Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Indiana Jones franchise. That all goes to Spielberg, Lucas, Harrison Ford, and the others involved in that work. I'm just a poor college student writing for kicks and giggles.

Author’s note: Bonjour, my fair readers! It is I, PhantomProducer, back with the official sequel to The Guardian of Indiana Jones (which you could read just so you get the feel of Jo and who she is), and Guardian Issues (which is a ficlet of what happened with Jo and Indy in between these two stories)! Now Jo will embark on the next great adventure: the search for the Holy Grail! But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? Onto the first chapter…read, review, and all that, please.

The urge to open the drawer and pull out my necklace was almost overwhelming. The angel’s wings interlinked with five circles on a gold chain were perhaps the most beautiful gift I’d ever received from my brother, and it was the most important as well. It acts as an anchor to hold me down in the past longer than a few minutes…

Only two months had passed since I first embarked on my adventure with Indiana Jones; could it really be time to go back?...

Unclipping the clasp of the necklace, I put it around my neck, dreading the few moments of stillness that came after the action. My breathing became louder and louder, echoing around me. My bedroom began to melt and twist, turning into a spiral. The floor beneath me gave out, and the sensation of floating on air overtook me. The gold burned into my skin as I tumbled down, the pain increasing as the rate of my fall climbed higher and higher…and then…

BAM! CRUNCH!

I winced; I had landed on something and broke it.

“Oh, damn! What is it with you and breaking my coffee table?!”

xXxXxXx

“Sorry, Indy. I have no control how I get here, I really don’t,” I apologized half-heartedly, rubbing my back region as I stood. Motioning to the broken pieces of wood, I muttered, “Maybe this is a sign that you should just give up on having a coffee table altogether?”

“That seems to be about right,” he replied, running his fingers agitatedly through his hair. Staring at the destroyed furniture, he forgot my presence for a moment. At least until I poked him in the arm. The famous doctor/professor/treasure hunter glanced back at me and just let his shoulders droop. Gesturing at the golden angel wings around my neck, he asked if I was there on a more permanent basis.

“Yes, I suppose so. I didn’t expect it to be so soon, though,” I said, twisting my fingers around the chain.

“Well, two years is a short time, Jo.”

“Yeah…wait, two years?” I asked, confused. He nodded slowly, his own bewilderment lighting his eyes.

“It has been two years since we went after the Ark, Jo. In fact, it is…” he trailed off, wandering over to his desk and opening a calendar, “…two years, one month and four days to be exact.”

I bit my lip thoughtfully. “Huh. It’s only been two months back home. Well, that’s an interesting development.”

Two years in the past had it been since I had arrived that fateful night, crashing through the ceiling and into the life on the infamous Indiana Jones. The man was a legend in my present; his works fascinated the likes of historians, archeologists and even writers of the age. He was an adventurous man, dealing with the occult, the mundane, and the trivial artifacts of the world’s history. And the kicker of all that was I was to be assigned as his guardian. I am a Guardian of God.

A guardian’s purpose is to protect the great men or women of time. World-movers, earth-shakers, and general life-changers of the past were given guardians “supposedly”. That’s the myth; in my case, it’s the absolute truth. I could be flung back at any moment, just to keep Indiana Jones from meeting his end before fulfilling his destiny. And let me tell you, it is no walk in the park. Vengeful Nazis, giant snake pits, crumbling stone work and the wrath of God were part of the daily experience of my time with Indiana, and I suspected it would be no different, even though I’d arrived two years after the Ark of the Covenant adventure.

I just had no idea what the hell was going on.

“So…” I looked around, swinging my arms forward and back, “…at least this time around there’s no awkward introductions, right?”

Indy laughed, “That is true. But now the question is why you’ve come.”

I shrugged. Taken a closer look at him, I noticed that his clothes were stiff, tattered and dirty. His face sported a couple new cuts, and his entire body in general seemed to sag.

“I don’t know. It seems to me I missed quite an adventure, though. You look-”

Like hell? Fucked up? Awful?

“-Exhausted,” I finished lamely.

Dropping his head, he just shook it off. Crossing over to the couch, he lifted up a cushion and gently removed a bundle hidden within. Unwrapping the cloth, he revealed a golden cross with an elaborately tooled figure of Jesus on it. A short prayer in Spanish graced the back of it, and a thick, short chain was attached as well. The Cross of Coronado it was; gifted to the man by Cortez himself.

“First found it in Utah, as a Boy Scout. The man who originally retrieved took it back, claimed it was his property. It belonged in a museum,” Indy crooned, cradling it as if it were an infant. “Now it can finally be where it belongs. Had to take a long swim in the Atlantic for it, but it was worth it.”

Well, that explained why he looked terrible.

“Ah,” I responded, not sure of what to say. At least, not until another question popped into my head. “If you already have that clearly religious item, then I guess I’m here for something else.”

“Whatever comes up in the future, I suppose,” the professor said, rubbing his eyes and dropping the cross back into its hiding place. I quirked up an eyebrow, silently wondering. As if he heard the words in my head, he continued, “Nobody ever looks for the expensive stuff when it’s hidden in everyday places. The couch is usually a safe bet.”

“I see.” Shifting my gaze around the room, I settled on my own clothes. “Know what else is a safe bet? No one finding out I’m your guardian if you find me something to change into. I’m fairly certain that short shorts and a t-shirt aren’t common around here.”

“I’d say you’re right on that one. We’ll take care of it in the morning.”

Jones stumbled off to his room, and I plunked down on the couch, feeling the stab of something just underneath my behind. Then another crunch echoed out. Gingerly I stood and backed away.

“Why is it that I’m always breaking things with my butt?” I worried. Turning my head in the direction of Indy’s snores, I murmured, “And what am I here for now?”

Last note: Yes, what for indeed? -winkwink- Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter, and the next one will be coming shortly!