Rating: K. As much as I love Indy's mouth. I couldn't bring myself to write him swearing.
Characters/Relationships: Henry and Indiana. Obviously it's related to their father and son relationship.
Warnings?: Spoilers for the video game The Staff of Kings.
Word Count: I think my last count was 2,000 something. My MS Word was going on the fritz, and I couldn't really tell.
Notes: This was merely practice. I've never written for neither Indy nor Henry before, and I wanted to see if I could keep them in character enough to work on a mutli-chaptered fiction that I'm currently in the process of creating. While looking over it, I can see that there was some out of characterness on Indy's part. But he was sick. :P :P :P Deal with it! LOLZ.
Also, this really isn't suppose to be taken all that seriously, it was more of a long drabble than something with an actual storyline. I just wanted to write out Indy and Henry one afternoon while re-watching The Last Crusade for the millionth time. I noticed that FFN does not have enough ficitions on these two, and I figured...well. Why not? I like Mutt and Indy Father/Son mush, sure. But these guys are epic. You can't deny it!
(C:) Indy, Henry and everyone else is not mine. THey're just my little toys to play with in my fan fictions. Don't sue me! They belong to Lucas! LUCAS OWNS 'EM! I wish I owned them, but I don't. If I did, Henry would have never died in four and would have been around enough to see Mutt. So yeah. Not mine!
Indiana Jones sat at the dinner table of his father, Henry Jones Sr.'s, home. Listening with faux interest as Henry read through the Shepherd's Chronicle that he managed to gather from his latest archeological adventure. It had happened only less than a week ago that he embarked on a quest to search for the legendary Staff of Kings. Any man with knowledge from Sunday school would be aware that it was the very staff that Moses had used to demonstrate the almighty God's power and part the Red Sea, allowing the Israelites to escape from Egypt and Pharaoh's hand.
While the staff itself was long gone, disappearing by it's own free will after the demise of Magnus Voller; Indy still had enough proof and stories to show and tell his father after the adventure had ended. (Henry had the desire of wanting to know what happened when his son went on these quests.) And while any other time he would have been more than happy to brag on and on about how many times he had gotten out of deaths grip with the staff's help. Tonight he was not in the mood for talking, or at the very least, sitting with his dad.
Indy pulled his fedora tightly over his eyes and sat forward in his chair, resting his chin in his hand as he placed his elbow in his free hand. He was exhausted and the soft bed in Henry's guestroom was beckoning to him, but Henry's questions were keeping him from retiring. That, and the dull pain from the headache in the middle of his forehead. Finally, Henry spoke clearly, rather than just mumble a "Hmm" or, "Oh."
"So, Junior." He said excitedly. "You actually found the staff of Moses in Nepal?"
He looked over at his son to see that his head was drooping slightly, and that perhaps only a snake slithering across his eyesight would be enough to get his attention.
"Junior?" He prompted again and got no response so he spoke louder. "Indiana, are you even listening to me?"
Indy sat up with a jerk at his father using his name. The movement made his head pulse with a sharp pain, causing him to snuffle a groan.
"Y-Yes, sir." His stuttered unsteadily. "Yeah, I found the staff in a Nepal sanctuary, underneath the mountainside. But Magus stole it from my hands before I had a chance to get it out of there safely. Had to chase after him on the Odin to try and get it back."
He forced a grin to appear on his lips, one that he hoped Henry would believe as genuine. He was tired, but he knew that the quicker he humored his father, the quicker he would make an escape to the bed.
"You wouldn't believe how angry some of those Nazi stooges were to figure out that a single stowaway got onto their ship…"
Henry looked back down at the pages of the book and smiled slightly "Heh. Yes of course…"
Soon he was once again preoccupied and Indy took that as his chance. He rose from his seat and started to take his leave.
"Dad, as fun as tonight has been. I think I'm going to head off for bed."
"So soon?" Henry said without looking up, he had noticed that his son had not been as keen to explain his adventures as he normally had been, and that several times he had either nodded off or had rubbed his forehead while grimacing. To Henry it didn't take a genius to realize what was the matter. He placed the book down and turned to him.
"Are you feeling all right, Junior?"
Indy about to leave the tableside when heard that being uttered from his father. He stopped and shrugged his shoulders, he knew where this sort of conversation was heading and that only made him all the more frustrated. First he would tell his father that he wasn't feeling well, Henry would fly off the handle about him not telling him sooner and that it was reckless. Then Indy and him would proceed to get into a heated argument involving that he wasn't a child anymore and he could take care of himself.
And that was something he would much rather avoid. He knew that there was only one solution to this problem. Lying through his teeth. No he wasn't feeling well, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. He took a deep breath and turned to his father, leaning on the chair as he did.
"Dad, look. I'm fine. Nepal probably just tried me out. After a hot shower and rest I'll be right back on track."
The older Jones raised a single bushy eyebrow as he walked from his seat to where Indy was standing. He lifted up his fedora and started to place a hand on his son's head, until Indy grabbed it. He still had some dignity and strength left him to defy his father's coddling.
"Dad, I told you I'm—put your hand down—Dad stop it!"
"Hold still." Henry said in a warning tone, which stilled Indy's complaining. (Although it didn't stop him from groaning in annoyance.)
He once again went about placing his hands on Indiana's head and cheek only to find that he was quite warm, far too warm for Henry's liking.
"My word boy! You're burning up--"
Before Henry could finish his sentence, Indiana took his father's hands from his face and backed up, mumbling slightly.
"I told you I was fine. Stop worrying, I can take care of myself!" A single thought of---'Stubborn old man.'---rushed through Indy's pounding head. He stood up straight as he locked eyes with his father, hoping that he would get the idea and leave him alone.
Henry crossed his arms at his son's defiant attitude as they both pierced one another's gazes. 'What a stubborn boy.' Raced through his mind. He knew that Indiana was, in fact, no child anymore. But nevertheless, this turn of advents was making him look like a child in Henry's eyes, a child that was on the verge of whining for not getting his way or what he wanted.
"Very well, Junior." He said after a moment and turned back to the table, picking up the book in his hands. He'd let his son win this time, after all he was sick and it had been a long night.
Indy looked at Henry with surprise in his eyes. He had not known his father to give up so easily, but perhaps it was an answer to a silent prayer, because he could finally go relax. As he was heading toward the bathroom door, every step was pure torture. His head was pounding in pain from screaming and he now noticed that his face was covered in sweat 'Due to the fever…' Indy thought to himself. Before he managed to reach the door, the whole room was spinning and he was choking back a wave of nausea. 'I shouldn't have…moved so quickly…'
He laughed bitterly to himself before speaking up, why did his dad have to be right about him being that sick? Now he had no choice but to ask for help. 'Why isn't there another choice?' he moaned mentally.
"Dad…?" He said to Henry from across the room.
Henry didn't look up. "Yes, boy?"
"You know what I said about the hot shower? And that it would get me back to a hundred percent?"
"Yeah, I think I need to rethink that idea…"
At that, Henry did look up and saw that Indy was swaying on his feet and looking quite pale, as he was holding his head. Before Henry could ask him just what exactly he had meant by that statement; and even before Indy could even begin to think of his next answer and how exactly he was going to explain to his father that he needed help. He tumbled forward, and ended up collapsing to the ground with a loud thud.
Henry was up from his seat with a start, which amazingly was quite swift for a man of his age, and was at his boy's side in an instant.
Indy's eyes opened slightly and the effort alone were enough to make him groan in pain. He felt as though he had either been trampled by an elephant or spent a full night with Marion after doing something reckless. His eyes glanced about and noticed that it was far too light where he was, and he struggled to think back to the night before.
He shifted his weight, trying to sit up while ignoring the pain, 'Ow, ow, ow. My back, my head, my…everything. God, this hurts.' and realized that he was in bed. Then he remembered. 'Oh yeah, I passed out…' He was far more sick than he had realized and that had caught up with him in the end.
'I knew that arguing with Dad would be the death of me…' He mocked himself, he probably figured that the action and the movements that followed was too much for his system.
He was already shielding everything away throughout the night, constantly reminding himself that he wasn't sick, 'Just tried from everything that happened on the quest.' So he was surprised that he didn't pass out sooner. His eyes adjusted to the morning light and sat up fully. Swiftly catching the cold washcloth that slipped from his head in his hands.
Before he could wonder about the rest of his questions, on how he got to the bed following his fall, a snore interrupted him causing him to jerk. He looked over at the left side of the mattress to see that his father was lying there, fast asleep.
He was sitting in a wooden chair, pulled up close to the side of the bed, and was leaning forward onto his bed. Both arms were tucked underneath his head as he slept with a calm expression; his hat and glasses were resting neatly on the nightstand, which also contained a tray filled with a pitcher of water, a glass and a small bowl.
"Well, I'll be…" Indy uttered quietly.
For a moment he stared at his father in surprise, and then it all started to make sense to him. After he had collapsed, the last thing he remembered was Henry calling out to him in worry. He must have taken it upon himself to watch over him while he was out cold. Indy smiled to himself; it touched him deeply. He could hardly remember the last time his old man did something like this for him.
Neither Henry nor Indy was that open with their emotions towards one another, even around Anna they always hid them and pushed them aside. In separate they spoke about one another, but when together, it was awkward. But Indy knew that his father worried about him, and when Henry Jones Sr. worried, he worried. There was no doubt in his mind about that.
Regardless of if he was a fully-grown man with a life of is own; he still did nonetheless. And the younger Jones felt…happiness in knowing that his father still looked out and cared for his well being. Hidden or not, it was something he hadn't felt in a long time, and it felt nice.
Indiana leaned backward on his pillow, trying to find a position where his body didn't ache. The memories of last night were vague; he could admit that. But somewhere in the back of his mind he could recall the gentle voice of his father speaking to him through the night as he slipped in and out of consciousness, and his hands softly using the washcloth on his face, and checking his head for fever. That was all, but it was worth something at lest.
He looked towards his father as he began to stir in his sleep from all of Indy's uncomfortable wiggling around.
"'Morning Dad." He said with a smug grin as Henry reached for his glasses.
"Good morning Junior. How are you feeling?"
He sat there for a moment and wondered just exactly what he should say, he thought about his pain obviously and knew that that wasn't at all what Henry wanted to hear, even if it was the truth. And then he thought about what his dad had done for him over the night. And how in doing that he knew that some how, some way, that had strengthen their long lost bond. Even if one of them had been unconscious throughout the night.
Indy smiled genuinely as he addressed him,
"Dad, I've never felt better." He said, and that actually was the truth.
Henry smiled as he wiped his glasses clean with his handkerchief, pleased hear this good news, then Indy quickly added.
"You're a miracle worker. Thanks."
He knew that it wasn't affectionate as "I love you." Nor was it as thoughtful as "Thanks for you all you've done for me." But Indy did as Indy pleased. And knew that it would suffice to tell Henry what he thought and how he felt, and he knew that his father would understand. After all they were the Jones boys.
Henry put on his glasses and reached over to pat Indiana's shoulder, as he spoke to his grown son; "You're quite welcome Junior. I was more than happy to do it."
Indy sat there and laughed quietly. It had been one interesting night that was certain. He knew that this had been a step up and a step in the right direction for their relationship. Even in the back of Indy's mind it was somewhat childish. But he was forty years old, and was trying to fix what was lost over the course of twenty years; he had the God given right to act like a child in the presence of his father sometimes! His "Indiana Jones trademark stubborn pride" be darned! He laid back and thought quietly to himself.
'If this is the case, maybe I should try and get sick more often…'