The first thing Short Round's sluggish mind realized as he returned to consciousness was that the ground beneath him was soft. Secondly, he recognized that it wasn't soft ground, but a couch.

His eyes shot open and he quickly sat up onto his elbow. As he glanced around the room, the memories resurfaced. That's right, he had tried to steal from an American tourist Indiana Jones, who happened to be an archeologist and not a tourist. Lo Che sent his goons after Indy and now they were hiding in Wu Han's home.

Speaking of the man, Shot Round craned his neck behind him to find the tall Amrican sitting at the kitchen table. His cool hat and leather jacket were draped on the chair beside him. His whip and gun rested on the table among the maps, notes, news clippings and tools spread out before him on the limited surface. Dressed in a slightly soiled white shirt and plain, straight pants, he looked less like a cowboy and more... human, real, in a way.

Short Round threw off the blanket and quietly padded up to his new friend. Wu Han was nowhere in sight.

Indiana lifted his head from his papers and smiled wearily at the boy. His eyelids sagged as if he didn't sleep much and there were stress lines in his forehead.

  "Hey, kid. You hungry?"

  Short Round nodded eagerly, then asked, "Where is Wu Han?"

  "He's finding us a ride to the Himalayans. He'll be back tomorrow."

  "Will I come?"

  Indy looked him in the eye seriously. "It'll be dangerous, Shorty."

  He guessed that, especially after being chased last night. "I know karate, Dr. Jones. I can protect you." He grinned a toothy grin.

  Indina smiled too. "Sure thing, kid."

With another long look at his collection of clues, Indiana sighed and began clearing the space.

  "Sit down, kid. I'll whip you up something."

While Short Round sat patiently, the smell of eggs and rice began to fill the air along with the sound of sizzling oil. Short Round's stomach clenched eagerly. The last person to cook a hot meal for him was his mother before the bomb hit. Since then, it has been restaurant leftovers, dumpster edibles, and cheap purchases whenever he had a coin.

Once the plate was set before him, Short Round immediately dug in after a hasty, yet heartfelt "Thank you."

As he shoveled food into his mouth, Indiana casually turned on the television and switched the channel till he satisfied. The screen projected a wide green field with a dirt path cut into it. At each point of the diamond shaped path was a white square where someone stood. Everyone on the field wore a cap and large leather glove except for one person who wielded a bat.

The man standing a few feet away from the man with a bat threw a ball. The bat connected with it and the ball sailed across the field. The crowd surrounding the field exploded into cheers and clapping. The man who hit the ball instantly dropped the bat and started sprinting down the dirt path.

Short Round's food was temporarily forgotten. His eyebrows scrunched in confusion at what was playing before him.

  "Dr. Jones?"

  "Hmm?" He sounded relaxed, sitting on the couch peacefully watching the television.

  "What's that?"

Indiana glanced back and followed his finger only for his eyes to return to the black and white screen.

  "That's baseball. It's an American sport."

  "How it work?"

So for the next twenty minutes, Indiana Jones explained the game as it played out before them. There were countless rules, but by the time the game ended, Short Round had a vague idea of how baseball was played.

  "What team you like?" the boy inquired curiously.

  Indy shrugged. "I suppose the New York Yankees. I never lived in New York, but I liked the team growing up." He gestured toward the screen. "They're playing right now; up to bat."

  "Do you play?" Short Round asked as the batter hit the ball and was now sprinting to the first base.

  "I did when I was little. After my mother died, my dad urged me to study hard and I gradually stopped playing."

  "Oh," Short Round responded somberly. Indy glanced back at him. It wasn't his intention to make the boy feel embarrassed or awkward. "Your mother die, too?"

  "Yeah, kid," the man replied softly. "She had the scarlet fever, a sickness."

  "Sorry."

Indiana didn't know if the boy was apologizing for prying or offering his condolences, so he just smiled.

Because it was too dangerous to leave with Lao Che's men lurking, they spent the day indoors. They talked about baseball and America while watching the remainder of the game. To Indy's quiet delight, the Yankees won. As Short Round decided that the Yankees will be his favorite team too, he was also happy with the results.

They also played poker. It turns out that Short Round not only knew how to play, but was very competitive. He lost quite a few coins to the street smart boy and earned a few back. He suspected cheating, but had no solid evidence. There was an occasional, goodnatured bickering that shifted from English, fluent against choppy, to Chinese and back again.

Night returned quickly. For some unknown reason, Indy grew more anxious with the darkening sky. He had strapped his belt with his holstered gun and coiled bullwhip back around his waist and was pacing the worn wood floor. It made Short Round restless.

  "Indy? Are you worried for Wu Han?"

  "No. No, I just have a bad feeling."

  "Are you afraid of the dark?" Dr. Jones didn't seem to fear anything. The idea that the night made him nervous was strange to the boy.

  "Not the dark exactly, but what could happen because of it, in my experience." He shook his head and smiled apologetically. "Sorry if I'm scaring you. I'm probably just being paranoid."

The moment he stopped speaking, gunfire boomed and the door splinted. Instantly, Indy snatched Short Round and threw them both to the ground. Bullets peppered the wall above them. Short Round's cheek rubbed against the rug. His breaths were shaky and his muscles tense. On top of him and shielding him from harm, Indiana's body was also ridged.

Finally, the gunfire ceased. Then what remained of the door was kicked down. It shattered to splinters against the floor. Indiana raised his arm and shot at anyone who entered. A body slumped to the ground while the others retreated for the moment.

  "Hide under the bed!" Indiana Jones hissed into his ear. He sounded so serious, Shorty didn't dare argue. He scrambled under the bed and watched with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

The intruders swarmed in. Their guns were still out, but they didn't shoot, at least not yet. They had orders to keep him alive. Indy had no such orders. He raised his gun again only for it to be swiftly kicked out of his hand. There were four of them, too many to handle in hand-to-hand combat. Still, he wasn't going down without a fight.

The brawl was short and definitely not sweet. While he had served them a heavy helping of black eyes, bruises, pain, and maybe an occasional broken bone, the fight ended with him on his knees and two men holding his arms and pushing his shoulders down.

  "Lao Che's patience is wearing thin, Dr. Jones," one of the men spat, clearly pissed off with his new black eye, split lip, and dislocated knee. "He is beginning to think you have already found Nurhachi and is keeping him from him."

  "Well, he's wrong, and these visits aren't helping things go any faster." He spat blood on the man's face.

Enraged, the man reared back his fist... and was suddenly jumped from behind. He fell and Short Round leaped off his back and landed in a karate stance. While the two continued to hold the archeologist down, another man faced the boy. After a rapid series of kicks to the shin, stomach, then face, it became clear to everyone that this kid was not to be underestimated.

One man was forced to released Jones in order to defend himself, leaving one man for Indy to take care of. Indiana quickly punched the guy in the face and stood up. Unbeknownst to either of them, the first man had climbed back to his feet.

He grabbed Short Round from behind and lifted him into the air for his partner to hit. Thinking quickly, Short Round kicked the approaching man away from him in the chest, which caused the goon holding him to lose his balance. With a final punch from Indy, Short Round was free and his captor fell, hitting his head on the table.

With only one man left, Short Round made quick work of him. A powerful kick to the crotch sent him to his knees. With his face now in range, a final kick sent the last enemy into unconsciousness.

  "You weren't kidding about the karate," Indiana remarked breathlessly, impressed. "I think you could be my bodyguard."

  The boy grinned proudly, squaring his shoulders and puffing out his chest. "I told you, Indy."

  "All right, tough guy." He ruffled his hair playfully. "Let's go find Wu Han."