Indiana Jones and the Daring Daughter

Rain drove down upon the streets of Oxford, as it so commonly did in England. The grey clouds overhead betrayed only the slightest hint of sunset as the front door of the Jones residence swung open. Light spilled from within across the cobblestones towards a car parked up on the curb, its engine running and windshield wipers working furiously against the downpour.

Holding his fedora closely down over his head, Indiana sprinted from his door to the car, quickly climbing into the shelter of the cabin with a shiver as the rain pattered off his delicate suit jacket and wetted his dress-shoes.

"Good evening, Dr Jones!" Marcus Brody, sitting at the wheel of the car, cheered as Indiana closed the door behind himself.

"Can't prove I'm a doctor yet, have to wait for the paper to come in the mail!" Indiana Jones chuckled, a dumb grin on his face as he took off his fedora and leaned back in his seat.

The car began to move as Marcus put it in gear, pulling it off the curb and down the street, "I read your dissertation last night. Your final draft was excellent. Perhaps a bit to be desired in terms of the academics, but the information itself?" Marcus took a hand off the wheel to mimic a chef's kiss, "Very illuminating."

"Thanks. The Faculty Council had pretty similar notes for me," Indiana nodded, "Where we going?"

"Your favorite place. My treat, of course," Marcus grinned, "I am more than sure you have earned your stripes as a doctor... what's the next doctorate, then?" he teased, lightly tapping Indiana on the shoulder with a fist.

"No thanks. I think I've had enough college to last a lifetime," Indiana laughed, tossing his head, "Just in time to end the semester here too."

"Indeed. I've heard you were in the papers... recently?" Marcus asked, giving a quick glance towards Indy before snapping his eyes back towards the road.

Indiana had met one of his students - a girl named Campbell - who had claimed to have discovered some sort of golden scroll that proved Merlin existed. Soon enough, he'd been swept up into a big conspiracy, fighting a druidic cult in ancient celtic ruins, disrupting a ritual in Stonehenge...

He had to admit- he'd enjoyed it.

"It wasn't anything big," he shrugged, "Just some cultists."

"...Right," Marcus nodded slowly, before glancing down towards Indiana's belt, "You carry a gun on you at all times now?"

"Yeah," Indiana admitted, hand going down to brush against the holster barely hidden under the flap of his jacket, "I'm not going to lie, I'm still really paranoid after Belloq."

"I am too," Marcus agreed, "Getting her to be recognized by the courts was a good first step. I don't think it will dissuade the truly determined."

"Thanks, Marcus, I needed to talk about this on graduation day," Indiana said sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he ran a thumb across his jaw, eyes peering out of the passenger window.

"I'm sorry. You know me, I'm a worrier," Marcus Brody apologized, downshifting as they approached their destination, "Here's a surprise that might cheer you up."

"Huh?" Indiana muttered, reaching for the door handle as the car parked outside of the eatery. The restaurant wasn't the surprise - he'd been told about it in advance. So...

Standing under the awning in front of the entrance was a familiar face, his daughter standing next to him. His eyes sparkled behind his glasses as the light shone from the windows around him.

"Ravenwood!?" Indiana asked, pausing in the rain for a moment.

"Dr Jones!" Ravenwood reached out a hand, shaking his hand as they both came to stand under the shelter of the restaurant, "It would appear today we meet as peers!"

"Aw man, it's good to see you, Abner," Indiana furiously shook his hand, sparing a glance towards Marion.

She had grown up since they last met. She was a fully grown woman now, which made sense to Indy - by now she would be 18 years old. She wore her hair in a bun, stood a bit shorter than him, and wore a shirt and pants rather than a dress - as every other woman in sight did.

"Hi," Indiana said casually.

"Dr Jones," Marion nodded back.

"Let's head inside, please, it's pouring," Marcus pleaded, being crowded out of the awning.

They headed inside and were promptly seated. After being given menus and ordering something, they settled down into casual conversation as the rain pattered against the windowed facade and the warm interior lights washed over them.

"I am yet to see your dissertation, Dr Jones," Abner Ravenwood commented, "You said it was on stratigraphy?"

"No, that idea was stolen by a... certain frenchman," Indiana shook his head, "Goes to show how some people are when they don't need to keep up appearances."

"Who?" Marion asked, looking between the men at the table, confused.

"Don't worry about it," Abner dismissed with a shake of his hand.

A waiter came by with their champagne, making Marcus cackle slightly and rub his hands together. Marion, meanwhile, gave an insulted look towards her father, "I'm an adult now. Why don't I get to know?"

"He's just some guy I used to work with who double-crossed me," Indiana said to Marion, appeasing her curiosity.

"Thank you!" Marion huffed. Abner simply shook his head.

"I ended up writing my dissertation on trade and cultural exchange along the Levantine coast," Indiana said, finishing his explanation as Marcus popped the top off of their champagne bottle.

"Egyptology," Ravenwood grinned, "Your mentor taught you well, eh?"

"Sure did," Indiana nodded, taking the bottle from Marcus and pouring his own glass. Marion held out her glass towards him, which he automatically began to fill, though paused as Abner sighed heavily.

He withdrew the neck of the bottle as Marion giggled, withdrawing her hand with its full glass. Abner looked at his daughter, disappointedly, then turned the same gaze upon Indiana, who blinked in confusion back at him. After a moment, Abner just shook his head and reached for the bottle, which he was given, all while Marion sipped happily.

"So, Indy, what's next? Planning on staying at Oxford?" Marcus asked.

"I'd rather move back to the States, personally," Indiana shook his head, taking a polite sip of his champagne, "You're moving back to the states. So is Anna's tutor."

"Oh? To what state?" Marcus then probed.

"Connecticut. New Haven. Apparently his wife is American and wanted to return home," Indiana shrugged, "I doubt I'd get a job here."

"I might have some connections to set you up with a position," Abner offered, a slightly coy smile crossing his face as he finally took his eyes off his daughter and grasped his own glass.

"Yeah?" Indiana raised an eyebrow.

"Have you ever heard of Marshall College?"

"One of my professors at the University of Chicago used to teach there," Indiana recalled, before wincing, "Isn't that place just the poor man's Yale?"

"You would think that, considering Yale is just a short hop away," Abner admitted, "But it's really quite a nice institution. They pay solid, standard rates, they have a respectable curriculum, and they're in a lovely New England college town. Bedford is a nice, safe community. Great place to raise Anna right. I would look for a similar situation myself if I wasn't constantly on the move."

Marion's face twitched, and she averted her eyes from her father at that.

Indiana glanced between them awkwardly, "I'll... check them out as soon as I'm back Stateside. If Bedford's close enough to New Haven, maybe I could even keep the tutor on..."

"Good. I'll write some of my friends there, I can't promise they'll give you any special treatment, but they should give you something to do that can pay the bills. You can work up from there, I'm sure," Ravenwood nodded, only giving a few quick glances towards his daughter.

"How is your work going, Abner?" Marcus spoke up, slowly nursing his glass, "I hear you've been on a long chain of fieldwork?"

"It could be going better," Abner said, a frown forming on his face, "I think the University of Chicago thinks I'm crazy."

"A lot of smart men have been called crazy in the past, Abner. Things like the Ark are what we got into archaeology for," Marcus gave a weak, but comforting smile. Indiana nodded in agreement.

"My next dig will be in Nepal, I think," Ravenwood lowered his head, "A lot of my funding has been cut. So I'll have to be much more... economical."

"How does the Ark of the Covenant relate to the Orient?" Indiana asked, confused.

"Well the extended Tanis digs were all a bust, I'm starting to think my original Egyptian hypothesis was a dead end. For all I know, my colleagues were right in the first place and the Well of Souls was just a place someone important was buried. I'm starting on a theory to do with Alexander the Great's journey across the middle east into Asia..." Ravenwood trailed off, before shaking his head, "I don't want to gloom up your special dinner, Dr Jones. Perhaps you'll assist me someday? Once you're all settled down?"

"Yeah, of course," Indiana said softly.

That winter, Anna was instructed to begin packing all of her things, except her bedsheets and a few other big items, into a suitcase with her name stenciled into the side of it. Her possessions were mostly clothes, along with a selection of gifts from her uncles. She had the binoculars she was gifted for her fifth birthday, a slightly worn world atlas, a notebook that she was keeping a diary on, a small writing and art set, and a bunch of toys.

As usual, she couldn't keep all the toys she owned, as it just wouldn't all fit in their bags. Still, she kept her favorites. She had a stuffed rabbit, which had had its legs and arms chewed off multiple times over her earlier years. They were inseparable. She had the model birds from her uncle, a few coloring books that hadn't been fully completed, a deck of cartoonishly illustrated cards, and a set of luxury wooden dolls that Marcus had bought for her one birthday.

Sanders instructed her to complete a few samples of required reading and to return a short essay about her trip.

"You and your father are fortunate. We happen to be moving back to the United States at the same time," the old schoolteacher said at the end of their last lesson of the year, "I will see you in the new year, Miss Jones. Be a good girl, and have a good school holidays."

They boarded a ship heading out towards the United States. Anna watched from the railing as England slowly faded into the distance, embracing the sea air and the high breeze of the Atlantic Ocean. Of course, the trip reminded her of the incident on the Pacific. Her nightmares grew worse every night she spent on the ocean, until eventually her father had her sleep in his cabin in an attempt to comfort her. It helped... but only a bit.

Their ship arrived in New York Harbor. Anna inquired on whether or not they'd be able to see Richard again. Apparently, he had found a loan to buy a small ship and was operating out of Floridian ports. It was hard work and undependable money, but he said he was enjoying it more than his previous work.

She was happy that he was happy.

For the first time, Anna used her new passport. The officer at the customs terminal even tipped his hat to her, saying he recognized her from the papers. She got to admire the new stamp on one of the pages of her passport as she walked through and into the city proper. There were now two stamps in the passport - one from entering the UK and one from coming back to the US.

They got aboard a train, but they were going a much shorter distance than they had ever gone before. Indiana was about to tell Anna where they were going, when the conductor called them to board. In all the hullaballoo of getting aboard and getting to their seats, he never got to finish his explanation.

"We're going to Connecticut," Anna eventually concluded, looking down at her atlas.

"...How'd you know?" her father asked, finishing stowing his luggage and ducking into their seating booth.

"We're going east," Anna reasoned, "And the train is only 2 hours long. So we're not going to Rhode Island."

Indiana blinked a few times, before reaching over and patting her on the head, "You're smart, you know?"

"I know," Anna said, confidently.

That elicited a chuckle from him.

The train continued to chug. They crossed the state borders, a billboard passing by the railroad proclaiming that they were entering 'The Nutmeg State'. The train passed through New Haven, and after a quick rest and changing their lines, they travelled north on the New Haven - Hartford line. However, they weren't riding said line all the way to the end, their journey ended halfway as they entered a sleepy, snow-bound college town.

Small, New England houses were built around a town center, the most prominent of the buildings there being a stadium. A rectangular Green split the town center, though it was completely eclipsed by snow. Trees, barren of their leaves, stretched their limbs skywards as they shivered slightly with the wind, some sown between the streets of the town while on the far side of the town from the rail line a forest stretched into the distance.

"Now arriving at Bedford! All off for Bedford!" the conductor bellowed.

"Here we are," Indiana muttered, tapping Anna on the shoulder and pulling her away from the window as the train's brakes squealed and they pulled down the icy tracks into the station.

With their luggage and the clothes on their backs, the Joneses took a brisk walk through the town. Anna's coat was sufficiently thick to protect her from a lot of the biting cold and high winds, but her father insisted she wear a jacket anyway, which did not play nicely with her fur and made her itchy. They arrived at a real estate office, just before it closed.

"Dr Jones?" the clerk asked, looking up from her book as the two came to the desk.

"Yeah. We're in time?" he responded.

She nodded, before reaching below her desk and holding out a set of keys towards him, "Thank you for your patronage."

"Yeah. Don't thank me. Thank the bank. They're the ones who own it," Indiana chuckled, pocketing the keys and walking out. Anna asked why he hadn't given them any money, and he explained the entire deal had already been closed over wire.

It was from there that they walked, Anna eventually electing to fly around and scout out the town while Indiana slowly strolled forward towards a neighborhood on the far end of the town. A row of identical houses were sheltered by barren hedges on their front lawns and trees towering over their backyards.

One house in particular was where their journey finally ended. A sign was pitched on the front lawn, reading "Gilbert-Humphrey Real Estate: 3 bed, garage, newly renovated, central heating, ~~6,327$ or best offer~~ SOLD!"

The keys Indiana had obtained from the real estate agent fit perfectly in the front door. Anna entered, right behind her father, exhausted from a day of travelling and an hour or so of stretching her wings. Indiana, however, seemed rather giddy as he flicked on the lights to illuminate an empty, drafty house.

The front door emptied into a small, square entryway room. On all three sides were doors, creating a seal against the winter cold coming through the main door. Through the door leading forward was a staircase, leading up to a second storey. To the right lead into a kitchen, beyond which was a washing room and a door into the back yard. Through the left was a small rectangular room with a booth window looking out over the front yard, and a set of double doors leading to a large square space with a side-door leading to a path that ran between the main house and the garage. On the right side of the square room, just underneath where the stairs ran, was a door that opened to expose the natural gas boiler and the mains. Opposite the door under the stairs was a traditional brick fireplace, a little bit of ash still sitting under the cold, iron firewood holder within.

Indiana quickly opened the gas main and lit the pilot light, the heater slowly beginning to reverse the biting cold wafting through the house.

Up the stairs was a row of two bedrooms on the left, a bedroom and a study on the right. At the end of the upstairs hallway was a hatch leading up into the attic and a bathroom. Finally, right next to the head of the stairs was a linen closet.

"Home sweet home!" Indiana proudly declared, looming over Anna as he leaned on the wall behind her.

Anna looked back up at her father, away from the cold, empty house. She raised an eyebrow, "Where's all the stuff?"

"Huh? What stuff?" Indiana asked, throwing his suitcase in through one of the bedroom doors.

"The beds and chairs and stuff," Anna frowned.

"We bought unfurnished," Indiana said matter-of-factly. Anna tilted her head at him, prompting him to elaborate, "In Paris, we rented and furniture came with the apartment. We did the same thing in Oxford. We own this house, so I don't have to pay any more money to keep staying here, we can live here forever."

Anna nodded to herself, before scrunching her muzzle, "But you said you didn't own it, you said the bank owned it? Wouldn't that mean you're renting it from the bank?"

Indiana folded his arms, "...The bank loaned me money, which I used to buy the house. I gotta pay them every month, for the next few years, and then I'll have paid all the money back."

"Like you do with Marcus?"

A pause, "...Marcus is my friend. I don't need to pay him back."

"But you will anyway?"

"Yes."

"Then what's the difference?"

"The difference is that if I don't pay the bank, they'll take the house back," Indiana said flatly, before straightening up and walking past her, running a hand through her mane, "But that won't happen. Because your Dad's going to become a school teacher and make lots of money."

Indiana began to walk and, with very little else to do, Anna followed him down the stairs. He stopped in the kitchen, holding out a hand towards the empty space between the dusty cabinets and empty pantry.

"Look here. We'll buy a refrigerator. A proper refrigerator - not an ice box. One that runs off of electricity," He said, a grin on his face. Then, he walked over to the stove and turned the dial on the front. It clicked a few times before it lit with gas, "Gas stove. Gas oven. Central heating. Modern construction."

Anna frowned and blinked. She looked left and right, seeing nothing but empty corners and unkempt kitchen structures. She turned her gaze back to her father, unimpressed.

Indiana gave a few nervous glances towards her, before he switched the stove off and walked over to the washing room, "I think we'll get a proper washing machine as well. I saw they were making ones with electric motors in France. I bet we can get one here as well. It'll fit right there," he jabbed a finger into the dark, closet-sized room.

She frowned, gazing at the slightly rusty washbasin in there and the frosty window casting dusky sunset beams through its panes.

Swallowing, her father moved past her back towards the left side of the house, "Dining table here," he gestured around the rectangular room directly next to the foyer, before pushing through the double doors into the wide space, "Lounge here, I think. We'll get an armchair- no two armchairs, right next to the fireplace. My own radio as well, so we can listen to whatever we want."

He turned back towards Anna, who was still awkwardly standing in the center of the room watching him rant.

"...Dad. I'd really like a bed," Anna frowned, ears drooping.

He gave a nervous chuckle. That night, they both slept in blankets on the floor with clothes for pillows.

"It's the holiday season, sir, we can't deliver furniture. Christmas is just in two days," the man at the furniture store had said, "We'll get it to you as soon as possible. I'm sorry but it's not fair on us either. The furniture's all yours. You're welcome to try and carry it home yourself, if you want. Otherwise we'll just hold it in stock until new year's."

Defeated, cold, and weary, Indiana walked home with nothing but two chairs under each arm and a silverware and dish set crammed inside of his satchel. At the very least, they weren't going to be eating on the floor like pigs that night. Anna flew a few inches over his head, rubbing her back. All she needed to carry was a new frying pan, while Indiana waded through the icy turf below.

"Dad. When are we going to get the bed?" Anna questioned.

Indiana growled, nearing the end of his own rope, "Next year."

"WHAT!?!?" Anna shouted, hackles raised, before she eventually calmed down, "Oh... new years' is in a week."

"Mhm..." Indiana muttered, arms screaming from the tension of carrying such a heavy load just as they turned a corner towards their street - Sandfield.

Indiana frowned as they reached their address. A group of people were knocking on the front door, dressed up in winter garments, and muttering amongst themselves. A woman, a man, and a boy. The woman was of medium build, just a bit taller than the man with fair skin and black, bobbed hair. The man was short, rather scrawny-looking, with lanky proportions, pale skin, and brown hair. The boy was not more than ten years old, though definitely beat out Anna in height. He had a mop of blonde hair and a skin color that matched the woman's.

"Can I help you?" he shouted out, dropping one of his sets of chairs. His fingers brushed against the holster concealed beneath his jacket.

The woman turned, before catching sight of Anna and jumping slightly. The man did so as well and paused for a moment, before looking towards Indiana and saying, "You live here?"

"Yep," Indiana said simply, "Who're you?"

"We're your new neighbors: The Morrisons. We live just next door," he jerked a thumb towards the house just over the hedge. The lights glowed in the windows, a snowman was built outside, and a small playset was built in the back yard.

"Your... that's from the paper!?" the woman said, voice incredulous as she pointed towards the small, flying horse.

"Hi," Anna muttered, hovering behind her father's back.

"She's a naturalized citizen of the United States now," Indiana said confidently, placing his free hand on his hip, "I'm Jones. Indiana Jones. This is my daughter, Anna."

"Lloyd Morrison," the man introduced, placing a hand on his two companions, "This is my wife: Rebecca Morrison, and my son: Jeremy."

Anna peeked over Indiana's shoulder, meeting Jeremy's eyes. He gave a goofy smile and waved, causing her to nervously wave back.

Indiana nodded slowly, reaching down and picking up his dropped chairs, "Sorry. We just moved in yesterday. I don't even have a kettle to put tea on for you."

Rebecca shook her head, "Oh, no problem. Come over to our place," she grabbed her husband's arm and jerked him in the direction of the Joneses, "Help him out, honey," she hissed.

"Right, right," he said, flustered. Meeting Indiana halfway, he took half of the chairs off of him, freeing up a hand for Indiana to unlock his doors and chuck the furniture he'd retrieved inside. After nearly denting one of the walls with a lazily thrown frying pan, the Joneses went back outside and re-locked their door.

To the neighbor's house they went, only to find a home that was just like theirs in terms of layout, but flush fully with furniture. A Christmas Tree glowed in a corner next to an empty fireplace, from the mantle of which stockings hung. There was a dining table, set with a cloth, toys strewn across the ground, a recently cleaned kitchen that smelled of detergent, and a radio sitting idle next to the counters.

Anna immediately warmed up, both figuratively and literally, to the neighbor's home. She immediately pointed out the similarities to their own home.

"Everything on this street was made by the same architect," Mr Morrison explained, "The ones they sold recently got renovated with some new things. Mostly new electrics, I believe?"

"Do you have the knob lights or the switch lights?" Ms Morrison asked from the kitchen as a kettle was put on to boil.

"...Switch lights," Indiana eventually answered.

"Oh then you have the new renovations, probably," Mr Morrison nodded, "That's good. For the price they were asking, it would've been a scam if it was anything less than modern. Anyway! Tell me about yourself, neighbor!"

"I'm a new assistant professor at Marshall. Just got my doctorate from Oxford."

"That's a pretty fancy university. I'm Bedford's postmaster..."

Jeremy, taking off his winter coat and boots, walked past Dr Jones and Mr Morrison as they sat down at the table for tea. He quickly gestured towards Anna, who was hovering awkwardly in a corner. Swallowing, she slowly made her way over as the boy continued to gesture for her, keeping an eye on Indiana as she passed by. When it seemed he had no protest to the two of them talking, she proceeded on through the propped-open double doors towards Jeremy.

"Are you a girl?" Jeremy asked, voice low.

Anna nodded.

Jeremy frowned, "I'm sorry. I don't got any girl's toys."

Anna looked around at the toys on display. There were cars, trains, planes... they all seemed pretty standard to her. She shrugged, "I have toys like this as well."

"You do?" Jeremy asked, looking up.

"Yeah... but we sold most of them when we left England," Anna frowned, "I just have some random stuff."

"Whoah. You're from England? They have pegasuses in England?" Jeremy pressed, mouth agape.

"No, I'm from Panama. That's a place in Central America," Anna said, stifling a giggle.

"Never heard of a state called Panama in America. I thought the states in Central America were, like, Nebraska and Kansas. I have a cousin in Kansas," before grabbed the locomotive of a toy train, turning it over in his hands before looking up and squinting at Anna, "How old are you?"

"Seven. I turn eight in January," Anna puffed out her chest.

"I'm seven years old as well," Jeremy nodded to himself, "I turned seven in August."

"That's cool..." Anna muttered, eyes tracing along his toy train, "That's a cool train."

"Wanna play with it?" he asked, holding it out towards her.

Play they did. They had plenty of fun, especially since Anna could fly around and do all sorts of tricks... at least it was fun until she banged into a bookshelf and brought it down onto the floor. She got a bloody nose, but Mrs Morrison was the only one around to treat it. Indiana had gone with Mr Morrison to the furniture store in his truck to pick up the rest of their furniture.

As if coming home that night to a double bed sitting in her room wasn't enough of a Christmas present, on actual Christmas they came over again and shared their cookies. Indiana, having been tied down with the bustle of assembling furniture and writing in his study, felt incredibly guilty about having nothing to show to them in return. Anna, however, coaxed him into giving her a few dollars and allowing her to fly into town to buy something from a store that was open.

She came home with a head of lettuce. That, apparently, was not a very good Christmas gift. Now that she thought about it, she'd feel pretty bummed about unwrapping a present and finding a head of lettuce.

She did eat it raw, though. She'd never really eaten lettuce raw. It was nice, if a bit bland.

Work for Indiana began in the new year. There was onboarding to be done at Marshall College, for which he was determined to make a good impression. That meant a lot of studying up on their curriculum, writing to his peers, and general paperwork. In between work, though, Indiana made special care to see to Anna's holiday homework and to keep in-practice with his marksmanship and bullwhip.

Sanders was in the country, but school was not to begin for another month or so. Anna insisted she was old enough to stay at home alone, but her father insisted she still be watched over by a babysitter. She still had vague memories about her first babysitter (the first one she remembered) from when they were in Chicago. Her name was Mary, she believed?

There was, at least, some trust between the two. Just enough trust that when it turned out Indiana needed to leave early to be at work on time, an hour before the sitter arrived, he trusted her to sit like a good little girl and quietly read in the lounge while he ran off to college.

The house had been furnished. A nice, new dining table and chairs for the dining room, a couch and a pair of armchairs next to the fireplace, a double bed for Anna and a queen sized bed for her father, amongst other bits and pieces. No washing machine, refrigerator, or radio. Anna just assumed that was for when her father was going to make big money teaching school.

Neglected in the midst of all this buying, however, was a replacement set of toys for Anna. She delighted herself in going over to the Morrisons to play with Jeremy, but he wasn't always around. In fact, Indiana had told her to stop going over every single day to bug him into playing with her, as apparently it was "not a polite thing to do". In her boredom, she had set her eyes on something else that looked extremely fun.

The dark but thrilling pang of rebellion in her heart, Anna dared to go out the front door and around to the side of the house. A small side-yard allowed passage into the back, but she wasn't headed to the mound of snow that was the back yard. Instead, she looked up towards one of the windows on the second floor - the window that had been left hanging open.

Spreading her wings, she flew easily up to the second floor window and peered inside the study. It was Dad's special place, a place that he had kept locked ever since he moved furniture into it. Wide eyed and the spicy thrill of defiance in her nostrils, she leaned inside the window and peered around.

A desk sat flush against the wall underneath the window. A simple typewriter sat on top, a page inserted into it. There was a chest of drawers, some left half-open and overflowing with disorganized papers. The carpet was covered in crumbs, dirty dishes were stacked on a table on the side of the room, a clock ticked on a wall, and the entire study smelt heavily of her father's scent.

Stepping carefully from the windowsill over the typewriter, she assessed her environment. Where would he keep it? Stashed amongst the papers in the drawer chest? Probably not, they all seemed to small for it...

She looked down at the desk itself, noticing the drawers built onto either side of it. Pursing her lips, she jumped from the tabletop onto the chair in front of it and reached out for the handle of the right side drawer. Pulling it open, she examined the insides.

Small, red cardboard boxes lined most of the interior of the drawer. All of them were marked with text reading ".45 ACP". A small wooden handle poked out of a strangely-shaped cloth pouch in an empty space next to the bullets, which for some reason filled Anna with a nameless fear in her heart.

Moving nervously away from the drawer, she opened the one on the far left. Immediately, she brightened up as her eyes laid onto the prize. Her father's bullwhip, coiled and sitting in the drawer under a few leaflets of paper.

Of course, she knew this was his second bullwhip. He always kept one on him, under his jacket. But that one was always his older one, and he kept a newer one in reserve at all times. The one sitting in the drawer in front of her was that newer one. Its glowing, leather exterior smelled wondrous. She hefted it into her hooves, feeling its weight and allowing it to uncoil, dangling below her.

She grinned. She had to go and try it out!

Zipping out the window, she made for the backyard, but stayed hovering both to free up her forehooves and to stay out of the snow. Gripping the handle with both hooves, she gave it a few experimental swishes. The whip was heavy and cumbersome under her control, though not too heavy. After getting it to move fast enough that it made swooshing sounds through the air, she grinned and raised her hoof.

The whip's rope collided with her chest, making her grunt and loop it around so that it laid behind her. Then, channeling every single motion her father had made during his story times and every image in her bright, colorful imagination, she raised her hooves, flexed her leg muscles, and struck forward.

WHOOT-CRACK!

The whip did not fly forward and smack through the air. The only thing it did was strike forward and smack directly into the back of her neck. She immediately began to scream as searing pain shot up her spine, causing her wings to seize up and drop her directly into the snow. Hot, sticky liquid ran down the back of her neck and thoroughly stained her shirt.

Bawling and seeing through tears, she took flight in a panic back towards the house. She stuffed her father's whip back in its drawer and proceeded to slam through his study door from the unlocked side across to her bedroom. Bleeding all over her sheets, she proceeded to wail into her pillow for several minutes, until the sitter arrived, found the front door unlocked, and stormed up the stairs to investigate the painful screeching.

Indiana Jones was very, very upset by the time he arrived home.

"How'd you manage that!?" Indiana said, voice a strange flavor of angry as he pushed past the babysitter and peeled back the cloth bandage that had been fixed over the wound.

Anna, the rebellious fire in her quickly doused into a dusty ash of shame, kicked back on the water works as she focused on how she was in pain, miserable, and unable to talk. The crying eventually got her father's pity as he embraced her, kissing her on the top of the head and stroking along her back until she stopped crying.

The babysitter stayed a bit longer than usual, making a cup of hot cocoa to help calm Anna down. In the meantime, the filly in question's heart dropped as she watched her father ascend the stairs and immediately notice the still-open study door. Turning away and pretending to be completely innocent, she tried to summon more tears from her dry eyes as the kettle whistled.

Though, no matter how much she tried, her heart still froze as soon as she felt a large presence behind her and the calm, even words: "Anna. Did you break into my study?"

She nodded slowly.

"Did you touch my whip without my permission?"

...She shook her head.

A pause, before he reaffirmed, "You used my whip without my permission."

This time, she nodded.

"That wasn't a very smart thing to do, Anna."

"I-I-I-" Anna sniffled, choking out her first words since her father had come home, "I- I'm sorry, I j-just wanted to look."

"If you wanted to look at it, you could've asked me."

"W-Well," Anna lowered her head, "I-I also wanted to play with it."

"You don't play with Dad's things. You know not to do that."

"I-I'm sorry..." she hiccuped.

"You're grounded for two weeks."

That hit Anna hard, deflating her on the spot. Though, just as she was beginning to cry again, a hand clasped her shoulder and turned her around. Indiana's face was a bit more empathetic as he knelt down to her eye level.

"Anna. Would you like to learn how to use a whip safely?"

"Hi. Yeah, Ben, it's Jones. Listen, can get another custom order from you?"

"I need one around six feet. A bit more lightweight. I'm not getting it for myself. I don't think she'll have enough strength to use a full sized one."

"Yeah... uh-huh?"

"Yeah. Kangaroo leather. Make it so that you're sure your thirteen year old kid could handle it."

"I know I'm your best customer. That's why you'll charge me less."

"Yeah. Thanks. Bye-bye."