Chapter Text
1941
Hazel Anna Jones…
That was her name.
Since she’d run away from the Chathams, all she’d been worried about was surviving. And that, apparently, had gotten her into trouble. But not with law enforcement. No, that would at least be half-way sensible. No, she got in trouble with goddamn Nazis. Apparently, she’d drifted too close to one of Hitler’s crazy schemes involving an ancient artefact. The end result was that she was stuck in some kind of a mystical cage that could only be opened by a genetic progenitor.
She’d thought she didn’t have one of those.
Keyword: thought.
Then the man in the fedora and the brown leather jacket showed up. He took one look at her and his eyes widened, recognition flared across his features…then he looked back. He pulled out a gun and a bullwhip and proceeded to beat the ever-living shit out of the Nazis. Then he walked over…and opened it right up.
He was Indiana Jones.
He was her father.
And he told her what he name was – her real name.
He wrapped that brown leather jacket right around her and took her back into town to get something to eat. It’d been so long since she’d eaten anything that wasn’t small and stolen, her stomach rumbled. But she kept an eye on him. He grabbed a phone and called someone up. Then he said three words.
‘I found her.’
That was it. Hazel slowed down her chewing bites and listened.
‘Yeah, yeah, honey, she’s fine. Bit underfed, but I’m working on that one.’ He pulled a face. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t asked yet. To be fair, I think we owe her an explanation too. Yeah, I’ll be the one giving it. Just you worry about letting Henry know and I’ll bring her home.’
When finished the conversation and came back, she asked, ‘Who’s Henry?’
‘Your little brother,’ her dad answered.
Hazel paused and blinked at that. ‘I have a little brother?’
‘Yeah,’ her father said.
Hazel was silent a moment. ‘So…how…I mean…’ She sighed. How did she put this?
‘How did you end up where you were?’ Her father knew what she was asking anyway.
Hazel nodded.
Her father sighed himself and leaned his head back, taking his hat off and dropping it on the table. ‘In 1926, your mom and I met. I’d come to Chicago. Abner – that was her father – was my mentor in archaeology. He put me up in their house because he and my dad were old friends. You…happened, so to speak, in this timeframe. Because people aren’t great about telling women what to expect when they get pregnant, she had no idea. No, Abner knew first. Rather than telling either of us, so we could get married then, he came at me like he’d just figured it out on his own. He told me if I didn’t leave, he’d send your mom to live out her life in a convent. At the time, I saw no reason to disbelieve him. And I knew your mom would suffocate under that life…so I left.’
Hazel frowned. Her dad had been driven away by her maternal grandfather. ‘And mom?’
‘Well, Abner told her he’d told me about the pregnancy and I’d left,’ her dad said. ‘Then, when you were actually born, he told her you were stillborn. Meanwhile, he adopted you off.’
‘Mom…thought I was dead?’ Hazel asked.
‘Yeah,’ her dad said. ‘Neither of us found out the truth for ten years, after we came back together. Your brother was born a year later.’
Hazel presumed they must’ve finally talked about it and picked out the inconsistencies in the story each had. ‘And…you’ve been looking for me every since?’
‘Of course we have.’
***
Hazel’s dad took her to get new clothes.
It’d been a long time since she’d actually worn clothes she legitimately owned; that she didn’t just steal. She was aware how she looked as she looked through the racks for things she actually liked. Her dad had said not to worry about the cost. And he stood there, glaring at anyone who stared at her with disgust on their faces – from sales clerks to other customers.
What was even stranger was that he was allowing her to pick her own.
In the old place, that never happened. She might be brought along on a shopping trip, but only if they were unsure if the clothes would fit. But God forbid she have any input on what she would like to wear. But her biological father was not shadowing her and telling her. He was sitting back and letting her make her own choices.
Once she had enough – daywear and nightwear – he paid for it and then took her back to the hotel.
It was the first time in over two years Hazel was able to wash herself properly. Before, she’d had to rely on being alone when she was near a body of water. Most people who “offered” to help her had always wanted something. And she’d learned very fast to pay attention to that voice in her head.
She shuddered at the thought.
But her dad and her mom had spent five years looking for her. Her dad had come after her, and he’d found her at a time when she would surely have starved to death if she hadn’t been pulled from that cage. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to feel safe. She couldn’t really turn off the part of her brain that was on high alert right now, even though she was pretty sure her father wouldn’t hurt her.
But she stayed in the tub of warm water, washing her hair and her body until the water was nearly black. Even she hadn’t realised how dirty she was. Then she climbed out and pulled the plug. She quickly dressed and sighed. It’d been so long since she had been truly clean and she wandered out of the bathroom.
Her dad was sitting at the dining table, reading over something. He glanced up as she came in and pulled off his glasses. ‘Feel better?’
‘Much better, thank you.’
‘Good.’ Her dad stood up and returned a moment later with two plates.
***
Hazel mostly slept on the plane ride home.
Then her dad woke her up and led her off the plane. The flight attendant nodded as they stepped off. ‘We’ll see you next time, Dr. Jones.’
‘Thank you,’ her dad said, nodding back.
The sun was going down as they walked and picked up the bags. Her dad had let her pick out everything he bought for her. In the old place, Mr. Chatham had firmly believed that if his money paid for it, he had the final say on it. Her real dad didn’t seem to have quite the same opinion, it seemed.
‘Junior!’ someone hollered in a distinct Scottish accent.
Her dad sighed. ‘And this is your other grandpa,’ he said to Hazel.
Hazel looked over to see an older man with a white beard and wearing a bucket hat striding across towards them, umbrella in hand. His eyes landed on her and his step faltered for a bit, but his face lit up.
‘You really did find her,’ he said.
Her father beamed. ‘Yeah, I did.’
Her grandfather stepped over to her. ‘Welcome home, Hazel.’
Hazel’s lips tugged upwards.
***
Her father and grandfather drove her home.
Home was a modest house in the suburbs, with a front garden and a porch. It was a house in a middle class neighbourhood. The lights were on inside and Hazel stepped out of the car and looked up. Even from the outside, it looked a lot warmer than the much larger, much more extravagant house she’d grown up in.
Then the front door swung open. Hazel had only a moment to notice the same face that she saw when she looked in the mirror before the woman launched herself off the front porch and hugged her tight. Hazel started a bit. She wasn’t used to…hugs. But, slowly, she raised her arms to hug her mother back.
‘Easy, Marion,’ her dad said softly. ‘Let’s get this off the street, huh?’
Her mom took a deep breath and took her hand, pulling her into the house. Hazel looked around as she was lead inside. Inside, the house felt as warm as it looked outside. Her mom squeezed her hand.
‘Are you hungry?’ she asked. ‘Did you eat?’
‘I…uh, I ate before we got on the plane,’ Hazel said. She looked around. She had a mom, a dad, and a grandpa. All around her and, it seemed, all caring about her as more than a body to inherit anything. It was…overwhelming. ‘But I…I think I’m still kinda tired.’
‘That’s all right.’ Her dad grabbed her case. ‘Come on. Let’s get you up into your room.’
‘My room?’
Her parents took her upstairs as her grandpa ducked out again. They took her to a door and opened it up. Inside, Hazel looked around. There was a freshly-made bed in the middle of the room. There was a vanity on one side of the room and a study desk on the other. She had a wardrobe built into the wall. The only thing the room lacked was any personal touches.
This room…had been waiting for her…
She really was…home.