us.

Milo Thatch

Picking up the 'piece of proof' by its cord, Whitmore set the photos down on the coffee table nearby and placed the pendant around his neck, gazing down at the glowing crystal in his hands with a mixture of excitement, sadness and pride. Even in death, Thaddeus had accomplished his life's work- and his grandson had made that possible.

With their meeting adjourned, (and Mole dug out of the flowerpot and redressed) everyone left the study for refreshments provided for them in the dining room downstairs. Indy however, was on a tight schedule and couldn't stay for much longer. He waved goodbye to Audrey as the elevator descended to the main level before turning back to Whitmore who was still staring at the old photograph of young Milo and his grandfather, clutching his crystal pendant with his other hand.

Indy cleared his throat which finally got the old man's attention. Whitmore smiled through his tears and wiped his nose on his sleeve, not bothering to grab the linen kerchief from his pocket. "Well Indiana," he set the picture down on the coffee table with the others. "I'm convinced. But, I'm not sure if you are." He raised a bushy eyebrow. "Was this... adventure a waste of your time?" He grinned teasingly.

Indy smiled back and looked down at his feet, folding his hands behind his back, still clutching his fedora in them. He looked back up and met Whitmore's eyes. "I can't help but wonder what other myths and legends are actually true."

Whitmore chuckled and leaned heavily on his cane. "You and me both. I suppose you won't be joining us for some refreshments?"

Indy shook his head regretfully. "I've got a job to return to. If I don't leave tonight, I won't make it home before Monday."

The old man nodded knowingly. "I figured an adventurous archaeologist like yourself has places to go and things to do." He crossed his arms, hanging his cane on his elbow. "At least I think that's the job you're referring to." He winked.

Indy placed the fedora on his head and gave Preston Whitmore a devil-may-care smile.

"Always."