It hadn't been a week since Indy left the hospital. His lungs had suffered some damage from smoke inhalation, bruises ran up and down his body, and several ribs were cracked. By the time he was discharged, the doctors said that the damage was likely temporary. He would recover, get back to his old self. "You'll be on your bike riding in no time," the doctor said. The two had bonded over their love of long-distance cycling. "But take it easy for now. At least until your follow up visit.
In the week since Indy's escape from the hospital, Marion had arranged a dinner party, a small collection of friends who were interested in seeing him after the ordeal with the Martins and the stint in the hospital. Of course, they wanted to show support to an old friend, but they also were insatiably curious to hear about Indiana Jones in his eighties once again battling Nazis. Now that they were mostly settled and well into their retirement years, such things were uncommon to say the least.
It took some time. The night the Martins' house burned down, the police arrested both survivors. Indy was quickly transferred to a hospital under police supervision, but Chris spent the next couple of hours in an interrogation room. He gave them the unvarnished truth. After watching his father gun down his mother, he had no more loyalties. The confession was nearly religious in nature, an unburdening of his sins, part of his atonement.
Indy appreciated his forthright approach, especially since it meant the removal of a police officer outside his hospital door and unlatching of the cuffs that attached him to the hospital bed.
Marion was by his side quickly after cutting her vacation short by a couple of days. "I thought you said you could handle yourself while I was out of town." It was the first thing she said when she saw him, and it made him laugh for the first time since she left. She listened to the events of the story both amazed by what she heard but also peeved he didn't ask for help. "You can't do everything on your own, Indiana Jones." It was then that she decided to throw a dinner party whenever the hospital decided he was well enough to leave their care.
Still, Indy told Marion not to invite others to the hospital while he convalesced. He didn't want anyone to see him weakened and in a hospital gown. The only other visitor was Cassie who came as a representative of the CIA. She wanted to debrief him, but also apprise him of what happened to the case against Gottfried Friedrich Bauer.
The Israeli government wasn't too happy that he wasn't taken in alive. They would have much preferred Bauer to spend the rest of his remaining days in prison than escape with an easy death.
"If it's any consolation, I don't think his final hour was all that pleasant," Indy said. "And his death looked particularly painful."
"I'll be sure to let them know," Cassie said.
Now knowing that Fred Martin was in fact Gottfried Friedrich Bauer, the CIA could easily trace his path from Germany at the end of WWII to Chile and then upstate New York. She managed to inform the local authorities, and they in turn dropped all the charges. Chris seemed to be cooperating fully, but he was still likely going to spend time inside of a jail cell.
The two spent the rest of the visit reminiscing about Sophia Hapgood, their mutual friend. Indy told her of the time they chased after Atlantis, while shaving off some more fantastical details for believability. In turn, Cassie told Indy of the time Sophia's preternatural abilities helped prevent a diplomatic incident between Belarus and Lithuania.
When Indy finally returned from the hospital, his friends were already gathered. He managed to thank Dr. Zhao for his aid and fill him in on the rest of the happenings. Over wine and food, the revelers spent time exchanging stories that were either exaggerated for effect or so incredible as to seem like they couldn't possibly be true.
Marion briefly interrupted one of Indy's stories about his time in the OSS to tell him he had a phone call. In the kitchen, he picked up the receiver to hear a familiar voice.
"I've heard you've had quite the adventure."
"Wombat. It's good to hear your voice."
"But you're too good to fly out here to California."
"I had some things I was working on."
"Far be it from me to keep you from killing your neighbor and burning down his house."
Indy laughed. "So, you've heard the story."
"I'm sure there's plenty of details you could fill out."
Indy waited a moment. "I'm sorry I didn't visit with Marion."
"Well, at least you spent your time knocking off another Nazis. But I know you're disappointed in the turns my life took."
"It's not like that. I thought you would follow in your father's footsteps."
"And yours? I'm not my father. And I'm not you. Marketing is just a job. But it's also something of a magic trick. I've always been good at those, you know. And it pays the bills."
"I should have been more understanding. I promise next time, I'll be there."
"You better. But we have plane tickets for Connecticut next month, so you won't have to wait."
"That sounds good."
After hanging up the receiver, he walked back to the dining room table for further exchange of stories with Marion by his side and her hand on his shoulder. In the middle of the cacophonous exchange of laughter and stories, Marion clinked her fork to the side of her wine glass. Everyone went silent. "I would like to propose a toast," she said. Looking into Indy's eyes, she raised her glass and said "To adventure."
There would be further adventures after a life full of them. But, for now, he toasted.