Indiana Jones and the Daring Daughter

"...And then behind the false wall, we found the sarcophagus. It was a lot smaller than I anticipated. But, I guess it makes sense, cause it was made for a cat..." Indiana Jones recounted, pacing back and forth in front of Marcus Brody's desk.

It was the end of summer at Marshall. Outside the window of the office, looking out over the college quad, students strolled towards the first classes of the second semester as a distant clocktower's bell tolled out the hour. Marcus watched his old friend curiously, tapping a finger against the top of his desk as he recounted his story.

Occasionally, his eyes flicked away from Indiana towards the golden piece sitting next to his typewriter and tube of white-out. The golden surface of it glistened with the light from the window, casting an almost ethereal glow around the room.

"...That was when the Egyptian student from earlier came in and smashed the Kraut on the back of the head with a shovel. The other guy turned to shoot at him, but that's when I leapt on him... and... well, long story short," Indiana said, cutting what had so far been a very long story into an even shorter story. He placed a hand on top of the gilded coffin, looking up to Marcus, "So, how much do you think the National Museum would pay for a piece like this?"

Marcus, sitting in somewhat stunned silence, glanced a few times between Indy's hazel eyes and the eyes sculpted onto the top of the tiny sarcophagus, "...Sorry, the Egyptian Student?"

"Sallah?" Indiana blinked, "You know? The guy who was studying civil engineering? Back at the college?"

Marcus opened a drawer, taking out a magnifying glass and muttering, "How could I forget..."

With that, he raised the glass to his eye. Carefully, he examined every single inch of the relic, admiring the tiny nicks and scratches, the deformations of time, and the sparkle of the jewels set into the eyes. While the pure monetary value was something to be desired for sure, the historical value was what more prominently caught Brody's eye. Eventually, he broke of and nodded, looking back up to an impatient-looking Indiana.

"Well, it certainly is a good piece," Marcus admitted, "But you know a museum won't pay a ransom for it. They might be able to... reward you for your work, but if you're expecting private collector prices..."

Indiana shook his head, "No. That's more something Belloq would do."

"I thought Belloq was selling to a museum?" Marcus asked, recalling the scant details he remembered from Indiana's long rant about his recent adventure in Egypt.

"He's selling to the German fascists, Marcus, I think there's a difference," Indiana spat, "Were you even listening?"

Marcus grimaced, "Well I-"

"Whatever, whatever," the adventurer sighed, "How much, though?"

"Perhaps seven-thousand?" Marcus estimated. In the end, he was part of the Acquisitions Committee working for the National Museum who would advise the treasury in such matters. The recovery of something like this, if sold to a private source, would likely rack up a prize of several ten-thousand for something so valuable.

"Sure. Take six thousand out of that to pay back the loan you gave me for my first house in Chicago," Indiana said, "I'll take the rest and put it down on the house's mortgage."

The next words out of Marcus's mouth died at that mention. He frowned, saying, "Pay off your mortgage first and then start on your student loans. I can wait all the time I want, the bank won't."

"The bank isn't my friend. You are," Indiana said, breaking eye contact as he began to pace towards the back of the room, hands still on his hips, "Besides. I've got something lined up in 1929 for Easter Island."

Marcus Brody pursed his lips, "...Something else lined up, hmm? Is this going to take place in the winter?"

"Yeah, of course. Can't do it while my classes are on," Indiana dismissed casually, reaching up to scratch at his stubble.

"I would've thought, perhaps, you might've moved past this when you got Anna," Marcus said, pausing before adding, "...And when she nearly got kidnapped while you were doing this very same thing."

Indiana looked over his shoulder, giving a queer look towards the curator, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Indiana, you were young back when you first visited Panama. You were... running away from a lot of problems," Marcus leaned back into his seat with a sigh, placing his arms on the rests as he flexed his hands and said, "If something were to... happen to you out there."

"Something could happen to me at home. There's no such thing as real safety," Indiana shot back, almost too quickly.

"There is such a thing as putting yourself in harms way, when you could really leave somebody behind," Marcus frowned, "Indiana, you have a perfectly good position at Marshall. The faculty here likes you. Anna is growing up in a near perfect environment. Do you realize how much you could uproot, not even if you died, but if you just got terribly injured?"

As Marcus spoke, Indiana grew increasingly agitated, smoothing a hand across the side of his head until he finally lowered it and stomped his foot in frustration, "Goddamnit Marcus, I just can't sit here chained to a desk for the rest of my life! I mean, look at this piece," said Indiana, jabbing out a hand towards the sarcophagus, "What would've happened if Belloq and his krauts got to it first?"

"Indiana, please..." Marcus began.

"No, please Marcus, I'm-" Indiana closed his eyes and clenched his fists, taking a deep breath. Eventually, he opened his eyes and placed his hands to either side of the mummy on his desk, leaning forward and saying, "When I was in Egypt with Ravenwood, I hated every second of it. This makes me feel alive, Marcus. I shouldn't need to give this up. I'm good at it, too!"

"You're good at teaching," Marcus tilted his head, shaking his head, "Your students are enamoured whenever you walk into a room-"

"Meanwhile I'm dreading every second of it," Indiana Jones pushed away from the desk, "I don't hate archaeology, Marcus. If I did, I wouldn't be giving this to a museum-"

"This isn't about you hating archaeology, Indiana-"

"Then goddamnit what is this about!?"

Marcus raised both of his hands in a placating gesture, "Indy, I've already said... this is about Anna."

Something told Marcus Indiana already knew that. He gave a slightly pained expression, reaching behind himself to pull up a chair and fall into it with a sigh.

"You love her dearly, Indiana. There's no question about that, but at this point... she's going to see me for more of the year than she'll see you," Marcus frowned, "It's not entirely your fault. You have to be the man of the family with no mother to hold you up. It's a lot of pressure. But..."

"You saying I could be doing better?" Indiana spat, looking up from his position on the chair.

Once again, the words in Marcus's mouth died as he averted his eyes, "...I'm saying," Marcus began, rethinking his approach, "That perhaps if you are attempting to juggle Anna, Marshall College, and trying to go on adventures again... one of those things is going to need to suffer."

"You don't know that..." Indiana murmured.

"Think about the Ravenwoods, Jones," Marcus pleaded, "Marion has to follow her father all across the world on his search for the Ark. Now they're in Asia, rucking about the bush and mountains, thousands of miles from home. Abner doesn't give her the time she needs, and you know she suffers for it."

There was silence in the room. The sun shifted, causing the glow from the sarcophagus to slowly fade.

"I can't give up on this stuff, Marcus," Indiana muttered, "It's just who I am. I don't... I don't want to give up on Anna either. I don't want her to grow up like Marion, or..."

After a pause lingered in the air, Marcus suggested, "Or you?"

Indiana gave a reluctant nod, "Or me. It was a real lonely life."

"My father once told me it is a parent's dream to have their child grow up in a less painful world than they did," Marcus gave a bitter smile, "We can't all be perfect, but I know your heart is in the right place, Indiana Jones."

"What do you want me to do?" Indiana muttered, looking down at his hands at away from Marcus, "What would you do if you were in my situation?"

That made Marcus smile a bit. An Indiana Jones ten years ago wouldn't have stopped to ask for advice before diving into the next big thing. Progress, however slow, was always a sign of hope. Licking his lips, Marcus eventually, quietly, suggested, "What was the biggest thing your father did to make you hate him?"

"Ignore me almost every single time I talked about something I wasn't interested in," Indiana muttered.

"He never understood your specific way of appreciating history," Marcus nodded in agreement, "Indiana... I think your father loved you very much, but he just never showed it-"

Indiana scoffed, making no attempt at hiding the roll of his eyes.

Holding up a hand to try and stay Indiana into allowing him to continue, Marcus added, "-While he buried himself in his studies, you were developing your own interests and your own ways to see the world. A good parent will look away from his own interests and engage in what his children are interested in, no matter how little they understand or care about the subject matter."

Marcus steepled his hands, leaning closer, "Imagine if, for once, your father looked away from the Grail and looked at one of your interests. Imagine if he came downstairs one day and said 'Son, what would you like to do today?'."

"He wouldn't do that," Indy dismissed.

"That's the problem, isn't it?" Marcus raised his eyebrows, "You need to show Anna that you love her. That takes more than tasty treats, a house, or presents at Christmas. You got all that when you were a child, but it wasn't enough then, was it? You could see it when you started that bullwhip training, no doubt. When you turned away from what you were doing and showed an interest in what she was interested in - granted it happened to be that you were interested in the same things - she knew you really loved her.

"I think this is truly pivotal, Indy. This is the time when she will start truly discovering herself. Get to know every aspect of her and make sure that, no matter what, she knows you love her. That's something your father never did," Marcus's eyes went floorward, "...That was his biggest mistake. He never knew you, and so he lost you."

Silence reigned in the room. Indiana lifted his head until it rested on the back of the chair he was slumped into. He bit his lower lip, deep in thought. Eventually, he took a breath to say, "Mr Sanders says she likes books a lot."

"What kinds of books?"

"I don't know."

Marcus smiled, "Why don't you find out?"

This was incredibly asinine.

Indiana took off his reading glasses, rubbing his eyes as Anna's voice filled his ears. She read from her latest book in a semi-nervous, semi-dispassionate tone as she glanced nervously up to her father, who was still wearing his fine professoral suit.

Nothing in her book made any sense. I mean, why would these advanced wizards from another world be summoning a magical teleporting treehouse to the back yard of these random children? If they needed help finding ancient magical relics from across history so badly, why wouldn't they go straight to the house of a scientist or the quad of a university to consult some experts?

The depiction of the romans were horrendous as well. They had Repubic and Imperial-era equipment, technologies, and cultures all mixed together in some sort of unholy matrimony. The fact that he had to research much of this for his dissertation and now his classes made him sick to his stomach as he read a few paragraphs ahead of his daughter, eyes catching mentions of trebuchets and elephant warriors.

"Why'd they do that?" Indiana asked, pointing to a certain line in the book, "Why would these ancient legionnaires just, out of nowhere, try and shoot these two kids?"

"...I dunno?" Anna shrugged, leaning into a forehoof and pursing her lips, "Maybe they were just really angry?"

"It just makes no sense," Indiana shook his head, taking off his glasses completely to lean back in his chair.

"Well I like it," Anna muttered, closing the book.

Immediately regretting his previous words, Indiana quickly assured, "I love you!"

Anna lowered her head, giving him a long, awkward stare, "...Are you okay Dad?"

"I'm fine," Indiana reassured, waving his hands and sitting back up in his chair, "Let's move onto the next page. Where were you?"

"You look like you're about to puke, Dad," Anna pointed out, poking his stomach with a sharp jab.

Bile rose in Indy's throat, expulsed by the jab. A pained look on his face, he raised a clenched fist to his mouth and swallowed. Shaking his head with a grunt, he lied, "No."

"Don't you have work to do or something?" Anna muttered, looking away from him with a frown.

"No. I want to spend the entire day with you, and I mean it!" Indiana insisted, waggling a finger at her, "What else do you like doing?"

"I like playing baseball with my friends in the afternoon," Anna said, looking longingly out towards the window.

The neighborhood kids quickly lost all enthusiasm they had for the game as soon as an adult joined in. Even when he resigned to sit and watch, they seemed to just have less fun when there was a responsible grownup watching their every move. Soon, after some awkward goodbyes, Indiana and Anna walked back up the stairs to their own front door.

"Sorry," Indiana felt like saying. The demeaning nature of apologizing to his own daughter after doing something as embarrassing as joining in on a children's game was not lost on him.

"Can I go to my room now?" Anna asked, a giant pout on her face as she looked up at him.

Indiana had no desire left in him to argue that she needed to eat dinner. He simply slumped onto a couch as she made her way upstairs, closing her door and not coming back out for the rest of the night. The fact that she knew how to shower and put herself to bed - something he had not taught her - made him even more sullen.

A pint would do him well, that night, but he didn't have it in himself to walk out to a speakeasy. Even though he could have gone back to accomplish some work in his study, all he could bring himself to do was pace around aimlessly in his living room.

After eventually falling asleep, being woken up early by one of his recurring nightmares, he eventually made his way downstairs again. Taking a cookbook that had been given to him by his neighbors, a gift that was no doubt inspired by the time they came over for dinner and were treated to an absolutely monstrous meal, he looked up the recipe for pancakes. Lighting the stove and taking out the relevant ingredients from his pantry and icebox, he mixed and poured the batter out onto a heated pan.

By the time the sun rose, he had thrown away several failed attempts at a good breakfast. After going through all the ingredients he had on hand, he was eventually forced to settle on the final result as being 'good enough'. His attempts at cutting out some sort of image out of one of the pancakes made him blush with so much embarrassment that he threw it away as well, instead leaving him to carve cringey smiley faces into the top of his stack of misshapen pancakes and call it a day.

Anna came down the stairs, still in the previous day's clothes, while they were still warm.

"I made pancakes," Indiana said, stating the obvious as she walked up to the kitchen counter and tilted her head.

In response, quite puzzlingly, she wilted, ears flopping down and wings sagging a bit.

In complete silence, Indiana plated up the pancakes the best he could and took it to the table. It was then that he realized that he had made pancakes without any syrup in stock. So, they simply sat, with their sad plain meal, with a cup of milk each. The way Anna stared down at her smiley-face pancake made Indiana place his shoulders on the table, cup his hands over his eyes, and sigh.

There was the sound of silverware scraping against ceramic, followed by a silence that was assumedly her taking a bite. Suddenly, her breath quavered, some words dying on her lips as she began to sob.

Indiana's inside voice sarcastically congratulated him. He'd managed to make her cry, now. Maybe it would've just been better to run away back to university to start the workday early over there. She was going to grow up to hate him every single bit as much as he hated his father, and then she was going to go and run off to join some revolution somewhere, then sign up for another Great War...

"I'm sorry Dad!" Anna suddenly wailed.

Indiana lifted his eyes from his hands, a look of utter confusion on his face. Across from him, Anna wept bitter tears, a chunk missing from her pancake.

"...Huh?" he eventually said.

"I've been a really bad girl. I-I- sniff I'm really bad at maths, I don't eat my breakfast, my books are stupid, and you pay all that money for Mr Sanders but I keep being naughty and not flossing..." she sniffed, "I don't want you to go away, Dad! Please don't go away! I'll be better! I promise!"

Indiana's heart broke, and so did the dam around his eyes. Vision watering, it took but a moment of hesitation before he immediately leapt into a response, "No, Anna, no... I-I'm the one... I'm the one who's been bad."

Anna raked her foreleg across her nose, leaving a trail of snot along her fur as she continued to blubber.

Indiana scrambled up from his seat, moving around the table to sit next to his daughter, "I don't ever mean to go away from you, I just-"

"Then why do you always look so excited when you tell me you're going to Egypt, or to Brazil, or somewhere else!?" Anna managed, breath immediately hitching afterwards as her body shook with every sob.

"Anna, I don't ever want to leave you," Indiana immediately clarified, "Sometimes, I need to go somewhere, because I need to..." Indiana's mind quickly scanned for an explanation aside from the truth, "I need to pay the bank, or for the furniture, or for Mr Sanders. I never want to leave you, Anna. You're a good girl, I love you so, so much."

Anna didn't say a word, but she leaned over and buried her face into her father's side. Wet tears immediately soaked through his expensive overcoat. However, Indiana reached out and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her to sit on his lap and cuddle up against his chest.

Patting her slowly on the back, Indiana soothed, "Anna, I would never, ever want to send you away for anything in the entire world. Not even for a thousand trips to Egypt."

Anna sniffed, turning her head and looking up towards his face with one eye, the other buried against his undershirt still, "You promise?"

"I promise," Indiana assured.

It was the second week of school for the second semester. Indiana's absence from his classes that begun in a few hours would not be missed. Still, it was the farthest thing from his mind as he held his daughter close, the sun's rays slowly travelling upwards through the windows lining the dining room wall.

"Anna, it isn't right to you that I gotta keep going for such a long time," Indiana muttered eventually, "And when you do something that isn't right, you do something to make up for it, yeah?"

"M-Mhm?" Anna whimpered, a smaller trickle of tears still coming down her face as she was rocked slowly on his lap.

"Well whenever I'm home, I gotta make it up to you for leaving you here with old Uncle Marcus, right?" Indiana suggested, adjusting his grip on her so that she leaned back to look up to his face. He gave her an uncertain smile, reaching up to wipe some of his own tears.

Anna sniffed, before nodding, "U-Uncle Marcus is more boring than trying to read my books to you!"

Indiana chuckled. She reciprocated with a snort of her own. Soon, a mutual laugh shook them both, finally breaking the tension.

"I wanna do something with you, alright? To make up for all the lost time? I take in Egypt?" Indiana said, "Just uh... please no more books."

"No more books," Anna nodded, before squirming out of her father's grip. Eventually, she narrowed her eyes, looking up at him with an almost... sly look, "How big can this something be?"

"Anything you wanna do," Indiana said, ignoring the part of his mind that was screaming not to put such a big offer on the table in front of an eight-year-old.

"Can we go to New York?"

For but a moment, Indiana thought about how painful and tiring the logistics of fulfilling that request would be. He had classes that day, then the next day, then office hours on the day after that... then there would be the expenses. A trip into NYC would be at least an overnight, requiring a hotel, packing...

The telephone rang slightly as it was taken off the reciever, the dial beneath it whirring as Indiana called his university. After getting through Marshall's internal switchboard to the office of his course supervisor, he quickly declared himself sick for the next few days, gave no more explanation than that, then packed a briefcase for an overnight and walked out the door with his daughter.

A four hour train ride went from Bedford to New Haven, then proceeded east to New York City. After a short stop to rest their legs in New Haven, they re-boarded the train to make the rest of the journey out of the state. Filled with energy, Anna bounced slightly on her seat as she stared out the window.

"You like travelling?" Indiana asked, voice earnestly curious as he followed her gaze out towards the distant ocean.

"Is this travelling?" Anna asked.

"Yeah."

"Then I do!"

Indiana nodded slowly, "You know, when I was about your age, my mom and dad took me out to Africa and Europe."

"When I was five, you took me to see Europe," Anna recounted, looking up at him completely innocently as she relayed a fact most obvious to the both of them.

"I sure did," Indiana huffed, "But my dad did it because he was already a doctor, and he was giving lectures to a bunch of different universities across the world."

Anna blinked, "What's your dad like?"

"...He wasn't a very nice guy," said Indiana after a long, deliberating pause.

To Indiana's great displeasure, Anna pressed the subject like any curious child would, "Why wasn't he very nice?"

"He never said things like, 'I love you'. He always just told me to do my chores, to go read my books, and to just leave him alone while he worked," Indiana eventually said.

Anna frowned, "You don't like reading books?"

"I gotta read a lot of books for my job, Anna," Indiana gave a slightly amused smile, "But not like you do. You like to read different kinds of books."

"I suppose so," Anna nodded, before looking up again, "What about your mom? Was she nice?"

Indiana averted his eyes for a moment. He didn't want to go through the awkward conversation that was explaining parental death to his young child, especially when it would likely do nothing but terrify her. Eventually, he decided to change the question, "Have you ever thought much about you not having a mom?"

"Tommy says his friend Jeffery from school doesn't have a mom," Anna said plaintively, "He says that happens when mom and dad don't love each other no more."

"Don't love each other anymore," Indiana almost automatically corrected.

"Don't love each other anymore," Anna nodded, "He says it's real sad when that happens. I'm probably lucky to not have a mom, cause then that can't happen."

Giving a few blinks at his daughter's flawed logic, Indiana eventually shrugged, "I suppose that's one upside, yeah."

"Tommy says I'm adopted," Anna said, leaning on a hoof, "Cause he says he knows a boy who's a Chinese, but his parents are American. He says the Chinese was someone else's child, but then another family said they wanted to take care of him instead. And everyone knows that if you're American, you have an American child, not a Chinese one."

Nodding very slowly, Indiana, amazed at the amount of knowledge his daughter had somehow collected behind his back, queried, "And... how do you feel about that? About being adopted?"

"Well apparently it's fine. Even though the Chinese boy looks different than his parents, he acts like a normal boy. Apparently I act like a normal boy too!" Anna nodded eagerly, before pausing and scrunching up her muzzle, "...even though I'm a girl."

Indiana gave a soft laugh, clasping his hands in front of him on the table that separated the two in their train booth, "Anna, there isn't anything wrong with being Chinese... or with being you. You don't have to act a certain way to be fine."

"But Americans are cool. We believe in democracy, freedom, and Christmas," Anna blinked, "Why wouldn't you want to be an American?"

"Do you think being Chinese means you don't do those things?" Indiana gave a slight smirk.

"I mean, I thought that was just imp- imp- impic- impa-"

"Implied?"

"Implied!" Anna said, shrugging and adding, "I mean why would they be called something different if they were just like us?"

Indiana paused, pursing his lips, before eventually nodding to himself and saying, "You remember Uncle Richard?"

"Uh-huh..."

"Well you know how his skin is black, while mine is white?"

"Mhm?"

"Well..." Indiana tilted his head, "That means he's an African."

"I remember that! Sanders told me that when he was teaching me about geography. He said that Africans are usually black or brown, or Arabs..." she scrunched her muzzle, "I dunno what the difference is."

"Anna, a long time ago, some people said that Africans weren't as good as white people. The people from Europe?" Indiana said, putting on his serious voice as he locked eyes with Anna.

"White people are in Europe, America, and Australia," Anna recited, before finally seemingly to catch the meaning of her father's words, "Why'd they say that?"

"Cause some greedy people wanted to make Africans work really hard for no money," Indiana sighed, "And they paid smart people like me, Uncle Marcus, and Uncle Johan to say that because of the color of their skin, or the shape of their noses, they were stupider than white people."

Anna's expression had faded into a frown, "Are you talking about slavery? Mr Sanders was telling me that America fought a war to end it."

"The American Civil War. Circa 1870, I think..."

"It was 1861..."

"Right, 1861," Indiana shook his head. Despite his extensive knowledge of global history, he had always had a dark spot around his own home country's history, "Yeah, but so many people believe what those smart people said that they still say that Africans like Richard should be treated like animals. Even though today Africans don't need to work as slaves."

Behind Anna's eyes, something clicked, and she nodded to herself, "...Like they said about me, right?"

Indiana took a deep breath, before saying, "...Right."

"I think I get it," Anna eventually said.

"When I was young, I met someone named Omar," Indiana recounted, "He was about my age, and he was an African. The place he lived in still had slavery as legal. He wasn't going to ever be able to learn how to read, or travel the world, or do any of the things he wanted to.

"One day. Me and him ran out of the palace and into the marketplace. We were taken by slave traders who mistook me for an African-"

"How'd they make that mistake?"

"I was covered in shoe polish," Indiana admitted with a slight shake of his head, "We were taken all the way across the desert. I was going to be sold to someone. I'd never see my family again, can you imagine that?"

Fear flashed in Anna's eyes. Indiana quickly realized she knew exactly what that would feel like.

Quickly moving on, Indiana finished, "But a brave man named Ned Lawrence came and stopped it. He freed me and Omar and we went back home," a pause, "So when they say that they want to treat someone different because they're Chinese or African, just imagine how you would feel if you were being treated like that."

"...What happened to Omar?" Anna asked, eyes wandering slightly as she breathed heavily, obviously trying to vent her anxiety.

"Back in 1911, seventeen years ago, his country finally made slavery illegal. He's free now, to go do whatever he wants," Indiana smiled, "I still keep up with him. He's a sea captain, now."

"Like Uncle Richard?"

"Like Uncle Richard," Indiana affirmed, "But remember- when you see somebody who looks different, just know that deep down they aren't different at all. Remember what you said to the judge? You're every bit a normal girl as every other one. Just like every girl is no different from the rest, no matter what they look like."

Anna nodded, chest puffed confidently.

The brakes on the train squealed as it pulled into Grand Central Station. Together, they stepped out of the train onto one of the busiest platforms in the entirety of the United States. A vaulted ceiling overlooked the area where trains pulled in and took off, all on a constant ticking time set off by a glowing clock that constantly told when the next line was about to accept boarding.

Anna had the luxury of flying above it all, eyes wide as she drunk in the sights once again, while Indiana lugged their overnight luggage behind her and fought the crowd to get to the exit. He was no stranger to cities, but mostly had contented himself with learning to grin and bear them. He felt much better in a rural, quieter area, or in the remote embrace of the wilderness. Places where there were fewer expectations and fewer eyes.

Anna, however, accustomed to the constant stares of the crowd and with the ability to soar above it, was energized as she zipped around the terminal. She examined every single little thing, giggled as she stood on top of places she was clearly not meant to be, and boggled the eyes of conductors and engineers as she flew up and down parked trains.

Indiana waited for her to have her fun, standing by the exit with the slightest concern that his entire day would be watching Anna watch trains. Eventually, though, she flew over with a grin on her face, "What're we doing first, Dad!?"

"I dunno," Indiana admitted, the words bringing a slight feeling of lightness to his heart, "What do you want to do?"

"I dunno!" Anna giggled, "You're the grownup, Dad!"

Indiana threw his hands up in exaggerated surrender, "I suppose I am. Well..." he turned, looking around for a moment as he thought. Suddenly, his eye landed on a flyer plastered on a nearby wall.

'VISIT THE CONEY ISLAND CYCLONE'

Indiana had never been on a rollercoaster before, but he'd heard good things about Coney Island. After all, this was a trip entirely about spontaneity, right?

Indiana Jones had been on many a wild ride before. He'd flown airplanes, ridden horses, fought treasure hunters on the back of moving trains, and rocketed uncontrollably down stone pits into death. Nothing, however, could prepare him for the feeling of speeding and sliding down the tracks of a rickety, wooden structure at sixty miles per hour, clinging with white-knuckles to a lap bar as Anna screamed her lungs out in the seat next to him.

Every single sharp turn turned his stomach as he watched the ground rocket by him below. When he'd been at the helm of a race car, he'd been in control of every turn, brake, and acceleration. Here, though, he felt as if he was clinging onto the back of some sort of beast as it tried his best to fling him free into the air and to a painful splat on the boardwalk below.

Eventually, though, the ride was over, and Indiana was given his hat back by the operator as he stumbled out of his seat. Anna, gait perfectly stable on all four of her legs, jumped and fluttered a few wings as she cheered:

"THAT WAS AWESOME! Can we go again? Can we go again? Canwecanwecanwecanwecanwe!?"

Indiana grabbed onto a railing as he headed back down towards the boardwalk, hair blown back and face white as a sheet, "Don't you get those kinds of kicks out of flying, kid!?"

"Nuh uh! That was way more fun than flying!" Anna insisted, staying at the top of the stairs despite her father walking down it.

Indiana gave her a look of disbelief. Had she really already gotten to the stage where she found flying boring? If he had wings, he sure wouldn't find it boring. With a shake of his head, he gestured her down the stairs, "No, come on, let's do something else. There's plenty to do around here, probably..."

"Aw, man..." Anna sulked, following her father down the stairs reluctantly.

Despite Indiana's upset stomach, they had turned down having lunch on time in order to go straight to the roller-coaster. So, they went to a place labelled an 'Automat'. Apparently, the entire point was that food was served via machines that could detect how many nickels you had put in, then dispensed whatever order you desired. Apparently, they had been around for a while... not that Indiana had ever been to one. There wasn't much in the way of vegetarian options, but Anna contented herself in an extra large serving of fries while Indiana got something for himself.

"What'll they think of next?" Indy whispered to himself, watching as the machine whirred and served.

The rest of the afternoon was spent touring the various attractions the parks had to offer. There were live circus-like performances, where Indiana and Anna mutually enjoyed nitpicking the style of a performer using a bullwhip (it was rather sloppy, in their very professional opinions!), some sort of fairy-tale ride, and a hot dog shop that Indiana didn't visit as he didn't want to tempt Anna into eating something not good for her.

At this rate, Indiana figured, Anna was making him into a vegetarian. He'd grown so unaccustomed to meat that the fish he'd eaten for lunch had become foreign to him. What would his mother think about him not eating his proteins?

Indiana had no desire to have Anna around when the morally dubious Coney Island became dark. So, as soon as the sun nicked the horizon, he ushered her from their final attraction - the Ferris wheel - back to the subway to head into the city. Exhaustion hit Indy like a truck. The lack of sleep the previous night, combined with the high-energy activities of the day meant he was nearly dozing off in the subway.

The last 'activity' of the day was at the docks. Anna bet she could fly all the way to Liberty Island and touch the torch on top of the Statue of Liberty. Indiana gave her a spot to meet him at, before walking away to book a hotel room. He came back to find her flying back from the Statue and talking about how much more impressive it was when she could fly up and down it.

"I thought flying was boring?" Indiana queried.

"Flying is boring. But you can see cool things while flying, so I guess it's not that bad," Anna shrugged.

Their hotel room wasn't resplendent - Indy couldn't afford anything more than the standard fare - but it was cozy after a long day on the city. Anna volunteered to go and have a bath first while Indiana rested a bit on his bed. By the time she had done cleaning herself, she came out to find him fast asleep on top of his sheets, two-day old professorly outfit still on his body and boots still on his feet.

He finally showered the next day, shortly before they had a quick fly through Central Park and boarded the train heading home. As they travelled, Anna began to ask about Indiana's childhood, which lead him into a story. A story about a certain golden cross that he briefly possessed while him and his father lived in Utah.

As she sat, eyes wide and buzzing with excitement from their day out, Indiana finally realized:

He'd found out what she liked.