A/N: Yes, it's El of Woodside, back again and under a new name! This chapter has been a long hard slog- so thanks to everyone for keeping faith. I'm still here. Huge thanks go to those who've reviewed- you guys have kept me writing even though I have two exams at the end of the week and really should be studying! I direct you to my blog (linked on my profile) for extended authors notes and commentary. Enjoy!

Indy and Marion arrived at their stateroom, sopping wet, five minutes later, their mouths aching with restrained laughter. They had collected their belongings and left the pool; pretending not to notice the curious stares of the travellers around them, not daring to make eye contact lest they set themselves off into raucous and conspicuous hilarity. Marion had, in an effort to appear somewhat more presentable, donned her skirt and blouse. That proved to be a poor idea, because by the time they crossed the threshold into the stateroom, the white linen was soaked though, transparent and clinging to her body.

Once inside, the dignified act was dropped and Marion marched straight into the lavatory. Indy stood in the doorframe. The room was elegantly furnished in white tile, but would be a tight squeeze for the two of them together. Apparently Marion did not care.

"Well, c'mon Jones! Get in here before you ruin the fancy hardwood and they hit Abner an astronomical bill.

Unable to argue with her reasoning, Indy complied and found himself standing awkwardly in the narrow space. Marion tossed him a towel, then ran her hands through her now thoroughly ruined hair and contemplated the situation. Jones was in the process of attempting to discreetly towel off his fully clothed self. It served him right. If he hadn't forced her to get in his face, he wouldn't have gotten wet at all. She sat on the edge of the pristine tub, her fingers curving around the cold metal lip. However, if they hadn't gotten wet, they wouldn't be in together in the tiny bathroom. Marion knew an opening when she saw it. Time for some answers.

"Why did you call me kid?"

Indy went still and looked at her, the towel clutched against his chest. "When?"

Marion scowled. "Don't ask me when. At the pool, twice. You called me kid."

Indy knew the answer, had known all along somewhere inside him. If he called her kid, she was a kid and he had no place saying or thinking many of the things he had in the past few days. But there was no way he could say that to her. He silently went back to towelling and did not answer.

"C'mon, Jones. Don't play this game with me. I just shoved you in pool for Christ's sake!"

Marion was getting angry. Even with eyes downcast, Indy could tell this. She was getting angry and it took all his willpower not to shout exactly what his problem was. That discussion would get them nowhere except, possibly, in a whole lot of trouble. Indy continued to ignore her.

"Fine." He could hear the resentment clearly in her voice. Guilt washed over him. Marion had done anything to deserve the silent treatment she so often got a home. Compelled to make some sort of response, he met her gaze and instantly regretted it. Marion eyes flashed with something like challenge and her hands went to the top button of her blouse. Indy knew with a sudden, horrible clarity exactly what she had in mind. Don't do it, Marion, he silently pleaded. Don't do this to me.

It was no use. She finished the buttons and peeled off the sodden garment, revealing the pale flesh and dark bathing suit beneath. Her discarded blouse hit the tub with a wet smack.

The shoes went next, white t-strap heels, swiftly unbuckled and tossed to the floor with more force then was strictly necessary.

She raised herself and let her skirt fall to the floor, then added it to the pile of wet linen in the tub.

She was beautiful. There was no denying it, and Indy knew, somewhere deep inside, that he did not want to. And it wasn't just about the physical. He had seen the bathing suit before. She stood before him with no fear, no pretension; exactly who she was. There was no coquetry, no downward glances, no backing off. Marion took a step towards Indy, jabbed him hard in the chest.

"I am not a child!" she spat. "Don't you dare patronize me." She jabbed him again, an angry punctuation to her rant. Before Indy could reply, she spoke again and her voice had lowered to a burning tone he had never heard before. "You're a lying bastard, Jones, but you sure as hell aren't fooling me. I know you want me." Her words were slow, deliberate and vicious. While her gaze never wavered from his eyes, she seemed somehow very aware of the small space their bodies occupied. "And if you are gonna keep on trying to deny that one simple fact? Well fuck, Jones; I don't even want to know you."

Indy had no reply for that and by the time he had mustered the gumption to say simply her name, the door had slammed behind her and she was gone. He was left, perfectly motionless and still dripping, alone in the bathroom.

Sparing his mind from contemplating her words, Indy instead considered Marion's temper. He had always known she had one, but the extent of the reaction he had provoked in her made him almost sympathize with Abner. Almost- because though the poor man could have no idea of how to handle his daughter, Indy had experience with Marion's side of things and in many was she had every right to be angry. What she had the right to be angry about though was less obvious; Indy's chest still smarted from her violent jab.

After the frustrated run of a hand though his hair, Indy set about doing what he had originally intended. Within a few minutes his clothes where in the tub with Marion's and Indy wore one of the fluffy terry cloth robes provided to first class passengers. Deciding a shower was what he needed, he hung the bedraggled apparel over the empty towel rack and made the conscious decision not to think about the fact he was handling Marion's delicate stockings along with his travel stained shirt.

Finally, under the comforting spray of the shower, Indy let himself consider exactly what what going on. What hurt the most was that after all his attempts at subterfuge, she saw though it in the end. Perhaps she had seen it from the beginning. Now she was the one who had taken action and he had stood there like a teenager who'd never been near a girl in his life.

The awful thing was, there was nothing he could do. She was a kid, a fucking kid, and he had no business messing around with her. It was beyond wrong and, though she might not know it, completely unfair to Marion.

After his shower, Indy returned to his room, and moments later heard the swing of doors and padding of footsteps that told him Marion was preparing to do the same. The thought struck him that she had gone in the pool without a bathing cap on and that whatever product she had used to wave her hair had likely been washed away. She was going to kill him.

The faint sounds of her washing broke his mind's fragile defences. I know you want me. She knew there was an attraction between them, and Indy no longer had the will to deny it to himself. He wanted her. Despite their age difference, despite Abner- he wanted her. Indy sat on the bed, head in his hands. One thing was for certain. He was in very big trouble.

Marion, meanwhile, sat in a very similar position on the floor of the bathtub. What had she done? Presumption didn't even begin to cover the liberties she had taken. Perhaps Jones didn't want her. Perhaps her foolish schoolgirl brain had made the whole bloody mess up. But another part of her mind called bullshit. Marion wasn't an idiot, and she wasn't exactly the innocent everyone assumed. She was a boarding school student, of course she snuck around. And while she had never gone to bed with any of the boys, she had danced and kissed enough to know attraction, both in herself and directed towards her.

The fact remained, however, the Indy was her chaperone, and he clearly took that job seriously. So now she was stuck on a boat with a man who refused to acknowledge he felt anything and, having laid her cards on the table, she had absolutely no plausible deniability. Indy, on the other hand, could pretend that everything was fine and dandy, that this trip had been merely a series of odd moments meant to be forgotten.

Foremost in her mind was a single question; now what? Did they just go on as they had before? Marion had been telling the truth about her hatred of being patronized, but suddenly she wasn't so sure that was the issue. She had called his bluff. Now what?