It's a refrain that Mutt's gotten used to over the past few months, though the inflection seems a little different every time he hears it. In Cairo it was said with the kind of insistence that had Mutt's hand wrapped around the handle of his knife before Jones even finished saying it; in Istanbul it was more blind panic; and in Ulaangom it was more relaxed, so Mutt gave him some sort of murmured answer and hurried out by the fire, not sure he wanted to be there when Jones found her. There were reasons, he was fast discovering, why parents have honeymoons before the kids came along.

Still, this time, it seemed more exasperated than anything, and Mutt shrugged, gesturing toward the hallway and the raucous sounds coming from the bar beneath them. Their room was crowded with extra chairs and tables at one end, a bed and a cot filling what little space remained, and all of them tended to spend as much time as possible somewhere else while Jones searched for artifacts for some museum or government or the other. Mutt didn't pretend to get what Jones did, just like he didn't pretend to get who Jones was, but sometimes, like this, when all he could see was the glare underneath the fedora, he was pretty sure it was clear they were father and son, kin in their stubbornness.

"You going to come down for dinner?"

"I'm busy." Mutt was looking over their maps, pulled out from under the beds when they needed them and rolled up and tucked away when they didn't. The truth was that he wanted to write in his journal, a small leather bound book he'd bought in Hvammstangi, and record everything they'd done up until now. His mom had an ability to make Jones talk, to get him to tell his side of all the stories that she had told Mutt as fairy tales while he was growing up. The stories were becoming something closer to truth for Mutt, even though they were completely incredible.

"Suit yourself, kid, but once the yak's gone, you're out of luck."

Mutt's eyes lifted quickly. "That's yak?"

"What'd you think we were eating?"

"I didn't…I just…Yak?"

Jones laughed softly and shook his head. "Yak. It's even better when it's smoked and dried. Tough as hell, but it keeps you alive when you need it to."

"Now I'm really not hungry."

"Trust me, there are worse things to eat." A roar of laughter came in through the open door. "You're sure your mom's downstairs?"

"Yeah. Said she was going to go down and have a drink with the locals."

"Oh shit." Jones blew out a breath, muttering the curse softly. Mutt straightened up at the sound, unused to Jones being worried when there weren't people with guns, tanks, machetes, swords, U-boats or really sharp pointy sticks aiming for him. "A drink?"

"Yeah. Is that a problem?" Mutt began rolling up the maps quickly, sensing trouble on the wind as Jones grabbed his hat and shoved it down hard on his head. "Jones?"

"Your mother never just has one drink with the locals."

Another roar of laughter came up the stairs like a hurricane followed by a rhythmic chant that made Mutt's hair stand on end. "What's that?"

"That," sighed Jones, "is your mother."

Indy had to give the kid credit, he didn't look horrified by the sight of his mother drinking a man the size of a small house under the table. In fact, he looked sort of proud, which made Indy smile, the corner of his mouth curving up as he watched Marion raise a toast to Mutt. The kid blushed and ducked his head as every one of the observers did the same. For all his bravado and boasting, Mutt had turned out to be a decent enough kid, even if Indy still couldn't quite think of him as his own kid.

Marion spoke to the crowd causing them all to look at Indy and raise their glasses again, laughing wide sparse-toothed smiles. "What'd you say, Marion?"

"I said you were my big American hero, Jones."

"You're not that drunk." He folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. "C'mon. Put the poor guy out of his misery and let's have some dinner."

"This is dinner, Jones." Marion's smile was the same as it had been all those years ago, and he wondered again what exactly he'd been thinking when he'd walked out. Of course, when he'd done that, he'd been a hell of a lot younger and stupider. "C'mon and have a drink."

"Last drink you bought me ended up with us engaged."

"What's the matter? You afraid it might happen again?" She smiled again and he felt the same familiar rush that he'd felt the first time he'd met her, the first time he'd kissed her, every first time she'd given him. "Don't worry, Jones. I'd as soon marry this guy as you."

"You told me you'd never marry a man you could out-drink." A shadow crossed her face, and he regretted the words immediately. She had gotten married. She'd moved on past him, and he didn't really have anyone to blame for it but himself. Still, she was here now, and so was the kid, which had to count for something.

"Yeah, well, Jones, sometimes a woman gets lonely. Hell, I might even settle for you if I get desperate."

His mouth quirked and he nodded. "I'll keep hoping for that then."

"You guys do know there are other people here, right? And that they're listening?" Mutt shook his head and gave them a look that only an exasperated child could give. Not that Indy knew much about children, but he knew the look he'd given his father just about every chance he got. "Pour me a drink, Mom."

"You're not old enough to drink," Indy said

Mutt turned and gave him a look that stopped him up short. "I don't think you get to decide that."

"He's old enough to drink, Indiana." Marion chided him softly, then poured an empty shot glass full for Mutt. "You come have one too. We'll make a toast to our family."

"He's not my dad," Mutt reminded her, just loud enough for Jones to hear him.

"Yeah, well, I'm your mother," Marion's voice was strong, like it used to be back in the days before the Ark of the Covenant and being left and the war and being widowed. Maybe they would all survive this yet. "So show a little respect."

Mutt was outside walking the perimeter of the building just like he did every night. She knew where he got the trait from and could see so much of the man who raised him warring with the man who fathered him. Indiana stood at the small, rectangular slot of a window, looking out and watching him. "He's a good kid," Marion said.

"He has a good mom."

"He needs more than that." She sat on the bed and felt the rough wool blanket with her fingers. "He needs a father."

"He had one of those."

She was tired of the argument, and she knew he knew it. "Yeah, well, you're his father, so."

"So." He shook his head and turned around, looking at her. He was older now than she imagined - mileage, he'd claim, though she knew it was the years as well - but she was sure that she was older than he expected as well. "I'm not fit to be anyone's father, Marion, and you know it. You knew it back then too. I'm…this. Wandering the world looking for treasure."

"It was never treasure to you, Indy."

He sighed and moved over to the bed, sitting next to her. "No. Other men's treasure. My work."

"We could settle down somewhere. So long as you kept the damsels in distress to a minimum, I'd be okay with you gallivanting around the world. Maybe I could even come with you. I was your partner once."

"Yeah, and you got us trapped in a pit full of snakes."

"After you left me in the tent with one." The argument was more teasing than anger, and old one brought out with the fondness of memory. "I still miss our baby."

"The monkey was a bad guy, Marion."

"Mutt's a good kid." She leaned against him and closed her eyes. "He's like you."

"I've got nothing to do with what he's like, Marion." He eased his arm around her and she breathed him in, inhaling the scent of sweat and man that was Indiana Jones. He'd haunted her dreams for years, and now he was real again. "That's all you and his dad."

She lifted her face, looking at him with her dark eyes. "Abner always told me you were everything in the world - a rake, a troublemaker, a scoundrel - except a thief and a coward. You broke his heart and mine, Indy." She reached up and brushed his stubbled jaw and then kissed him softly. "Don't break Mutt's."

"Mutt's a horrible name."

"You took your dog's name. He named himself after a dog." She smiled and he kissed her, shaking his head as he pulled away.

"Marion…"

"Indy." She gave him a hard look. "We've been traveling around together for months now. It's a little late to get cold feet."

"We're in the mountains."

"I didn't say it wasn't the right place. I just said it was late." She sighed softly and took his hand, running her fingers over the calluses that proved he was anything but just a professor. "Haven't we waited long enough, Jones?"

He sighed, watching her from the corner of his eye. "If we get married, we have to stop sharing a room with the kid."

"I think he'd be okay if we stopped that now, but I'm going to hold you to the marriage proposal."

He was quiet for a moment, thinking, and then he smiled. "And I suppose then, if I don't want cold feet, we should go somewhere warm."

He had heard rumors of foreigners, but he had expected men with guns and swarms of military might. Instead, he was pleased to see two familiar figures materialize out of the sunlight and dust.

"Indy, my dear friend!" Sallah's greeting sent dozens of children scurrying toward them, swarming like insects with their buzzing cries of 'Uncle Indy! Uncle Indy!'. Indy picked up one of them and carried him in with them while the others tagged along with wide eyes. These were the children and grandchildren of the ones who had first greeted Indy so many years ago now when they searched for the Ark of the Covenant, a sure sign that they had all gotten older. "And you bring Marion with you!"

"Marion." Indy's smile only claimed half of his mouth, but it was typical of him and Sallah knew its true depth. "You remember Sallah."

"As if I could forget." She laughed and hugged Sallah tightly, reminding him that his middle had expanded along with his family. "Hello, Sallah."

"Hello, Miss Marion. You are more beautiful than ever."

"And you're as charming. Don't think I don't see through you." She smiled as well, and Sallah was surprised to find that everyone seemed truly happy, no undercurrents of tension or adventure. Well, almost everyone.

"And who is this?"

"Ah. Well, Sallah, this is my son, Mutt."

"Mutt? What kind of name is this? It is bad enough you hang around with men named Indiana. One day you need to find a man with a real name."

"I have a real name," Indy protested.

"No. You are named after a state. Or a dog. Either way, it's not a name." Sallah approached the boy, walking around him with his eye turned toward what it could really see, not what the boy presented. "Welcome, Mutt." He held out his hand. "Any friend of Miss Marion's is a friend of mine." He bustled back to the table and began pouring the wine. "So tell me, what is it that is bringing you here to my home? Another adventure? Another mystical relic to be found in our desert? Another treasure that will disappear into nowhere?"

"Actually, Sallah, Marion and I were thinking about getting married."

"Thinking?" Sallah laughed. "Marriage is not something you think about, Indy! It is something you do!"

"It's not something he does, Sallah." Marion laughed along with him, ignoring Indy's hard look. "Which is where you come in."

"You need me to get him to the church on time?"

"I don't care if he's on time, Sallah. Just promise you'll get him there."

"It would be my pleasure. You will expect me to come to the United States for this?"

"We'd be honored if you would," Indy nodded.

"And what do you think about this, Mutt?"

The boy looked up, surprised at the direct address. "I think if they get married, they'll leave me alone for a while."

"Ha!" Sallah laughed and urged them all to sit and passed out the glasses. "You leave newlyweds alone and this--" He waved to the brood of children and grandchildren crowding the house. "This is what you end up with!"