Disclaimer: Sorry, I don't own Indiana Jones. That goes to Lucas, Spielberg, and Ford.
Title: The Road Not Taken
Summary: A little look at what might have been had Indy not walked away the second time. Obviously AU. 50 sentences, 1sentence themes.
Author's Note: I've had this plot bunny niggling for awhile now. I just got inspired and in the mood to write it. Like I said, it's a 'what might have been' scenario.
"For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, 'It might have been'." - Whittier
The small smile and hug he gives her when he learns of the pregnancy is far more reassuring than anything he could have said.
Their lips meet and they are named man and wife, fulfilling the promise long ago made by the forbidden lovers under the Cairo sky.
Marion marvels at the way his work-worn hands gently caress her swollen belly.
"So, Junior, when were you going to tell me that you're married," his father asks and the question hurts more than getting shot.
She's peeling potatoes when her water breaks, and hopes that Indy won't be late to dinner again.
When they discover that the sound of rain makes their son fall asleep, they try everything short of stealing the African rain stick in the museum to make it happen again.
Indy had intended to go into the bedroom and get his Valentine's Day gift for Marion, not to find little Henry with sticky finger and a chocolate goatee.
Happiness was having Indy safe at home and Henry in their arms.
Marion knows the life — hell, she's lived it herself — which is why she can't help but dread when strangers call asking for the help of a certain Dr. Jones.
Henry doesn't know what the words 'late' and 'trust' mean, but he's knows his Mommy's angry voice anywhere.
They visit Chicago for their third anniversary, and are surprised that some of the older professors still can remember their days at the University, and the scandal that tore them away.
Her lips brush against his latest wound and Indy is taken back to a night on the ship not so long ago.
They are shopping for Christmas gifts when they hear that the Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor.
The night before he leaves, they make love with a furious passion to last the duration of the war.
He rests his hands on her stomach as they settle to sleep, and Marion feels a small stirring, and wonders if it means anything.
Indy finds it much harder to leave the warmth of home for the cold trenches than he did in the first war, but he has much more of a reason to fight.
Marion doesn't cry when they reach the train station, nor does she when his kisses her goodbye one last time; however, the tears freely fall when Indy places his battered fedora on their son's head.
Well, it didn't take them long to replace me, Indy muses when he gets words of the newest addition to his family — a puppy called Mutt.
While walking the dog, Marion feels a cold chill that she cannot blame on the wind when she sees a soldier solemnly approach her neighbor's house.
As some of the younger cadets set off in search of the nearest brothel, Indy finds pleasure in rereading letters from home.
Anna Marie Jones, weighing six point five pounds and already with a mass of dark hair, was born on October 12, 1942.
Marion spends half an hour apologizing to Mrs. Peters next door after Henry tried to sell her his sister.
When the war gets rough on his spirit and mind, Indy imagines what it would feel like to hold his newborn daughter in his hands and to teach his son how to throw a baseball.
The whiskey burns, but calms her after she hears about the death and destruction on the shores of Normandy an ocean away.
Indy doesn't write to her every day like other women's husbands or young girls' beaus, but what little he does write means more than any note detailing his day-to-day life would.
When the War ends, and he returns home, he never wants to leave again.
Marion cursed a litany that would make a sailor blush when she sliced her palm washing a knife, and hates Indy for choosing that moment to bring Anna into the kitchen for a snack — what does that word mean?
He'd been shot, tortured, and pushed way past his limits, but none those compared to the pain he felt when Henry blamed him for having to mercy kill their sick dog.
"The way you look tonight," Indy softly crooned as he twirled Marion around their den.
"Daddy, you're famous!" Anna squeals when she sees his face in the paper, coupled with an article detailing his latest find.
They spend the summer of '52 on a dig in Egypt for the first time as a family, and while Anna loved every minute, Henry spent the duration longing for baseball diamonds back in the states.
Indy couldn't seem to grasp why Henry decided to change his name Mutt, while Marion couldn't grasp why Indy couldn't see that he did the same thing so many years ago.
She doesn't worry when he starts calling himself Mutt or wearing a leather jacket, or even when he begins to play with a switchblade, because in all honesty it was something so Indy that it wasn't strange, but Marion draws the line when he begins to look fondly at the motorcycles lining the streets.
Things turn to hell when Indy and Mutt have an explosive encounter: Indy accusing his son of disobedience to both him and his mother, and Mutt accusing Indy of not being there enough to be a person to be obedient to.
The night of the fight, Indy goes to father looking for some form of guidance, only to be sent away with the words, "you were the same way at his age; this too, shall pass."
Indy highly doubts that there is a position in the Kama Sutra that Marion could offer him with that would make up for the hell he spent taking her daughter shopping for a new skirt to wear to the sock hop.
Marion takes his hand in silent reassurance as they gather around the television listening about the Russian satellite called Sputnik.
He sleeps on the couch for a week after he buys Mutt a motorcycle for a birthday/olive branch present.
"You're turning into Abner!" Marion teases when Indy asks if they can house his newest student and soon-to-be assistant.
When he introduces his family to archaeologist-in-training Jack Ryan, he notices the flash of jealousy in Mutt's eyes, but misses the spark of attraction in Anna's.
Indy turns to the bottle when Mutt announces he taking off a semester to 'find America' on the damn bike, and it's Marion who has to pull him away.
"That cloud looks like your hat," Marion remarks as they walk hand-in-hand across campus, pretending to be young again.
Indy thinks nothing of it when Jack idly wonders aloud how he met his Marion, and wistfully recounts the tale of the archeologist, the professor's daughter, and the possibilities that seemed as infinite as the universe itself.
Mutt returns still in one piece and for some reason Anna seems to be smiling more, and things have never seemed better.
When the penny drops, and he finds Jack and Anna in an embrace, the words fall easy — "pervert" and "sick" — and it's only when Marion reminds him that those were exact words that Abner had said to him that fateful day in 1926.
He tells Marion that the sun is in his eyes when he tips the hat low over his eyes, when in reality he made the motion because he didn't want to see his student teach his daughter how to ride a camel.
"See, I'm not your father," Indy grouses to his wife as they trail a respectable distance behind Jack and Anna on a moonlight walk around the dig, "I let him stay!"
Marion pushes Indy into the Nile and screams when he pulls her in with him.
As Marion fretted in the Marion over the newfound strands of gray, Indy can't help but think she never looked more beautiful.
Indy plays with the ring on his finger, and wonders how a little band of gold could symbolize everything that went right in his life.
Author's Note: Feel free to drop a comment or review