Ever since I heard the kid say his name was Mutt at the premiere, this little scene has been bouncing around in my head. Hope you enjoy it!!

I adore Indy, he's my lover, but I don't own him. Sadly. George Lucas does, and contrary to some people's beliefs, I think George still deserves him.

My old break lines no longer work when I upload, so I've had to go to the letters. Sorry for that.

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He waited until Marion had been asleep close to an hour before he moved. She was a pretty sound sleeper as far as he remembered, and that held true still. He slid away from her gently, brushing his lips against her forehead as he did. She was so beautiful. Everything he remembered. She was beautiful, and he had been an idiot. That was the past, though, and this was now. The chance to make the right choice was before him, and he wouldn't screw it up again. He'd marry her, like he should have the first time. Actually do something right for once, something that he knew was going to give him a life better than anything he deserved. He fished a pack of cigarettes and his lucky charm out of his pocket before draping his jacket over her. In her sleep she nuzzled against the collar and smiled, and the warmth he felt at that simple action was almost enough to make him lie back down beside her. Almost. He knew, though, that he couldn't sleep. He needed to think.

He walked down the wall a distance he deemed far enough before settling down, the cigarettes on his left, lighter in his hands. The paint that made up the four leaf clover had chipped, over the years. It had served him well, though, and he'd never replace it. Not ever. It had gotten him out of a couple of tight spots, too, just like pretty much everything he used regularly. The time he remembered the most, though, it hadn't been him that had used it.

See if you can reach my lucky charm.

It's a lighter!

Yeah, dad, see if you can burn through the ropes.

He could remember it like it was yesterday.

I have something to tell you.

No, dad, don't get all sentimental now, wait until we get out of here.

The floor's on fire.

He chuckled remembering it, though it hadn't been so funny at the time. They really had been a mess when they worked together, and he had been so frustrated that more than once he'd wished he'd just left him in the castle but he didn't really mean that and he knew it. He wished now that they could have traveled together more often. They might have actually worked a few things out. Sure, things got better after that trip but their relationship was never what it could have been if they'd started earlier. Younger.

He wondered what his dad would say now, knowing that he was a grandfather, that Indy had a boy of his own. He'd probably tell him how serious this was, how he had to make sure he taught Mutt the things that were important. To his father, that would have meant religion, archeology, and dead languages in that order. It was all sort of beside the point, though, because at least his dad had been around when he was younger, even if he was distant. Indy hadn't been there at all. Knowing how much he'd resented his father for what he'd done, he could only imagine how much more 

resentment Mutt had towards him. What if he hated him? What if the pain that was there turned out to be too great to change?

He heard his footsteps before he saw him, moonlight on black leather, one hand up to comb his hair. He spoke without looking back at him. "You too?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Yeah, me either. Sit down."

Mutt slid the comb away, pulled out his switch blade instead. He flipped it in his hand absently, eyes on the horizon and never down. It was second nature. It reminded Indiana of himself at that age, when his bullwhip was new and he practiced until he could knock single acorns from branches. Taking up the back of cigarettes he knocked one into his palm, not surprised to see Mutt's eyes on him as he did. He tapped out a second one.

"Thanks."

"Here." He flicked the lighter, lit the boy's first.

"That lighter looks pretty old."

"Older than you." There was tense silence for a moment, and he almost wished he hadn't said it. He wasn't ready to talk about why he'd left. He was sorry, now, but he wasn't ready to say that either. "So, kid, where'd you get the name? I'm curious."

Mutt shook his head, looked up at the stars. "It's nothin'."

"Gotta be something, you took your name from it."

"You'll think it's stupid." He said it soft, as if he wished he didn't have to say it at all.

Indy tried his best to keep his voice even, devoid of any humor. "Try me."

He waited in silence until he was almost sure Mutt really wasn't going to tell him. It was then that he started talking. "My mom, she was great you know. She did everything she could. But since it was just us, she had to work during the day. She was always there for dinner though, always helping me with school, hanging out with me, doing all those things mothers do and probably more than that sometimes. Still, I mean during the summer being by myself I got bored, you know? I mean, Ox was great and she'd leave me in his office with him sometimes but he'd get his head stuck in a book and forget I was there. The times I stayed home, I'd wander around the neighborhood, and when I was 8…." A little unsure, he took another drag on the cigarette. "When I was little, I was scared of dogs. All of 'em, but especially the big ones. Got chased once. Anyways, I never liked 'em. But one day I was playing around back behind the school and there was this rough looking young thing back there running around turning over garbage cans. I jumped on a low limb and he comes at me with a tin can in his mouth, tail going like a propeller."

They both laughed, then, and it felt good. Normal. Like a conversation fathers and sons should be having. Mutt relaxed a little, leaned easier back against the stone.

"Anyway, we kept running into each other. Called him Mutt cause I said I really didn't want to speak to him and I definitely wasn't naming him. He came home with me by the fall. He was just always there, you know? All the time. He was there when the house was empty and no one else was around, and I was never the popular kid, I was the one with my head in a book when I was younger and when I got older I had the bike but I always had to head straight to work, no time for nothin' 

else. Mutt, he was always there." He shook his head. "Anyway he ah, I was headin' home from work and he didn't come out to meet me at the gate. Fell asleep by my bed, never got up. I needed a new name anyway, never liked the one I had and I just had so many good memories associated with his so I just took it."

He didn't want to laugh, really he didn't because after Mutt had confided in him like that he didn't want to ruin it. He sort of made it, but the huge grin that he couldn't wipe off caught attention anyway.

"Told you you'd think it was stupid." He made to stand up but Indy caught his arm, wiping the grin off his face as fast as he could.

"No, no it's not stupid. I don't think it's stupid, it's not that." He released his vice grip on Mutt's jacket when the kid sat back down. "It's just that…you don't think my parents named me Indiana, do you?"

Mutt smiled a little then, shaking his head. "Nah, probably not."

"Definitely not." Thinking about the similarity he couldn't help but grin again. It was just too much. "No, Indiana as I remember him-and I can still see him-he had these ice blue eyes that used to sparkle when he saw a cat. I used to tie my boy scout bandanas around his neck, make him come exploring with me when my buddies wouldn't. He was a good friend." He looked up, met the hazel eyes that he could now recognize as his own. "Had to explain that a few times, but I don't think I have to explain myself to you, do I?" See, son, we're not that different after all.

Something passed between them then, a connection that couldn't have been voiced. This was something they shared, something so unlikely it had to be more than coincidence. "What kind of dog was he?"

"Husky. Dad got him because a musher friend he had said he was the runt. He didn't expect he'd ever be healthy enough to run with a team."

"His loss."

"Mmhm." Somewhere in the jungle, a jaguar called. It was a sound that brought chills no matter how times you heard it.

Mutt resumed flipping his knife.

There was so much to say, but Indy still didn't feel up to serious conversation. Not really. "So, what was it your mom called you that you never liked?" He had to ask it that way. He knew the kid wouldn't want to be asked what his name was, just like he wouldn't have, especially at that age. Whatever was on the birth certificate, his name was Mutt. Just like his was Indiana.

"Henry." Indy could see it dawn on him as he said the word, see his eyes widen. Something else they shared. Something he had never known. A moment of silence followed that until… "Guess you didn't like being called Henry either."

"I'd have rather dad called me that."

"What did he call you?"

"Junior." He rubbed his cigarette out on the stone. "Which is why he's gotta be somewhere laughing at me. At us." I'm not sure I'm cut out to be a father, Dad. Really, I never knew it was THIS hard. His dad would probably laugh at those insecurities too. Maybe, maybe not.



"Your dad, what was he like?"

That was a good change of subject. Yeah, he could talk about that. Probably until the sun came up in the morning and they got out of here, and maybe somewhere in the process they could lay some sort of foundation to build this thing on. Whatever it was going to be. It might not could ever be what it would have been if Indy would have stuck around, but he just might have a chance at something better than what he his father had had. That would be worth whatever it took.

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Hope you liked it! Reviews are my drug.