I stayed up till 6am editing this!*yawn*

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Posted by Chapter 40 from 208.142.166.58 on August 10, 1999 at 14:28:29:


May you have many pleasurable minutes reading this... if this ain't my last attempt at posting a chapter... I'm gonna faint!

Dr. Campbell
(A person ought to have at least 6 hours of sleep each day)

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CHAPTER 40
The State of Emotions

"What the hell happened here?!" Indy asked, looking at the blood and the broken windows.
"I don't know," Meg replied clearly puzzled herself.
"Yeah BAYBEEE!" Austin Powers loudly announced, coming out of a room and into the hallway where Indy and the others were. "Looks like your friends have flown away! I've had all my groovy men search the place. They're nowhere to be found, baby! The hospital staff is alright, and they're not much help. Total darkness, baby!"
"Thanks Austin," Indy replied.
"No sweat, friend!" Austin replied. "I've got to split! Take care you all! And just give my regards to my groovy friend, Indiana Jerico!"
The others nodded trying to hide their snickers as the sixties-dressed Brit agent stepped out unto the stairs. As if on cue, the elevator opened and in stepped Indiana Jerico and Short Round.
"What the hell happened here?!" Short Round asked, in exactly the same tone as Meg.
Suddenly, Indy looked up at them horrorstricken. "Goodsport and Aragorn!"he exclaimed.
Hurridly they ran to Goodsport's room. Even before they opened it, they already knew. It was as they had feared. Goodsport and the others were gone.

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What am I doing? Aragorn asked himself, in the silence of the first-class section of the plane he and the Lambert brothers were taking. What have I done? He couldn't understand what had made him spontaneously jump to this ...deed.... running away from his responsibilities.... to go off with these two.
He glanced sideways to where James was sleeping in the seat beside him, mouth open. Then, his brows wrinkling, he turned away again and stared out of the plane window, into the darkness of the night sky.
His thoughts again drifted.
He knew James from way back. Jimmy had been his best friend. But that had been long ago...before he had been able to join the agency; before he he had become this hotshot agent that he was now. Aragorn chortled, musing. Even then, he had adopted the name 'Aragorn', from his favorite book. What had James been then? He tried to remember. James had been the happy-go-lucky-to-hell-with-everything type. Sighing deeply he recalled how James had often gotten into a rumble or two with some of the boys in their place, and how painstakinly hed save his best friends butt so many times. No wonder he took the path in which he was up to his neck in, right now. Time and again, he had often wondered how reckless James was.
He then looked to the other side of the aisle, where Brett was reclining; tired from whatever it was that he and that stewardess had been doing in the washroom. He still couldn't believe Brett had turned out to be this kind of guy. More so when he found out that he and James were brothers.

He recollected the time when Brett applied for the computer specialist position in the agency. He had read his files, and when he found out that his last name was Lambert, he immediately remembered his old friend, James. At first, he dismissed it as just a mere coincidence. 'Lambert' was such a common family name after all!
Time passed, however, and his notion had proven to be incorrect. More and more, he noticed that Brett acted the same way as James did on more than one incidences. Granted Brett was a genius at his craft, but he was also a little bit too reckless. He often got into fights with their colleagues. There were even times when he acted like a kid, again resembling James. It was often this which got him into scrapes with the others, especially his partner, Indiana Jerico, who was one who could never tolerate childish behavior nor abide excessive naivete. Because of this, Brett had always preffered him than his partner.
And then,as the plane was gliding calmly through the night, Aragorn's thoughts drifted to his former group, the Agency; which had become family for the last five years. Micah and... Michaelson who had been like a father to him. Eversince his family broke apart due to personal problems five years ago, these two had been there with him. Michaelson was a close friend of his father's, and when he ran away, he brought him under his wing, and put him in the Agency. That's where his new life had started. And although the matter with his family was resolved in the courts (his parents finally divorced), he refused to be with either parents and loyally had remained with the Agency subsequently. That was also where he had met his close friend and partner, Jerico. Now, when he contemplated on the past, he seriously doubted the course of action he had recently taken. He was being brash, and he was clearly not thinking straight. His feelings were in turmoil. Which should he chose? His second family, the Agency, or to the friends that he had in the past?
He sighed and tried to sleep, but he was afraid. Of the Voice. Of the darkness. The fainting spells that he had acquired lately bothered him. What's happening to him? Was he too involved with his job? Is this why he acted the way he did, deciding that it would be better to just run away from it all? Forget about saving the world, and just slink away to wherever James and Brett would take him?
And if this is true, then what had he become?
With these thoughts stabbing at his wearied mind, he finally drifted to uncomfortable sleep.

-------------------
Goodsport impatiently gazed at the lounge clock. It was already thirty minutes past 8 in the evening. Where the hell was Aragorn?
They were sitting in the airport's departure lounge. Their plane would be leaving in an hour, and still, Aragorn hadn't shown up. Something... inside him told him that the circumstances were more than just unusual. He tried to brush away the premonition by talking to the old man.
"How do you know about Valinor, anyway, Mr. Jones?"
"It's Doctor Jones," Indiana Jones said. "But you can call me Indy."
"Yeah, right," Goodsport snickered. "A big fan of Indiana Jones too, I see."
"I am Indiana Jones, son," Indiana Jones answered matter-of-factly.
"Sure, sure," Goodsport said, evidently doubting the old man. "Next thing you're gonna tell me is you're an archaeologist."
"I did say Doctor, didn't I?" Indiana Jones grinned. "That's how I know about Valinor."
"Yeah, whatever," Goodsport replied. The old man was obviously delusional. However, he seemed to know about Valinor, so he pressed. "What do you know about Valinor?"
"I think it is real," Indiana Jones said. "Just sitting there somewhere. A lot of countries disappear in the course of the earth's history, you know. Atlantis, Lemuria. Why shouldn't Valinor be any different?"
"Myths?" Goodsport answered.
"No, son," Indiana Jones sighed and gave him a lop-sided smile. "Every myth holds a truth in them. That truth is what I am trying to find out. Valinor exists. My instinct tells me so."
You have no idea how your right your instinct is, Goodsport thought.

---------------
Jerico deftly picked the door of the Jeep Cherokee which was parked in the hospital's basement parking area. Indy, Meg, and Short Round were lurking nearby, standing watch for anyone who might catch them in their handiwork.
"I still can't undertand why we can't take the truck," Indy whispered. "I mean, it still runs."
"Yeah, it runs," Jerico hissed back, while pushing the pick.
Soon there was an audible click as the Jeep's door unlocked itself. "But it'd look out of place in the airport. Besides, it's not often you see a Jeep in Poland." He opened the door and unlocked the passenger and back doors from the inside.
"Okay, we're all set."
"Short round, you sit in the passenger seat," Indy said. "Meg and I'll sit at the back. In case someone tails us."
Jerico surreptitiously glanced at Indy and Meg from the corner of his eyes. A twinge of jealousy passed through him. For the past few hours ever since Indy found Jerico and Meg in the hospital, Jerico had noticed how Indy would always manage to be near Meg. Calm it, Jerico, he told himself as he hotwired the Jeep. They're old friends in the academy. Nothing more. 'sides, Meg's his commanding officer, remember?
The Jeep roared to life. He glanced at the rearview mirror for a while, catching Meg's eyes. Meg smiled at him, guiltily he turned away. However he didn't miss catching Indy lean over to Meg and examine her shoulder wound, obviously asking how she was so far. Tryting to clear his thoughts of malices, he shifted gears and they backed the vehicle out, roaring into the city streets.
For a full ten minutes, no one spoke.
"I think the airport's this way, Jerico" Short Round, breaking the silence. "I distinctly remember that bookshop in the corner."
"Uh, yeah," Jerico mumbled. "Thanks Shorty." He cursed himself silently. Strictly business Jerico, he told himself. Your mind on the case, as you always have. Personal feelings aside.

Soon they entered the airport gate. Jerico found a free space in the parking lot and managed to squeeze the Jeep between two Audis.
"Okay, we're here."he announced, foolishly not coming up with a better remark.
Biting his lip, Jerico groped for his Staedtler pen and rummaged in the glove compartment for some paper. He found some suitable writing material (a tissue from some italian restaurant) and wrote "Thanks!" on it in Polish, and added a few hundred American dollars to it as he replaced the note in the compartment.

"Hmmm," smiling Meg leaned between the front seats. "A car thief with a conscience."
Jerico didn't reply, trying to ignore her voice. He took out his handkerchief and started cleaning the wheel and the windows and everything he touched.
"Clean everything," Jerico called out to the others who had already stepped out. "We can't afford to have fingerprints. They'll trace us."
They didn't move for a while. "Well?!" Jerico said, his voice a little harsh.
"Okayokay," Indy said, taking out his handkerchief. "Sheesh, Jerico. How come you've become so hot-tempered all of a sudden?"
"You don't want to know," Jerico mumbled. "Now start cleaning up. We got a plane to catch."
Shrugging they got back in and started elliminating any proof of their having ever been there. In a few minutes, they'd finished. Meg gave the car a last check, locked the doors and ran after her companions who'd walked over to one of those huge garbage bins in the parking lot.

"We have to get rid of our guns", Indy was saying. Short nodded agreeing. There was no way they could get through the metal dectors at the airport.
Glancing about them and making sure noone was watching them, Indy, Meg & Short Round disposed of their weapons in the bin. Ruefully Indy shrugged as he threw in his MP-5,"I'm gonna miss that gun."
Meg gave him a wink and teased him that they were gonna get him a new one.

"Aren't you going to throw your pieces too?" Short Round, who'd observed that Indiana Jerico hadn't thrown away his guns.
Jerico didn't answer. "Are you all ready?"
"Yeah. Let's go" Indy answered

Soon their footsteps echoed in the half-empty airport arrival and departure area. Jerico noticed a a man in black tux approach him. He motioned to the others that they shoudl go ahead and that he'll join them at the gates. Calmly he stalked in the same direction of the stranger who handed him a silver-colored briefcase. Jerico took it without a word and not even bothering to watch the stranger walk away. Expressionless Jerico haltedby dimly lit part of the airport and opened the briefcase, taking out his guns, and put them in a secret compartment that was x-ray proof. He joined them again.
They entered the airport lounge. Jerico put the briefcase unto the conveyor belt and they passed through the detector.
It was then that Meg spotted Goodsport on the opposite side walking to the exit to the field. Together with him was an old man with an eyepatch. It looked like they were about to board their plane.
"Goodsport!" Meg shouted. The others glanced to where she was pointing.
Goodsport turned around, evidently surprised at hearing his own name. Then, he recognized Meg and the rest who were now swiflty walking towards him. Something was clearly amiss.
"Where's Aragorn?" Jerico questioned. Thenrealized that Goodsport was asking him the same question..
Goodsport raised his eyebrow in inquiringly. So did Jerico.
"I thought he was with you!" Goodsport and Jerico asked again, in unison.
Now they knew something was certainly NOT right. They both spoke up ...again at the same time. "Something's not right."
"Stop it!" Jerico and Goodsport said to each other. This time Jerico closed his eyes, placing a hand on his hips.
"Okay, okay," Goodsport said. "You go first."
"Where are you going?" Indy finally asked having had enough of this dramatical display.
"This is the flight to Chicago," Goodsport said.
"Chicago?" Indy asked. "That's where we are heading to!"
"Uh-uh...not anymore," Jerico shook his head, nodding them to follow him to a less conspicuous place by the airport windows. Outside it was dark as a bat.

Mystified they faced him, demanding explaination.
Goodsport lend the old man an apologizing look and shrugged noncomittedly.

Jerico paused, staring at a spot on the floor. When he had their full-attention he looked up and met their curious stares "I'm fed up with hopping into places, without ever having an idea what we are about to do, or what has really happened. It's about time I get to know what is going on. I suggest we go to Washington DC."
"Washington DC???" Short Round asked, obviously puzzled."What is there?"
"The Agency's Main HQ?" Indy supplied, not getting the point much himself.. Jerico nodded and turned to Goodsport. "Where's the card I gave you?"
"Here," Goodsport said, handing him the American Express. "What about our tickets?"
"Refund 'em, I do it all the time!" Henry spoke up chuckling.
Three surprised heads turned in his direction. As if for the first time, they noticed the old man with the eyepatch standing silently and patiently behind Goodsport.
"Who's he?" Meg arched a carefully plucked eyebrow.
Grinning Goodsport pointed over his shoulder. "Oh! Him. I forgot to introduce you folks .Errr....this is Henry Jones."
The old man nodded in acknowledgment to the others, not hiding his amusement.
"Wow!" Short Round exclaimed. "He's got the same name as Indiana Jones! Too bad he's not a 'Jr.'"
"Uhh," Goodsport said. "In fact, he is. An archaeologist, too."
Openmouthed Short Round gawked at the old man, as if seeing his herofor the first time. "Indy?"
Puzzled Indy eyed Shorty. "Huh?"
"Aww...not you!" Shorty declared and pointed, "Him!"
Indiana Jones chuckled and ruffled Short Round's hair. "Well at least somebody believes in me. What's your name, kid?"
"Short Round!" Shorty said enthusiastically. He didn't know specifically why, but he seemed to know that there's something special about this old man.
"Short Round!?" Indiana Jones exclaimed, laughing. His wrinkled face seemed to become younger when he smiled. "I can still remember the boy who got the same name a long time ago. One hell of a kid, too."
"Really?" Short Round asked, entranced.

"Yeah, well," Jerico interrupted. "Hate to break up this Kodak moment, but time's running out. We'll have the introductions on the plane. Okay?" He turned to Goodsport. "What's he doing here, anyway?"
"You won't believe this, Jerico," Goodsport said. "But he found this!" He held out the spearhead. Then, realizing that he should not divulge too much knowledge of the spear without giving his identity away, he added. "He .. uhm...said that it's the key to Valinor!"
Jerico, Meg and Indy looked at the spear in astonishment. "The ...Aztec Spear!"
"ThÈoden's Spear" Jerico said. "One of the keys to Valinor!"
Goodsport secretly looked at Meg in surprise. How did he know? His eyes seemed to ask. Meg nodded at him to tell him that she'll explain later.
"He found it in the book," Goodsport said. "It's been with us all along!"
"I knew you're real!" Shorty revelled in glee, looking adoringly at Indiana Jones. "See? He found out! This is the Indiana Jones, you numbskulls!"
Meg just smiled and ruffled Short Round. "Whatever you say, Shorty." She said in consolation. Kids, she thought. How I wish I have their belief and imagination.
"You're okay, old man," Indy said. "Nice name, too. You really live up to your namesake, considering your age."
"How old are you anyway?" Meg inquired.
"Just turned 100 last July 1, son," Indiana Jones answered.
The others looked at each other, questioningly. The same thought passed their minds: Delusional tendencies. The only one who didn't have doubt written on his face was Short Round. He believed.
"Okay," Jerico finally said. "I'm going to go and change our tickets to the late night flight. You can all stay here. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"I'll go with you," Meg said, starting to walk towards him.
"NO!" Jerico said, his voice had become harsh. "Stay here."
"But…" Meg started to say.
"Look, Meg," Jerico said, looking at her straight in the eyes. "Last thing I need is someone to slow me down. Just…stay with Indy, will ya?"
Meg looked clearly hurt. Her pretty eyes narrowed, and she swallowed hard, trying to remain her composure. She turned her back on him and walked away without uttering a word. Jerico sighed and before his guilt could make him run after her and apologize he quickly stalked into the opposite direction, towards the ticket counters.

---------------------
Aragorn…
He shifted uncomfortably.
Middle-earth needed you, and you were there…
He groaned a little in his sleep.
Valinor needs you now, and where are you?
He mumbled. "Gandalf?"
The Dark Enemy is back, Aragorn. And he has his dark Eye set on you. Remember the Third Age, Aragorn.
"Imaginations," he mumbled in his sleep. "Tolkien's imaginations…not real…Middle-earth…. Valinor…"
You know in your heart it is real, Aragorn. You have lived again. And Valinor now needs you. Lady Arwen Evenstar held her trust in you, just as I do now. They need you, son of Arathorn, now reborn.
His breath became ragged. He twisted in his sleep. "No….confused….."
Choose your path, son of Arathorn, now reborn. Go with Faramir in arms, or go with the Dark One.
"Faramir….?" He mumbled.
Faramir lives, Aragorn. You have met him. Search your heart. Faramir was with you, in your time in Middle-earth, and he is with you now, though you recognize him as someone else.
"Faramir….my steward…"
Aye, Elfstone, steward he was, but not anymore. Now, Faramir is with you not as the Steward of Gondor, but as the friend of Aragorn.
"Who…is……Faramir….?"
You know him, Aragorn. Friend has he been to you since you joined him five years past, in your lifetime. You know who he is, son of Arathorn, now reborn.
One thought flashed in his mind. "Jerico…"
Go with Faramir, Aragorn, or else the world will feel the darkness that Middle-earth has gone through in the Third Age.
"Gandalf…don't go……help me….."
My time has ended when the Third Age ended, son of Arathorn. I go with Celeborn and Galadriel and Frodo and Bilbo in Valinor. And now, we need your help. Choose wisely, son of Arathorn. Darkness is seen in the future.
Aragorn screamed, but it was in his sleep. Then, his mind drifted back, and it turned black, and he slept in unease.

------------

Jerico took a seat on the plane, choosing a place a few aisles away from the others. He needed time to think; and to do that... he needed to be alone. Since this was the late flight to Washington, there weren't that many passengers. And, try as he might try to deny it, there was another reason.
"Vodka, or martini?" the pretty stewardess asked Jerico, interrupting his thoughts.
"Hmm?" Jerico said. "Oh, uhh…no. Black coffee, please, if you have one."
The stewardess smiled in acknowledgment. "Yes, of course." she poured him a steaming cup, smiled again and went to assist the other passengers.
Jerico took a sip of the brew, then opened the briefcase and took out the bunch of classified papers in it. It was a report of what had happened that day. Everything was taken into account. Micah sure is thorough. He browsed over the mass of papers and he rubbed his eyes. Right now, he didn't feel like reading anything. Neatly he sorted the papers back into the briefcase and shoved it back in the compartment above him.
Jerico rested his face on his hands. Fleetingly he glanced int he direction to where the others were sitting. There was Goodsoprt and behind him, Short Round's mouth was hanging open, and his eyes were sparkling to a tale the old man was telling him. The orange juice lay untouched in his chair tray. The old man had black coffee, which he occasionally sipped between his ramblings.
Indiana Jerico's gaze went back to Goodsport, who was reading a Time magazine, trying to ignore the woman beside him who clearly was having a hard time in catching his attention with her futile attempts of batting her eyes and sending her seatmate flirtatious looks. Jerico found himself grinning. But his smile soon faded as he observed Indy seated several feet away from him. And beside him, of course, was Meg. Their heads close toghether, they were laughing at something that must be quite amusing....
He turned away, and tied to focus his attention on the darkness outside his window. Silently he stared at nothing really. Into the stars. As long as it was away from them.
----------------

The Man with the Hat stumbled again, for the fifth time this night. He had managed to find a scarf which he had used as a bandage for his wound, but he was still losing blood. He had to get to a doctor, and quick.
The hotel, he thought. I had to get to the hotel!
Then, realizing he needed something to cover his bloodied clothes so as not to attract attention, he ambled to the side street and waited. Presently, he saw a man in a trenchcoat pass by him. Without warning, The Man with the Hat gave him a chop on the base of the neck. The man fell, unconscious. The Man with the Hat took his trenchcoat, and he mumbled an apology.
He hailed a taxi and instructed the driver to take him to his hotel. They sped off.
The Man with the Hat rested his head on the backseat of the car. He tried to think of what to do next. His mission was definitely not going right. He needed to contact his group and tell them of the recent happenings. But first, he needed medical attention.
Presently, the driver stopped the car in front of the hotel. The Man with the Hat paid the fare and told the driver to keep the change. He walked, unsteadily, to the desk.
"Good evening," the man behind the desk said in Polish. "Are you alright?"
"I got mugged, and shot," The Man with the Hat answered. "But it just grazed me. Do you have any doctor in the hotel?"
The manager looked at the Man with the Hat's pale face. "Oh, yes. It looks serious."
The Man with the Hat grinned, trying to make his wound look light. In reality, his head is spinning. "Oh, no. It's not that serious. Just a graze. Please, I don't want to cause any alarm or panic here, that's why I discreetly asked if you have a doctor. The other patrons would be quite alarmed at seeing a bloodied man, don't you think?"
The manager's eyes widened. "Oh, dear, yes! We can't have that. I will call an able physician immediately! But please, could you do it in your room, so as not to alarm the others?"
"I would be grateful," The Man with the Hat answered. "I'm in Room 766."
"766," the manager repeated.
"Thank you," The Man with the Hat said. He walked to the elevator and pressed the number of his floor. He was sweating now, and he kept seeing spots in front of his eyes.
Finally, the door opened and he ambled into his room. He lay down in his bed and waited.
A few minutes later, there was a knock. The Man with the Hat stood up and opened the door. It was the doctor.
-----------

"I was so glad when I found out you were going to be my C.O. Meg," Indy leaned over to push a strand of her hair back over her ear.
"Really, is that a fact?" Meg grinned back.
"Uhm, yeah." Indy said giving her one of his devilish looks.
"It doesn't intimidate you or anything?" Meg asked. "I mean, your C.O. being a woman and everything."
"Hell no," Indy grinned. "Just as long as that woman is you."
Meg's laugh floated over the seats but it was a little strained. "If I knew any better Indy, I could've sworn you were hitting on your C.O."
"Swear it," Indy grinned, looking at her in the eyes. "It's true."
Meg punched him lightly in the arm. "Kidder."
Indy laid back and took a deep breath. "Ahhh….this is the life. Flying first class, seeing some action, and having a beautiful lady by my side." He grinned at Meg and winked. "What more could a guy want?"
"Stop being sweet, Indy," Meg said. "I'd bet you said that to every girl you see."
"Uhm, no," Indy said. "I mean, it's not every time that I get to fly first class, save the world, and have the girl by my side."
"Oh?" Meg asked flattered.
"Yeah," Indy beamed. "Usually, I only have the girl by my side!"
They laughed.

"Sorry, Indy, you're charming," Meg sighed. "But right now, my mind's still on work. This is my first big case, and I don't intend to blow this up. Business first, before pleasure."
"Well," Indy said reassuringly. "You don't have to worry about that. When it comes to mixing business with pleasure, I'm on the top of the class."
"I don't recall learning that in the academy." Meg remarked drily.
"They don't teach you that in the academy," Indy said. "It's only for ...uh men. Ever wonder how James Bond managed to have a babe and a gun at the same time?"
The laughed again. She looked back at where Jerico was sitting a few seats back. She caught him turning away. And Meg suddenly felt uncomfortable.

------------
The treatment took about an hour. Fortunately, the bullet just passed through. The Man in the Hat had lost a considerable amount of blood and the doctor insisted that he be admitted to the hospital. He ostensibly refused. Seeing as there's nothing more he could do, the doctor went away.
He lay in his bed, with his eyes closed. All he needed was a little rest, and a little food, and he'd be all set. But before that, he needed to make a call.
He got the phone and dialed a number. He gave the operator a number, and the operator patched him through. Then, he waited as a second operator took his call. He supplied the password. A few minutes later, a man answered on the other line.
"Yeah," the voice asked. It was low, and monotoned.
"They tried to kill me!" The Man with the Hat said. "Did they know I was planted???"
"No, Mitos," the voice said, calling him in his group name. "They do not. And the key?"
"I didn't get the Ring," The Man with the Hat said, breathing heavily. "She woke up before I could get it off her."
"You could've killed her, Mitos and take away the key," the voice said. "Why didn't you?"
"I am not a murderer, Krede," The Man with the Hat said. "Not anymore. I refuse to bring myself down to their level."
"We staged an assassination attempt on one of their men," Krede answered. "A woman, actually. But she lived. You might know her as the one they call Deirdre."
"What???" The Man with the Hat exclaimed. "She ordered me shot, Krede! Just a little while ago! Damn it. What if they knew? What if they already know?!"
"They won't," Krede answered. "And don't worry. They do not."
"What are we going to do?" The Man with the Hat asked. "The Vanguards already had the other key."
"That only leaves one unaccounted for," Krede said. "As for what we are going to do, Mitos. You are not going to do anything. Stay there, and as of now, you are off the case."
"But…Krede! I…!" The Man with the Hat said.
"Good day, Mitos." Krede said. And the line went dead.
The Man with the Hat held the phone in his hands for a while. Then, his jaw tightened. "I'll be damned if I'll stay!"
He started to lie down and, after a few moments, he slept.

------------

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"
Jerico, who had been immensed with his own thoughts, snapped out of his reverie turned and looked at the speaker.
It was Meg.
"No," he said.
She picked up the newspaper from the seat and stuck it in the compartment before her as she sat down beside him.
"You left Indy all alone?" Jerico asked, looking out of the window. There was a hint of sarcasm on his voice.
"He's already asleep," Meg said.
"Maybe you should, too," Jerico said. He looked at his Tag. It was already 3 a.m. "We'll be landing in about a few hours."
"I'm not sleepy," Meg replied, fighting back that yawn.
Silence.
"I'm sorry about how I snapped back at you in the airport," Jerico finally broke the silence.
"Yeah," she answered, her face not giving away anything of how hurt she'd been by his behavior, "Why did you?"
"I don't know," he answered avoiding her eyes, "Never been much with emotions."
"So I've noticed," Meg answered. Tenderly, she placed her hand over his. Caught of balance, he turned his head and looked at her in the eyes. Those emerald green eyes. "Jerico, You aren't jealous, are you?" Her frankness surprised him.
Jerico looked away again. Perplexed. "Please Megan, don't ask me such things."
"But I want to," Meg cooed. "I want to know. Jerico...I...I don't understand you. C'mon. Tell me. Help me understand that man, under that mask you are wearing"
"Nobody could ever understand me," he insisted tight-lipped. "Not when it comes to matters which pertain to human relations."
"Try me,"
"Meg….I…." Jerico said. "Not now. I cannot speak it out. I cannot explain it. And I don't want to. Don't make me. Please."
Meg fell silent. She wanted to ask him so many things. Tell him, her part too. She cared for Indy... but not as much as she had begun to care for Jerico. Sighing, she rested her head on his shoulder.
"Jerico?"
"Yeah?"
"I understand, and I can wait."
Then without anyone saying anything, for it was understood he put his right arm around her fragile shoulders and held me close. The low monotone humming of the airplane slowly faded into their subconscious as they both fell peacefully into a deep and much-deserved sleep.

--------------------
The Fiddler woke up. He found himself sleeping in the garbage truck. He looked at his watch. It was half-past three in the morning. He cursed himself for being so callous and careless. He took out his cellphone and dialed Deirdre's number again. He expected a busy signal. To his surprise, it rang.
"Yeah?" A woman's voice answered.
"It's about damn time you answered!" the Fiddler said. "I've been trying to contact you for the past five hours!"
"Ah well," Deirdre answered nonchalantly. "I turned my phone off. Can't have myself be disturbed while I am sleeping."
"The Lamberts," the Fiddler went on.
"What do you mean the Lamberts?" Deirdre inquired indignantly. "Don't you mean Indiana James?"
"He's got a brother who worked for the other side," the Fiddler said. "He's defected 'coz he wants to be with his brother. Now James has gone too. His damn brother shot me. Fortunately, he was a lousy shot."
Deirdre cursed. "I knew we should've killed that bastard when we had the chance. Where're they now?"
"They went to Switzerland," the Fiddler informed her. "Word I heard was that they have a studio there. Lambertfilm." He spat the last word out.
"Okay," Deirdre said. "I already have Tessa. We're heading to Chicago. Boss Nobody's going to be there. D'you think you can get there?"
"I need money," he added. "I've only got a thousand bucks or so here."
"No problem at all. I'll have another thousand wired to your account in Zurich. The rest you can get from Rob, he'll also supply you everything else you'll be needing."
"Zurich, good." The Fiddler said. "I'll search for those damned brothers in Switzerland."
"Don't kill them just yet."
"What?!" The Fiddler growled, not believing his ears.
"Don't kill them," Deirdre repeated calmly. "His brother was a member of Micah's group, right? We're gonna need info. Torture them, if you want. But don't kill them."
"Okay," The Fiddler said. "But what if I 'accidentally' kill one?"
"Then,"Deirdre sighed in her prima donna voice,"you'll be 'accidentally' killed, too." Then the line went dead.
The Fiddler muttered obsenities as he flung the phone from his hands. Then, he grinned. She did say he could torture them. That would be just fine with him. He laughed out loud, causing a a bunch of alley cats who were scavenging before him in the trash, to scatter away. Haha... just fine...
-------------

It was 10 in the morning. Jerico was waiting for his companions in the lobby of the Holiday Inn where they checked in after their flight. They immediately took some much needed rest, and changed their clothes. Jerico then, called a surprised Michaelson on his cellphone. He could still remember how it went.
"Michaelson," he said. "This is Jerico."
"Jerico!" Michaelson said, relief in his voice. "Did you get the briefcase?"
"Yes," Jerico said.
"Good!" Michaelson said. "Where are you?"
"At a hotel," Jerico said. "Michaelson, listen. I---"
"Proceed directly to the Zurich National Bank," Michaelson interrupted. "The manager there is my friend and---"
"We are not at Switzerland," Jerico said. "We're in Washington."
"You're in WHERE???"
"Washington," Jerico repeated. "Look. I'm tired of being in the dark! It's time I get to know the full run-down of what happened! Everyone's all here, except Aragorn. Where is he, anyhow???"
"He's in Switzerland," Michaelson said.
"He's in WHERE???" Now it was Jerico's turn to be surprised. "Look. Explain to me everything when we get there. Have us picked here, in about three hours. Holiday Inn, Sixth Avenue."
Michaelson sighed. "Okay. I'll have someone pick you there. Until then, try not to do anything brash, okay?"
"Yeah," Jerico said. He turned off the phone.
That was three hours ago, and Jerico was patiently waiting at the lobby of the hotel. He was dressed in his neatly pressed black trenchcoat and black pants and spandex shirt. Now, however, he was wearing black CAT boots now instead of his usual brown. The Predator sunglasses still covered his eyes.

It wasn't long till the others stepped out of the elevator. Goodsport was dressed a new beige suit with matching khakis and tie, looking more like an executive. His dirty-blond hair was neatly combed back to expose a high forehead but only accentuating his clean good looks.
Indy, on the other hand, looked more like an agent now, with his black tux and pants, with shiny black boots.
The old man still wore his old clothes, which were now pressed, and a new fedora was perched on his head.
Shorty was wearing an oversized printed T-shirt and cargo shorts. He was clutching his cap in his hand.
Meg wore a tight-fitting black vinyl tank top and black leather pants. Her boots were black as well, giving her a stylish yet respectful appearance.
Everyone surmissed the everyone else, not missing out on the compliments and then the bellhop anounced that their limousine had arrived.
Wordlessly, they got in and the limo sped off.
-----------------

"Stop squirming, bitch!"an irritated Deirdre said to Tessa as they stepped inside the elevator that were to lift them to the top of the towering building in the middle of Chicago. There were the three of them. Deirdre, Tessa and Mack.
Tessa snapped back. "I would if Mr. Bodyguard here would stop clutching my arm. I am not gonna run away, don't worry!"
"Can't take any chances now, can we?" Deirdre smirked, pushing a button on the elevator controls. "You had us going all the way to Poland just to catch you."
"What have I done, huh?!" Tessa replied angrily. "Is this some sort of government conspiracy??? Who the hell ARE you people???"
"Questions, questions," Deirdre mutterd, adjusting her black wire-frames glasses and admiring her make-up in the reflection of the mirrored walls of the lift, "You shouldn't ask too much. Besides, you'll have your answers soon enough!"
"And to think that just yesterday, I was on a plane to Poland." Tessa sighed. "Now I'm back to Chicago. Is there something wrong with my airline ticket?" She said this sarcastically. Mack's chuckle died in his throat as Deirdre shot him a warning look.
"Look, if you don't want Mack here to bruise that pretty little face of yours, shut up!" her low but demanding voice bore into Tessa.
Wisely Tessa held back her smart-assed reply and consented by trying to tug free of Mack's grip of steel.
The way up seemed endless and when finally the little bell above the sliding door chimed in their arrival in the topmost floor and the elevator opened, Tessa sighed in relief, only to be rudely pushed out of the shaft and into the corridor..

Mack held Tessa roughly by the arms while Deirdre led the way to the big door at the end of the hall. Deirdre placed her hand on the electronic scanner and looked straight ahead into the optical scanner. Immediately the machine affirmed her identity and it wasn't long before the big door mechanically opened.
Before them a spacious penthouse opened up filled with expensive modern art and antiques. The huge glass window overlooked the whole city.
In the middle of the room a big bald man in black expensive designer suit was reclining. He was holding a glass of champagne on one hand. Beside him was a big man just as smartly dressed.
The bald man turned and saw Deirdre. He smiled.
"Ah, Deirdre, I am glad to see that you're finally here."
"We finally have her, Sir," she said. She snapped her fingers. Mack dragged Tessa beside Deirdre. "May I introduce you to...Tessa."
"Well done, Deirdre!" Nobody drawled out. "I knew I could count on you."
Deirdre surmised at the man beside Nobody.
"Oh, by the way," Nobody said. "This is Krede. He knows about Valinor and has allied himself with us."

------------------------
For the first time since he could remember, Michaelson had never seen Micah's room this full of people. And for the first time since he could remember, he had never felt as much tension in the room as this time. He took particular notice of the old man with an eyepatch who they introduced to him as Henry Jones, Jr. Archaeologist. Like the others, he marveled at the coincidence to their hero and to this old man.
"Okay, Michaelson," Jerico said. He shed his trenchcoat and was now in his spandex shirt. Two holsters were on his torso, with his beloved black guns. "What's Aragorn doing in Switzerland"
"What???" Goodsport asked. "He's in Switzerland?!"
Michaelson raised a hand, asking for silence. "Yes. Aragorn's in Switzerland. He got a call from the Lamberts, asking him to join them. We figured this is a good way to catch the two, and so we bugged him and sent him to them. Problem is, we lost track of him."
"What do you mean, 'lost track of him'???" Indy asked.
"The blip just went off the map," Michaelson said.
"So, he's caught?" Meg asked.
"Yes," Michaelson said. "Either that, or…."
"Aragorn wouldn't do that," Jerico said, looking at Michaelson. "I know him. He's not the betraying kind."
Michaelson shrugged in understanding. "Look, I know how you feel, Jerico. I know you feel inclined to protect your partners after what happened to…."
"I don't want to talk about it, Michaelson," Jerico said, getting defensive. "Get to the point."
Michaelson sighed. "The point is, we have to be open to possibilities. So many things have happened and---"
"You know," Jerico interrupted, standing up. "I don't know what's happening anymore. Can we talk about what's happened so far, and clear things up?"
"Okay, what do you want to know?" Michaelson asked.
"Exactly how many players are in the field?" Jerico asked, his eyes narrowing.
"We can't be too sure…" Michaelson started.
"Tell us!" Jerico said.
"Three," Michaelson sighed. "But I suppose you must have already figured that out."
Jerico cursed.
"Four," Goodsport suddenly said.
Meg and Short Round looked at Goodsport in astonishment. Surely he wasn't going to tell them???
Indy and the others looked at him in as much astonishment too.
Goodsport glanced swiftly at Meg and Shorty. Then, he looked at the others.
"Uhm, correct me if I'm wrong, but did you say, four?" Indy asked.
"We are the Vanguards of Valinor," Goodsport suddenly stood up. "We know Valinor existed, although we do not know where it is. For countless centuries we have been the keepers of the keys of Valinor and it is our task to watch over them. Exactly 2000 years ago, the keys were stolen. It has been our task to find them, and keep them from falling into evil hands. We have Vanguards in various government agencies, in every country."
"Keys???" Indy asked. The others motioned him to be silent.
"The third group you spoke of are our ancient enemy, The Order of the Ringwraiths. Sometimes, we jokingly refer to them as the Men With Hats. The one who knocked me out, Jerico, was a member of the order."
"Ringwraiths," the old man said for the first time. "Sauron's Nine mortal men doomed to die, in Tolkien's story."
"Exactly," Goodsport said. "Except that this one is just an order. A group."
"What do they want?" Indy asked.
"Dr. Jones supplied part of the answer," Goodsport said. "It is their task primarily to find the One who will lead the Dark One's eight Ringwraiths to eradicate Valinor."
"Let me see if I get this right," Jerico said, raising an arm as if asking a question in a class. "They want to revive the Nine Ringwraiths to eradicate Valinor?"
"Yes," Goodsport affirmed.
"You said 'keys of Valinor'," Indy asked. "You mean to say, there's more than one?" He picked up the spearhead.
"There are three keys of Valinor," Goodsport said. "Theoden's Spear, Faramir's Ring, and Aragorn's Sword."
"Aragorn…" the others asked.
"Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Goodsport said. "We have Theoden's Spear. We don't know where Aragorn's Sword is…."
"And Faramir's Ring?" the old man asked.
"We think Tessa has it." Goodsport said.
"What???" Indy asked. "Tessa??? Why does it always end to her???"
"Does the Dark World Order know about this???" Micah asked.
"Only about the Spear, I think," Goodsport said. "After all, they only started taking an interest on her when she put her Aztec Spear story in the Forum, right?"
Micah and Michaelson nodded.
"So the man who knocked you out…." Jerico asked.
"Wanted Tessa's Ring," Goodsport finished. "And maybe, they also thought, like the DWO, that Tessa knew the whereabouts of the Spear herself."
"As Alice used to say," Indy said. "Everything is getting curiouser and curiouser."
All this time, Meg and Short Round kept silent.
"You said the Order of the Ringwraiths wanted to reform the Nine Riders," Jerico said. "In the story, the Nine Riders had a general. The best of all the Ringwraiths. Have they already searched for this one?"
"No," Goodsport said. "That one, the Dark Lord picks himself. And he has already picked him, from among the many men in Earth's history."
"Who?"
"You haven't figured it out?" Goodsport asked Jerico. "It's Aragorn."
Everyone was silent. The only sound was their heartbeats.
"You keep saying 'we'," Jerico asked him.
"I'm sorry Jerico," Meg suddenly spoke up. "I'm a Vanguard. And so is Short Round."
Indy's eyes almost popped out of his head, and his mouth hung open.
Jerico almost fell off from the table he was leaning. Meg looked at him with apologetic eyes.
"Jerico, I….."
Jerico stood up and walked out of the room. His fists were clenched.

-------------------------------

She found him leaning on a large window in the hall which overlooked the whole city. From the distance, Washington's Monument could be seen. His arms were crossed. She walked up to him.
"Jerico," Meg said softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…."
"You lied," Jerico said, not looking at her. "How much of it was the truth, Meg? How stupid did I look when I showed you the book I found in the library?"
"No," Meg said. Tears were starting to form in her eyes. "You didn't look stupid. In fact, I think you were brilliant. Jerico, I just cannot tell you…"
"It was good, then, that I did not trust you in the beginning, is it?" Jerico said.
"Please," Meg pleaded. "Don't be like this."
"But I did place my trust in you, in the hospital," Jerico said. "I told you something of my past, Meg. One of my innermost memories. They hurt, but I told you. Do you know why?"
Meg didn't reply. She was sobbing.
"I loved you," Jerico finally said. "I loved you so much I trusted you. And now…."
"Damn it!" Meg cried. "Why won't you listen?!"
It was then that Jerico looked at her. His eyes still showed no emotion. "Right now, I'm afraid it'll just be a lie."
Then, Jerico walked away into the elevator. The doors closed, but still, his head was still bowed.
--------



---


Not to be included in the Chapter Logs

I'd like to thank my sponsors:

Mr. Gamotin --- for my hair and Make-up...
Ol Lagerfield-- for these old rags
Calvin Klein for my underwear
Lancaster for my perfume(Sun Water)by CJ
Jerico for everything.
The forum for all the motivation, what would I ever be without you *sniff sniff*
(& Goodsport, I know I can always count on you. Typos are slowly starting to become my trademark.)

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