W&T: The Raiders Chronicles - Ch.17 of NEW STORY 04/12/14

[Katharyn]

Zampsa - Thank you as always... all of that is coming

Kajun - Stop raining on my flawed logic parade, sheesh!

You're right about Faith, she's not dumb. The way I see it is Willow/Indy plays by at least some of the rules (or wants to) so Faith/Belloq tends to be able to take advantage...

Certainly, Tara's a woman in uniform. I suspect that lesson one for her was how to check the people you're working with (if they are the right gender) and still get the job done. Cos... uniforms

Funny, if you 'remember' the truck driving off with the rope then you've convinced yourself of it because... didn't actually happen. In the movie, I believe Sallah was just holding it and got pulled aside by Nazi's. But I thought we needed to have it secured on something and added the truck... So... way to slip into the story!

Thanks!

Willowtarlover - Heya, thanks so much for the feedback!

The White Saviour thing... I believe it was the passing mention here: http://www.salon.com/2013/02/21/oscar_l ... te_savior/ Though I think there was something else too, but not sure where, more specifically about Indy...

Tara and Willow are - like Indy in the movie - in full anti-desert clothing. Not so much a Hijab (since that would suggest they were women) as the head and face cover versus storms etc... You're right, that's tougher to explain away but hey, live with it Also, they were probably, umm, binding things to keep them under control and from giving them away. They may even have helped each other with that.

Obviously they're checking each other out (see my response to Kajun!) And we're enjoyed picking up the logic flaws in Indy. The biggest - no prizes - is that he ends up OUTSIDE a submarine, that submerges and travels hundreds of miles. That's a problem right there... (the script is not much help even though it does add something!) So we made up a more logical version...

Good point about the swastika, we should have had Willow go on about that since she would have known. It dropped out of my mind for sure, though I was aware of what you're talking about. At the time I was more caught up in keeping the dividing line between Nazi's and Germans more generally. Particularly at the time period before total war muddies the waters though - as I have said before - the Indy 1936 is a different one to the real world IMIR.

Good point about the map room. One that goes double for the Well of Souls if you think about it. Why was the roof of that the way in? LOL In the case of the maproom, I think the roof hole was for the sunlight (though a better question is - since they didn't know the sand would claim it - why not just, umm... write it down? Hee...) All the venues at Tanis will have had multiple doors, they just use the one they dig down to first. Also, tougher to trap someone if the door is right there!

Thanks so much again. I've had a lot of fun today with the part prep (not the next one) for where Buffy and Faith meet...

Next part tomorrow. Thanks all

Katharyn

[Kajun]

Funny, if you 'remember' the truck driving off with the rope then you've convinced yourself of it because... didn't actually happen. In the movie, I believe Sallah was just holding it and got pulled aside by Nazi's. But I thought we needed to have it secured on something and added the truck... So... way to slip into the story!

Do what now? LOL Okay, Obviously I’m getting my movies all mixed together. The truck was probably a space ship and the rope a beam of light. Or maybe it was an airplane and a fuel hose? I have no idea what is going on or what will happen next. LOL

[Katharyn]

Title: Tara and Willow – Raiders… – Part Ten
Author: Katharyn Rosser & Chewster
Feedback: Absolutely, yes please. Love to engage in the discussion about the story.
Spoiler warning: Nope. And if you’ve not seen a film from 1980 then just tough luck, I’m not keeping it a secret now. On the other hand, you’ll probably think we’re genius for such an amazing story.
Distribution: This story was written for Pens. Pens is its home. No archiving off Different Coloured Pens and the Kitten Board please. No conversion to eBook or other formats please. Enjoy it here.
Summary: After finding the Well of the Souls, they end up finding something else… Plus the Buffy/Faith scene. Kind of.
Disclaimer: We don’t own any of the copyrights or anything else associated with BTVS, Raiders of the Lost Ark or Indiana Jones. All rights lie with the production companies, writers etc. We are making no money from this series of stories however any original characters and situations remain my property. As this is a retelling of Raiders of the Lost Ark and references other Indiana Jones films, a lot of dialogue and the entire plot has been taken from that movie. Other lines may have come from the script but were not seen in the movie and so could appear to be original when in fact credit belongs to the scriptwriter. Other elements are all the writers. It’s a complex mix and we will not be trying to allocate credit line by line.
Rating: Occasional, tasteful, adult situations and contextual bad language. However by and large equivalent to the movie.
Couples: Well, no one as we open, but Tara and Willow forever.
Text convention: Use of italics denotes either special emphasis if used for a single or a few words in a sentence OR first person thoughts if used for a whole sentence.
Notes: No, not THAT kind of Buffy/Faith scene though… yeah, it could’ve been fun - but this was a PG movie! All the same though, when you make Marion into Buffy and Belloq into Faith… the scene contained in this section is just crying out to be written and it remains a Tara and Willow story…
Though it does hark back to that line we already used, words to the effect of ‘Is every woman you run into gay?’ Well… why not?
Now, there’s another of those moments from the movie here that makes no logical sense, but Tara calls it… questions it. Again, because it’s part of the fun.
Character map: This will only show characters so far revealed in the story, but just to keep things straight between this version and the canon…
Willow Rosenberg = Indiana Jones, Tara Maclay = Tara Maclay, Rupert Giles = Marcus Brody, Riley = the never to be seen again snake in the plane, Faith Lehane = Belloq, Joyce Summers = Abner Ravenwood, Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers = Marion Ravenwood, Heinrich Joseph ‘The Master’ Nest – The Gestapo Guy.



They were back, fully covered by the robes and scarves now they were moving around the camp again, pretending to be workers.

Neither the sun nor the wind merited the covering right now, but it was less unusual than two women moving around the camp would’ve been. They’d already been forced to serve breakfast to a table full of Germans who – apparently – didn’t notice the gender of the frauleins unless they were in the full regalia of a Munich beer-hall barmaid.

Having visited Austria, where they seemed to have similar expectations, Tara had a certain amount of sympathy for what these boys were missing from home. She’d have missed it too.

They’d had to move around though, searching. Rosenberg wanted some specialist equipment, used by surveyors, to turn her measurements from the map room into an accurate plot of where to dig. As she’d made very clear there was no point to any of this unless she could direct the men Sallah had primed and waiting to the exact spot.

Anything else would be worse than a waste of time; it would be taking unacceptable risks with a lot of people’s lives – including hers – for little chance of success.

The German’s could afford to be wrong, take weeks or months over the process of finding the Well of Souls. And so far that was exactly what had happened.

But for them the risks were too great. They had to be in and out in a single night and that meant quite a lot of men, lots of equipment, the easiest location possible and being spot on with the accuracy. She didn’t have to know anything about archaeology to know that was the only way. Even if it hadn’t been self-evident, both Rosenberg and Sallah had told her so and she had to accept their professional judgement.

This was why they were here. What they were good at.

So part of their movement around the camp had involved ducking into tents on the way through the camp, looking for what they needed but also using them to stay out of sight.

In one of them though… they stopped. Tara realised what she was looking at before Rosenberg had even come inside.

She grabbed the sleeve of Rosenberg’s robe and tugged at it, getting her one-time lover to back into the tent beside her. Okay, not ‘one-time’ definitely more than one-time… but one-time this trip anyway.

Rosenberg’s eyes widened as she saw what – or who – was tied to the central pole of the tent.

Elizabeth Summers.

And she was alive. Not even just alive but pretty much unharmed.

The tent was obviously one for someone in authority, there was actually a real bed in here, not the camp beds or sleeping rolls they’d found in the others. Table, chair and wooden trunks to keep things in. One nice, sturdy and very well-travelled trunk.

And one Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers.

There was no holding Rosenberg back, she rushed to her childhood friend and while Elizabeth was wary of her of the enrobed woman until she uncovered her face, there was no stopping the hug that Rosenberg gave her.

Tara simply stood watch, guarding against being surprised but keeping half an eye on the reunion of these two. Why? Partly because Elizabeth was supposed to be dead. Rosenberg had mourned her, after a fashion, and her being alive was at least a curiosity.

First of all Rosenberg pulled the gag from her mouth. “I thought you were dead! They must’ve switched baskets, I thought you were dead! Thank God!”

Rosenberg then ran her hands over the tied up woman, checking for injuries. She turned out to be as fine as she looked and tried to shake off the probing hands.

“What are you doing?”

“Have they hurt you?”

“No. Not since I got here. They just asked about you, what you knew. The French woman’s got the hots for me and – well, I’ve been playing along with her. Seemed like the smart thing to do. Come on, get me out of here.”

Didn’t seem likely there’d be more than one French woman working for the Nazi’s in this field. And I knew I was right about Lehane.

Rosenberg pulled out a knife, about to cut Elizabeth loose.

“You can’t do that,” Tara said in a low voice, but making very sure Rosenberg understood her right away. She couldn’t even make a partial cut to that rope.

Rosenberg stopped, thinking about it which drove Elizabeth wild, struggling – without effect – against her bonds.

“Of course you can, come on! What’s wrong? Let’s get out of here!”

Tara could see that she didn’t have to say anything else. She didn’t have to explain, even if Summers saw her as the bad guy for putting the idea in Rosenberg’s head. That didn’t matter. What mattered was that instead of freeing her bonds, Rosenberg put the knife away.

“Buffy, I have to leave you here for a little while,” Rosenberg explained.

“The hell you say! Let me loose.”

“I know where the Ark is, Buffy. If I cut you loose now, if I take you out of here then they’ll tear the place apart looking for us.”

“Rosenberg!” Buffy protested. “Cut me loose! Come on!”

“Keep your voice down,” Tara hissed, spotting someone not so far away. “Someone will hear.”

“You shut it! Don’t listen to her, Rosenberg. Cut me loose! Come on!”

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” Rosenberg said.

“I said get me out of - ”

Understanding Elizabeth wasn’t about to shut up, Rosenberg popped the gag back into her mouth just as Elizabeth was about to complete her demand. The bound woman’s eyes widened in anger and surprise as she kept up her – now muffled – diatribe against both of them.

Instead she cupped Elizabeth’s cheek. “Look, you don’t know how glad I am to see you, and I really don’t like doing this. In fact, I know this pretty much ranks right up there with the worst things I ever did to you. But this whole thing will be for nothing if you don’t just sit here quietly.”

Elizabeth lapsed into silence and so Rosenberg carried on, likely seeing that as a good sign. “They haven’t hurt you in the last day, they aren’t going to start now.”

Tara had to admit that maybe that wasn’t actually a ‘lie’, but neither was it anything that Rosenberg could promise. Reassuring, perhaps, but certainly not a fact. Summers seemed relieved to hear it though and so it’d served its purpose. It was helping her settle down and she would need to be calm when the Nazi’s – or the Frenchwoman – came back.

Or else, again, this was all for nothing.

“We’ll be back to get you in no time,” Rosenberg finished and Tara wondered whether she might kiss Elizabeth’s forehead.

Not that she’d have been jealous or anything. Or have reason to be. Rosenberg didn’t do it anyway though, instead she smoothed her friend’s hair back under the gag, making it look like she hadn’t ever been released. More practical than caring, no matter how Elizabeth might’ve taken it.

As they left the tent, Rosenberg turned to her. “She’s not just going to kill me when she gets loose. You know that right?”

“If we live through this, she can have her chance.”

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

This was much better.

Willow checked her calculations, checked once more what she was looking at and… they matched.

They’d made it to the top of what seemed like a hill at the centre of the camp. She knew better. In the map room the large construction that lay beneath had appeared to be a temple. Just not the temple. Not the Well of the Souls. Oh no, the Pharaoh who’d taken the Ark had kept it separate from his own Gods. But what mattered now was that it gave her the vantage point that she needed.

Tara and Sallah waited, keeping watch as she made use of the surveyor’s tools to zero in on the spot where they needed to focus their efforts.

And she had.

“There,” she said. They both looked at the non-descript mound of sand that had been compacted to almost chalk consistency by the passage of time and the sheer weight of itself.

The point she’d indicated was so undisturbed as to offer no clue that there was a structure under there, but the map had proven that there was next to no elevation change in the city – at least not when it had been built. Everything that looked like a hill here was a building or a monument, covered and buried by a year-long ancient sandstorm and then thousands of years of more of them.

Until now…

“Are you sure?”

“Hey. It’s me.”

“Okay, let’s go,” Tara said, taking charge once more. And Sallah seemed happy to go along with that.

So, actually, was she.

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

Lehane despised the Nazi’s and their ways. Perhaps as much as the soon-to-be late Doctor Rosenberg had despised her.

But their money and their ambition were a means to an end and that end was her enrichment and glory.

The woman who discovered the Ark.

Even if no one else ever knew that, she would. That she was being employed by thugs with no more idea about the value of the history than an angry child concerned her little. That they had no idea what they were smashing, daubing in paint or generally destroying also failed to concern her, when she considered it from that point of view.

The Ark!

Yes, the map-room alone would’ve seen a museum or a private collector pay tens of thousands – perhaps a hundred thousand – dollars. For the history, the intricacy, the fact that it came from a legendary lost city. To discover the Wooden Horse of Troy itself would scarcely have been worth more, though that was long since rotted away if it had ever even existed. But the stone and mosaics of this place… crushed under jackboots and incautious excavations.

The value of those items was incalculable but paled into insignificance beside the Ark itself.

The Ark was the prize.

And it was eluding her.

By now the digging should have yielded results and yet… Nothing. The map room was supposed to have secured that success – up to know she’d been sinking excavations in every likely spot around the heart of the city hoping to get lucky and find the Ark but all the while searching for the map room. Once found, once they’d recovered the amulet… she’d told them that it would enable her to locate it quickly and efficiently.

Big on efficiency, these Nazi’s. And yet… nothing.

And her sponsors were beginning to lose patience.

Schliemann towelled off his face against the heat he was still unaccustomed to while she helped herself to a drink, trying not to betray any lack of confidence. She knew that she would find it, providing she could make them understand the nature of the problem. She had to find it, because she very well understood the likely consequences of failure. It wouldn’t simply be withholding her fee.

“I cautioned you about being premature with that communique to Berlin,” she said. “This is not an exact science as I have told you many times. It does not adhere to schedules like your German railroads.”

“The Fuhrer is not a patient man,” Schliemann said, as if anyone could’ve believed it from what they knew about him. Hitler’s rages – along with his charm - were already legendary amongst those who claimed to have met him.

She realised then that Schliemann’s fate was just as bound up in the success of this venture as hers was, but he’d make sure that she went down at least a heartbeat before he did.

If she let him, which she had no intention of doing. At one point she’d considered sleeping with him to buy some favour, but abandoned the idea once she understood that his devotion to the ideology he espoused was far greater than any time in, under or on the sheets would ever be able to sway. And it was too late now, that sort of thing was only for when you were operating from a position of strength, otherwise they’d only take advantage and she’d appear desperate.

And she hated appearing desperate.

But he was a simple man, in many regards. A strong one in others.

“Really?”

“He demands constant reports and he expects progress. You led me to believe - ”

“Nothing!” Faith said firmly. “I made no promises. I said only that it looked very favourable. Perhaps the Ark will still be found in an adjoining chamber. Based on the information in our possession, my calculations were exact. Perhaps some bit of evidence still eludes us. Perhaps - ”

“Perhaps the girl can help us,” Schliemann said.

Faith shot him a look. No. The girl wasn’t on the table, yet.

Schliemann tried to reason with her though. “She was in possession of the original piece for many years, she may know much. If properly… motivated.”

“I tell you, she knows nothing useful. And if she does, I can get it out of her.”

“Really? I thought perhaps you were rather more interested in what you can get into her,” Schliemann said.

“That’s unnecessary.” Ordinarily the opinions of a man like this wouldn’t have worried her, but there were unsettling stories emerging from his homeland regarding the treatment of those who had a liking for their own gender.

Just one of many unsettling stories. In the long run giving him more ammunition with which to have her shot wasn’t likely to benefit her at all.

“I’m surprised to find you squeamish, such is not your reputation. But it needn’t concern you. I have the perfect man for this kind of work. One who is already acquainted with Fraulein Summers.”

As if on cue, not even requiring a signal, another man walked into the tent. If Schliemann fancied himself a soldier but acted like a functionary and a thug then this man was truly a villain. The black coat was leather, unsuited for the climate and utterly in character. But it was the eyes, the face that betrayed what he really was.

“Heil Hitler!” the newcomer said, holding his palm up and exposing the truth of how they’d gotten a copy of the Headpiece of the Staff of Ra.

It was burned into his skin.

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

Ominous.

‘Ominous’ was the only word that really applied to the clouds and the gathering storm.

It was a desert, you didn’t expect rain, did you? And the air remained dry, absolutely bone dry and yet… Ominous clouds.

“This can’t be good,” Tara murmured, taking a break from her exertions. There wasn’t a lot of room up here for too many people, not even as many as they’d brought. Even Rosenberg had been surprised by it. But they were taking it in shifts to dig, to stand look out and to haul away the sand and stone that they’d dislodged.

It was both easier and harder than you’d expected. It wasn’t soft as sand and required some breaking down but on the other hand it was probably easier to deal with that pure sand would’ve been.

“No,” Rosenberg said. “It’s excellent. Listen.” She slammed her pick into the stone again.

Stone. Real stone. Not this vicious stuff, formed over thousands of years since the sand had covered it, but real stone. Mined and brought here. “We’re there?”

“Looks like it.”

“Well, it was the storm I was talking about,” she pointed out as Rosenberg directed the others to clear away the sand from the stone they’d gotten down to.

“You’re a sailor, you’ve never seen a storm?”

“They don’t let me on the ships,” Tara admitted and then explained when Willow – despite her excitement – looked curious. “I have been on a ship, of course, but I never served on one. Women might distract the crew.”

“Ah, yes, you’d be bad for morale,” Rosenberg said, giving her a significant look up and down her body. “Okay, find the edges, find the edges.”

“Bad for morale?”

“Every man would want you and none of them could have you. Sounds like the very definition of being bad for morale.”

“Thanks… I think.”

With the edges of the stone panel cleared it was obvious – or it seemed so to her – that it was actually some sort of enormous roof access. There were no other such panels up here. The edges that they’d found didn’t lead to others. So… this panel was supposed to come out? Perhaps there had been stone steps, like the sides of a pyramid, up to this roof? Perhaps, thousands of years ago the Ark had been lowered down through this very hole?

And how had Rosenberg found that exact spot, where the sandstone, at least, would be at its weakest? Professional judgement? Luck?

“Get the pry bars in there,” Sallah instructed. “Now heave!”

Not all the diggers spoke English, but the instruction to effort was universal and after a moment of real force being applied, there was a surge of air, almost like something was escaping from that place that had been bottled up for too long. Like a bottle of champagne.

“Umm,” she said. “Why did that happen?”

“What do you mean?” Rosenberg asked. “Watch your toes. Watch your toes! They’ll end up smooshed if you drop that on them.”

“Why did the air push its way out?” she asked while Rosenberg worried about the diggers appendages. Pretty much she was sure that they knew the dangers. “Is that normal?”

Rosenberg looked at the hole that was gradually being opened up. “I see what you mean.”

“This can’t be totally airtight,” Tara said. “And even if it was, why would there be so much more pressure inside than outside?”

“I don’t know…” Willow admitted, looking to Sallah who shook his head too. He’d never run across the same phenomenon. “Maybe to look more ominous?”

If so, good job.

“There’s that word again,” Tara said.

But then the ‘door’ had been fully pushed aside and no one could think about anything other than what was done in that inky darkness down there… unseen for centuries. Millennia.

The three of them got down by the side of the hole and peered into it.

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

“Hey!” Tara exclaimed as she noticed just where Rosenberg was looking as she and Sallah peered down into the vast expanse below them.

“Can’t blame a girl for looking,” Rosenberg replied with a wicked grin as she adjusted her shirt so the view wasn’t quite as simple.

“I can’t see anything,” she said. “We should’ve thought about this.”

“We did think about this,” the Doctor confirmed. “Bring up the torches and get the gas too, we might want to light a fire. What?”

“You’re good at this,” Tara commented.

“Yes. I am. Also, I know how to dress so I’m not showing off the goodies just because I’m bending over.”

“Damn it,” Tara muttered, adjusting her shirt again as the ominous clouds lit up with lightning, caught up only seconds later by the roll of thunder.

But she was still reacting to the shock of the sight that greeted her.

“Shit!”

A giant head, a bulls head, kind of, staring up at them.

A statue. Just a statue, but the lightning – and the adjustment to the dark – had illuminated the Well of the Souls.

Well named, no pun intended.

Another flash of lightening – still no rain - and she was more used to it now. She could look beyond the bulls head – four bull’s heads actually – that were arrayed around this rooftop entrance to the well. Had it once been open? Admitting sunlight into the structure? Or had it been sealed as soon as the Ark was placed inside it?

She found herself asking all sorts of questions that she didn’t need an answer to but still wanted to know. Just for a moment, she supposed that she understood the attraction to someone like Rosenberg.

Why even take something like the Ark from an enemy and then bring it here just to lock it in another form of temple? Fear perhaps? To keep the Israelites from returning to the land they’d left with vengeance in their hearts and the Ark at the front of the column?

Or just because they could?

It was a fact, she supposed, that the motivations of men and women so far in the past would never be known. Not unless they were written down somewhere and even then…

People like Willow Rosenberg just pieced supposition together based on what they could, still see.

Torches had been lit and thrown down into the hole by now and the light from them was just about eliminating the total blackness.

Hieroglyphs. Carvings. Statues. Pillars.

And…

“Is that what I think it is?” she asked, as she registered what appeared to be a stone chest, resting atop a raised area. Might that be an altar? Did it need to be on an altar?

“Could be, could be,” Sallah said. “A stone chest to hold the Ark. Willow, why is the floor moving?”

Tara realised he was right as she looked at it. Up to then she’d thought it was just a trick of the light, or some sort of elaborate effect the ancient builders had created with special reflective stone or –

No. The floor was alive.

She looked up; knowing very well what Willow’s reaction to this would be after their time in India. Bugs, spiders and scorpions… Rosenberg was fine with them. But this? The Doctor had already rolled on her back, looking up at the ominous skies. “Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes?”

Tara wanted to be supportive, everyone was afraid of something. For her… well, it wasn’t snakes, or creepy crawlies. Which was fortunate considering the places that Doctor Rosenberg had taken her before and now seemed about to take her again.

Snakes.

They were like a carpet down there. A living carpet. There must’ve been thousands of them. Thousands and thousands to cover that much space.

Everywhere except around the altar… That, they stayed away from. And what did that mean? They didn’t like steps? No… something else.

“You okay?” she asked Willow.

“No. No, I’m not okay. I’m a long, long way from okay.”

“Look, I know what they probably represent to you,” Tara said.

“You do?”

“Phallic - ”

“Ha!” Willow protested. “Really? You really think? You think I never walked into a skyscraper in New York?”

“I don’t think you do that often,” Tara said, taking a hand and squeezing it. Finding it squeezed in return. It seemed like it had helped, at least a little.

“Let’s just say that me and snakes, we don’t get along,” Willow said. “And it’s nothing to do with… that.”

Sallah looked down into the hole where the torches that they’d dropped were flickering and already about to die. “I know what they are!”

“Really?”

“Yes. Asps. Very dangerous. You go first.”

Willow just groaned.

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

“Ah, there you are,” Lehane said as she came back into the tent.

“Where else would I be?” Buffy tried to say through the gag. Her objections saw the Nazi’s pet archaeologist remove the gag though.

“There, that’s better, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Umm, thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

Lehane turned her attention to the ropes that were securing her to the pole, released them. At first Buffy didn’t move. She wasn’t sure it wasn’t a trick or that she wasn’t about to be released to something worse. Or maybe it was just a bathroom run? No, Lehane wouldn’t be doing that and they’d given her one only an hour ago. Peeing on demand hadn’t been hard, not when they’d been conscientiously giving her water to protect against dehydration. Too much, if she was honest. But… she’d drunk it anyway, in case she had to escape into the desert later.

“You’ve been treated well?” Lehane asked.

“Well for Nazi’s I guess,” Buffy admitted.

“I’ve done all I can for you. Seen to it that you got water, a nice place to stay.”

“Couldn’t you have sprung for some bread?” she asked. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

Lehane smiled and uncovered a plate she’d brought in with her. Bread. Cheese. Fruit.

Buffy’s eyes widened, she didn’t think she’d ever been so glad to see something so simple as that, but before she went to grab it, Lehane stopped her. “Please, mademoiselle, a moment? I have something else for you.”

“Me?”

“You. This is an uncivilised place and you know very well that we’re amongst uncivilised people. I’m well aware of whom your mother was and I’m certain she’d have wanted you to dress for dinner…” Lehane opened a box and held up a white, lacy dress that was totally impractical, totally out of place and… very expensive.

Also it was absolutely beautiful.

“You want me to wear that?” she asked warily. “Now?”

“I’d consider it a personal favour.”

Lehane stood there, holding it, her dark hair swept back and those brown eyes fixed on her. Was that…. Something she recognised there? Something she could use? If nothing else, she’d been in the same clothes for the last couple of days and something clean, let alone something beautiful like this, would feel better against her skin.

“Sure, why not?”

She snatched the dress from Lehane’s hands, but carefully enough not to risk damaging it because… well, that’d just be petty wouldn’t it? She carried it off behind a screen and started to get changed.

“This looks like it should fit perfectly,” she said as she realised it might’ve been made for her.

“It should,” Lehane called back to her. “I had it flown in especially for you.”

“Must’ve been expensive.”

“Critical supplies for the dig site,” Lehane said. Buffy looked up and happened to catch sight of herself in the mirror. Had Lehane been watching her? If she had, she didn’t look guilty and – hell, what did it matter anyway? She was being held prisoner by Nazi’s while Rosenberg ran around trying to find and retrieve the Ark from under their very noses. In that context, what did a little skin seen by another woman really matter?

Particular a woman that looked like Doctor Lehane...

“I could tell them about that,” she said.

“You could. But this is just a drop in the ocean compared to the cost of this dig. But you should be wary of attracting their attention for any reason. There are other questions they want to ask you, Elizabeth. May I call you Elizabeth?”

“Sure.” Making sure she was decent enough, she came out from behind the screen and turned her back to Lehane, holding up her hair. “Zip me up?”

“Certainly.”

Once that was done - Lehane had only lingered over it a little - she went back to the table where the bread and cheese had been laid out and started to tuck in. Table manners were something she knew, but had no idea how long it might be until she saw food again. Or when this might be snatched away and so those manners went by the wayside.

“You eating?” she asked with her mouth full.

“Maybe later,” Lehane said.

“There might not be anything left.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’ll be something.” The smile. The look. Umm, yeah… She had the feeling – again – that this woman, this archaeologist (another of those!) had some sort of feelings for her. No. Not feelings, they didn’t even know each other.

She’s really into me.

And that was something she could definitely use.

She nodded slowly, smiling and slowed down with stuffing the food into her mouth in favour of slightly more delicate bites and actually smearing some of the cream cheese onto the bread. More… ladylike, as Mom would’ve said once upon a time.

And Lehane seemed to approve. “Besides, I thought I’d sit and have a drink with you.”

With a flourish she uncovered a bottle. Spirits of some kind, not a label she’d seen before. “Why, Doctor Lehane, I approve.” Did she really think she could get her drunk? Well, if she tried, she’d have another thing coming.

“Call me Faith.”

“Faith?”

“It’s my name.”

“Okay… Faith.” Buffy smiled. It was strange, but… this, her captor and her enemy was the one who was treating her just a little bit like a lady instead of dragging her around the world and getting her into trouble as her so-called friend had done.

And there was absolutely no denying it…

Faith Lehane was hot.

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

Willow looked up at the approving faces of both Sallah and Tara, neither of whom was taking part in lowering her into the Well of Souls.

No, they were just watching.

Better up than down. Much better up than down.

It wasn’t heights she was afraid of as she was lowered into what she was starting to think of as ‘living hell’, it was what was waiting for her down there. Undeniably, there had been a spot created for her to land in – no easy feat from a few dozen feet above. No one had wanted to risk trying to swing over into the space around what they hoped was the Ark. So torches had been dropped and eventually fallen close enough to create a spot that was – relatively – free of the living carpet of snakes… She shivered.

“Try not to think about them,” Tara said.

“She’s right! Don’t think about them, my friend.”

‘Don’t think about them’? What sort of advice was that? Useless, that was what sort. Just telling her not to think about them brought them back into mind in all new ways… Snakes. Damned snakes.

It just had to be snakes. Here, in this context, could she doubt this was the proof that God hated her?

The last few feet - she didn’t know what happened up above – but the rope ceased to support her and she fell. Landing on her butt too.

“Ouch.”

When she rolled over though, she was face to face with a very pissed off snake. It hissed at her and so she shoved the nearest torch at it, pleased to hear the sound of burning snake skin. It backed off and – comparatively – it seemed like a good thing. Just in a bad situation.

Tara’s descent was simpler, she occasionally glance up as she watched the other woman climb down hand over hand, her legs barely doing any of the work. Yeah, she had her strength, for all that she looked little and… not fragile, but she definitely looked less than she actually was.

But that was Tara Maclay all over. The living proof of hiding your light under a bushel. In her line of work being underestimated would be a curse in the office, but a blessing in the field. She’d benefitted from mistaken assumptions herself. Too pale. Too weak. Too ginger. Too woman.

“You dropped me on my ass,” Willow complained when Tara was finally stood beside her.

“Not me, I wasn’t on the rope,” Tara pointed out.

“I was looking for a little sympathy?”

“Aww, poor thing,” Tara teased, patting it as she waved her torch at snakes that intruded a little too close to them.

“You’re all heart. Sallah! Get down here!”

If she was going to be down here with these snakes then they all were.

‘’You go first’ my pale, freckly ass.

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

“You really should tell them something,” Faith said, laughing as only someone who’d downed several drinks could.

Or someone who was really good at faking the impact those drinks were having.

“Really you should. Just a little something because otherwise… they’re going to stop asking and start insisting.”

“What’s funny about that?” Buffy asked, she was also laughing.

“I don’t know!” Faith admitted.

“Neither do I! Look – I don’t even know anything. I have no loyalty to Rosenberg, she’s brought me nothing but trouble since I met up with her again.”

“And nothing but heartache before that?” Lehane asked, probing.

Buffy’s eyes narrowed. What did this woman think she knew and why was she looking even better now there was a quarter bottle of whatever this was inside her?

Somehow, she thought she knew the answer to both questions.

The third one, about why she wasn’t flat out on the floor snoring in an alcohol laced stupor was more difficult to answer. Of course, Faith might be wondering the same about her.

And what else was she wondering?

And why did she raise the heartache?

“I’m talking about your mother, of course.”

“Good! Because there was nothing between me and Rosenberg.”

“I believe you, chérie, though… they do not. Unlike me, they see only what they do not like in you and… I fear I cannot control them, not when it comes to them understanding what you know,” Lehane said, suddenly sounding a great deal more sober.

“That sounds like a threat, Faith.”

“Nothing more – on my part – than an unfortunate promise, I assure you. Perhaps if you were to show some kind of allegiance to us – or to me?”

“You kidnapped me, you tied me up.”

“Actually, they did both of those things,” Faith said and drained another glass. “You were delivered here entirely at their hands, I did not even know you were on this continent.”

“You left me here that way.”

“Would you have stayed if we had not?”

“Not a chance,” Elizabeth confirmed.

“And yet, is this so bad?” Faith raised her empty glass and Elizabeth joined her in emptying another.

Was this woman trying to get her drunk? Pump her for information or… just pump me?

Because… Some of the looks she was getting, the gestures she was picking up on? Yeah, very much like Lehane wanted… her.

And – maybe it was the drink but… that didn’t seem so bad.

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

Tara stopped in mid-step as they approached the stone container.

“You feel it too?” Rosenberg asked.

“I do – what is that?”

“The power of God. The holy spirit. Pick any myth and you’ll likely find a name.”

“It’s definitely in here,” Tara said. She’d been literally staggered by the effort it took to get close to the stone sarcophagus, just as Rosenberg and Sallah had been. “It must be.”

“I know and – I just feel like, I feel like it wants to be opened.” She and Sallah both stopped and looked at Rosenberg as she said that, then at each other. Were they both thinking the same thing? “What?” Rosenberg asked.

“Wants to be opened?”

“That’s what I think.”

“The Ark isn’t supposed to be disturbed or discovered,” Sallah said.

Tara tended to agree with him. Even though it was her mission to ensure that it was, - in fact - returned.

If the Ark wanted anything then she wasn’t feeling it. The difficulty – like walking through treacle – in approaching it hadn’t actually been a sense that it shouldn’t be opened. But it certainly hadn’t been an invitation to do so. Or a requirement on her.

More likely it was same the imperative that drove Willow Rosenberg to open, discover, dig up and reveal everything that had been lost to time. Right?

Right?

“Well, too bad. It’s been discovered and it’s about to be disturbed,” Rosenberg said. Her tone was a little less irreverent and a little more unsure than the words themselves. “Help me with this and – I can’t stress this strongly enough – do not touch it.”

“I thought you didn’t believe?” Tara checked.

“I believe in being careful. We’ve all three of us seen too many things not to know that things aren’t as simple as we’ve been told.”

There was that. Like that man having his heart taken from his chest and it erupt in flames while he’d still lived and screamed. Once you’d seen that, it was difficult not to believe there was more out there than they liked to teach you about in school.

Except, in this case, she had been taught this in school.

Religion from myth. History from religion.

Picking up one of the poles they intended to lift the Ark from the container, she moved to insert it but Willow took it from her and passed it to Sallah. A little hurt by the assumption that she couldn’t do it, her reaction was lessened by Willow’s half smile. The same half smile she’d given her in the back of that plane, just before they’d crashed into a mountain back in India.

The kind of half smile that a girl could really fall for.

It’s not about me. It’s about her. She’s just trying to get this done and she trusts no one more than herself and a few friends, like Sallah. She’s known him longer, done and achieved things with him that she’s not with me…

“Hey, Navy,” Rosenberg said gently.

“Hmm?”

“This isn’t the time for thinking. You’ll do your part. Now, Sallah, heave on three.”

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

They were still laughing, the pair of them, and it was getting harder to pretend that it wasn’t somehow real.

Elizabeth wasn’t in denial. She wasn’t drunk, not even close. But she had the impression that Faith Lehane wasn’t as drunk as she was making out to be either. She suspected that this woman had a capacity for alcohol she’d never seen in a woman except when she drank in front of a mirror.

It was a game they were playing, the two of them together, and one that had no obvious conclusion. They were still what they were. Lehane was in the pay of the Nazi’s and she was still a prisoner.

But she was working on her part of it.

For a little more than half an hour she’d ignored the knife that had been used for the cheese and the bread. Then, accidentally, she’d managed to cover it up with a napkin and – so far as she could tell – Lehane had entirely forgotten about it. She’d left it long enough, with neither of them paying any attention to it, that she was pretty sure that she’d have the element of surprise. That and a clearer mind.

Would she have waited so long if she hadn’t been dangerously close to enjoying herself? Probably not but… things were what they were. Years in Nepal had taught her to be realistic.

About herself and about life.

And that was just one of the things she’d found herself revealing to her captor.

“Well, Lehane,” Elizabeth said.

“Faith! We agreed you’d call me Faith!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Faith, I like you, I really do. But,” she paused and grabbed the knife, waving it at Lehane – which the other woman was genuinely drunk enough to find hysterical. “I really have to go now.”

“Go? Where will you go?” Lehane asked. “There’s nothing but desert in every direction. Pick the wrong one and you’ll be dead in a day. Pick the right one and you’ll be dead in two.”

She pushed closer, brandishing the knife. “That’s why you’re going to tell me the right one.”

Faith moved, faster than she dared think was possible, grabbing the wrist of her knife hand and pulling her back, into her lap instead. “Stay here. With me.”

It was such a stupid idea, it was laughable. And… utterly sensual. All she could do, short of agreeing, was limply to ask, “Why?”

“The better question, chérie, is why not?”

Faith had released the knife hand and Buffy brought it around, pressed the tip against her side. But she didn’t push it into her. Didn’t kill her, even though it would’ve been the surest way to get out of here.

“Keep the knife,” Faith said, still sensual. Almost whispering. “If it makes you feel better.” Then, with a finger under her chin, she turned Buffy’s face to hers and kissed her.

“I will,” Buffy said. “I will.”

She was aware, very, very aware of the progression of Faith’s other hand, up her bare leg, under her dress.

“I thought you wanted to go.”

Well, Rosenberg was coming to get her. Later… She’d promised

“Maybe, I could stay for a little while.”

Lehane smiled and kissed her again. It wasn’t love, it wasn’t ever that. It was lust and desire and booze and she felt it too – apparently just as keenly.

“A little while?” Faith was kissing her neck, hand on her breast.

“A little while…” and dropped the knife when she found better things to do with her hands.

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

It was undeniable, no matter what you believed in.

The wood of the crate that now housed the Ark… thrummed. Laying her hand on the top of that crate was as close as even she dared get. The teachings and the stories of her childhood, the books that she’d studied and the science that she’d tried lay on top of everything she’d heard then – all of it was reflected in the power that radiated from this thing.

Not like an engine, there was no fuel. There was no purpose that man or woman could know. It simply was.

And ever will be.

Those who feared it destroyed, melted down, had no concept of what it really was. The Ark could never be destroyed. Just lost. Vanished from the knowledge of mankind.

And she’d found it.

They were going to take the greatest treasure in history, revered by so many of the believers of the world – of many faiths, out of the darkness and into the world.

It was almost enough to make you forget about the snakes.

Almost.

But not quite.

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

“I didn’t think we’d finish the bottle,” Lehane said languorously, running a hand down Elizabeth’s body, the very centre of her body from between her breasts down to… another place she’d found popular.

“You wasted too much of it.”

“It’s not wasted off your skin, Elizabeth,” Faith said, giving the side of her breast another lick.

“You can call me Buffy, if you like.”

“No, I like Elizabeth. I’m not your Doctor Rosenberg. She thinks you’re dead, you know?”

Does she? How little you know? “That’s funny, because I’ve not felt so alive in a long - ”

“Good evening, frauleins.”

Stood in the open flap of the tent was the Nazi, the same man who’d come to her bar on the other side of the world to take the piece from her.

Clutching the dress to her as some sort of preserver of modesty rather than clothing, she pressed herself backwards. But Faith – who’d never gotten more undressed than she needed to – had already risen from the bed they’d been enjoying just a few minutes before, pulling some of her clothes back on or just straightening them.

“Ah, the French. Ever the romantics. And… Americans, always… underdressing for the wrong occasions.”

“Faith?”

“I’m sorry, chérie,” Faith said, dusting off the shirt that had fallen to the floor. “But I did tell you.”

“Now,” Nest said, taking his coat off and hanging it up theatrically. “What shall we talk about?”

***********************

[zampsa19752001]

Yay for excellent update-y goodness... I liked the way Faith "pumped" information from Buffy. Bummer for Nazi's spoiling the fun...

[willowtaralover]

Hey Katharyn :big wave

Thanks for the article from Salon.com, as a film geek I found it really interesting. I was watching 'Armageddon' last night and it made me wonder if there was a sister article somewhere on how it's always Americans who save the world from disaster.

So part of their movement around the camp had involved ducking into tents on the way through the camp, looking for what they needed but also using them to stay out of sight.

I remember this from the film but it only just occurred to me what a risk they were taking. What if they had gone into a tent and there were German officers inside, Willow/Indy and Tara would have been up the proverbial **** creek without a paddle.

Really like the reunion between Buffy and Willow after the former has been found alive. Their friendship was, for me at least, one of the best things about Buffy the show.

“Every man would want you and none of them could have you. Sounds like the very definition of being bad for morale.”

Including me and more than a few women too.

Love Willow use the word 'smooshed' when the diggers remove the roof entrance to the 'Well of Souls'.

“Hey!” Tara exclaimed as she noticed just where Rosenberg was looking as she and Sallah peered down into the vast expanse below them.

“Can’t blame a girl for looking,” Rosenberg replied with a wicked grin as she adjusted her shirt so the view wasn’t quite as simple.

LOL Horndog Willow makes an appearance, can't say I blame her though, I'd have done the same if I had the chance.

A giant head, a bulls head, kind of, staring up at them.

Ummm, not to nit-pick or tell you your story but I think you'll find that they are actually jackal heads representing Anubis, god of the underworld, which in a place called 'The Well of Souls' sounds right.

’You go first’ my pale, freckly ass. One of Willow's many witticisms.

The scene in the 'Well' with Willow, Tara and Sallah discussing the Ark and how it wants to be opened was really good. I wish they'd had a scene like it in the original film.

Another fun chapter with good moments and dialogue. I just wonder what's going to happen next. In the film Marion was tossed into the well, however Willow/Indy already has Tara down there with her so what will happen to Buffy and if she is thrown in will Faith have any regrets over it.

[Willow_Friendly]

With Buffy and Faith sleeping together and having some kind of feeling for each other even for info will we see a different Faith coming along in the story then the movie and if so how will it effect the ending. I love this scene it always makes me laugh knowing that the Nazi’s been digging for week's if not mouth's for the Ark but Indy/Willow find's it in a day.

[Katharyn]

Zampsa - Thanks as ever There may have been some 'pumping' going on, this is true. The two of them have some of the characteristics of Slayers too. LOL

Willowtaralover - Big wave back at you

I am sure there are articles about Americans saving the world, but that's a little easier to explain as practically every entertainment decision in the world is predicated on appealing to American people between 18 and 34. And I'm not even joking. So somehow a movie that costs 100 million, is a failure if it does 50 million of business in the US even if the rest of the world brings in another 100 million. Time and again we see how films that might not do well in the US are exactly what other audiences want to see.

Anyhow, off my soapbox!

Absolutely, you're right about ducking in and out of tents. Dangerous apart from the fact everyone would be on duty in the morning before the heat got too bad! Reading the script and thinking about he logic brought alot of these things out for us.

I didn't want to exclude women from the 'every woman would want you' but I was talking about guys on naval vessels LOL.

I think it's much easier for Willow/Indy to be a horndog (as you put it) because of the time, the roles and assumptions and also just because she has that additional confidence.

Now, the bulls head. I am sure you have an accurate and valid point. BUT. Once again, I am 99% certain the script went with bull. I may be wrong, but I don't think this was our fault!

'My pale freckly ass' is my new favourite thing to include... I've been looking for how to insert it into my canon based fic, Coulda. Woulda. Shoulda. Just because, really, it is going to be pale and there's no reason it wouldn't be freckly in BTVS if it was freckly in ROTLA LOL

And you were right to zero in on the discussion about the Ark. It's just one of those opportunities to have fun and - because it's not a visual medium - stress the power of the thing. Also, why the snakes aren't all over it

What happens next? Well, I've not diverted too much have I? Though we will see more about HOW THIS PLACE ISN'T AIRTIGHT SO WHAT IS WITH THE WHOOSH OF AIR?!! Also WHAT THE HELL WERE THE SNAKES EATING?!!

Thanks

Willow_friendly - I won't spoil the Buffy and Faith thing for now, but I think you get more understanding of it before we're done. To be fair to Faith, I think Willow would've been digging for months if she hadn't had the headpiece of the staff. So it's not that she's 'bad at her job' or anything.

Thanks all. Next part will be up today.

Katharyn

[Katharyn]

Title: Tara and Willow – Raiders… – Part Eleven
Author: Katharyn Rosser & Chewster
Feedback: Absolutely, yes please. Love to engage in the discussion about the story.
Spoiler warning: Nope. And if you’ve not seen a film from 1980 then just tough luck, I’m not keeping it a secret. On the other hand, you’ll probably think we’re genius for such an amazing story.
Distribution: This story was written for Pens. Pens is its home. No archiving off Different Coloured Pens and the Kitten Board please. No conversion to eBook or other formats please. Enjoy it here.
Summary: The Ark is removed from the Well of Souls.
Disclaimer: We don’t own any of the copyrights or anything else associated with BTVS, Raiders of the Lost Ark or Indiana Jones. All rights lie with the production companies, writers etc. We are making no money from this series of stories however any original characters and situations remain my property. As this is a retelling of Raiders of the Lost Ark and references other Indiana Jones films, a lot of dialogue and the entire plot has been taken from that movie. Other lines may have come from the script but were not seen in the movie and so could appear to be original when in fact credit belongs to the scriptwriter. Other elements are all the writers. It’s a complex mix and we will not be trying to allocate credit line by line.
Rating: Occasional, tasteful, adult situations and contextual bad language. However by and large equivalent to the movie.
Couples: Well, no one as we open, but Tara and Willow forever.
Text convention: Use of italics denotes either special emphasis if used for a single or a few words in a sentence OR first person thoughts if used for a whole sentence.
Notes: So the last part contained a quite significant deviation from the original movie. I’m hoping that it was appreciated by those who enjoy those kinds of things (fan service much?) Now we’re back now to the storyline. The Ark is about to be recovered but… things won’t go to plan. That’s Willow Rosenberg’s life, things never go to plan. If she had a plan, that’s precisely what won’t happen. It’s not bad planning, just bad luck and tough circumstances that always overtake her. The fun is that it comes together in the end and she makes it work (which applies just as much to Indy in the original.)
Character map: This will only show characters so far revealed in the story, but just to keep things straight between this version and the canon…
Willow Rosenberg = Indiana Jones, Tara Maclay = Tara Maclay, Rupert Giles = Marcus Brody, Riley = The never to be seen again snake in the plane, Faith Lehane = Belloq, Joyce Summers = Abner Ravenwood, Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers = Marion Ravenwood, Heinrich Joseph ‘The Master’ Nest – The Gestapo Guy.
Thanks to: My regular morning Baristas who make the writing easier 



“You’re stronger than you look,” Sallah said to Willow.

“Ha, I’m Jewish, my friend. It’s my heritage we’re hauling out of here,” she said.

Tara laughed.

“What?”

“You don’t even believe,” Tara explained.

“Not so. I believe in plenty of things, sister,” she countered. “Just – not the things most people do. And besides, that’s a pretty nifty crate you put together for us. You’re handy with a tool belt.”

“I’m a Montana lesbian,” Tara said. “That’s my heritage.”

What that meant, she wasn’t sure. But it sounded like it might be fun to find out. Something for another time though.

“Okay, now that thing’s out of here, let’s go with it,” Willow said.

“It will be my pleasure,” Sallah told them, looking around the darker corners of an ancient temple built to house a stolen artefact. And now infested with slimy, wriggly death.

Why, oh why, am I letting him go first? Because he had family. Because he’d done good work to get her here and because she never liked to look afraid. Not to anyone.

“Then get up there, big man,” she instructed.

Needless to say Sallah, as the ‘big man’, wasn’t as nimble on the rope as Tara had been on the way down, but then he was fighting gravity as well as his bulk. Besides, she didn’t really want to stand beneath him for a couple of reasons. If he fell she wasn’t being his soft landing and if she looked up… Well, he wasn’t given to wearing trousers like they were.

“You next,” Willow instructed Tara once he was up, kicking at a snake that was about to get a bit too friendly. They really were everywhere, especially now that the Ark was out of here. Swarming all around the stone container they’d previously been avoiding. What did that mean? And snakes, of all things. The biblical connotations were all there.

“It’s my mission, so you’re next,” Tara told her.

“Just get up - ”

The rope fell down to the ground beside them, surprising a snake in the wrong place at the wrong time which then curled around what should’ve been their way out of here.

“What the - ?”

She looked up, ready to shout to Sallah and saw… Two Nazi’s and Lehane peering down at them from daylight above. It was morning already, this had taken longer than they’d thought. About to draw her revolver, Tara’s hand held hers back from taking that step. The other woman shook her head. “One grenade in here and…”

Carefully, she took her hand away. It wasn’t just the snakes that would meet an end…

“Why, Doctor Rosenberg, whatever are you and the Lieutenant Commander doing in such a nasty place?” Lehane asked, laughing and quickly joined by the Germans in that moment of cruelty.

“Ha ha ha… smug bitch,” Willow said to herself, before calling up to them. “Why don’t you come down here and I’ll show you?” She was just about willing to take her chances with a grenade. Better that than a smug Lehane.

Again.

And this time taking the Ark of the Covenant from her.

“No, thank you, my friend. I think we’re all very comfortable up here. And so we see, once again, that I can take anything of yours. Anything at all…”

It sounded like there was more to that than simply gloating about the Ark, but then there was nothing ‘simple’ about gloating about that piece of history.

“I’m afraid we must be going now, Doctor Rosenberg,” one of the Germans said. “Our prize is awaited in Berlin. But I do not wish to leave you with only each other for company is that awful place. What is your saying? Misery loves company?”

“No!” Lehane cried and for a moment she thought perhaps the Nazi’s were trying to throw her in.

She wouldn’t have minded that at all, and if so she’d have hoped that the French woman survived the fall. But… No. Even though it was definitely Lehane who’d objected, it was Buffy who was thrown in. Falling until she managed to grab something – breaking the fall but then the arm of that statue snapped and she was falling again. The split second had been enough though and Willow was able to get in position to catch her.

Or if not catch, then at least be that soft landing she’d been worried about being for Sallah. Buffy was lighter though, fortunately.

“Don’t put me down!” Buffy objected as she saw the snakes.

“The girl was mine!” Lehane was shouting at the Nazi’s who’d thrown her down here.

Really?

“That bitch!” Buffy said, and then louder – calling back up. “You bitch!”

Really?

“You and Lehane? Really?”

“You left me there with them, I had to do what I had to do to stay alive,” Buffy said.

“Oh, please. Tell it to someone who’ll believe you. I always get beautiful dresses in survival situations. I’ve known you too long, Buffy,” Willow said, struggling to keep her friend off the floor. “She’s exactly your type. You always fall for the wrong person and when I say fall, I mean fall into bed.”

“Well, you missed that boat so don’t you dare judge me, Rosenberg! And don’t you dare drop me either! There’s snakes on the ground!”

Yeah, she’d noticed.

Buffy was straddling her back, her bare feet wouldn’t have protected her at all from the snakes and the torches were… becoming less than extra flamey like as they burned down.

Tara rolled her eyes, Willow noticed. Buffy’s lack of judgement or the reaction to the snakes?

Either. Both. Probably.

“Well… Goodbye Mademoiselle,” Lehane called down. “It was too short a time that we had, but we lived it to the full.”

“Really?” she asked Buffy who just grunted and shifted her weight.

“And Willow Rosenberg… adieu!”

Second later the cap stone that had covered the entrance for centuries was put back into place and the darkness returned, punctuated only by the few torches that were left.

They weren’t going to be enough. Nowhere near enough.

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

Just as when the tomb had been opened up, the whoosh as the cap stone was sealed up made no logical sense. It was like – with the light – some of the air had been sucked out of the place.

And – with the Ark gone – it was, once again, just a place.

A place where the snakes moved to fill the growing darkness.

She watched as Rosenberg, with a vested interest in keeping that from happening, scooped up five of the torches, one after the other and gave them to her and Elizabeth. But all of them were already fading. Most of their fuel already consumed.

“Wave them at anything that slithers.”

Both she and Rosenberg had some other solutions, but their guns would achieve little down here, even if they could hit anything in the near darkness. Way too few bullets to make a dent.

“And, you know, maybe, Buffy,” Rosenberg bit at Elizabeth, “you should’ve been waving it at that snake, the one up there.”

“She was being nice to me!”

“Until you gave her what she wanted.”

“Not everything she wanted.” Elizabeth even sounded a little smug about that in a terrified way.

“Oh?” the Doctor asked as Tara looked on. “You did hold something back did you? Is that a sign of limits or standards? Or did you just not get around to whatever it was?”

“Umm,” Tara said, waving her torch. “Kids, this really isn’t the time.”

“Yes, I held something back,” Elizabeth promised them. “I did. And where were you, anyway? While I was distracting them?”

“That’s what you’re calling it?”

“That’s what I’m calling it, Willow.”

These two were just willing to bicker, she could tell. And she – for one – had no intention of dying in the dark listening to the two of them blame each other for something that – at the end of the day – hadn’t been to blame for their current predicament and wasn’t going to help them at all. “We need to get out of here.”

“Brilliant!” Elizabeth said. “I can see why you brought her along – look out!”

“Ow! Buffy!” Rosenberg cried as Elizabeth stabbed the torch at her whip, supposing it was a snake.

Rosenberg, she could – just about – see, was working on something. She was doing a slow circle of their shrinking safe spot and checking what was around them. Good plan. And her part in that was to wave her torches at anything that slithered. Trouble was, when she waved one of them it sizzled briefly and went out. That snake, as if realising it, came boldly forward so she waved the other torch at it and halted its progress. Smacking it with the smouldering one like a club.

The serpents were almost lazy though, they knew that their prey had nowhere to go.

Did they?

“Watch the floor,” Rosenberg chastised her old friend.

“That’s easy for you to say, you’ve not got bare feet!”

“That’s why you’re supposed to be watching the floor. I suppose we’re just lucky you’re not naked.”

“You wish! Now how do we get out of here, Rosenberg?” Elizabeth demanded again, dancing back from one snake that seemed to be taking a liking to one of her toes as a potentially tasty morsel.

“Have you been drinking?” Rosenberg asked, rounding on her after the interruption. “You smell of - ”

“We didn’t drink all of it - ”

“We could maybe ignite your breath, maybe keep these snakes back for a while. But again – wrong snake.”

“You’re not going to let this go are you? Get it through your head, Rosenberg, you don’t have any claim on me!”

“It’s not about me. That’s Faith Lehane!”

“And because you hate her I’m supposed to - ”

There, they were about to set off again, the pair of them, so she thought maybe a distraction was in order. “I have a better question,” Tara interrupted.

“Oh, you have a better question do you?”

Tara ignored the sarcasm, choosing to put it down to stress, shock and the after effects of too much to drink. That was when Elizabeth had been at her snarkiest on leaving Nepal too. Of course, that time it may have been about losing her bar rather than giving something else up.

“I do. Where did all the snakes even come from?”

“A mommy and a daddy snake love each other very much and – who cares?!” Elizabeth cried.

“No, but what are they eating? The place is full of snakes and we haven’t seen animal bones or anything,” Tara said, stabbing her torch at another interloper.

“You think that’s a better question?” Rosenberg asked, but without the sarcasm Summers had contributed. More like she wanted to see where she was going, trusted her not to get side-tracked by pointless inanity.

“It’s a question, until you find us a way out of here,” Tara said. “Here’s another though. What’s behind that wall that the snakes are coming through over there?”

“I could kiss you,” Rosenberg told her, looking where she’d indicated. “No, I really could. Hollow space, it has to be.”

“So let’s go that way…?” Elizabeth asked. “Towards all the damned snakes?”

“Yeah, Buffy, let’s go that way,” Rosenberg said, but now she was focusing on the how. And having been shown the way, her professional creativeness was what found the route for them. Or so it might seem.

That was the way it had worked back in India, at least.

And it looked like she was onto something now too.

When Rosenberg used her whip to climb up into the mouth of one of the statues and from there even higher up. Tara supposed that she might know what she was intending to do, but rather than watching she was more aware of the already dim light fading still further.

Aware of Elizabeth swearing as one of her torches went out. “She’s going through that wall,” Tara said.

“How?”

“Just get ready to run, no matter what. Run towards the wall when it happens.”

“Willow!” Buffy protested, ignoring the fact she was right there. “The torches are going out!”

“With the right lever and a fulcrum,” Rosenberg could be heard to say from high above them. “I can move the world.”

And then the statue was starting to rock. Back and forth as the Doctor put science to good use. Dust – and the occasional snake – fell down around them and then you could hear it. The tremendous weight of history – and the statue – rocking back and forth until finally…

Later, she’d swear that she watched Rosenberg riding the statue down, riding atop it as the opposite side of it crashed through the wall where she’d noticed the snakes were coming from.

That was later though. At that moment, she was more worried about the fact that the torches had gone out in the destructive movement of air and there were suddenly angry snakes everywhere.

And – to make it worse – in the dust and the damage that had been wrought, she couldn’t see the others. Hear Elizabeth calling for her old friend? Sure. But see them, no.

“Willow, where are you?!”

That was the question of the hour and she was decidedly reassured when she heard Rosenberg call back to them. “Through here – through the wall. Come on!” She pushed her way into the darkness, though there was dim light coming from somewhere.

“That’s not her,” Tara said, finally catching sight of Elizabeth hugging someone. Something, more like. Used to be a someone, but not for the last few thousand years.

Elizabeth shoved it away from her only for it to be revealed as a… a mummy. Predictably enough she screamed and Tara pushed it away from her.

“Oh, get a grip,” Rosenberg said, coming up beside them and then looking at her over Buffy’s shoulder as the other woman hugged her out of sheer fear.

Was she supposed to feel something about that? Because she didn’t. Elizabeth was afraid, that was it. Up there, back in the world, she’d been afraid and found ‘comfort’ in Lehane’s arms. Willow Rosenberg didn’t strike her as the sort of woman who’d forget that.

Consorting with mortal enemies and all.

“Look,” she said, realising that she could see better now as the worst of the dust just started to settle. No torches and she could see them as clear as… day.

A crack of light, harsh as only the desert sun could be, but comforting with it after they’d been threatened with eternal darkness.

She joined in as they briefly cheered their fortune.

“So it really wasn’t airtight,” she said, since this wall was untouched by the fall Rosenberg had engineered. Where had the air whooshing come from, the negative pressure when they’d opened it up?

“Just be happy to get out of here,” the archaeologist said.

“Come on,” Tara said, wanting to hear it from Rosenberg’s – soft – lips. “Tell me I was right.”

“Will you two stop - ” Elizabeth said and then stopped herself. “Oh, my God. You’re screwing aren’t you?”

“Says you!?” Rosenberg asked defensively rather than denying it.

They had. Once. Well, one night. Since they’d met again. And more than that before… but that was all over a year ago. Why wasn’t Rosenberg denying it? That wasn’t present tense. They had a job to do.

“That was our enemy you were fraternising with.”

“Your enemy,” Elizabeth said. “She was nice to me.”

“Nice? That’s what you call nice?”

“Yeah, I call it nice, when it’s done right. And she did do it right. So, yes, it was nice. What do you call it?”

Tara sighed. “Can we please just get out of here?”

They had an Ark to catch up with.

*********************

[zampsa19752001]

Yay for excellent update-y goodness... I really loved the Willow - Buffy banter... Can't wait for the escape from Tanis and all the crazyness that follows...

[willowtaralover]

I may have missed something in an earlier chapter but how come Lehane recognises Tara as a Lieutenant Commander. I don't think they've actually met in the story yet have they, unless the Nazis recognise her.

"...I’ve known you too long, Buffy,” Willow said, struggling to keep her friend off the floor. “She’s exactly your type. You always fall for the wrong person and when I say fall, I mean fall into bed.”

A little bit more on Buffy's background here. At least now we understand why Joyce was so eager that she get together with Willow, she knew she could trust the redhead to look after Buffy.

I like the bickering between Willow and Buffy. To me it sounds like the usual kind of arguments that you coud only get between friends.

Ok, so Willow is climbing up one of the statues to knock it through the wall but what has she done with Buffy? I can't see her readily standing on the snake filled floor and I doubt Tara is willing to carry her on her back.

“With the right lever and a fulcrum,” Rosenberg could be heard to say from high above them. “I can move the world.”

Ooh, I know this one. It's from a greek scientist like Archimedes or Pythagoras. A fulcrum is the fixed point upon which the lever moves. Yes, nerdy geek Rick strikes again.

[Katharyn]

Zampsa - Thanks Banter is half the fun to be honest!

Willowtaralover - Hey, thanks for the feedback.

Good point about Tara and Lehane... though I expect the Nazi's have files. Files that miraculously (though paper) can be read anywhere in the world... LOL It would've been the Nazi's though...

Yeah, Willow and Buffy have been having that conversation a long time. Also it ties back to canon Buffy who never met a bad choice she wouldn't sleep with (except Faith but we've rectified that!)

Now, having conceded the rank thing, leaving Buffy down on the floor is fine. Indy leaves Marion in just the same way when the torch is going out. So... that's fine, I'm happy with that choice!

And yup, the fulcrum thing is a quote(ish) though I took it from some pop culture thing rather than the original (just can't remember what it was!)

Thanks again

Katharyn

[Katharyn]

Title: Tara and Willow – Raiders… – Part Twelve
Author: Katharyn Rosser & Chewster
Feedback: Absolutely, yes please. Love to engage in the discussion about the story.
Spoiler warning: Nope. And if you’ve not seen a film from 1980 then just tough luck, I’m not keeping it a secret. On the other hand, you’ll probably think we’re genius for such an amazing story.
Distribution: This story was written for Pens. Pens is its home. No archiving off Different Coloured Pens and the Kitten Board please. No conversion to eBook or other formats please. Enjoy it here.
Summary: After escaping from the Well of Souls it’s time for them to get after the Ark.
Disclaimer: We don’t own any of the copyrights or anything else associated with BTVS, Raiders of the Lost Ark or Indiana Jones. All rights lie with the production companies, writers etc. We are making no money from this series of stories however any original characters and situations remain my property. As this is a retelling of Raiders of the Lost Ark and references other Indiana Jones films, a lot of dialogue and the entire plot has been taken from that movie. Other lines may have come from the script but were not seen in the movie and so could appear to be original when in fact credit belongs to the scriptwriter. Other elements are all the writers. It’s a complex mix and we will not be trying to allocate credit line by line.
Rating: Occasional, tasteful, adult situations and contextual bad language. However by and large equivalent to the movie.
Couples: Well, no one as we open, but Tara and Willow forever.
Text convention: Use of italics denotes either special emphasis if used for a single or a few words in a sentence OR first person thoughts if used for a whole sentence.
Notes: In that last part we were just having so much fun with the Faith/Buffy thing and the impact it had on Willow as Faith’s arch-enemy. Amazing how perfectly that stuff fits and the opportunity was spotted by Chewster who had that all sorted in his head before the decision was made. It really did pay off nicely.
This is a section that we’re not entirely happy with in terms of the flow, but that will probably mean you love it. That’s just how things work out usually!
Character map: This will only show characters so far revealed in the story, but just to keep things straight between this version and the canon…
Willow Rosenberg = Indiana Jones, Tara Maclay = Tara Maclay, Rupert Giles = Marcus Brody, Riley = The never to be seen again snake in the plane, Faith Lehane = Belloq, Joyce Summers = Abner Ravenwood, Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers = Marion Ravenwood, Heinrich Joseph ‘The Master’ Nest – The Gestapo Guy.
Thanks to: Got to love someone who knows this story so inside out they can tell me character names, scene points from memory etc. Of course, I get to escape from the grip of accuracy by blaming script draft differences. You know who you are 



Breaking out into daylight was no picnic; the builders of this place had known what they were doing even if they hadn’t ever intended it to be airtight.

Okay, so Tara had been right about that. Right to question it too as things had turned out. But really, what were a few big whooshes of air now that they were out and…?

Into the desert with the sun at its height above them.

Adjusting her hat, Willow stepped out carefully and got her bearings. Before she could ask the others to follow her, Tara was out alongside her with Buffy tagging on just behind. Lucky they hadn’t emerged in a den of Nazi’s or anything, right?

And even that would’ve been better than staying in that den of snakes.

The Well of the Souls had been offset from the heart of the ancient city it was a part of and now pretty much found itself on the edge of the dig site by that same logic. Lehane had been sinking works all over the place and – perhaps – now the Nazi’s had what they wanted, real science would have its chance at this place. They just needed to make sure they brought exterminators. For the snakes.

But the other advantage of being on the edge of the dig was that when they crested the small hill that had once been an ante-building – now collapsed under its own weight and ground down over the years – they were actually very close to the airstrip they’d spotted when first arriving.

It’d been carved out of the desert, no more than a crude runway and a few tents for the maintenance engineers. A fuel truck, of course.

Utterly unremarkable as a site.

What was definitely more remarkable was the plane itself. She’d never seen anything like it, at least not in person. Neither had Buffy. “We call it the flying wing,” Tara informed them both.

“We got anything like that?”

“They’re probably working on it,” the military officer confirmed. “I think they’re yet to be convinced.”

“Doesn’t look like it should fly at all,” Buffy said.

“Well, whatever it looks like, they’re going to fly the Ark out on it. And when it gets loaded, we’re already going to be on that plane,” she said. Simple as that. They had to be.

“Planes? Again?” Tara asked. “Really?”

She was sure that couldn’t happen again. Especially with that Ark on board. No, this time the pilots would be with them for the whole trip and absolutely wouldn’t bale out and leave them to crash into a mountain side. Evacuate the plane on an inflatable raft which would ski down the mountainside and fall off a cliff landing right side up in a fast flowing river without killing them all.

No, there was no way that was going to happen again.

“What does she mean?” Buffy asked.

“This is no time to discuss ancient history,” Willow said, but no one got the archaeologist’s favourite joke. No one ever did. Not even those few students who’d laugh at anything she said because they thought they were in love with her. It always went completely over their heads. Perhaps because she was trying too hard. “We need to get over there, now. Or we’re going to lose it.”

It was only a short hop from here to Italy, friendly airspace from the German point of view, and then north over the Alps and into the fatherland. A plane like this might not even need to stop and refuel. Or would it? She didn’t know enough to say, but the point was that if it was on its way and they were still here…

It really wouldn’t matter how far it could go.

“So how you want to do this?” Tara asked.

“I thought this was your mission?” That was what Lieutenant Commander Maclay kept reminding her anyway.

“But it’s your crazy idea,” Tara replied evenly.

And there was a truth to that. Tara was a planner. Sure, the blonde could react, but she wasn’t as comfortable flying by the seat of her pants. On the other hand, Willow was well aware that though she could plan but those plans rarely came off. She was at her best – painful as it often was – when the plan had gone wrong and all she was left with was improvising.

“There are three guys and two of us.”

“Three of us.”

“You stay hidden,” Willow said to Buffy. “Just make sure you get on the plane when we say. As I was saying – Buffy, there’s no time to argue. Just for once, do as you’re told and… please don’t get too friendly with anyone.”

It was a low blow, but it made the point. And Buffy was unable to take her to task about it because then they were on the move.

“Four guys,” Tara said as they almost ran into one of them and she knocked him out with one of his own wrenches.

“Three surely, two now?” Willow said, still impressed by this woman in just about every way.

“Three mechanics – two know - plus the pilot.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Tara confirmed.

“Okay. New count. And this guy’s out for the count.”

“I got the one on the left,” Tara said before she asked once more what the plan was.

“Why?”

“I always get the guy on the left.”

“The guy on the right is a mountain,” Willow hissed.

“Remember what you were saying about the fulcrum and the lever?” Tara asked. “With the right one, you can move mountains.”

“Remember the mines in India? I got the man-mountain on the right there too.”

“And you did very well. Still here aren’t you?”

“But it’s your turn,” she pointed out. Tara didn’t seem to be going for it though. “Fine… fine. Buffy… Just stay out of trouble.”

“Trouble?”

“You heard me. I do not want to have to rescue you again.”

“Rescue me?” Buffy demanded. “The only person you rescued is yourself, Rosenberg. You left me there to be – to be - ”

“The word you’re looking for, knowing Lehane’s reputation, is ‘fingered.’”

“Oh, you wish it was just that,” Buffy bit back. “You have no idea how to treat a woman. And for your information she had all sorts - ”

“I have no - How would you know - ?”

“Girls,” Tara said calmly to remind them what they were supposed to be doing. “The plane?”

They stuck to the plan as far as it went. Tara took out the first guy silently and efficiently, looping an arm up around his neck to silence and choke him. Of course the only way she’d get an arm around her guy’s neck was to leap up on his back and ride him or ask him to hold still while she found a box to stand on.

The guy was huge.

And he’d seen Tara dragging his buddy away so instead of picking her moment, Willow just had to step in and take him on. She didn’t want to shoot him unless she had to, the whole camp would be alerted by a gunshot but as the big guy took off his shirt and grinned at her, she had to think that taking on the rest of the camp might actually be easier than fighting fair against him.

The decision was taken away from her though. He proved to be deceptively fast and kicked the revolver from her hand, sending it flying off towards the fuel drums where Buffy had been taking cover.

“Ow! And that was my gun, Fritz. I liked that gun.” There was no sign that he understood her, but she dashed into his range, ducking and then jabbing upwards with her fist as he tried to grab her. The satisfying clack of his teeth smashing together rewarded her, but he shook the blow off like it was nothing.

Then she tried a few body blows but looking at the guy’s musculature, it might as well have been armour plate when all she had was her fists.

Grinning, he spat out one tooth and then let loose one of his own punches which took her right on the cheekbone and had her seeing stars for a moment as she ducked his clumsier follow-up but was still falling backwards, onto her ass. Damn.

For a second she was aware of the pilot, up on the top of the fuselage – or the wing, since the whole thing was a giant wing – taking aim at her and then… Buffy? Buffy, in that ridiculous white dress Lehane had put her in – and then taken her out of - clobbered him with a pair of chocks. She nodded in her old friend’s direction, but then had to roll away as the big mechanic’s foot stamped down towards her head.

“Tara?!”

Some help would’ve been appreciated, but Tara had her own fight. They’d been spotted and someone was shooting, Tara had picked up a German weapon and was holding them off with short bursts. At least for now.

So much for not alerting the rest of the camp.

I should’ve just shot this guy.

Yeah, this was going about as well as things always did. It was a thought she couldn’t help having as she was crawling for her gun and then was picked up bodily by the scruff of the neck, helped up to her feet and then punched three times in succession. Then she was allowed to slump back down onto her ass again.

Now he was just playing with her, having no problem with hitting a woman but not seeing her as enough of a threat to justify making her stay down. She wasn’t done though. One. Two of her own punches and then she kicked him in the leg for good measure. He soon tagged her again, but he’d learned to be more wary. Somehow it seemed to be a relief to be down on the ground again.

Now, for whatever reason, the plane had started to turn. The propellers were already up to speed and since Buffy had removed one set of chocks to hit the pilot over the head, the plane was rotating around that spot. Both she and her opponent were aware of at least that much and the fight moved progressively round.

She supposed that Buffy must be the one who was giving support to Tara by shooting some of the planes guns towards the advancing Nazi’s.

Either that or Buffy was trying to kill her. Both equally possible.

Right now though, she didn’t have the opportunity to worry about it. She couldn’t trade blows with this guy, not even five or six to one. He was going to take her apart when he decided to get serious, and so she did what came naturally. Fought smarter and nastier. When he grabbed her, she bit into his flesh, spitting a chunk out of flesh out as he screamed at her in German.

She scratched, threw a few punches and then – she’d been saving it – picked the perfect moment to kick upwards into the nuts with the heel of her boot. An upward kick right in the buried treasures.

X did, sometimes, mark the spot.

He froze on the spot, clutching herself and that was about the last thing he did as the plane continued its rotation and the propeller swallowed him up, spraying… him all over the place while she ducked underneath it the whirling blade.

“Never saw that coming,” she said, rolling clear as she tested her jaw to see if it was broken. Nope.

Above her the machine gun clattered again and she was suddenly very conscious of the amount of fuel that was sloshing around from damaged tanks. And the amount in the plane too… this was getting more dangerous than she’d thought.

Tara? Tara was up on the top of the plane too, trying to get into the rear gunner’s bubble. “You think we might get someone trained on the gun?” she asked.

“I’m trying, the lock is stuck,” Tara yelled back at her over the noise of the propeller.

Buffy – who was on the other side of that lock - was doing her best with the machine gun, realising – probably correctly – that if the Nazi’s in the trucks got over here then it was all over. But this plane was about to go up in a ball of smoke.

Oh, and lots of little pieces. Including them.

“Get back!” she yelled, no longer having any cause not to shoot as she took Tara’s pistol without asking and shot out the lock.

“Told you you’d need rescuing again,” she said as Tara helped Buffy out of the cockpit.

And really? That was Lehane’s taste in dresses for her conquests…? The first time she’d really examined it in daylight.

Not bad actually…

“Let’s get out of here,” Tara said. The smell of aviation fuel was so thick in the air you could see it igniting if you just thought about a match.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Buffy shouted back at her.

“I have to tell you everything twice. At least twice!”

“Now is not the time!” Tara grabbed hold and pulled her.

She was right about that and so she ran across the plane and jumped off, taking the landing in her stride and dragging Buffy – who’d stumbled – behind her. There was a lake of aviation fuel down there and Buffy was running barefoot through it. It was soaking into the hem of her dress, weighing it down so she pushed her along.

The blast of heat and air as the fuel – and then the plane – detonated was like nothing she’d ever felt before. Even for her, this was something new and she sailed through the air landing on top of Buffy.

It was there that Tara found her, straddling her friend’s back.

“This isn’t what it looks like. I’m too tired for what it looks like.”

“No time to be tired,” Tara said. Sallah, somehow, was with her too. What? The Nazi’s had let him go? Were they so arrogant in their superiority that they couldn’t conceive of a non-Aryan causing them any trouble?

He had news though. “The Ark is being put on a truck for Cairo, as soon as they realised there was trouble here,” the digger said.

Willow sighed.

Of course it was.

Because nothing could ever be simple. Couldn’t they just have sat down, drank a schnapps and thought about what they wanted to do for a while? Did they have to have immediate back up plans?

Of course they did.

“From there it will be sent by boat,” Sallah finished.

“Why don’t they go to Cairo and fly from there?” Tara asked. “No, never mind. I guess it doesn’t matter. We just have to get after it and catch them before it reaches the city.”

Tara took charge then, just as – to be honest – she needed her to. Everything hurt and it’d already been a very long twenty-four hours. Added to that the fact she was still slightly hung-over – though explosions had done wonders for cleaning that out – so… yeah, she needed the help.

“Sallah, take Buffy and get us some transport from Cairo.”

“For what?” Buffy asked. “We don’t have anything to transport.”

“We will,” Willow agreed, seeing Tara’s determination. This woman was mentally so strong that if she had any physical weaknesses then they were easily outstripped by the ability to just keep going through it.

But maybe she should’ve fought the big guy.

“How?” Buffy pressed.

“I don’t know, I’m making this up as I go along – look, we need a car.” Looking around, they’d moved away from the wreckage of the plane, but they couldn’t just walk up to the motor pool and take one. Every Nazi in the place was on alert by now and most of them would be heading this way.

And no matter what anyone else thought, Lehane wouldn’t come to any other conclusion other than that they were alive.

She did wonder, for a second, how Buffy would feel about that? Her whole life, she’d always been chasing the wrong guy or the wrong girl. It was the pattern for her, or at least it had been. Didn’t seem to have changed either…

“No, we don’t,” Tara said.

“What?”

“Look.” Tara pointed off, to the top of the hill at the edge of the plain Tanis had been built on. Not far away. “Horsies.” At this distance they were small, but yeah… she was right and they made their way over there.

“You can really ride?” Willow asked as they got to the top of the hill.

“I’m a farm girl from Montana,” Tara said as if that explained everything.

“And used to having a filly between your legs,” Willow said, going for the better explanation and swinging up onto the back of the horse before Tara could reply. “Yah!”

********************

[zampsa19752001]

Yay for yet another excellent update-y goodness...

[willowtaralover]

Hey Katharyn

One thing that I forgot to mention in the previous chapter was LeHane's 'couldn't care' attitude to Buffy being tossed into the Well of Souls. In the film Belloq (Paul Freeman) was clearly dismayed at Marion being thrown in to the 'Well'.

Love the reference to ToD and the plane crash with Indy, Short Round and Willie. One of my favourite moments from the entire trilogy. KOTCS doesn't count cos it's rubbish like Star Wars:- The Phantom Menace.

I get Willow's joke, cheesy but fun.

Thoroughly enjoyed the fight between Willow and the german guard, one of Indy's best dust up's methinks.

Listening to, or should that be reading, the dialogue between Buffy, Willow and Tara reminds me of season 5 of BtVS and Joyce's comment on having a teenage daughter sized headache with, in this case Tara as Joyce.

I'm finding reading your story a really fun and exciting experience. possibly more-so than the film itself. You seem to be able to get across a level of exhaustedness that was never prevalent in ROTLA.

Reading the story I wonder if the characters of Spike and Angel/Angelus will ever make an appearance or if they are being saved for a future story.

[Katharyn]

Thank you, Zampsa

Willowtaralover - Got to admit, I look forward to your feedback as a fan of the original, it's a twist on those who (shockingly!) didn't know or remember the movie which is also fun. Honestly, we didn't think there'd be any virgins in this crowd

Re Marion in the Well (What's that Lassie? Marion's stuck in the well? Gosh!) - Actually, I thought we'd written where there was about as much concern, just in another way. Though I can see your interpretation now you mention it. Faith and Belloq are different, of course. And the story has taken them different places. Without second-guessing what Belloq's motivations were, I think I was more focused on this being Faith. First of all, she's a survivor. She's not going to piss the Nazi's off when she's in a vulnerable position (at the top of the Well with the Ark now already out of it) but also she's *cough* tasted the fruit already. Which isn't to say she didn't have fun, but for someone like her (and Belloq) the anticipation and the chase may well have meant more than the prospect of a repeat performance...

That's my story and if I'd been writing from her perspective, I like to think I'd have included that Finally, I'm not really redeeming her. She's not a Nazi and she's a competitor of Willow's (doing much the same things) BUT she is the most clearly drawn villain. That's her role in the story... Not evil, but definitely trouble.

The plane crash reference was boosted for clarity just before posting. I wondered whether some readers (since so many seem not to remember the movies after 20+ years LOL) might need it spelling out to have any meaning.

My thoughts on KOTCS (Chewster can't stand it and denied it's canon for this story's purpose - though the impact of that was limited for obvious reasons) - well, it has a few nice set pieces and a few others that are just plain ridiculous. I'm not even THAT bothered about the concept of surviving a nuclear blast in a fridge. I was much more bothered by the tarzan/monkey thing.

You mention Willow's fight, that was a tough thing. We more easily accept that Harrison Ford has the body mass and strength to take on a giant in a slug-fest (where skill isn't really a factor) but Willow? It's a tough sell, even using movie physics. Which addresses why she's so tired as you also mention. I could've written it more like the movie in that regard, but then to just break down on the ship? You have to earn everything in a story. You can spring surprises but they should be built up to.

By the way, the reference to the guard back in India during that fight... Same stuntman in bad makeup

I have to say, I enjoyed all this way more than I thought. The action scenes I was really dreading TBH. Why? Well, because you can't divert into dialogue very easily. You need to hit the action beats and I hold no illusions about being able to do action better than the movie so that really meant copying it. Or so I thought. When I got there, it was really simple to just make a few changes that altered how the fights went etc. That meant it was still fresh despite being familiar and fun to write. I never wanted to just clone the movie.

Spink (sic) and Angel? Well, readers of my other stories will know that I never cared much for Angel and he's usually just out of the picture. Spike? I tend to kill him. Fast. The character was amusing enough in S2 but became a symbol S4 onwards of everything that was wrong with the show for me. So... nah. Certainly not in this one. Probably not in the future. Unless I can kill him creatively for no real reason...

Wow, long reply. Thanks for provoking it!

Katharyn

[Katharyn]

Title: Tara and Willow – Raiders… – Part Thirteen
Author: Katharyn Rosser & Chewster
Feedback: Absolutely, yes please. Love to engage in the discussion about the story.
Spoiler warning: Nope. And if you’ve not seen a film from 1980 then just tough luck, I’m not keeping it a secret. On the other hand, you’ll probably think we’re genius for such an amazing story.
Distribution: This story was written for Pens. Pens is its home. No archiving off Different Coloured Pens and the Kitten Board please. No conversion to eBook or other formats please. Enjoy it here.
Summary: Tara and Willow go after the Ark on the horsies…
Disclaimer: We don’t own any of the copyrights or anything else associated with BTVS, Raiders of the Lost Ark or Indiana Jones. All rights lie with the production companies, writers etc. We are making no money from this series of stories however any original characters and situations remain my property. As this is a retelling of Raiders of the Lost Ark and references other Indiana Jones films, a lot of dialogue and all of the plot has been taken from that movie. Other lines may have come from the script but were not seen in the movie and so could appear to be original when in fact credit belongs to the scriptwriter. Other elements are all the writers. It’s a complex mix and we will not be trying to allocate credit line by line.
Rating: Occasional, tasteful, adult situations and contextual bad language. However by and large equivalent to the movie.
Couples: Well, no one as we open, but Tara and Willow forever.
Text convention: Use of italics denotes either special emphasis if used for a single or a few words in a sentence OR first person thoughts if used for a whole sentence.
Notes: Obviously we’ve been dipping into Katharyn’s backstories for the girls for some of the backstory here. So yes, Tara’s again from a farm in Montana and she rides really well. Of course, Willow’s fear of big bitey things has gone away or else getting after the Ark would be more difficult! Once again the action in this scene was quite hard to convey and we’re not totally satisfied with it. (I – KR – am also fighting the tendency to get into too much thought in the middle of a fight and trying to keep it cinematic.)
Character map: This will only show characters so far revealed in the story, but just to keep things straight between this version and the canon…
Willow Rosenberg = Indiana Jones, Tara Maclay = Tara Maclay, Rupert Giles = Marcus Brody, Riley = The never to be seen again snake in the plane, Faith Lehane = Belloq, Joyce Summers = Abner Ravenwood, Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers = Marion Ravenwood, Heinrich Joseph ‘The Master’ Nest – The Gestapo Guy.
Thanks to: All those dedicated followers who stuck with us.



Galloping after a Nazi convoy on horseback wasn’t exactly something that was right out of the manual for a Navy girl. More like the pre-Great War army with their cavalry divisions, but even they’d have balked at something like this.

But then she’d been involved in re-writing some of those manuals over her career. Looked like she was going to get chance to write another chapter today.

Pushing the horses as hard as they could, she could see that Rosenberg was also a decent enough rider of something besides elephants. They didn’t need to hold anything back, not even for the sake of the horses. This was going to be a quick catch or it wasn’t going to happen at all.

They’d gone cross country, taking advantage of terrain where a horse could easily go while a staff car would prefer a nice, smooth passage that wound its way through the landscape. Now there was just a hill between them and the road and it was down that loose rubble hill that they galloped, getting up the speed to catch the convoy right up.

Dangerous? Sure, but compared to everything else that had happened?

“How you want to do this?” she yelled, but the sounds of the horses, the engines and the wind in her ears was too loud. It was dangerous for all of them – horses included – but what choice did they have?

Probably they should’ve taken thirty seconds to make a plan before they set off down the hill. But Rosenberg must’ve seen her shouting and gestured by way of a reply. The truck, they were going to focus on the truck for a start. The truck with the Ark. The staff cars and the other truck full of men to guard it were a secondary issue. Once they had the truck they’d have the most important vehicle on the road and some degree of immunity. The Nazis might shoot at them, but they wouldn’t – surely – risk the destruction of the Ark itself by running them off the road.

Right?

In their place, answering to their Fuhrer? No, she would not want to be the one tell him it’d burned up and melted in a wreck. And she’d thought the Secretary of the Navy on a bad day was a tough boss? Probably not even in the same league. About all that could happen to her back at the office was that she’d get fired. Maybe just reassigned to her theoretical job in the typing pool, though… she didn’t like typewriters. Pen and ink served her just fine.

Being fired in Nazi Germany? That’d be a very different definition. Possibly more literal.

Galloping the horses up alongside of the lead truck meant passing the one behind it and they could see that one was, indeed, full of troops. It swerved to try and hit Rosenberg, but her riding skills – and the space – were equal to avoiding it. Also, it took the truck away from her and the driver was much more reluctant to come her way because of the ditch and broken axle that would’ve claimed it if he had overshot.

At least she assumed that was why he never tried to shut her down.

Or maybe it was Rosenberg’s hat?

Whatever the reason, with that space she took advantage of the opportunity to surge ahead and was the first one to make the leap from the back of the horse to the running board of the lead truck.

It was a good horse, but it slowed and pulled away from the noise and danger of the trucks just as soon as she was off its back and she took the opportunity glance through the driver’s side window to see where Rosenberg was on the other side.

Great minds. At the same moment Rosenberg was looking her way and the driver and his mate were caught in a quandary as to which side they should be focusing.

Not for long, as Rosenberg opened the door and jerked the passenger out, she could only imagine the crunch as he came out of the truck travelling the best part of sixty miles an hour and slammed into a wall of rock.

That was the perils of service, right there.

Rosenberg was in the truck cab now and the driver was trying to fend her off while still steering his way around all their deaths. Her contribution was to pull out her pistol and place it against the back of his head. It got his attention.

“Get out,” Rosenberg said and Tara opened the door for him.

For his own exit, he took his foot off the accelerator and the truck slowed enough that the one behind slammed into the back of it. Then he was gone and they were in control. Rosenberg’s foot was immediately on the gas, but she was the one who slipped behind the wheel and found herself driving.

That hadn’t been the plan, but it wasn’t a new experience. She’d been driving heavy machinery – the first tractor her grandfather had bought - since she’d been old enough to see over the wheel and to be some use on the farm.

So, she floored it and slammed them into the back of the staff car that was weaving in front of them in an effort to stop them passing and taking a different route.

“Not a bad bit of hijacking,” Rosenberg said, “if I do say so myself.” Her eyes narrowed though as she looked outside in the mirror.

“What?”

“Trouble,” she explained. “Check your side.”

Ah, she could see what Rosenberg meant. Both a motorcycle escort and two guys climbing along the side of the speeding truck. She swerved and scraped them off as the bike broke hard enough that the rider went over the handlebars and ended up in the same pile as the two guys she’d taken out by steering into obstacles and brushing up against them.

“That work?”

“Uhuh,” she confirmed.

“Try mine.”

Swerving again, this time the other way, she ran into the trees by the side of the road, catching pieces of them against the windscreen. “How’s that?”

“No. Again.”

Once again she swerved, then back just as sharply as the second escort cycle tried to take advantage of the space to pass her. This one had a side-car and she realised that the noise she could hear was the soldier in there shooting at her. The shots fired stitched a neat hole in the door, just above her leg, that went out through the roof of the cab.
Too close.

The swerve back took the bike out but – for a moment – the side-car kept on going and she and the helpless passenger looked at each other before there was a bend in the road. She was – of course – able to steer around it, while the helpless rider just kept on going.

Out into nothingness.

“Still there,” Rosenberg told her.

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I guess I’ll just have to do it myself.” Rosenberg opened the door to leave the cab.

“Where are you going?”

“Keep steering. Keep your foot down.”

Yeah, that was necessary advice. She’d never have figured that out, would she?

She couldn’t even see what was happening except for the occasional flailing body part. Rosenberg’s boot. A Nazi arm.

All she could do was keep driving and try not to take Rosenberg off the side like she had their enemies.

An unexpected bump told her that someone had gone under the wheels of the truck and she looked back, naturally worried about who it might’ve been. The sight of German desert uniform rolling in the dust before being hit by the vehicle behind them was both reassuring and gruesome. That was some mother’s son, but that sort of compassion was a luxury that she couldn’t allow herself.

She’d long ago learned to compartmentalise her empathy. It was a necessary step in doing what she did. Protecting a lot of her own countrymen, and their allies, from war at the cost of a few other lives.

Talking of which… She put the brakes on again, really hard. Rosenberg appeared off to the side of the engine, clutching on for dear life as she was thrown forwards by the sudden change. But the truck that had been behind them surged past as it found itself suddenly travelling much faster than they were. Hitting their left rear as it passed them, it was thrown into a spin and as the driver overcompensated, took itself right off the road and off the cliff they were driving along the top of.

She tried not to think of how many more mother’s sons had just plunged to their deaths. But they shouldn’t have served if they weren’t willing to pay the price. It was the German people who’d put the Nazi’s in power. No doubt some of them were realising that was a mistake already.

Meanwhile, Willow Rosenberg was… in trouble.

It didn’t seem possible that anyone could hold on the way that she was, and keeping on fighting at the same time. But she was doing just that.

Tara shifted, reached for her .45 calibre service pistol again and took a shot at the man who was trying his very hardest to dislodge Willow and send her under the truck to her death. Nothing. She squeezed the trigger again. Misfire and she didn’t have both her hands free to try to clear the jam.

Dropping the pistol on the seat beside her, she focused instead on whether her driving could actually help Rosenberg? But everything she might do to try and knock the Nazi off only risked doing the same to Rosenberg, who was in a much more precarious position, kicking with her legs as she tried to find a second handhold.

And if she steered to try and exploit gravity to push Rosenberg back onto the truck, then it was just securing the Nazi the same way – and he already had a better grip. No good answers there.

He glanced in at her, grinned as he realised she couldn’t do anything and then went on, after his more obvious target. Now she had two of them on the front of the truck and Rosenberg moved around, actually ending up on the very front. They looked at each other as her comrade grabbed the badge on the hood and… it bent and then she was falling backwards while the car in front was trying to reduce speed fast enough to crush Rosenberg between them.

She braked just as sharply to give Rosenberg a few extra seconds and – to her horror – the badge finally broke and Rosenberg was going down, under the truck.

And then the staff car hit… Or she hit it. One or the other.

In the back were the lead Nazi’s and they seemed jubilant as they accelerated away again.

She gave too much attention to the mirror and saw… nothing. Willow’s body hadn’t gone under the wheels and she could see that it had come out of the back but… the Nazi’s were waving at the guard who’d pursued Rosenberg to get her instead.

But there was no blood on the back of the car either so…? Where was Rosenberg?

It was a question she didn’t have time to think about as the guard, a senior NCO by his insignia, age and appearance, came to the door and threw it open. She didn’t wait or hesitate at all, feet off all the pedals, hands firmly on the wheel, she used that grip to push herself around and kicked him in the unmentionables.

Seemed like that was happening a lot recently. He groaned, but kept his grip and so she swung back around, foot back on the gas with a jerk and threw a punch with her right hand, right into his nose. She felt it break, then she shoved and he fell backwards, hitting the side of a house and… gone.

“Nice work,” Rosenberg said, throwing herself into the open door. Total surprise. With the focus on that NCO, she hadn’t seen the other woman make her wake back from the cab but - how?

Rosenberg was a mess, but she was alive. Covered in dust, cut and grazed in just about every exposed spot but… alive.

“What – How?”

“Don’t let anyone tell me that carrying a whip’s not a good idea.”

“You were dragged along?” And held on? That seemed like it should’ve been impossible.

“Later,” Willow said. “I’ll tell you later. How about we take those guys out and get this crate to Cairo?”

“My pleasure. Driving Nazi’s off the road is what I do third best.”

Tara hit the gas again and she could tell that the driver had of the car had – finally – been told to think of the lives of his passengers. Fast as it might have been on the autobahn’s of Germany, here the Mercedes was at a disadvantage with the tyres having reduced purchase on the dusty road.

Ramming it from the side once, twice and then the final time to send the Nazi’s and Lehane into a sand dune off the side of the road. That should bog them down for a while.

“You sure you’re okay?” she asked again as they seemed to be clear of pursuit.

“Can’t wait to see what you do second best,” Rosenberg said, closing her eyes and immediately falling asleep.

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

“We’re here,” Tara said.

Willow opened her eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping but she had been resting her eyes. Tara hadn’t had any more sleep than she had, but she’d probably been a little smarter about how she ended up using her energy.

No being dragged along under a truck for one thing.

Was it wrong to think – right now – about how Lieutenant Commander Tara Maclay hadn’t woken her up nearly enough in the time they’d known each other? Of course, on some of those occasions they hadn’t actually slept at all.

“I wasn’t asleep.”

“I know.”

“How?” she asked, recognising the inner environs of Cairo. Tara hadn’t even ‘woken’ her on the edge of the city, she’d left it until later. Given her a few more long moment moments. But Tara sounded so honest, so sure that she hadn’t been asleep that she had to wonder how.

“You weren’t snoring.”

Willow considered that. Did she snore? She didn’t know, but she was surprised that Tara could either.

“I didn’t think we’d slept together enough - ”

“On the plane.”

“Oh. Right. That.”

“You’re right,” Tara said. “We didn’t really… sleep much.”

There was that little smile of hers. She’d never seen anyone smile like Tara Maclay. And she’d been all over the world, seen a lot of different people. Not all of them were smiling, this was true, but even so… It was a bold statement that she hadn’t actually made. Tara didn’t know how she felt about that smile.

But right now pretty much everything hurt and closing her eyes just felt… calmer.

“I guess not,” Willow said. What with one thing or another they’d only spent a couple of nights in bed. On the ground, on the trail or leaping out of bed in a general panic? Sure, all of those things. But in a real bed? One night in India where Tara Maclay had walked out on her to go catch her plane and report in and one at home before embarking on this journey.

A few more hours indulging in bedroom related activities…

So did that even count?

“We’re getting close,” she said as they drove through streets that she actually recognised.

“I was checking the map,” Tara said, she had one spread out across her lap. “But if you know the way to this Omar’s?”

“Take a right up here.” Cairo, like Athens and Rome, was one of those cities that she knew best of all. After all, where else would Ira Rosenberg and Joyce Summers have spent their time outside of the US? Where else would they have left their kids while – in Joyce’s case – she’d been digging up everything she could find.

“Okay.”

“Are they still after us?”

“I caught sight of dust every so often and we slowed down a lot since we got into the city.”

“But you didn’t wake me?”

“No,” Tara said, “because you weren’t asleep.”

“Funny girl.”

“You think Sallah and Elizabeth made it here?” Tara asked a few minutes later. They could see how close they were to the sea now, through gaps in the buildings. The cranes of the docks were close enough that they towered over them too.

“I think that nothing was worth the Nazi’s time except shipping and then catching the Ark. I'm more concerned about how many they sent after us. And if they catch us.”

“They’ve got the same streets to get through as we have,” Tara pointed out. “Even if they knew where we were going.”

“But they don’t care who they hurt,” Willow said. That was the worry. Enough people had already been hurt in this affair, and she didn’t mean the German’s who’d gotten in their way.

Tara shook her head. “Left here?”

“Left.”

“I don’t think that they’ll be too casual with people’s lives. The Egyptians will take a dim view of that.”

“You suppose they care?”

“We’re not at war yet.”

It was coming though, obviously. That was why Army Intelligence were so worried about the Ark. Naval Intelligence too, apparently. As a historical curiosity, fifty years ago, they might even have allowed other countries to help with the studies but now? In their eyes it was a potential weapon.

And in Hitler’s eyes? The man was reputedly obsessed with the occult – amongst other things – and she’d heard theories it was all about the legitimacy of his cult of personality, of his beliefs and the persecutions and hostile acts that they justified.

No one could doubt that war was coming and there were plenty of people who believed that the allies at the end of World War One had created the circumstances that gave Hitler his opportunity. It was an idea she had some sympathy for. Beat people, a country down hard enough and… it was pretty much inevitable someone like Hitler would spring up with a message that resonated. History was full of examples.


“Take a right!” She grabbed the wheel and made the decision for Tara, steering them into a side street.

“What?”

“A car, one just like the ones that were after us, and behind it I thought there was a truck.” And I’m in no shape to fight…I mean, I will if I have to. But right now it feels like raising my arm will risk it falling off.

I’m a little fragile right now…

Fragile enough I’d give up the Ark for a soft bed and a warm woman.

Or maybe just the bed.

Mind on the job, Rosenberg. Mind on the job.

“Okay – from here? Left, I think. There should be a route down one of the side-streets, shouldn’t have as many people in it?”

“Won’t they follow us?”

“I guess we’ll see?”

Didn’t look like it. Nothing had followed before they’d turned left again…And actually they were making better progress once the kids playing with a ball had gotten out of the street.

“Sallah will stay here?” Tara asked her.

There wasn’t much chance he’d leave. This place, this country, was not only his home but his whole life. He wasn’t like them. He had a place. “Sure. His family…” She shrugged. “Ow.”

“You think he’ll be okay?” Tara asked, ignoring her pain.

Tara knew the political realities as well – if not better – than she did, so she was only asking for personal opinions. “I… Lehane isn’t the vindictive kind. If it’s anything to do with her then – Look, I hate the bitch, but even though she’d have killed him in a heartbeat if he’d gotten in her way, she wouldn’t hunt him out of sheer spite. Or anyone else. She doesn’t have the patience.”

“And you think it’s her choice?”

“No,” she allowed, “but truth is that most Nazi’s just see Aryans and then everyone else. Sub-humans, vermin. And most of the officers we’ve been dealing with are true, dyed in the wool, Nazi’s. Believers, they have to be. The NCOs and soldiers? Less so, I guess they’re more like real people, but… I don’t think many of them would know Sallah from any other Egyptian.”

“Even though he sounds Welsh?”

“You really think they know Welsh?”

“I guess not. Nothing seems to be following us,” Tara concluded after a few turns of observation. “But they’ll know we’re heading for the docks – ultimately at least.”

“And they’ll have staked out the airfield for sure and nearly everything that goes where we need it to will end up flying over a country more friendly to the Nazi’s than the U.S.”

“Call me old fashioned - ”

“Old fashioned,” Willow said wearily.

“Thanks, call me old fashioned but I’m a navy girl, I happen to think that at least on the ocean, your destiny is in your own hands.”

“Plus when you fly with me, bad things happen?”

“We got here okay,” Tara allowed.

“But then look what happened.”

“A ship would be a nice change of pace. Plus, you could use the rest – and you could definitely use a bath.”

“Don’t kid yourself, we could all use a bath,” Willow retorted, but she had to admit that she did stink. Days in the desert, sweating and then being trapped in a tomb that hadn’t seen anything but snakes in the last thousand years? Maybe she had good cause to be a little stinky.

“You more than most then,” Tara told her.

“It’s over on the right and – I think I can see something behind all these people?”

“Germans?”

“Why take a chance?” she said. “Now, steer right – yeah, there’s Omar. Straight in, straight in.”

“Okay, I got it.”

She was watching the crowd, one that had possibly been conjured up by their friends? Maybe, she wouldn’t put it past a man like Sallah, honourable as the day was long but sneaky as any old collector of antiquities had to be. They pulled into cover – where a door quickly dropped behind them – seconds before their pursuers looked like they’d made it through.

“I just thought of something,” Tara said, taking her hands from the wheel.

“What’s that?” She was expecting something about the situation they were in, but Tara surprised her once more.

“What were all those snakes eating?”

Willow opened her mouth, about to reply but then closed it. Thing was, she really didn’t know.

“Not us,” she said finally. “Which I call a win.”

**********************

[zampsa19752001]

Yay for another excellent update-y goodness... I really like those little snips on Willow's & Tara's thought processes...

[Katharyn]

Thank you, Zampsa - That's the stuff that's the most fun for me

Katharyn

[Katharyn]

Hi all. Just a note before the part commences to let you know that the posting in this story will be a little less regular for the next week and a half. We're going on a trip and laptops have been banned :( Also, I will have an iPad but hate typing on them and would need to find some internet which is far from certain... So I may post when I can, but probably won't reply to any feedback until I'm back with a proper keyboard

At worst normal service will resume on Sunday 24th.

With that said, enjoy the next part.

Katharyn

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

Title: Tara and Willow – Raiders… – Part Fourteen
Author: Katharyn Rosser & Chewster
Feedback: Absolutely, yes please. Love to engage in the discussion about the story.
Spoiler warning: Nope. And if you’ve not seen a film from 1980 then just tough luck, I’m not keeping it a secret. On the other hand, you’ll probably think we’re genius for such an amazing story.
Distribution: This story was written for Pens. Pens is its home. No archiving off Different Coloured Pens and the Kitten Board please. No conversion to eBook or other formats please. Enjoy it here.
Summary: On the freighter… Tara and Willow time.
Disclaimer: We don’t own any of the copyrights or anything else associated with BTVS, Raiders of the Lost Ark or Indiana Jones. All rights lie with the production companies, writers etc. We are making no money from this series of stories however any original characters and situations remain my property. As this is a retelling of Raiders of the Lost Ark and references other Indiana Jones films, a lot of dialogue and the entire plot has been taken from that movie. Other lines may have come from the script but were not seen in the movie and so could appear to be original when in fact credit belongs to the scriptwriter. Other elements are all the writers. It’s a complex mix and we will not be trying to allocate credit line by line.
Rating: Occasional, tasteful, adult situations and contextual bad language. However by and large equivalent to the movie.
Couples: Well, no one as we open, but Tara and Willow forever.
Text convention: Use of italics denotes either special emphasis if used for a single or a few words in a sentence OR first person thoughts if used for a whole sentence.
Notes: You may recall this section of the movie where Indy and Marion share a cabin on the cargo freighter they’re taking the Ark on. Some nice moments for the movie there… We’ve tried to do something similar for the girls here. Remember, of course, this was a PG rated scene! And Marion/Buffy won’t be in the cabin this time. After all, she’s still pining for Faith, despite being abandoned in the Well of Souls 
Within the Tara and Willow scene, remember also that this is the thirties. Things were different in some ways and very much the same in others. So, when there’s reference to ‘the man’ in a relationship between two women, that’s just the way it might’ve been explained then. It’s the expectations of others that we’re relating…
Also – though we stay strictly within FAQ – this part references the fact that both the girls have had previous lovers. A history is acceptable and we don’t dwell on it, but you’re not going to buy the idea that Willow as Indy hasn’t been with anyone else in her life… Also, it’s all portrayed in contrast to Tara.
Character map: This will only show characters so far revealed in the story, but just to keep things straight between this version and the canon…
Willow Rosenberg = Indiana Jones, Tara Maclay = Tara Maclay, Rupert Giles = Marcus Brody, Riley = The never to be seen again snake in the plane, Faith Lehane = Belloq, Joyce Summers = Abner Ravenwood, Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers = Marion Ravenwood, Heinrich Joseph ‘The Master’ Nest – The Gestapo Guy.



“To old friends and new ones,” Sallah said, raising an imaginary glass in toast.

One of those old friends, Elizabeth, hugged him – obviously they’d had chance to reconnect on their journey here and yes, he’d helped save her life so that was perfectly understandable.

For her part, she’d spent more time with Sallah’s wife and children than the man himself and it was her that she’d miss more, though she valued what he’d done for them.

Her other companion, she noticed, shook his hand. Rosenberg wasn’t averse to a hug, but it perhaps said something about the difference in their relationship. And so, what was she? A hug or a handshake?

When she went to him, it seemed like he was having trouble figuring it out too. In the end, she just hugged him. If a little less effusively than Buffy had. Why not decide that definition of their relationship for herself? He’d proven a valuable friend, risking a lot for people who – unlike him – could easily leave the country. He had a beautiful – large – family who’d been put in danger because of it.
.
Of course, unlike all of them, he’d worked for the Nazi’s and seen their casual disregard for everyone and everything that was not pure and Aryan up close. She couldn’t say that some parts of her own country were much better – in some regards at least - but at the end of the day, he’d sided with the good guys and fought to try to stop their enemies.

Or the good girls in this case.

“Thank you,” she said, hugging him.

“Thank you, Miss,” he replied, “for taking care of her. Someone had to. One of these days she’ll get herself killed but I suspect you’ll have something to say about when she’s allowed to do that.”

She smiled, Willow was pretending not to notice but she could tell that she’d heard what had been said. “Thank you for this, too.”

They were stood on the pier beside an old tramp steamer, the Bantu Wind, no different from any other of hundreds of freighters that plied the Mediterranean and African coasts. She wasn’t the sort of vessel you’d trust to make it over to New York, but they’d only arranged passage to England and from there the journey would be safer and more secure.

“It is nothing but a small thing,” Sallah assured her with a dismissive gesture. “Insignificant.”

“That’s my ship you’re talking about,” the Captain said, grinning broadly. Sallah had already introduced him as a friend, though Willow had never met him before. Evidently a man with a loyal crew and one who owed Sallah many favours. Most of them had been called in to buy them passage without questions being asked.

Questions like, what was in the Nazi branded crate in the hold?

Not the kind of man likely to walk into a bar in Montana and not likely – from his skin – to have been welcome in certain other places she’d visited back home. That said, he certainly spoke better English than most people in her home state and certainly better than anyone who would’ve taken exception to him south of Mason-Dixon.

It was also very obvious that taking exception to him would’ve been an unsound idea. While he was all smiles now, no man got to Captain – and keep command of – a ship like this by virtue of a brilliant smile. He should’ve lost some of those teeth on his way up and that he hadn’t spoke to both his competence and his ability to be ruthless when he had to.

Not a man to cross then either.

So what did that say about Sallah? His ‘friend’ that he owed favours to?

“You will treat them well, my friend,” Sallah said to him. It wasn’t a question.

“My cabin is theirs,” Katanga confirmed.

“I asked you for two…” Sallah said, looking back at her for some reason.

“And the one next to it,” the Captain said, grinning widely. Again at her.

What did he think he knew?

Buffy sighed, walking past her and not exactly keeping her thoughts to herself. “Then I guess none of us will be getting any sleep.”

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


“I think they think that we’re…” Tara paused, not following through with what she’d been thinking.

All the same, Willow got the idea.

She and Tara had been billeted together while Buffy was just next door. Women’s clothes and underwear had – mysteriously – been made available, even though this was an all-male ship. And in a selection of sizes.

Also, the Captain had quite a big bed.

She’d accepted the gift of the underwear, it was past time for a change even if all of it was a little racy for their circumstances, but the dress? That really wasn’t her so the cabin boy had promised to get her clothes washed and even pressed if she just left them outside for him.

Worked in theory, but right now getting them off seemed like it would be a major accomplishment. Sitting in the truck for so long had been the first step in her whole body seizing up. Not a surprise after the various beatings she’d taken in the past couple of days.

“Reminds me of Delhi,” she said.

“Oh?”

“Well, they thought that there too,” she reminded Tara. “And you look…”

Tara had already undressed and put her own clothes out for washing. Already bathed too, which was something she might’ve offered to help with but moving something as heavy as a sponge seemed like impossibility at the moment. So now, Tara was wearing a silk night dress that looked fine enough to – in some places – have been worn to dinner.

Always assuming you had underwear on, which Tara most assuredly didn’t because… well, a girl could just tell.

Another time. Another place, with less bruises and more energy, she might’ve managed to be more excited about that. Now though… it was just an eye thing. Looking, making eye contact and… yeah, they’d shared a moment there. A moment like…

You look good.

I know.

I bet you smell good, after your bath.

I do…

If I had the energy I’d rip that right off you and…

I know. And I’d let you.

All through the eyes. Windows of the soul. The naked soul… But right now, naked was – for her – all about getting the laundry done. Nothing more than that. It’d be deeply unattractive if her groaning was simple pain.

“I wanted – Here, let me help you.”

Tara had been about to say something, after Delhi had been brought up, but then her natural inclination to help had kicked in. I started taking off the shirt too soon.

No, the real problem had been that when she started to take off the shirt, she couldn’t actually manage it. She couldn’t move even that far. Every time she tried… ouch. So tempting just to collapse still wearing it but…

She let Tara help her take the shirt off, wincing as – in places – she’d scraped herself badly enough to scab and the dried blood had stuck to the fabric. “I’m a mess,” she admitted. “But… you look great.” There, she’d said it out loud.

Tara was so close and – after her bath – smelled so good. She’d been right about that too. In fact she looked so very, very good.

But then so did the bed. Pillows. Soft, clean sheets.

“I have the feeling we’re not the first women to travel with these pirates,” Tara said.

“I know what you mean. But we’re probably the first ones to share the cabin. At least without the Captain being here too.”

Tara smiled, finally pulling the shirt off and the gasp as she saw what lay beneath pretty much confirmed Willow’s fears. Bruises. Cuts. Scrapes. All things that would heal and fade away with time. Nearly everything did. Of course Tara, sat beside and slightly behind her, knew the origin of the scars that hadn’t.

Naval officer fingers ran down the whip scars on her back. Tara had been there when she received them. Tended them later. Bathed them. Carefully stayed away from the stinging welts as they made love.

Redressing them had been – apart from that last time they had made love – the last thing Tara had done for her in Delhi. Before walking out of her life. Was this going to be a replay? Of the tending, perhaps. Not the rest.

“What were you going to say?” she asked as Tara slipped down to her knees and started to pull at her boots and then her pants. Again, every movement was a torture. But pain was good. Pain meant she was still alive and, in this case, that they’d won.

With Tara looking up at her from down there, she was obviously reminded of other times they’d been in a similar pose. Other places on another continent. They were both a little older, a little wiser and – in her case – a little more beat up. But it was still a delightful scene to look back on. One that was… stirring. Sadly though, she didn’t really feel like being too… energetic.

Even if, somehow, those feelings were still reciprocated.

“I was going to apologise for Delhi,” Tara said. “I… I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that. I didn’t even mean to – it was just that you looked so peaceful, sleeping, that I hated to wake you.”

She lifted her butt up and let Tara pull her pants down for her. “Ow. Ow. Ow. It’s okay. It is – I got over it a long time ago.”

“And it’s not like you never left a girl in a hotel room…” Tara suggested.

“Actually, I never have.”

“Really?”

“Really…” People had this idea about her, that she was some sort of lothario character. A girl in every port, at every airport and on every dig site. That the crushes of her students were somehow indicative of the content of her personal life when in fact, her style and her looks were good at making certain girls look hard at themselves.

Truth was… there’d not been many girls at all. Never a student and… never anyone who’d she’d regretted leaving more than Tara Maclay. In Tara she had… it was tough to explain what she had, even to herself, but the thing that came to the forefront was ‘an equal.’

Not in terms of what she knew, though Tara had her own expertise, but more in terms of what drove her, her motivations and her ability to look after herself. To work with her. Could she have pulled off what she had on this trip with Tara?

No. She’d just have been dead.

Sure, Tara had needed her to do the archaeological stuff, but if it hadn’t been for that, she was pretty sure the Secretary of the Navy’s representative could’ve pulled this off. Maybe even better… Tara wasn’t as much for flying by the seat of her pants.

Pants.

Pants off.

Okay, so last time she’d been this close to naked with Tara… Yes, let the washing commence. Old memories flooded back as Tara, very gently, started to bathe her wounds.

Not just the wounds, she was wiping grime and dust and dirt away too.

“You could put me in the bath,” Willow said.

“I’d never get you out of it again,” Tara told her.

“But I’ll be all stinky.”

“No, no you won’t.”

Sensuality was tough, it really was. Aching as much as she did, tired as she was… but somehow being – it was being done ‘lovingly’ wasn’t it? In her own, very different way, Tara was loving her right now. It wasn’t just because she needed wounds cleaned or because they were about to share a bed and one of them stunk to high heaven.

You didn’t do this, like this, without love in your heart.

And after all the things she’d done, this trip and so many others, it was one thing she didn’t dare say or do. I love you.

Maybe she could pretend she was being professional, they had to work together and they weren’t home free yet. Maybe she could pretend it was fear of abandonment, they both had careers that would take them to different parts of the world and – let’s not forget – Tara had already left her behind once.

Maybe she could do those things. But the real truth was that she was afraid to say it first. Letting someone in behind the curtain of the myth of Willow Rosenberg?

She thinks I’m like Lehane, maybe because I’m so competitive and anything that bitch can do I can do more and better… But mostly Tara thinks I’m like her because I let her think it.

“So… Buffy,” Willow said, eventually, determined that she had to do something to help herself.

“Buffy?” Tara was confused and – just for a moment – she pressed too hard with the sponge and –

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay – I – you know she’s not my ex, right?” she asked. “She was never my ex because she was never my girlfriend.”

“Really?” Tara was trying to sound casual about it, but she could tell that there was interest there.

“Really. No matter what her Mom might have thought or wanted – for both of us – never. Not even a kiss – I mean that sort of kiss. Never. She’s an ex-roommate – but nothing more ex related than that.”

“Even though she wanted - ”

“She didn’t want,” she promised the naval officer. “Not really. She never made a move, and she would’ve – if she had, you know, wanted. She… Buffy’s always chased the thing that she shouldn’t have. The thing that was bad for her. You’ve seen that. I’d have hurt her far worse if we’d ever got together than I did by – well the things I did.”

“What did you do?” Tara had stopped washing her and was just looking up at her now.

“I… let them down.” That was the best way to put it. It wasn’t hiding anything Tara might – conceivably – need to know. But it wasn’t getting into other people’s personal business either. “Let’s just say I let them both down.”

At the start of this whole adventure she was pretty sure that Buffy would’ve told Tara just out of spite. Now… that was less the case.

“But it wasn’t anything to do with me and Buffy. Not the way you meant.”

“I didn’t mean anything,” Tara said, as if bathing a woman in her underwear you were about to get into bed with was something she did every day. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh.” Could she take that at face value? Perhaps she had to. “What about you? Is there some girl back in DC? Or in a hula-skirt out at Pearl Harbour?”

Tara shook her head, going back to washing her leg. And still gentle, no resentment there at the question. In hindsight, she thought, she’d been tempting a painful and unpleasant time with that one but… Tara didn’t seem to mind. Perhaps because –

Why were they having this conversation? What did it mean?

“No.”

“Just ‘no’?”

“No, there isn’t.”

Which was… Was that good? It felt like it was good. Or should be good. But…

“There hasn’t been,” Tara continued, surprising her. Avoiding her eyes by paying attention to the task she was performing. “Not for… a while.”

Read between the lines. What was a while? A long time? A year? Eighteen months? Not since before India, at least… Not since… me?

Maybe even before that.

I never asked her this question, in India. Maybe I didn’t want to know, maybe I just wanted her… and I didn’t want to know. I never asked her if she was with anyone.

There were obvious questions. ‘Why?’ And ‘what happened?’ Things like that, but it really didn’t feel like the right time to ask them. That was all of the past and… what were they now? The present? What about the future? Was Tara waiting for her to make a move?

Am I waiting for her to make a move?

Maybe…

Am I physically capable of it?

Maybe… A move didn’t have to involvement much, actual, movement. It could just be a kiss. A caress… I could manage a caress, right?

Or maybe we should stay as we are. People who were close and now can work together to stop evil men from taking things they shouldn’t have. Maybe that was who they were supposed to be?

Maybe… not.

“You’re a mess, Rosenberg,” Tara said, finding another scar.

“Appendix,” she pointed out. Though she might, had she been a more suspicious person, have wondered just how dirty she could’ve been there… and why Tara had been in that area at all. After all, what she’d spotted was just the tip of the scar, emerging from under the edge of one of the two garments she was wearing.

“Oh.”

“Besides, it’s not the years. It’s the mileage.”

“I never said you were old,” Tara said, blue eyes meeting hers again now that they were off topics that had the potential to embarrass them.

“Good, because you’re a year older than me. Remember?”

“I remember.”

Everything. She remembers everything. Up to and including how it felt… together. I’m not forgetting that anytime soon, either.

“I don’t know how you… You won’t have a bath?”

“Like you said, you’d never get me out of it.”

“Then… you need to take this off.”

Tara was touching her brassiere and… what did you say to something like that? “Help me.”

Her eyes closed as Tara leaned forward, arms around her. Not pressing against her, but close enough to feel the body heat. To smell her… And yes, she took a deep breath and only released as Tara undid her brassiere and one of the bags of salt fell from it.

“Really?” Tara asked. “Still?”

“Vital supplies and they give me a boost.”

There were few enough girls – of the very few she’d been intimate with – who’d gotten her this undressed. Mostly they expected her to live up to the role that they expected of her. Tough. The ‘Man’ as some of them had chosen to put it… And – ever eager to please – she’d never let them down, finding her pleasures in those ways easily enough.

With Tara though, she felt like nothing but a woman. And not because Tara took on the role of the ‘man’ either. With Tara, she didn’t feel the need for playing games or adopting roles or anything but being with her. She felt like herself… nothing more and nothing less. Willow.

Intellectually she knew that when she was with a woman – other than Tara – ‘the man’ was the very definition of what neither of them needed. But there was still that ‘role’ that was expected of her… One, less experienced person, had even asked her the question. ‘Will you be the man’?

And she’d never found the mental fortitude to debate them. To tell them how it needed to be, that being a lesbian meant that there was no man. Instead, she’d just nodded and got on with it.

Not so with Tara…

The delicate, careful way that the other bag of salt was removed and then her brassiere was coaxed down her sore, tired arms was considerate, kind and… She finally opened her eyes to find Tara smiling at her. She’d been noticed…

“You’re not falling asleep on me are you?” Tara asked. And she didn’t sound like she thought the answer was ‘yes’. She knew just why she’d closed her eyes. And that voice… It was enthralling at the worst of times, but now…

So much promise.

I should reach for her, I should kiss her and hold her and tell her that ‘yes, it’s all still there. Everything I felt… more.’

I should do that.

Knowing and doing were different things. Somehow… she couldn’t quite make it happen.

So Tara did instead.

Maybe the ability to take action, when no one else could was why the Secretary of the Navy valued her? Or – No. It’s all about the kiss, stupid.

Tara’s kiss on her cheek.

But it hurt. She’d been slugged there. More than once. “Ow…”

Tara tried again. “Ow…”

By now it was a game, the kiss, the promise and the reality were so good, felt so good that she’d have taken a thousand times the pain and thanked her for it if only this would continue.

“Well, Rosenberg, where doesn’t it hurt?”

A good question, one that she’d been slowly discovering as Tara washed her.

All clean now… All clean... and then Tara had kissed her.

The little planner.

“Here,” she said, pointing to a spot on her forehead. And Tara, obligingly enough, kissed it.

“Here,” she said, indicating her elbow. The other one was all torn up – right through her jacket – but this one… it was still in good shape.

So Tara kissed her there too.

Then her lips.

It wasn’t a long kiss. It wasn’t even a passionate one. But it was a kiss and it felt… good.

“Lie down,” Tara said, helping her do that. “Lie down…”

She was lying down, it was a good… soft… bed…

There was one other place, one other place that didn’t hurt… one more place that Tara could kiss her… One… more… place… and… lips… moving… in the right…

Direction…

“Good night, Rosenberg…” She heard the words and then… she didn’t hear anything.

**********************

[zampsa19752001]

Yay for great update-y goodness... A nice calm before the storm moment... I really like those little snippets of their past...

[Katharyn]

Zampsa - Thankyou! I just finished the part prep on the ending of the story yesterday (I was supposed to be packing for our trip!) so I am feeling a little sad about that but it's all good fun

[willowtaralover]

Hi Katharyn First I just want to say sorry that I didn't give you feedback on chapter 13 when you put it up at the weekend. Sadly I was away from my computer at the time, so this will be a double header.

As to the feedback, I enjoy providing it and having this kind of long distance chat with you about the story and how it deviates slightly at times from the film.

On KOTCS, one thing I recently realised about that film is that unlike the other three it has no religious links at all. In Raiders there is the Chrisitan/Judeo biblical myth of the ark of the covenant. In ToD there is the ancient indian Thugee cult which worshipped Kali, though I don't think they ever ripped peoples still beating hearts out of their chests. Finally there is TLC, aka grannies favourite because of Sean Connery. There they are searching for one of the most holiest of relics of all time, The Holy Grail. Yet in KOTCS they're looking for an alien spaceship of all things and poor John Hurt is wastedin his role. He had it far better in 'Hellboy'. On top of that there is the idea that Indy was a spy when surely he was an archaeological teacher-part time.

The guard who fights with Indy in Raiders was Pat Roach, I think he sadly passed away before TLC.

I know it's a little too early to refer to this film but have you noticed in TLC, the names of the owners of the circus train that Indy has a fight on at the start are Dunn and Buffy.

Anyway, enough of me boring you to death with my geekiness on with the feedback proper.


The chase/fight with the vehicles as Willow and Tara attempt to recover the ark was incredibly fast-paced and exciting. It's kinda weird but interesting to read a film moment that I know so well but to see it from another person's viewpoint, in this case Tara.

Like how you refer to he classic Indy moment as he uses his whip to pull himself along and back onto the truck but without actually showing what happens.

I do like the fact that Tara can tell Willow isn't asleep because Tara knows she snores even though they've only slept together once.

Reading the story it's a fascinating thought that Hitler was obsessed with the occult and collecting various artifacts as here the Ark of the Covenant. What makes this partcular artifact so interesting though is that it is a Hebrew object belonging to the people that Hitler almost completely wiped out. The Jewish. I know he didn't come up with 'The Final Solution' but he didn't stop it either. I wonder if Hitler saw it as another means of controlling that peoples.

“Even though he sounds Welsh?”]/i]

YAY a John Rhys Davies reference but no mention of dwarve's yet.

You state at the start of chapter 14 that Buffy/Marion is still pining for Faith/Belloq. Now not wanting to give anything away but what's going to happen at the end with the big showdown on the isle when the Ark is opened assuming Faith and Buffy will both be there.

[i]“And the one next to it,” the Captain said, grinning widely. Again at her.

Umm, who is Katanga grinning at exactly. The paragraph mentions only that Willow had never met him before, not that he was grinning in her direction.

Always to assuming you had underwear on, which Tara most assuredly didn’t because… well, a girl could just tell.

Underwear free Tara

Naval officer fingers ran down the whip scars on her back. Tara had been there when she received them.

I'm assuming here you are referring to the 'blood of Kali' scene from ToD but in that scene it was Short Round (Ke Huy Quan) who's watching helplessly so does this mean that if you do a ToD prequel there won't be any little kids in it?

Nice that we actually get to learn a little about Willow herself, the kind of person that she is and how she regards Tara and her own personal acknowledgment that she would probably have been dead ages ago during this particular adventure. And her fears of actually admitting to Tara that she loves her because of abandonment fears.

Seems that the girls are finally reconnecting at the end but does this mean that Tara is going to leave again once they get back to safety and is Buffy going to make a silly mistake that could cost her her life?

[Katharyn]

Okies... I am back.

The next part will be posted within an hour of this, however I'm just on the wrong computer to do it right now so just feedback responses first...

Willowtaralover - oooh, another long one. I probably won't do it justice right now but may return to it!

Absolutely agree about the long distance chat! It's part of why I write (the other part is that those pesky stories just have to get out there. Remember that speech from 'Inception' about an idea being like a virus? Yeah, that's me and stories that is.

I hadn't considered the (lack of) religion in KOTCS. Do you think there needs to be? Interesting notion as it's not where I've been thinking for the potential sequel...

I'm very pleased that the action works for you (and others) because, to be honest, it's the thing I'm least confident about when I write it. Here I had a template, so that made it easier, but broadly I do more talking and in-head stuff. The action beats never quite turn out how I see them in my head. At least to me. So thanks!

For me it should be a staple of PoV fic that sometimes the PoV character doesn't get to see what is happening. Classic moment missed, but it's also good to wonder, I think. I've done something similar recently in the finale of the other fic I am writing. It's also a cheat to avoid having to write it

The Hitler fascination with the occult comes directly from the movies and one of the earliest lines in the movies, so that's really not one for us... He's just as much a nut about the Grail...

I doubt we will get a dwarf mention... but we refused to ignore things like the welsh in Egypt

Faith/Buffy pining... well, not to give anything away as you put it you will need to read on

Yes, the whip scars are from ToD and there will not be a ToD prequel for this story. I'm not so keen on the movie and am thinking original sequel... (but not until November at the earliest)

The Willow reveals, about what kind of person she is are actually what interest me most as a writer. I wouldn't have done this story with Chewster if it was just a find/replace on the names of the characters. That holds so little interest to me as I've said many times before. I don't like that concept, so I had to try and move Willow into the Indy space and vice versa to justify it to myself!

Sorry to be so brief and short, just not got much time right now but had left this too long already!

Thanks so much for your support and next part very soon.

Katharyn

[Katharyn]

Title: Tara and Willow – Raiders… – Part Fifteen
Author: Katharyn Rosser & Chewster
Feedback: Absolutely, yes please. Love to engage in the discussion about the story.
Spoiler warning: Nope. And if you’ve not seen a film from 1980 then just tough luck, I’m not keeping it a secret. On the other hand, you’ll probably think we’re genius for such an amazing story.
Distribution: This story was written for Pens. Pens is its home. No archiving off Different Coloured Pens and the Kitten Board please. No conversion to eBook or other formats please. Enjoy it here.
Summary: The Nazi’s submarine stops the boat.
Disclaimer: We don’t own any of the copyrights or anything else associated with BTVS, Raiders of the Lost Ark or Indiana Jones. All rights lie with the production companies, writers etc. We are making no money from this series of stories however any original characters and situations remain my property. As this is a retelling of Raiders of the Lost Ark and references other Indiana Jones films, a lot of dialogue and all of the plot has been taken from that movie. Other lines may have come from the script but were not seen in the movie and so could appear to be original when in fact credit belongs to the scriptwriter. Other elements are all the writers. It’s a complex mix and we will not be trying to allocate credit line by line.
Rating: Occasional, tasteful, adult situations and contextual bad language. However by and large equivalent to the movie.
Couples: Well, no one as we open, but Tara and Willow forever.
Text convention: Use of italics denotes either special emphasis if used for a single or a few words in a sentence OR first person thoughts if used for a whole sentence.
Notes: Okay, so this part and the start of the next one deals with the single most glaring problem with the events of Raiders. The point where suspending disbelief just gets… well, silly. Not nuclear explosion survived in fridge silly, but pretty close.
How did Indy cling onto a submerging submarine for so long, breathing underwater etc… Now, we may have taken SLIGHT liberties with the design of the submarine to address this, but the behaviour and technical reasons for why you wouldn’t go underwater for hundreds of miles are actually valid. Yes, for once, I participated in research beyond ‘Making shit up.’
Interestingly in Kasdan’s script (that much of this story used as a resource), he actually explained that Indy tied himself to the periscope with his whip. While more – and better – than was actually shown on screen, we couldn’t see that actually working because, you know, it still doesn’t address the breathing and exposure even in a warm sea. Kasdan actually goes to great lengths to show how it all might have worked, but you can see why Spielberg didn’t film it, it was just too fantastical to believe even in this movie. Better not to show anything, but for our purposes in a written story? We actually think that our way is better.
The end of this part is driven more by needing to balance the final chapter (which comes next time) for length with the dramatic necessity.
Oh, and I’ve very deliberately changed how Tara refers to Willow (previously Rosenberg) in most of her thoughts… in case you were wondering.
Character map: This will only show characters so far revealed in the story, but just to keep things straight between this version and the canon…
Willow Rosenberg = Indiana Jones, Tara Maclay = Tara Maclay, Rupert Giles = Marcus Brody, Riley = The never to be seen again snake in the plane, Faith Lehane = Belloq, Joyce Summers = Abner Ravenwood, Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers = Marion Ravenwood, Heinrich Joseph ‘The Master’ Nest – The Gestapo Guy.
Thanks to:



Sometime in the night, she’d ended up wrapped around Willow, lying together like spoons in the cutlery drawer. Her arms cradling the sleeping woman.

Once she’d woken, she’d remembered the last time that had happened. Doctor Willow Rosenberg, scourge of the archaeological profession, just liked to be held. It’d been no different in Delhi.

And she’d also remembered what – hadn’t – happened last night. Of course.

How she’d felt, and still felt with a near naked Willow Rosenberg in her bed? In her arms? Needing her to just be there. The softer side of a strong woman. That duality was very attractive.

And then she’d noticed.

The ship had stopped moving.

By now they were in open seas. Betrayal briefly crossed her mind, but it need not have been that. The stop was unscheduled, unnecessary though. Unless something had forced it…

“Willow,” she said, shaking the sleeping form as she got up out of the bed.

The other woman grunted at her but didn’t stir even as she’d taken the silk night dress off and gone, naked, to the porthole and leaned forwards to get a look out of it. Willow would’ve enjoyed that but she didn’t get to –

Her bed mate’s eyes were wide open and looking at her as she turned. Running across her body in a way that – at another time – she’d have very much enjoyed but not now. Now they had things to worry about. “Get up,” Tara said, throwing the nightdress across those green, lingering eyes. “The engines have stopped.”

Fortunately their clothes had been returned, just as promised and since the cabin boy responsible looked to only be about six years old, she didn’t even mind that someone had come into their cabin while they were in bed and… not very dressed. He’d left them by the door and snuck out again.

To her credit Willow was on her feet - despite all the wounds and bruises - pretty much right away. After a little confusion with their choices of slightly inappropriate underwear from the Captain’s stash, they were both fastening up their clothes and then checking their pistols.

“Did you see anything?” Willow asked, referring to the fact she’d checked the porthole.

“No, but there’s something,” Tara said. “Katanga wouldn’t stop voluntarily.”

She knew what Willow was worried about, but didn’t say it. The Mediterranean was a British and French lake, in naval terms at least, so the idea that the Nazi’s would operate a warship out here, even if they had one available, was a remote possibility. Not if they wanted to move quietly. No, it was more likely that they had a more covert asset in play. Of course, she might have been wrong. She hadn’t expected a German military presence in Egypt without British objection and look at how that had gone.

“I’ll go up on deck,” Willow volunteered. “Will you see to Buffy?”

“Sure.”

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

Willow made her way up onto the deck, but only after grabbing her stuff. She had the feeling this wasn’t going to go well, especially after Tara had confided her assumptions about what had happened.

U-boat.

“You have most important friends,” Katanga said as she emerged from below and squinted against the morning sun. His crew were gathered on the deck, presumably complying with the orders of the Nazi’s that had overhauled their ship and now were on their way over in rafts. Fully armed.

If it hadn’t been for the Ark, they could’ve blown this boat out of the water with just the deck gun, let alone wasting a torpedo. But until they had it, they wouldn’t do that. It gave them a measure of protection.

On the other hand, Katanga didn’t know what he was carrying or the reason it was important. He had to look after his ship and the lives of his crew.

There was nothing he could do anyway. Tara had already confirmed that running was in no way an option unless there was some convenient British or French warship in the vicinity and the chances of that were slim… So they had to hide…

And hope.

“I sent my man for you, you and the other two girls must disappear. We have a place in the hold. Go, my friend!”

It was too late though… Though she could see rafts still approaching, others must already have tied up alongside. Yes, checking the other side of the Bantu Wind, she saw two empty rafts and heard voices as she got back down towards the cabins that they’d been allocated.

Once she was back there she heard Buffy screaming - even saw her briefly - struggling as they carried her out of the room. Looked like she’d put up a fight.

So… where was Tara? She’d been supposed to be seeing Buffy to safety. Had they… hurt her? Would she have fought? Resisted? Yes… but… No shot. There hadn’t been a shot and none of the Nazi’s had a mark on them that Buffy wouldn’t have made with her left hook. Tara would’ve at least left a mark unless they’d ambushed her.

Right? She’d had about two seconds to draw all the information she could before ducking out of the way again.

And Buffy was wearing a similar night gown to the one Tara had last night… Oh, God. What if she’s been hurt? I’d just found her again…

But she had to go. No choice. A ship, especially one this size, was a warren of passages and vents and access routes to isolated machinery covered up by any of a dozen running repairs or refits over the years. The German’s knew this and – as they searched – they smashed what they could and tossed curses at the African and Asian crew of the ship just for being who they were.

Whatever was going to happen though, it was going to happen on deck. The commanders wouldn’t sully themselves with the search. And the Ark was in plain sight – albeit crated – in the hold.

It wouldn’t take them long to find what they really wanted, so it’d depend on what their priorities were then as to what would happen next.

Getting back onto the upper deck – through areas supposedly cleared already – wasn’t that hard and she found cover hanging inside one of the vents up from the engines three decks below. Luckily there were footholds otherwise, in her current state, she couldn’t have held on for a tenth the time she needed to overhear what was happening.

These were the same Nazi’s that had locked them in the Well of the Souls. They had to have moved fast to get aboard a U-Boat from Cairo. And… Lehane was there too.

The Ark was brought up onto the deck first and she briefly considered trying to shoot out the line that they used to lift it over the side of the vessel and down to their boats. Pick the right moment and it would’ve plunged into the depths. Maybe not unrecoverable, but a lot harder to get than it had been… But it’d take one perfect shot, at one perfect moment and making that shot in perfect conditions – let alone with the Bantu Wind pitching and rolling and the lines moving back and forth – would’ve been a trick shot worthy of Buffalo Bill.

Oh, and it would’ve gotten her killed too because there was nowhere to go.

Priorities. The Ark was gone. At least for now. Move on.

“What about Rosenberg?” the lead Nazi, Schliemann, asked.

“No trace yet, we’re searching.”

“The dykes are dead,” Katanga said and she forgave him instantly for the use of the word she’d never liked. He was taking his life, unnecessarily, in his hands to try and convince them of that.

“We killed them. They were armed and made it very clear that even if we forced them, they’d never submit – they’d have had no value where we are headed. This one though...”

Willow watched him put a steadying hand on Buffy’s wrist even as he caressed her hair theatrically. “This one will fetch a very good price. Take the cargo, if that was your goal – I have no idea what it was. But leave us the girl. It will reduce our loss on this trip.”

The man was good, he was playing to every stereotype the Nazi’s expected of him.

“Savages!” Schliemann backhanded Katanga with his glove and Willow just prayed that the man could keep his temper, he wouldn’t be used to superior-assholes treating him that way on his own ship, but a little understanding of the alternative appeared to be doing the trick.

“You are not in a position to ask for anything,” Schliemann added, disdain in his voice. As if he was sullied just by standing here, and as if he’d burn his gloves now they’d touched a man of colour.

She’d felt the same after punching Nazi’s.

“We will take what we wish and then decide whether or not to blow your ship from the water.”

Willow happened to be watching as Lehane took a step forwards and laid a proprietary hand on Buffy’s arm, before draping a jacket around her shoulders. “The girl goes with me. She will be part of my compensation. I’m sure the Fuhrer would approve.”

In fact Lehane was in a better place than most to know that the Fuhrer most definitely wouldn’t approve, but the man had to be a pragmatist. A lesbian getting the girl she wanted, a prisoner, after delivering the Ark of the Covenant. A fair enough trade. So long as they were outside the borders of Germany and its poisonous propaganda about anyone who dared love the wrong person, possessed the wrong skin or hair colour.

“If she fails to please me, you can do with her as you wish,” Lehane said, acknowledging perhaps the fact that the Nazi officer was still unhappy about the arrangement.

Schliemann considered this and gestured to show that Lehane should depart with two guards and Buffy.

So now there were two things on that U-Boat that she needed to get back.

And one that she needed to kill.

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

“Miss Rosenberg,” Katanga said, obviously surprised that she was right there.

“I saw it all,” she said.

Buffy and the Ark gone, the last of the German rafts just now being packed up ready for them to depart.

“I’m sorry, my friend, I tried my best.”

“You did all you could,” she promised him even though his attempt had been doomed to failure, “but – Tara? The other blonde?”

Katanga shrugged. “They found our hiding place in the hold, but they obviously never found her or they’d have seen through my lie. I apologise for calling you a dyke.”

“No need, you and I have both been called worse. Get your boats ready,” she said. “They could still sink you.”

“And risk war?”

“Who’d even know?” Willow asked, while her thoughts turned back to Tara. “Where else could she be?”

“Anywhere…” Katanga said. “No. Look, there!”

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

It’d been a while since she’d swum as far or as hard as she had to get from the Bantu Wind over to the submarine. The logic had been impeccable, or so it seemed at the time. There was nothing that they could do to stop the Ark being taken.

No way to pursue it other than being on this U-Boat.

That had left precisely one opportunity to get on board, and that was before it submerged and departed. Therefore her choices had been reduced to that one option with no opportunity to discuss it with Rosenberg. There was a mission to perform. It was her mission and… Willow Rosenberg didn’t have to come along.

Besides, she didn’t even necessarily need the archaeologist anymore. At least not in terms of Willow’s specialist skills.

They were on water and that was a submarine. Both were a little outside of Willow’s field of expertise.

So, worst case. She knew – in theory – how to disable a submarine and send it to the bottom of the ocean, or this sea, without the need for explosives. But the only way she could do that was to be on board before that hatch was sealed. And the only way to do that was to swim hard and swim fast.

And to hope that she was right about the design of the submarine, or this was going to be really unfortunate.

Staying in the water until the last of the Nazi boats had been collapsed and stowed, she was shivering but still managed to pull herself out of the sea and made it to the hatch that would either be her salvation or offer up nothing but unseen – no matter how noble - sacrifice for her country and the rest of the free world.

It had then depended on the design of the submarine as to whether she could get aboard and stay hidden… A double hatch in the conning tower. Inner and outer.

Once Willow had joined her – not entirely unexpectedly – then they were faced with a quick decision to be made. The inner hatch had been sealed and the space, the air available would be halved if Willow stayed with her.

But their chances of recovering the Ark, not dying in the process, had more than doubled. Right? That was the way that it felt, after everything they’d been through. This was her mission, but she wasn’t ashamed to admit it was largely Rosenberg’s success so far.

And she couldn’t help being glad she was here.

“Last chance to get out,” Tara said as the submarine’s engines burst into life with a roar of diesel. “Once we seal this hatch it could be our tomb. They’ll just find us here…”

“Will they submerge?”

“Standard operating procedure would say yes, they’d want to be well away from any reinforcements. But their batteries must be low to have caught us so fast they’ll need to surface and snorkel, maybe even run on the surface for maximum speed. But they’ll definitely go down before that. We could be in here a while…”

Willow looked around the cramped space.

Nodded.

Tara sealed the hatch above them and it was dark. Utterly dark. “Breathe shallow. Don’t talk,” she said.

Their lives were in the hands of the submarine’s Captain. How cautious he wanted to be against the presumed need to get this prize somewhere it could be examined as fast as possible.

If caution won then it was likely the Nazi’s would find them here, dead in each other’s arms.

When they held each other, it was both for warmth – they were soaking wet - and for reassurance.

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

It might’ve been the single most unpleasant thing that she’d ever done and Willow wasn’t unaware she was thinking this to herself not so very long after being in an ancient building full of snakes… The memories of that were still fresh in her mind and yet…

Yes, this was definitely worse.

Tara had – fortunately – been right about the procedures that the Captain of the Nazi submarine had adhered to. Running submerged the whole way to… well, wherever they were, would’ve taken them a long, long time. The submarine made only about one third the speed under water as it did on the surface and had to charge its batteries by running at snorkel depth anyway.

That made it somewhat detectable regardless and so – the logic went - they might as well run on the surface at high speed except when they wanted to be certain they were unobserved.

Getting away from the Bantu Wind had been one such occasion and they’d huddled in the outer hatch of the conning tower where it was cold, compressed and pitch black – not to mention lacking air – for what seemed like days but had in fact been little more than two hours. Long enough to elude whatever British or French warships might have been called to its aid.

If there had been one – or more – she had no way of knowing.

Whether they’d have done anything, even if they had been called was questionable. After all there was no war and the War Department hadn’t seen fit to notify its nominal allies of what they were doing.

All of the consequences of which left her dizzy with a pounding headache when Tara had said they were surfacing. The straining and popping sounds of the metal hull under the change in pressure giving that away. As soon as they were on the surface they’d had to abandon the hatch and emerged into a mild squall. By that point she hadn’t cared in the slightest.

The chance to stretch, to breathe real air and to see… It was a miracle either of them had been able to get out of there at all. Let alone to hold on. They’d clutched the side of the conning tower as the watch officer took a position at the top of it and just held on for dear life. Enjoying the space, the air and – even soaked to the skin – the relative warmth compared to being in that hatch space, already wet but unable to dry because there was no air moving around.

Getting back inside… that had felt like a special torture.

For some reason the submarine had submerged a second time en route, perhaps a drill had been called or maybe they really had detected some threat? There was no way to know, but they’d scrambled – but not too fast – to undo the knots they’d tied themselves to the tower with. Rope floating on the water had come to their salvation there, but they’d had to get back into their hiding space at just the right moment and almost hadn’t made it.

Another couple of hours in the hatch.

Didn’t seem like much, but if it hadn’t been for Tara gently stroking her hair – giving her some sort of sensory input – she thought like maybe she’d have cracked up and started screaming.

And then they’d have died. Either because she’d have been using the air up or the Nazi’s would’ve heard it.

Finally though, they’d surfaced again and that had allowed them to warm up as the submarine ran on the surface. The bad weather had passed and the warmth of the sun had been pleasant - until night fell – and then they’d been cold once again on a beautiful clear night…

It’d still been better than being in that hatch though.

The final time the submarine had submerged had been after they were in the midst of an island chain, presumably Greek islands given their general heading, and Tara had speculated that they were on the approach to some base. She’d seen enough of the stars during the night to make a pretty good guess where they were. Or maybe Tara had seen some intelligence, maybe she was just guessing. Either way… turned out she was still a smart cookie.

Tara had explained – after they knew – that the last time submarine had surfaced it must have been on ‘final approach’ to a vast ‘hangar’ - for lack of better terms. Needing no more than a look, they’d taken a decision that – after all this - getting off sooner than later was the better choice. Getting caught now wouldn’t… well, she doubted that they’d be as well treated as Buffy was probably being by Lehane.

Strange, but she found that she wasn’t especially worried for her old friend. Buffy was a pragmatist and a survivor. She’d proven that in Nepal and come out on top – at least until her bar had burned down. But she was also into Lehane in some way. She knew the signs, she’d been able to see the shiver that ran through Buffy when Lehane had put that jacket on her.

It hadn’t been of disgust.

That threat to hand her over to the tender mercies of the Nazi’s due to not giving Lehane what she wanted probably wasn’t going to have come to pass.

And, for a moment there, she’d seen the look in Buffy’s eyes. No, it wasn’t love. But it wasn’t exactly lust either. Lehane would – probably – protect her. The woman was a bitch, but she wasn’t a Nazi. Turned out there was a lower form of life after all.

Or maybe she was just telling herself all that because their primary focus wasn’t on Buffy. This mission – what was most important – was the Ark. No more and no less. Buffy was… If they could help her, they definitely would. But the Ark came first.

Either way, they watched from concealment on the dock as Buffy was taken off the submarine – still in her night gown but draped with Lehane’s jacket once more. And, yes, it was Lehane that was leading her. When had that ever become a good thing? But Buffy looked… One way or another she looked mussed enough to suggest she’d had a wild night, even in a submarine’s confines. Willow just hoped it was one way and not the other.

The ‘hangar’ or ‘dock’ or whatever it was called was actually a huge natural cavern – sea cave? - that the Germans had excavated further to turned to their own design. Tara, she guessed, was probably wondering what the Greeks knew about this place?

“Come on,” she hissed as the party from the submarine, presumably including its captain, met the assembled officers from the base. Evidently Schliemann was some kind of big deal. Or perhaps Nest was. The Gestapo man looked like he’d demand the obedience of a heartbeat from anyone - except his Fuhrer, of course.

Tara shuffled along beside her, crouching behind the crates until they were close enough to hear what was being said. It was in German, of course, but Ira Rosenberg’s daughter hadn’t just learned the ancient languages.

“Everything has been arranged in accordance with your instructions,” one of the ‘locals’ was explaining to Lehane. If anything he looked more Aryan even than Schliemann.

“Good. We must take the Ark there now,” the woman said, still subtly holding onto Buffy. Keeping her within her protection – or was it control?

But then it was obvious to her what she had in mind.

Faith Lehane was going to open the Ark. It was the only conclusion that could be drawn. And why not? Because she wouldn’t have wanted to have that done in Berlin in front of the Head Asshole only to find there was nothing in there would she? Disappointing some people could be fatal.

But it wasn’t just a question of levering it open. Lehane plainly wasn’t bad at her job. She’d know that there were certain ritualistic forms that you’d follow if you were contemplating that. You didn’t have to believe, you just had to play the odds. 90% chance nothing would happen, 10% chance the Old Testament God was a still a vengeful God…

For the sake of some ritual? It was called ‘hedging your bets.’

“How do you want to do this?” she asked quietly.

“So this is my mission again?” Tara wondered. Despite the fact they’d spent twenty-four hours in a combination of horrible conditions, Tara still had her sense of humour. It was an attractive quality, just like the silent comfort Tara had offered her while locked in that hatch.

“It always was.”

“Then I think we do it incognito,” Tara breathed as they heard women’s footsteps coming their way. Waited, waited, waited and… Bam. Tara grabbed the woman in the Nazi uniform around the mouth, preventing any calls for help and quickly subdued her.

Before Willow could say anything Tara had already started to strip the unconscious woman off, particularly removing her uniform.

“Well, you look like you’ve done that before,” she said.

“Not funny. Get me something to gag and tie her.”

“Want to know what’s not funny?” Willow asked. “I’ll tell you. You finding about the only woman on the base – without even looking - and being able to steal her uniform.”

Tara, wriggling to get herself into the too tight skirt, didn’t agree. “You’d have worn this?”

“It would’ve fit me better,” she pointed out. They were different shapes, she and Tara.

“You don’t wear skirts.”

“Not true. I have. And once I even wore a dress.”

“Okay, if you’d seen her coming,” Tara indicated the unconscious German woman. “Would you have knocked her out or waited for – I don’t know… him?”

There was another set of footsteps approaching coming, this time a male guard.

Willow sighed, Tara knew her too well. She was right. But in the interests of getting after the Ark, sure she could’ve worn a skirt. Instead of that though… The guard stopped, lighting his cigarette furtively, probably the presence of fuel and explosives meant that he wasn’t supposed to. By way of punishment for his stupidity she smacked him in the back of the head and then the jaw and even caught his cap before it even hit the ground.

“I think I can look good in this,” she said, putting the cap on.

Tara smiled, even though they had important things to do. What could you do but keep your sense of humour?

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

“Damn,” Willow said. “I thought I was flat but this guy… he’s a midget.”

Tara was left looking at the incongruous sight of Doctor Willow Rosenberg trying to wedge herself into a German uniform tunic and actually finding it wouldn’t close over her – not very substantial – bust.

Add to the fact that the underwear they’d been given by the Captain of the Bantu Wind – from a selection for his personal guests – was somewhat… racy by any standards and you had a cocktail for hilarity.

“Well, I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Willow looked down. “Wow, look at those…”

“You took the bags of salt out, right?”

“That salt could’ve come in handy and yes, I took them out – can’t you tell?”

Willow had managed to get the shirt closed, straining enormously, but the position of the last button that would close was pushing her breasts upwards and together in a way that in no way suggested she was a German soldier.

“Swap?” Willow asked plaintively. The only place Willow would’ve been in disguise right now would’ve been in a dodgy Berlin cabaret club.

“It’d look worse on me,” Tara told her, wiggling in the skirt and trying to find an extra inch somewhere. Somehow. “I’d be popping right out. We have to go just… just…” She pulled a white scarf out of the pocket of the uniform she’d taken and put it around Willow’s neck, tucking it in and getting a little familiar as she did so. But… yeah.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” she challenged.

“Who wouldn’t? You’re right though, we have to go.”

“Just act natural,” Willow said.

They must’ve looked odd though as they both fidgeted against too tight clothes while trying to walk through a den full of Nazi’s in pursuit of the Ark of the Covenant.

This isn’t going to work. Do something.

Abruptly the thought struck her and she looped her arm through Willow’s and tried to look like she was a little the worse for an encounter with a handsome – if small – soldier as well as a bottle of schnapps.

“You think?” Willow asked, doubtfully.

“We couldn’t actually be worse disguised,” she said and steered them in the direction she was pretty sure that the Ark had been taken.

**********************

[zampsa19752001]

Yay for great update-y goodness... I liked your description of their not so fun submarine ride...

[willowtaralover]

Welcome back to the board Katharyn, I've missed your Willow/Tara take on 'Raiders of the Lost Ark'. One of the finest films ever made.

I do enjoy having the chat with you about the story, your ideas and where they come from. As a writer of fan-fiction myself I always like to chat, if possible, about writing and sharing ideas on the creation of stories and the use of characters.

On KOTCS I think that the lack of religion makes it jar with the rest of the Indiana Jones films. That said though most of the film seems to be ludicrous, never mind the escaping a nuclear explosion in a fridge just the idea that Indy was a spy post WW2 is a such a stupid idea. He's an academic not a spy or a soldier.

I agree with you on PoV fiction, if you read Sherlock Holmes stories they are always told from the PoV of his friend Dr. Watson who doesn't always see everything but is later told by Holmes about what has happened.

Hitler's fascination with the occult isn't just from the films. I saw a documentary a few month's back about his obsession with the Spear of Longinus aka The Spear of Destiny. Reputed to be the spear that was used to stab Christ when he was on the cross during the crucifixion (hope that's spelled right) it was supposed to give it's bearer the ability to see the future. It was also used as a macguffin in the Keanu Reeves film Constantine.

I'm not a huge fan of ToD myself, to me it's watchable but lacks the fun and family watching togetherness of ROTLA. I for one will definitely be looking forward to your original prequel.

Nice moment at the start with Tara's thoughts as she wakes holding Willow in her arms. It shows just how much she does genuinely care about our favourite redhead and doesn't just see her as a means to end in preventing an apocalypse.

She knew what Willow was worried about, but didn’t say it. The Mediterranean was a British and French lake, in naval terms at least, so the idea that the Nazi’s would operate a warship out here, even if they had one available, was a remote possibility. Not if they wanted to move quietly. No, it was more likely that they had a more covert asset in play. Of course, she might have been wrong. She hadn’t expected a German military presence in Egypt without British objection and look at how that had gone.

I just want to say how much I love your use of words here. It can seem to be a minor thing at times but I believe that the use of language in stories is just as important as the story itself. I know that in m own story, Red Rosenberg, I would have probably only used the most basic of words so when I say I love your use of words I genuinely mean it.

A nice explanation as to how Willow/Indy was able to hold on to the inside of the vents as I always thought that inside it would be smooth metal.

Interesting actions on Belloq/LeHanes part towards Buffy. It makes me wonder if she actually likes Buffy. I am aware that there are a lot of fan-fics out there that do put them together as a couple.

I have a lot of respect for Captain Katanga for knowing how disgusting the word 'dyke' is and for apologising to Willow for having to use the word. Personally I don't like it either, I think it's one of the worse discriminatory words out there.

So, worst case. She knew – in theory – how to disable a submarine and send it to the bottom of the ocean, or this sea, without the need for explosives.

The scene on the submarine was a bit confusing as first I thought it was from Willow's PoV, then I re-read it and thought it was from Tara. It wasn't til a third read through that I saw that it was from Tara but Willow was with her at the same time.

I like your description of how Willow and Tara travel by submarine by hiding out in the double hatched conning tower and how suffocating it was for them.

She pulled a white scarf out of the pocket of the uniform she’d taken and put it around Willow’s neck, tucking it in and getting a little familiar as she did so.

Copping a feel of Willow

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” she challenged.

“Who wouldn’t?" Well certainly not me, that's for sure

[Katharyn]

Zampsa - Hi and thank you as ever! The submarine ride... well, it made no sense and we decided it needed to

Willowtarlover - Good, sounds like you enjoy the same things in feedback as I do! It's why I also needed to stop beta reading for people, I was so into the process my notes went on and on and on... (As some people remark, I am kind of wordy!)

In KOTCS didn't mind the 'Indy as a spy' thing too much since we didn't actually need to worry about it in the story all that much. I never really watched 'Young Indiana Jones' but I know that in that series the sorts of adventures he got up to could be characterised that way. Sort of... probably influenced by that then.

Oh, I know about Hitler and the occult. I really just meant that it was only informed in the story by the movies. I must say, I actually liked Constantine as a movie. I wanted more! Too dark for the mainstream (US) audience though I think..

The original story I am musing on is actually a sequel, not a prequel. And it probably would see Indy/Willow as a sort of spy type role (or Raiders reason for helping spies) simply because in a sense Tara is! Thus there's a connection there! However that sequel is far from certain. I suspect if I do it then it will be for Nanowrimo in November. I have a LOT of other things (non-T/W) that I need to write. However I do already have a 'Men in Black' or 'Women who look good in black' story on the boil for T/W for November... Too little time!

Perhaps if I was less wordy!

Certainly, yes, Tara cares about Willow and vice versa. I think if anything holds them back it's that they know duty etc will move them apart again...

Interesting quote you pull out for praise. Thank you! Really it was just pointing out (without spoiiling the story) that at that time Egypt was British! And the med Brit/French... The Nazi's really wouldn't have done too well in 1936 down there...

The Buffy/Lehane thing... well, read on.

Use of words... it's always tough. There are some words that you can never see coming out of T/W's mouths. Period. No matter what you think of them. I barely stretch to the F word. The occasional use of the P word... Somehow I just don't see if for them.

Then there are words that readers can dislike or find offensive (and the characters won't use.) Ironically the C word with it's history is one Willow could reasonably get into I suspect since it is so ancient! But as a 'subculture' women who love women are absolute buggers (Brit speak!) for reclaiming words. I mean... damn. I do, occasionally use the word 'dyke' about myself and others. I occasionally use the C word on special occasions but not as a derogatory thing. *cough* When you reclaim the word then it's can seem acceptable, but then for a wifder readership (inc those who are in the subculture but don't agree!) it's unacceptable and won't ring true. Basically, I always stress about some things... and really it comes down to whether the version of the characters would ever say them and the circumstances - like this one which is to throw the Nazi's off.

The submarine scene... it's perfectly possible I switched (or part recovered a switch) within the scene. If I stop writing a scene one day and pick it up the next, sometimes I get confused and switch PoV. However I always have just one going at a time...

And yes, Tara will cop a feel! Of course!

Thanks so much, final part coming up...

Katharyn

[Katharyn]

Title: Tara and Willow – Raiders… – Part Sixteen
Author: Katharyn Rosser & Chewster
Feedback: Absolutely, yes please. Love to engage in the discussion about the story.
Spoiler warning: Nope. And if you’ve not seen a film from 1980 then just tough luck, I’m not keeping it a secret. On the other hand, you’ll probably think we’re genius for such an amazing story.
Distribution: This story was written for Pens. Pens is its home. No archiving off Different Coloured Pens and the Kitten Board please. No conversion to eBook or other formats please. Enjoy it here.
Summary: The finale… Cue the music.
Disclaimer: We don’t own any of the copyrights or anything else associated with BTVS, Raiders of the Lost Ark or Indiana Jones. All rights lie with the production companies, writers etc. We are making no money from this series of stories however any original characters and situations remain my property. As this is a retelling of Raiders of the Lost Ark and references other Indiana Jones films, a lot of dialogue and all of the plot has been taken from that movie. Other lines may have come from the script but were not seen in the movie and so could appear to be original when in fact credit belongs to the scriptwriter. Other elements are all the writers. It’s a complex mix and we will not be trying to allocate credit line by line.
Rating: Occasional, tasteful, adult situations and contextual bad language. However by and large equivalent to the movie.
Couples: Well, no one as we open, but Tara and Willow forever.
Text convention: Use of italics denotes either special emphasis if used for a single or a few words in a sentence OR first person thoughts if used for a whole sentence.
Notes: So this is the final part and as with most of this re-vamp of a classic movie into Tara and Willow land, it’s pretty much the same. A few little differences of course and I (Chewster) am here to tell you that they were at Katharyn’s insistence. She has half an eye on a future sequel if this goes down well and so I suppose she’s looking at the pieces that she wants to maybe keep on the table.
Character map: This will only show characters so far revealed in the story, but just to keep things straight between this version and the canon…
Willow Rosenberg = Indiana Jones, Tara Maclay = Tara Maclay, Rupert Giles = Marcus Brody, Riley = The never to be seen again snake in the plane, Faith Lehane = Belloq, Joyce Summers = Abner Ravenwood, Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers = Marion Ravenwood, Heinrich Joseph ‘The Master’ Nest – The Gestapo Guy.
Thanks to: Chewster: All of our readers. Stick your hand up and wave in comments, even if just to say hello. Katharyn’s not going to consider a sequel for just a couple of readers (but 3 or 4 might sway her if she likes the idea!) Oh, and Katharyn of course for writing what I only thought about. By and large this is her work, I had some neat ideas but what makes it hang together is her writing (much faster than mine!)
Katharyn: Well, yes, all the readers. As ever. I know there are lurkers out there. There always are. Like Chewster (and thanks to him) said, stick your hand up and say hi. You don’t need to offer critique or praise or anything if you’re not comfortable. Just say hi (and if you’d like more, say that too!) If I continue this story (alone) then it will be original rather than a retelling of any of the movies and I already started work on an opening scene, but it has the potential to sprawl rather than being compact, so I really do have to test the market! Also, that won’t be for a while yet… I am devoted to my other fic. So if you want it, and you say so, I’ll thank you now for your patience too. K.




It had surprised Willow to find herself pursuing a procession out across the island. A long tunnel up from the base – easily big enough for a truck – had instead been walked by the Nazi’s with Lehane – and Buffy – amongst them. Definitely more of a procession than simply a matter of conveyance.

The Ark itself had been taken from the crate and draped with a ceremonial cloth. IT was being carried on poles by four soldiers under hot, hot sun even by their recent Egyptian standards.

Lehane was taking this seriously. Not leaving anything to chance in offending the vengeful God whose words this supposedly carried.

She was walking the Ark across the island to some unknown destination because that was – apart from being held in the temple – all that the old testament ever said had happened to it. It was marched at the head of the army and now here it was… at the head of another army.

Supposition on Lehane’s part? Simply hedging her bets as she’d thought? Or had she actually researched something about how this might be done?

Actually, knowing Lehane as she did, she supposed that it might’ve been more to do with pissing off her employers who were defiantly opposed to anything in the slightest bit Jewish. The arrangements for this… well, this had to be killing them.

Not that Lehane had stuck with all the traditions. As a woman, she wouldn’t have been the first choice as rabbi for the ceremony she had planned. But of the available candidates here on this island, Lehane presumably at least knew the forms to be followed.

Shame they didn’t have an actual Jew. Oh yeah, that would be me.

“What happens if they get where they’re going?” Tara asked.

It was a good question. They’d been following through the rocks, staying out of sight as the Nazi troops weren’t all engrossed in the procession. Some of the others were checking the security of their column, watching the flanks and the rear. But their task of pursuit had gotten both easier and harder as the column had moved into a canyon through the harsh rock. It was harder for them to get around and keep up, but easier to stay hidden and it had given them an excellent viewpoint down on the movement of the Ark and the men that were protecting it.

Along with two women…

“That’s not going to happen,” Willow said.

“No?”

“I’m going to stop them.”

“That would be why you’ve got the bazooka?” Tara concluded.

“What did you think the bazooka was for? Something Freudian?” They’d stopped off for this and also – once they saw the terrain - to steal some real boots for Tara, who now looked very strange in too big boots and the overly tight, knee length skirt taken from the Nazi woman in the submarine hanger.

“No, not that. You sure you want to do this?”

“We get Buffy back and then we blow it up,” Willow confirmed. She had her priorities straight and those were getting her friend back and keeping the Ark out of the hands of the Nazi’s.

Just in case it could do what it was reputed to.

Taking the Ark home came a distant third.

“But you’re sure?” Tara asked again.

“It’s your mission.”

“Yes, yes it is. But are you sure you can do it?”

“I have to - ”

“Not Buffy. The Ark, are you sure you can do what you have to?” Tara asked.

Could she? Destroy one of the most famous and significant treasures the world had ever known? Even if you ignored the significance it held for at least three faiths and millions of people across the world. If you ignored the power that was supposed to come with it. Could she do that to a piece of ancient history?

“Let’s find out,” Willow said and with Tara covering her – wary of them being flanked and approached from the rear – she stood up in plain sight, hefting the German version of a bazooka onto her shoulder and took aim.

Damn, these things were heavy.

But you just had to pull the trigger right? Maybe she ought to have asked Tara before they’d gotten to this part?

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

Tara had taken a position with her back to a rock where she could see both Willow and – if she turned her head far enough – down to the canyon below but mostly gave her cover while she watched their rear.

The Germans would be coming for them once this turned into a stand-off. The 32 rounds in the clip of the MP35 she’d taken would help keep their heads down for a few seconds. Long enough, she hoped, for Willow to get her shot off.

And that would be all that mattered.

Did she want Elizabeth Summers dead? Absolutely not. They might not have bonded as friends, but she was an American and she was a friend of Willow’s who’d helped them in all this – even if she had unfortunate romantic taste. Given the choice though between the Ark falling into Hitler’s hands and risking her life?

Absolutely she would. She’d – reluctantly – put a bullet in Elizabeth’s head herself if she had to.

If the judgement was that they couldn’t recover the Ark – and there were more Nazi’s on this island than they’d ever be able to deal with as well as no way off it – then they should’ve just been destroying it.

But…

She owed Willow Rosenberg her life, several times over. And the fact that she’d saved Willow a few times didn’t diminish that. Not at all. That kind of thing couldn’t just come down to a ledger.

So she was trusting that maybe, somehow, they could carry off both feats. Get Elizabeth back and keep the Ark out of the enemy’s hands for any longer than strictly necessary.

Taking it back to Washington now seemed a forlorn hope.

Or a fool’s errand.

“Hold it right there!” Willow shouted down to them, initially in German and then in English.

The clack of weapons being cocked and safety catches being flicked off echoed up the canyon walls. She didn’t need to see it and already knew how many men there were down there.

All of them armed too. One impetuous young soldier and… Willow would die in a hail of bullets.

“One move from anybody and I blow the box back to Moses and all of you to itty-bitty pieces.”

The fact that no one shot at them Tara took to be a sign that at least one of the men in authority had ordered a hold fire.

“Rosenberg!” that now familiar female voice called up. Lehane. “Your persistence surprises even me. Really, you’re going to give mercenaries a bad name.”

“All I want is the girl, Faith,” Willow said. “The girl in the slinky nightdress.”

“Of course you do!”

A different female voice, Elizabeth Summers, spoke up next. “Willow, it’s okay! Really! I mean, we’ve… we’ve come to an understanding. She didn’t mean to leave me in the hole - ”

That gave Willow some pause and Tara looked at her as she was uncertain for guidance. She just gestured to keep going, hearing something in the rocks off to her right… Nazis, undoubtedly.

They couldn’t change the play now. Back off and they’d just be hunted down anyway.

“I’m taking the girl, Lehane.”

“But she doesn’t want to go with you, she’s perfectly content to stay here with me.”

“She’s right, I really don’t,” Buffy shouted up.

“Buffy! Shut up. You want to meet this… lady in a café in Paris I won’t say a word about it, I’ll even pay for the taxi, but right now you’re coming with me.”

“Doctor Rosenberg,” the lead German, Schliemann, tried to reason with her now. “Surely you can’t think you can escape from this island?”

“That depends on how reasonable we’re all willing to be,” Willow told them. “I just want the girl. We’ll keep possession of the Ark until we’ve got transport to England. Then it’s all yours.”

Tara risked a peek down at the scene below, saw Lehane shake her head and push the girl back towards the Ark.

It was a clever play on Willow’s part. Predictable in one way, but by demanding including the Ark as their insurance Willow might well be buying them time for something – some circumstance – to change to their advantage.

Or at least to the Nazi’s disadvantage, which were basically the same thing at this point.

“And if we refuse?” Schliemann asked.

“Then the Ark and some of us are going up in a big bang. I don’t think the Fuhrer would be very happy about that. So, send up the girl and call off your dogs who are trying to flank me.”

Me. As if she was alone.

Something changed though and Lehane was back in control. “I don’t doubt that Lieutenant Commander Maclay is still with you too, Willow Rosenberg. And I know that her orders must make your duty in this matter very, very clear. We’ve both followed similar instructions before, you and I. So… go ahead.”

“What?”

“Go ahead. Blow it up!”

Tara took another look and Faith Lehane had grabbed a gun and was holding the soldiers back from the box they were supposed to be protecting. Buffy though was held right up against the dark haired archaeologist in rather an intimate fashion and didn’t actually appear to mind at all. In fact, even at this distance, she seemed to be… enjoying herself.

Yeah, that’s a truly unfortunate taste in lovers.

“Go ahead!” Lehane challenged. “Blow up the greatest treasure that the world has ever known. Blow up mankind’s radio, for talking to God. Blow up history. Blow it up. And take me – and her – with you. Because I will not give up my prize. I won’t give up either of them.”

And weirdly, insanely, while she was being threatened with being blown up into those itty-bitty pieces, Elizabeth Summers kissed Lehane on the cheek. Was she playing a part? Or… What was it Willow had said? Buffy always going after the people that she shouldn’t? Or was mutual death the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her?

Great… just great.

A turncoat then? No, that implied a coat. Most likely Elizabeth hadn’t been wearing anything at all when the meeting of the minds followed that of their bodies.

“Do it,” she hissed. They were running out of options. Fast. The noises from the rocks made it clear that the Nazi’s were in striking distance. More than one of them, four or five at least.

“She’s right,” Willow said… “I can’t.”

“Then give it to me,” Tara instructed, but it was too late. Seeing Willow’s indecision the order – in German – had been barked out to take them.

And they were caught.

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

“Well, this is just great,” Tara said for the third time.

“I told you not to say ‘I told you so’,” Willow replied. This wasn’t what she needed to hear now. Tara had asked her, twice, whether she could blow up the Ark – knowing it might risk Buffy’s life.

And she’d said she could…

“I didn’t say ‘I told you so’, I said this is just great.”

“Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone?” Buffy asked.

“You were being held captive! There’s a word for what happens when you – do things under duress like that.”

“That’s not how it was.”

“Then maybe she could’ve given you some clothes.”

“She was going to, but you might figure that a German submarine isn’t the place for a girl to add to her wardrobe? Right? And look at the state of you two?”

“If you mean so much to her,” Willow challenged, ignoring the jibe and the logic. “Why are you tied to this pole with us?”

“The Nazi’s insisted,” Buffy sighed. “Their price for going through with this Juden ceremony. No more interruptions, no more delays. She’ll come back for me, I’m sure…”

“Well,” Tara said, looking at their feet. “There’s no woodpile. At least we’re not going to be burned at the stake.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Willow said quietly.

No, her worries were rooted in their current predicament rather than stories about what had happened to witches back in the day. Even though many of those ‘witches’ were nothing more than women who’d happened to live alone, with another woman or generally had little use for men.

No, the current problem was the ceremony that the Nazi’s were about to undertake - and film.

The procession had come to a place that looked like part natural amphitheatre. It’s features included areas sculpted by ancient hands that had carved seats and steps chipped and carved into the rock. It looked out – where they were tied up – over the sea but the Ark was on an altar at the other end of the space.

Once this must’ve been a glorious place where a lot of blood had been spilled and it was blood being spilled again that she was worried about. Specifically theirs.

And yes, she included Buffy in that. Why not? Lehane – from Buffy’s point of view – had a lot going for her. They were similar enough to work well together and different enough not to bore each other stupid. And yeah, physically, she could imagine they were a good fit too. She knew both of their reputations from Willow.

Buffy had already found out how good a fit. But it couldn’t be love, not yet, and that was good because… this was going to go very, very badly for someone.

Or nothing at all would happen, which would just delay when things started to go badly for them…

She thought back to the lessens she’d learned at her father’s knee and the Rabbi’s classes at synagogue – when they’d lived near enough one to actually attend -

Words that she hadn’t even thought about in years, a language she’d not had to speak outside of the professional realm, crossed her lips now.

“What?” Tara asked, back to her. Unsurprisingly the naval officer wasn’t a Hebrew scholar, though she considered that Buffy might well remember enough to pick up on some things that were being said.

Benefits of a classical education.

Willow didn’t stop with her words. She didn’t have time to give them a lesson now, she just had to hope that the words she spoke would protect them. You know, in the case of the vanishingly small possibility someone was listening and would pay attention.

Or else it wouldn’t matter anyway and they’d simply face a Nazi bullet. The only reason she and Tara weren’t already dead was so the Nazi’s could rub their faces in their victory. That and not wanting shed blood around the Ark.

Yeah, for some reason that was considered a bad thing.

Which was strange, the Ark had been at the head of armies. It had seen blood aplenty. Maybe that wasn’t it at all.

Maybe Buffy had struck a deal for their lives and that declaration was Lehane’s way of keeping faith with that while giving the Nazi’s a believable reason? Was she ready to accept Faith Lehane could be keeping her alive?

Not quite.

But the ritual was underway, Faith – dressed in robes no Rabbi had worn for centuries – was leading it while Nest, Schliemann and the other Nazi leaders were stood beside her and shifting uncomfortably. It struck her then that Lehane was drawing this out with her choice of words; actually making them squirm even more.

Everything was ready, surely? The poles had been inserted to lift the lid of the Ark and once Lehane reached the end of the ritual they’d see –

See. That was it…

“Shut your eyes,” she said to her fellow prisoners. In English. Plain and urgent. “Shut your eyes right now and keep them shut.”

“What?” Buffy and Tara both asked at the same moment.

No time to explain.

“Shut your eyes and don’t open them. Not for anything.”

If the Ark was real. If there was a god. If the myths were all true, if what she suspected came to pass… it might help. Lots of ‘if’ and one ‘might.’ She went back to reciting the words of the Talmud. Praying, if you like, that they might be spared.

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

“Keep your eyes shut!” Willow had cried out as energy whipped at them, wind and – who knew what?

But the temptation, oh the temptation? Somehow Tara knew that something was happening that the world had never seen the like of since ancient times. There was power there was glory and there was… death.

Plenty of death. She’d been around it fleetingly many times in her career and grown up on a working farm. But this… This was something else.

It was that last factor and the screams of the Nazi’s – it had to be the Nazi’s – that kept her eyes shut even through the temptation.

Power and glory tore at her. Death taunted her. Whispered to her. Open your eyes and see… Then you are mine.

Was it real? Was there really a voice?

There was definitely something.

Swirling, moving around them and through them.

Behind her Willow was saying something. Hebrew, she thought, definitely a language she didn’t understand. She’d started out whispering it but now she was shouting and it helped, it did help to hear her. To focus on something other than the seductive urging to take in the sights that ought to have been forbidden. Willow’s voice, so urgent and necessary…

And it had all started with the laughter of a Nazi… A laugh that had turned into a scream. A terrible, horrifying scream and even then… she wanted to open her eyes.

Then the wind, the surging power was just…

Gone.

And her bonds were untied. No, not untied. Just gone too.

Finally, after a few minutes of nothing, she opened one eye, closed it right away and then tried again. After that she stared…

There was nothing. Nothing but the Ark and the stars above them.

The air was still. The night clear. The Nazi’s were gone. Of Lehane there was no sign. Weapons, clothes, boots and bones. All gone. Like they’d never even existed.

But the Ark was still there.

“Why is it still there?” she gasped.

Willow slipped a hand into hers. “I suppose it’s because it was given to us by God and she doesn’t want it back.”

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

Washington DC – United States of America


Willow sat back, exasperated by the men who were sat in front of her and amazed at the calm that Tara Maclay – back in that oh-so-hot uniform – was showing in the face of extreme provocation.

The military mind, probably Tara was used to it.

Giles wasn’t doing much better than she was though. Refusing to be cowed by the need for official secrets to be kept, she’d told him everything that had happened. Mostly because the government was threatening to renege on the deal that had been made with him without giving any explanation. The compensation – for the museum and for her personally – was significant.

And that had been her first clue.

That was what had gotten them angry in the first place, what had kept them that way – all but Tara at least (who hadn’t received any financial consideration for doing her duty) – was the lack of explanation.

“Where is the Ark?” Giles asked.

“Safe,” came the reply from Eaton.

They were sat in a DC office that didn’t have anyone’s name on the door and didn’t look like it had been occupied half an hour before they’d arrived. Spies…

“Safe, where?”

“Somewhere safe,” Musgrove emphasised.

They’re not going to give it to us. She knew it and Tara knew it, even though she’d not said anything. Tara worked for the Secretary of the Navy and she didn’t seem to think she had any basis to challenge them. What did that say?

Chain of command.

“You’ve done your country a great service,” Eaton noted. “Both of you.”

Maybe they’d have been less enthusiastic about their secrets if they’d known that a certain other archaeologist might’ve survived what had happened. Their clue had been that after they got back to the States, a certain Miss Summers had disappeared too… But, hey, they were the spies. Let them find it out for themselves. It’d give them something to talk about.

“When can we have the Ark? The museum - ”

“We covered this,” Eaton said. “The Ark is safe.”

“A deal - ” Giles started.

“It has to be studied,” Willow said.

“It’s being studied, I assure you.”

“Who by?” Giles asked.

“Top men.”

“Who?” Willow pressed. She knew all the top men – and women – in the field. At least by name.

“Top men.”

They didn’t want help, they didn’t want to have them involved at all. They’d be quite happy if the three of them forgot all about what had happened. And Tara hadn’t said a word through the whole exchange after accepting the congratulations – deservedly – for what they’d achieved. Getting off that – suddenly deserted - island… That had been a work of near genius on her part.

“So that’s the way it’s going to be?” She’d learned which battles to fight over the years.

They didn’t even bother to nod.

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

“Bureaucratic fools.”

Tara made noises to try and placate Willow’s anger, but it wasn’t likely to stop there now was it.

“Bureaucratic, misogynist fools!” Willow called back, as if they could still hear them. Certainly not the case.

“Top men?” Willow asked as they exited the building.

“Is that what’s really got your goat?” Tara asked, following her. Rupert Giles, a nice guy nice you got to know him – if absent minded – had already gone his own way. Perhaps seeing discretion as a valuable trait.

Nice guy, for sure.

“Could be that. Could be the fact they’ve gone back on the deal they made.”

“They’re Army,” Tara said, slipping her arm through Willows. Not the safest thing to do, given she was in uniform, but what was life without a little risk. “Soldiers have no class.”

Willow, in a wonderfully tailored – and non-tweed – suit together with the hat-that-went-everywhere was unlikely to give her away as a homosexual. Besides, she’d built up some credit. Having to hide away wasn’t her choice, but they were the rules. At least in uniform. One day… that might not be the case.

One day, my job description won’t say ‘Typist.’

“The Navy would’ve lived up to its promises?”

“Absolutely.”

Right now she was just trying to help Willow feel better. But, it raised one obvious and uncomfortable question that Willow was willing to ask. “Did you know?”

She shook her head as they paused on the stairs. “You mean did I lie to you?”

This time it was Willow who shook her head. “You didn’t lie because you never said we’d get the Ark.”

I might have done, if I believed in it… If it had just been a gold box, then she was certain that even Eaton and Musgrove would’ve lived up to their promises. But in the circumstances. A full platoon and a submarine base full of Nazi troops and sailors just… gone. They might have doubted the specifics of the report but it was undeniable that the island had been stripped of every living German.

Not a body - or anything you’d reasonably expect to have been on their persons - to be found either.

“No, I didn’t know, but I can’t say it doesn’t make sense now.” There, she’d said it.

“So you’re on their side?”

“There are no sides,” Tara said. “Not for this. The Ark was hidden for thousands of years and that protected it. What did you want to do? Lock it in a museum display cabinet? Hire a couple of security guards? If not, if you were going to find a vault somewhere how is that better than what they’re doing?”

Willow got a smirk, the kind of smirk she always had when she was conceding a point but didn’t want to say it. “You think you’re so, damn clever don’t you?”

“Don’t you?”

Sighing, Willow agreed with her point. “You’re right. They might be misogynists and bureaucrats, but they’re not fools.”

“You get used to it,” Tara said. “Welcome to Washington.”

Willow’s arm went through hers. “Buy you a drink, sailor?”

“You look very dapper,” Tara acknowledged, her way of saying yes. She had a one week pass before she was even allowed to show her face in the office.

And after all, they had other things to discuss and maybe you had to get an archaeologist a little drunk to get her to stop talking about the past and to look to the future.

That and give her a kiss.

“So… where do you figure Buffy went? Do you really think Lehane survived?”

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

His name wasn’t Wells, but it was the name that appeared on his government ID papers.

Nor did he know for certain that he was the highest cleared and paid warehouseman in the employ of the United States Government, but it was something he’d mused on in the long hours that he’d sat in the office waiting to add – or rarely – to remove an item from stock.

What did he know?

He was officially nowhere. Not even on a map. He’d been here for the last twenty-six years and had no prospect or wish to be anywhere else. His kids would go to college and never know or understand what it was that he did.

Everything else was… stories.

He had the crates, he boxed up the items, assigned an inventory number and stamped the crate with the number and then gave it a spot in the warehouse based on that number. He checked it into that spot, confirmed and logged the location and then went back to the office to sit down to wait for the next addition.

Occasionally, but very rarely, he was asked to go find something previously sent here, but that hadn’t happened in the last three years. These were the things people wanted buried so far from sight no one even knew they existed.

So he had his own stories about what things were, where they’d come from and how they got here.

This, for example. He’d been to church, done his bible studies. He knew what it reminded him of – the sweep of the angles wings (or seraphim if you like) – on top of a golden box?

Anywhere else you might have thought it was a clever – valuable - forgery because everyone knew this thing didn’t exist.

Yet here it was. And the US Government didn’t deal in forgeries.

Not in this area.

Not in this warehouse.

He didn’t linger or even pay much attention. It didn’t rate that highly on his personal ‘strange days at work’ scale. But the stories he told himself to pass the long hours? Wonderful adventures. Heroes and heroines. Incredible feats. Of course it had probably been very mundane, perhaps someone had just dug it up but… how interesting was that?

After it was crated he checked the stencil against the inventory.

TOP SECRET
ARMY INTEL. #9906753
DO NOT OPEN!

He’d also been told not to touch. Very clearly told not to touch and it was a warning he’d taken to heart. The manifest matched what he should be seeing, he added a 41-13 to the inventory number, confirming current location and then assigned it a slot.

And that was that. Item 9906753 was consigned to one of the world’s largest, and least frequented, warehouses.


THE END

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


Afterword: Of course it would’ve been nice, in fan-fic, to linger on what Tara and Willow did after they’d been for that drink, but that’s not the nature of a movie. A movie flows from scene to scene (which we did interfere with a little) and it definitively ends. Maybe there’s not even a place for “Willow Rosenberg and Tara Maclay will return in… The Tomb of the Vampire Prince”

Maybe.

But that will depend on you guys and you’ll have to be patient too…

*********************

[zampsa19752001]

Yay for great update-y goodness... Can't wait for further adventures of Willow & Tara...

PS: I see you repeated the bazooka mistake from the film... Rocket Propelled Grenade Launcher were intented during WWII in 1942...

[Katharyn]

Thank you, Zampsa - Further adventures... definitely thinking about it. But it might just be you, me and one other LOL

Yes. I knew all about the bazooka. I even researched weapons and picked out something appropriate to the time for Tara to steal. However, you can't get away from the fact that the scene requires it so... it's there.

Katharyn