Fiction: A Price of Rubies

[kethni]

Name: A Price of Rubies

Pairing: Matt/Mohinder

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Adult language, some violence.

Word Count: 8600 approximately

Authors Note: For amles80’s prompt: Matt is an archaeologist working at some excavation in India. Mohinder is a prince; beautiful, seductive, etc… Then suddenly one of Matt’s colleagues dies in an accident… or is it? Maybe someone for some reason (the writer has to do some thinking here, too!) is trying to stop the excavation….






The sun is a glimmer on the horizon when the ship finally docks and yet the dry heat scorches Matt’s skin as he emerges. Even now in the early evening the docks are filled with people; sailors, passengers, peddlers hawking their wares, all of them dressed in unfamiliar ways and wearing exotic cloths, and filling the air with the music of a myriad languages. Battling with the scent of the sea are the scents of cooking, animals, spices, and the thousand other perfumes of the city.

‘Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,’ Audrey drawls.



‘We have something of a problem.’

Sitting in the relative cool of Daniel Linderman’s office, Matt almost doesn’t want to ask what it is. He just wants to go to the hotel and finally sleep in a bed that doesn’t rock. He wants to be able to walk without seeing the same faces he’s seen every day for the past eight weeks. He wants to be able to get a decent coffee.

Matt wishes he’d had Audrey come to see their local agent while he went to the hotel. But no, he couldn’t do that. He’s the expedition leader so he gets to find out the latest information, and the latest problems, while the others are having bucket showers or in the hotel bar.

‘Okay, what the problem?’ Matt asks, rubbing his face.

‘This area is, as you know, one of the so-called “princely states,” not directly governed by Britain but by a local ruler on behalf of the British. After the rebellion of 1857 British social reforms and the like were stopped and a lot more power was given to the princes.’ Linderman takes a sip of his whiskey. ‘They hadn’t joined the rebellion and were therefore considered more trustworthy.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know all this, I am pretty familiar with the recent history,’ Matt says tiredly. ‘I even know that this is a 21 gun salute state which means the ruler here is top of the tree when it comes to prestige.’

‘Well, the problem is that we got permission for the dig from Maharajah Chandra,’ Linderman explains.

‘He’s not the ruler?’

‘Not anymore, he died two weeks ago. His son Mohinder has taken over.’

Matt shrugs and fidgets with his belt. ‘The son won’t honour the father’s agreement?’

Linderman leans back in his chair. ‘The son has little reason to be generous. Chandra was murdered, shot, apparently by a white.’

‘Oh shit.’

‘I’ve arranged for you to have an audience tomorrow afternoon, if you head for the dig site before then you risk being accused of trespass or worse, grave robbing.’

Matt pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘We can’t just turn around and go back. What do you think it’s going to take to get this done?’

Linderman smiles and shrugs. ‘Dear boy, I’m afraid I have no idea. The son hasn’t been back in the country long; there are rumours of a rift between him and his father. He’s only been in power two weeks and that’s far too short a time to ascertain his personality or behaviour.’

‘Great. Okay. What time tomorrow?’

‘Four, it might not be a bad idea to take along your colleagues. The chances are that they won’t be allowed in to the audience chamber but it shows you have nothing to hide. Besides, he might take a shine to one of the young ladies. There aren’t that many white women around here. You never know, he might find them exotic.’



Exotic, Matt thinks, on the way to hotel. Audrey striking anyone as exotic is a baffling image. Not that she would be his worry if that happened. There are twelve men on the dig and only a few women: Audrey Hanson, the deputy expedition leader, Mrs Petrelli, the rich widow subsidising the entire trip, Claire Bennet, her young companion, and Charlene, “Charlie” Andrews, one of Matt’s students. If the prince chooses to approach Mrs Petrelli then on his head be it, but Matt has a duty to protect the other women. He’s heard the usual xenophobic stories of white girls being stolen away and dismissed them, but both Claire and Charlie are young and naive. He had his hands full keeping them safe from scoundrels on the ship without the possibility of a damn prince taking a shine to one of them.

Charlie is waiting in the lobby for him. Despite the worry of keeping her safe, he’s glad he brought her. Charlie’s a bright girl, hard working, and good-natured. Good-natured rapidly becoming the most pressing issue when spending eight weeks on a boat together and then months at a dig. She’s taken her cue from Audrey and dressed in loose, flowing clothing that covers her completely and topped it off with a broad-brimmed hat that covers her long, red hair. She’s a sensible girl, unlike Miss Bennet, who was last seen tripping off the boat in high heels and a dress that barely reached the knee.

‘Everyone is settling in,’ Charlie says, standing up and smiling. ‘Mrs Petrelli’s booked half the rooms so the manager showed us around personally. It took forever! He introduced her to pretty much all the staff and of course they all wanted a gratuity. After about the third refusal he started looking pretty much mutinous! But Dr Hanson told us all to make good and sure we tipped on account of them getting paid hardly anything. But not too much! Because then they’d think we were stupid, rich Americans and we might end up getting robbed.’

‘How are you finding it so far?’ Matt asks as she gives him key.

‘I’m finding I get stared at a fair ways,’ she says, blushing slightly. ‘But I know that’s on account of my colouring.’

‘It’s a different culture,’ Matt says, feeling as if he’s back in the University. ‘Personal space, body language, it’s all different,’ he says as she shows him the bar, the breakfast room, and the restaurant. ‘They were probably just curious.’

‘Yeah I figured,’ she says with a smile. ‘They were looking at me a lot more nicely then they were looking at Miss Bennet!’

‘I hope she doesn’t try visiting any temples dressed like that,’ Matt says, following her up the stairs. ‘There would be a riot.’

‘I think plenty of the male students would leap to her defence,’ Charlie says, pulling an odd face.

Matt doesn’t know what to say to that. The murky waters of feminine competition are far out of his experience. The cut and thrust of male and female courtship is not a pastime he follows even as a spectator.

‘The agent says there’s a problem with the dig,’ he says eventually. ‘The local ruler was murdered and his son has taken over. We don’t know if he’ll let us continue.’

‘Murdered! Like assassinated?’

‘I don’t know,’ Matt realises. ‘I didn’t ask.’

Charlie laughs at that. ‘Oh, you are funny. If it had happened a thousand years ago you’d have asked every detail.’

‘Well forgive me for being an archaeologist,’ Matt mutters.



Dinner is at 8pm as always, and full evening dress. Mrs Petrelli is at the head of the table with the entire excavation team playing court to her. On her right hand is her son, Peter, not a student Matt would have chosen to bring but compromises always must be made, and on her left is Claire Bennet, pouting in a plunging dress that would be shocking back home let alone here. Next down are Matt and Audrey facing each other, then Charlie and Zach, and then the rest of the expedition.

‘When do you anticipate leaving for the dig site?’ Mrs Petrelli asks, slicing through a piece of chicken. ‘I didn’t pay for this little expedition of yours so that you can spend the entire time staring at my companion’s décolletage.’

Charlie squeaks in outrage but Matt replies calmly.

‘As soon as possible, but it’ll depend what the prince says,’ Matt answers. ‘Hopefully he’ll listen to reason.’

‘If he doesn’t?’

Matt swallows a mouthful of roast potato. ‘Then we’ll have to see if there’s something he wants. It’s not unknown for locals to suddenly rethink or announce there’s some “tax” or “levy” they didn’t mention before. The murder of the previous prince might’ve really complicated matters. We have absolutely no way of knowing until we see him tomorrow.’

Angela takes a sip of her wine. ‘Then we shall have to rely on your diplomatic skills. I wish I had more faith in them.’ She slams down her cutlery. ‘Peter for God’s sake stop gawping at Claire, I’ve told you before.’

‘I don’t mind,’ Claire says, batting her eyes.

‘Cover yourself up,’ Angela orders. ‘I didn’t bring you all the way here so you could dress like a whore.’

‘Mrs Petrelli!’ Claire protests, pulling her wrap around her shoulders.

‘Mom! Don’t talk to Claire like that.’

Mrs Petrelli raises an eyebrow. ‘Peter, go to your room until you can be civil. That wasn’t a suggestion.’

‘God damn it!’ Peter slams his chair back and stomps from the room.

‘His brother is so much better behaved,’ Mrs Petrelli says mildly.

Audrey rolls her eyes at Matt. ‘The famous Senator Petrelli.’

‘You have something of merit to add, Dr Hanson?’ Mrs Petrelli asks.

‘No Ma’am.’



‘Don’t you feel like dancing?’ Matt asks, putting down a tray of drinks and sitting down opposite Charlie. They’re in the hotel bar, relaxing on low couches. Mrs Petrelli has gone up to her room but the rest of the expedition party are sitting in groups drinking, playing cards, and dancing with other hotel guests.

‘Oh, no, it’s not my idea of fun,’ she says, shrugging sheepishly.

‘Less talk, more drink,’ Audrey orders, picking up a drink.

‘You sure you wouldn’t rather be having fun with the other students?’ Matt prompts gently. ‘Wouldn’t that be more fun than hanging around with the old fogies?’

Audrey lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag on it. ‘Talk for yourself, Parkman. I’m a crap load more fun than any amount of those arrogant assholes.’

Charlie laughs lightly. ‘I’m pretty sure that’s true.’ She pats her hands on her knees. ‘I’m not looking to meet some guy. I’m all about the work!’

‘I knew I liked you,’ Audrey says, holding up her drink in salute.



The early morning sun is bright enough to bleed into every corner, banishing all shadows and flattening all sense of perspective and distance.

‘I appreciate you coming shopping with me,’ Claire says sweetly, looking up at Charlie. ‘I think we girls have to stick together, don’t you agree?’ she asks, squeezing Charlie’s arm.

‘I suppose so,’ Charlie says, smiling weakly.

‘I’m so pleased you didn’t already have plans to go exploring the city with Doctor Hanson and Professor Parkman.’ Claire says, steering Charlie over to a jewellery stall. ‘You spend a lot of time with them, don’t you?’

‘Oh, well, all the other students are men,’ Charlie says, vaguely staring around, ‘and a girl has to consider her reputation.’

‘Oh, I know!’ Claire says, apparently oblivious to the looks her short skirt and low cut blouse are attracting. ‘A girl has to be so careful.’



Matt spends the morning checking his archaeological equipment hasn’t been damaged on the long voyage from the US. Replacements would take weeks to arrive so he needs to know now if there is anything damaged or destroyed. The exercise might be a complete waste of time, of course. The prince might send them right back on the first slow boat to the US, although Matt doubts that Mrs Petrelli will simply take no for an answer.

Matt’s heard her called “handsome” which seems to mean rich and over forty. He’s also heard her described as “forthright,” which means rich and damned rude. What he’s never heard her called is a “philanthropist.” He was surprised as well as suspicious when she approached him to head up the expedition but when archaeologists spend their lives chasing sponsors, who was he to refuse?

Besides, the site she proposed, although “proposed” was too mild a word, was very promising and hitherto untouched. Plus potential sponsors could be ridiculously touchy about things like female archaeologists and students, let alone the rather degraded Parkman family reputation.

All the same, he wouldn’t mind knowing why a woman with no history of interest in... well, history, is putting up so much money to pay for an archaeological dig.



After lunch, the members of the expedition retire to their rooms to rest, bathe and change before they travel to the palace. Midday with the scorching sun at its apex is no place for anyone but Mad Dogs and Englishmen. Even Matt and Audrey who have spent years working in India, Mexico, and other countries have to come in out of the suffocating heat.

They arrive at the palace just after half past three, in their best daytime dress; even Audrey and Charlie are in long sleeved, loose dresses.

A series of increasingly elaborately dressed functionaries usher the party through larger and more ornately decorated waiting rooms. Finally, they are seated in a room with intricately tiled floors, carved walls, and huge windows. With glass expensive and difficult to transport this room has almost floor to ceiling windows.

‘What’s the thing with the gun salutes?’ Peter asks, staring idly around the room. ‘They were talking about it on the boat.’

‘Oh for the love of God,’ Audrey drawls. ‘I know that was covered in your syllabus.’

‘The princes have different titles based on a wide range of conventions,’ Matt says in a tired voice. ‘It’s impossible to judge relative status by their titles. Princely states are allowed gun salutes for the ruler depending on how high their status is. 21 guns is the top of the tree.’

‘So how many guns is it here?’ Peter asks.

‘Here is 21 guns,’ Charlie says.

A flunky dressed in gold and red enters the room and bows to them all.

‘Apologies for your wait. Refreshments are being prepared. Expedition leader please to come this way.’

Mrs Petrelli makes a curt “come here” gesture to Matt as he stands.

‘If I bribe is required then you may go up to a thousand dollars,’ she says coldly. ‘But absolutely no further. If he wants more then he’ll have to deal with me directly.’ She smiles at Matt. ‘I think that’s fair, don’t you?’

‘Right you are, Mrs Petrelli,’ Matt says, taking a step back. He turns and follows the functionary out of the room.



The third thing that Matt notices about the room he’s shown into is the almost entirely Westernised decor. From the overstuffed three-piece suite to the heavy desk and the mahogany bookcases full of books, the decor looks to Matt as if it has been transported directly from some gentleman’s study.

The second thing he notices is the relative coolness. There are dozens of large, slowly spinning fans overhead, sleek marble floors, and thick, stone walls. The windows here are much smaller, much more tasteful in their statement of money and power.

But the first thing that Matt notices is the elegantly dressed, graceful man lounging on one of the chairs. He’s dressed not in the Indian fashion but in a stylishly tailored cotton suit complete with a waistcoat, cravat, and pocket watch.

The functionary clears his throat. ‘Maharaja, the representative from the excavation is here.’

Matt licks his lips and then bows as the Maharaja looks up. The man looks like he stepped off the pedestal of some Greek sculpture. He looks as if Pygmalion had eschewed Galatea for some male figure instead, one with large eyes, almost perfectly even features, a square jaw, and pouting lips.

‘Thank you, Amir,’ he says mildly. ‘That will be all.’ He stands up and strolls over to a bar globe in the corner of the room. ‘Might I offer you a drink, Professor Parkman? I favour a sherry myself.’

‘Thank you, Maharaja, I wouldn’t say no to a beer if you have one,’ Matt says cautiously, walking over.

‘Ah, part of your carefully cultured appearance as a man of ordinary tastes,’ Mohinder says, smiling as he opens the globe. ‘The images we choose for ourselves are interesting, don’t you find?’ He opens a bottle of beer and pours it into a glass. ‘Particularly when they clash with the image society assigns us.’ He holds out the glass to Matt. ‘Beer drinking archaeologist and sherry drinking Maharaja,’ he observes, looking Matt up and down slowly. ‘We make a pretty pair, don’t we?’

Matt wonders what gossip the man has heard. The world of academia is traditionally tolerant but equally prone to gossip, scandal, and backbiting. It wouldn’t take much for someone to find something on Matt if they were minded to do so.

‘This is good beer, thank you,’ Matt says, saluting with his glass. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know if I should address you as sir, or Maharaja, or something else?’

Mohinder laughs lightly and wags a finger at Matt. ‘I believe you are teasing me, Professor, shall we sit down?’

‘Thank you, Majesty,’ Matt says, taking the offered chair.

Mohinder sits back and crosses his legs so that his ankle touches his knee. ‘I suppose you’re here to remind me that my father agreed to your excavation.’

Matt rolls the glass between his palms. ‘No Majesty, only to give my regards and ascertain the situation.’

Mohinder smiles and takes a sip of his sherry. ‘It’s terribly rude to contradict royalty,’ he says mildly. ‘At the very least you should avoid saying “no,” it strikes quite the wrong note.’

Matt’s dealt with local royalty before. He’s bowed and scraped where necessary, gone through formal and ritual approaches where required, and had entirely businesslike negotiations. But he’s never quite found himself in quite this situation. He’s never quite dealt with a prince playing with him before. The lack of context, the unpredictability, is disconcerting, like running on shifting sand.

‘Thank you, Majesty, I appreciate the correction,’ he says mildly.

Mohinder takes another sip of his sherry. ‘We stand in the shadows of our fathers, do we not? The shadow of a Maharaja stretches far. Does the shadow of a grave robber stretch as far?’ He smiles sweetly. ‘Is my English correct?’

So that’s it. Embarrassing, sure, but it’s no great secret. If the man thinks it is then he needs to sack his spy. No, that doesn’t ring true. The man seems far too sharp for that. This is a test. He’s pushing for a reaction. Whether that’s for a good reason or just because he enjoys it, Matt doesn’t know. But two can play that game.

‘Your English is far better than mine, your Majesty,’ Matt says honestly. ‘But then, English Universities demand an excellent level of spoken and written English. I assume it was Oxford. No prince worth his salt would dream of having his son educated outside of one of the great seats of learning.’

Mohinder smiles thinly. ‘The British insist on translating our ranks as “prince” in order to keep us from appearing to have parity with the king. It’s quite offensive,’

‘I beg your forgiveness,’ Matt says nicely, ‘your Majesty.’

Mohinder finishes his sherry. ‘Why do you assume Oxford? Propaganda aside, Cambridge colleges have equally good results.’

‘Because I’ve been lecturing at various colleges in Cambridge for the past ten years, and one way or another I would have heard of you.’

Mohinder smiles slightly as he stands up and walks across to the bar. ‘I would imagine that the place is filthy with foreign royalty.’

‘Lousy with it,’ Matt agrees.

Mohinder snaps his fingers. ‘Lousy, yes. Another drink?’

‘I still have my beer, thank you Majesty.’

‘A moderate drinker, capital,’ Mohinder says, returning with his own glass refilled. ‘Tell me, what exactly is the difference between a grave robber and an archaeologist?’

Matt smiles thinly. ‘An archaeologist works to add to the sum of knowledge. A grave robber is just that, someone stealing from the dead to fill his own pockets.’

‘Which is what your father did?’

‘Does, I’m afraid,’ Matt says as mildly as possibly.

Mohinder crosses his legs at the knee. ‘Hmm. It must cast rather a pall over your career, does it not?’

‘I’m not my father, Majesty, just as you aren’t your father.’

Mohinder takes a sip of his sherry. ‘Academia isn’t noted for paying well.’

‘Yes, it’s not especially lucrative,’ Matt agrees.

‘I’m curious about your employer. Why choose to dig here?’

‘Mrs Petrelli is my sponsor, not my employer,’ Matt says firmly.

Mohinder laughs and shrugs. ‘She pays your wages. She could send you home tomorrow.’

‘With respect, Majesty, she couldn’t. She’s already paid the sponsorship money. Unless I breach contract somehow she can’t ask for it back.’

‘That is interesting,’ Mohinder says thoughtfully. ‘So how does she ensure you meet your obligations?’

Matt shrugs and crosses his feet at the ankles. ‘As you said yourself, academia doesn’t pay that well and excavations are extremely costly. The amount of people who can afford to sponsor an excavation is pretty small, and they generally all travel in the same circles. Reneging on an agreement would rapidly make it impossible for me to find others for further excavations.’

Mohinder crosses his hands in his lap. ‘The Petrelli fortune appears to be in diamonds, oil, coal and shipping. The family don’t appear to patronise the arts or the sciences so I’m at a loss to understand why the grand matriarch would choose to grace our little state with her sudden munificence.’

‘I’ve been wondering about that myself,’ Matt admits. ‘But the lady is in one of your waiting rooms if you’d like to ask her yourself.’

Mohinder smiles and his eyes twinkle. ‘I suspect it would be far less enjoyable discussing it with Mrs Petrelli. I suspect it would be far less enjoyable discussing anything with Mrs Petrelli than with you.’

There are cultural differences, Matt thinks, and there’s outright flirtation. It looks like the man has heard more gossip than dear old dad’s sticky fingers. It’s probably another trick to put Matt off balance, but when the view is this good he’s not about to complain too much on that score.

‘Far be it from me to contradict royalty. I’m told it’s terribly rude,’ Matt says nicely. ‘But I’m afraid all I know is archaeology. I’m just here for the dig.’

‘Then give me a compelling reason why I should agree to your proposed excavation.’

Matt finishes his beer, taking the time to formulate his reply. ‘It would bring employment to the area,’ he says mildly. ‘If we find ruins then the dig could go on months or years. Months of American money coming into the state. Months of paid work for labourers, guides, craftsmen, and merchants. If we find ruins, as I suspect we will, then once the excavations are over then they will be a popular destination for visitors from all countries. Um, Mrs Petrelli would certainly push very hard to take the most interesting artefacts to the US but it would probably be in your best interests to keep them here. Less money in the short run but you wouldn’t be mortgaging your heritage.’

Mohinder strokes his mouth idly. ‘I’m fascinated that your reasoning appears to be primarily economic.’

‘With respect, Majesty, you asked me for a reason, not my reason for wanting you to allow it,’ Matt points out.

‘But you didn’t offer me a bribe,’ Mohinder says, smiling warmly.

‘Never on a first date.’

Mohinder laughs and claps his hands together. ‘I’m gratified I make such a positive impression that you assume the way to earn my agreement is to appeal to the prospect of the betterment of my people. Capital! Tell me, where do your primary loyalties lie?’

Matt splutters and then reddens at Mohinder’s obvious amusement.

‘It depends on the circumstances.’

‘There I was expecting you to profess undying loyalty to truth or justice or some such thing.’

‘You have me pegged as an idealist,’ Matt says, reddening.

‘I do rather,’ Mohinder drawls. ‘I do like Americans. You’re all so young. Oh, don’t look at me that way, Professor Parkman, I don’t mean any boring way like simple chronology. You’re all so young in spirit. Why are you American? Why am I Indian? We take more than simple nationality from where we were born. Countries have their own Natures, their own spirits that seep into us from birth. India is an old country, thousands of years old, dignified, and steeped in tradition.’ He smiles again. ‘America is so young! Americans always seem so full of vim and vigour; always so enthusiastic to try new things and sweep away stuffy old traditions.’

Matt coughs to cover his laugh. ‘I’m an archaeologist, your Majesty, I love history.’

‘Even Indian history?’

‘Indian, African, American, it makes no difference to me,’ Matt says honestly. ‘Geography doesn’t interest me. Politics don’t interest me. Only the dig interests me.’

‘I do like you,’ Mohinder says, grinning. ‘Don’t I interest you? Not even a little, hmm?’

Now Matt is sure the man has heard all the gossip. He’d usually brush it off easily but instead he’s blushing.

‘I’m not sure I follow, Majesty,’ he stammers.

‘Oh, I think you do,’ Mohinder says with a wink. ‘Don’t worry, Professor, your excavation will last months, if not years, and I’m an Indian. I understand the art of patience.’

Matt lets out a breath. ‘You’re agreeing to let the dig go ahead?’

Mohinder makes a show of examining his nails. ‘Yes, with certain conditions.’

Matt’s heart sinks. ‘Naturally, Majesty; might I ask what conditions?’

‘Oh, purely personal ones,’ he says, smiling sweetly. ‘I’d rather like to be kept in the loop, is that the phrase? I have my little suspicions as to Mrs Petrelli’s motivations, as I think you do. It wouldn’t be too much trouble for you to pop along to the palace for dinner and gossip once a week or so would it?’

Matt isn’t sure what to say. Shouldn’t either the flirtation or the gossip be the hidden motivation with something innocuous as the cover? Instead he seems to have a choice of two completely improper suggestions without any “decent” motive in sight.

‘I... suppose no,’ Matt agrees.

‘Capital!’ Mohinder says cheerfully, jumping to his feet.

Matt stands up hurriedly, aware he’s being dismissed. ‘Thank you for time, your Majesty.’

Mohinder grasps Matt’s hand between his. ‘I ought to show my face to the harridan, don’t you think? Give your young charges a brief thrill.’




‘Jesus,’ Audrey says in one of the cars on the way back to the hotel. ‘Between Mrs Petrelli and the Maharaja it’s a wonder we weren’t all bowing and scraping the whole damn time.’

‘Golly wasn’t he beautiful thought?’ Charlie sighs. ‘I never knew men could be beautiful.’

‘If you like that sort of thing,’ Audrey sniffs. She gives Matt a sideways look. ‘Some do.’

‘He’s too sharp by half,’ Matt says, settling his hat on his head. ‘Bad combination that. He has too many advantages over the rest of us.’

‘As long as he lets us dig,’ Audrey says with a shrug. ‘He can be as pretty and smart as he likes as long as he lets us dig.’

‘You’re not worried we’re getting caught between the devil and the dragon lady?’ Matt asks.

‘Not if the devil likes you as much as the Maharaja does,’ Audrey sniggers.



The next week passes in a blur as they transport equipment and supplies to the proposed site. Establishing base camp has to be done before they can even begin the most primary excavations. Matt has run a number of excavations but each one is different and this one is more complicated than usual; the presence of Mrs Petrelli and her entourage guarantee that.




This room is smaller, more casual, more comfortable but equally as cool as the previous room Matt had met the Maharaja in. There is more of a blend of Indian and Western influences in this room and the Maharaja is dressed in a dhoti, a kind of tunic, over some loose trousers.

‘How nice of you to visit, Professor Parkman,’ Mohinder says nicely, walking across the room to him.

‘I had a choice?’ Matt asks dryly. ‘The message said I was expected.’

‘So you are,’ Mohinder says. ‘Being the Maharaja does rather mean I can require your presence but decency suggests I be gracious when you arrive. Would you care for a drink?’

‘It’s a little early in the day for me.’

‘A coffee then,’ Mohinder suggests. ‘Or perhaps a soft drink.’ He claps his hands and turns to the functionary who appears silently. ‘Please serve the refreshments and a pot of coffee.’

‘We’re having refreshments?’

Mohinder slips his hand into Matt’s and leads him over to the large chaise lounges.

‘I was a terrible host the last time you visited, was I not?’ Mohinder asks, smiling. “Is this making you uncomfortable?’ he asks, squeezing Matt’s hand.

‘I’m quite aware that handholding is not considered sexual,’ Matt says, slightly struggling over the word “sexual.” ‘I rather thought that it was reserved for close friends.’

Mohinder sits down on the chaise and pats it. ‘Aren’t we friends?’

‘As the lion said to the mouse,’ Matt observes.

‘Matt, may I call you Matt?’ Mohinder says, crossing his legs at the ankles. ‘I get the feeling that you don’t entirely trust me, and that makes me very sad.’

‘I certainly wouldn’t want to make you unhappy, Majesty,’ Matt says carefully.

Servants walk in carrying trays of food as well a pot of coffee and a jug of chilled juice.

‘I was educated in England, Matt, I’m quite used to the cut and thrust of debate. I won’t explode into a rage if you speak to me honestly.’ He squeezes Matt’s knee. ‘I’d like you to be honest with me.’ He gives a wide smile. ‘Coffee?’

‘Thank you.’

A servant hands Matt a cup of coffee while Mohinder is handed a glass of juice by the other servant.

Matt sips his coffee while watching the other man. He must already know. Matt would bet his right arm the man has at least one spy already at the dig site.

‘There was something...’

Mohinder looks at Matt over the rim of his glass. ‘Oh yes?’ he asks innocently.

He knows that I know, Matt thinks. I’m not designed for this kind of thing.

‘A geologist arrived from Ireland two nights ago.’

‘Really?’ Mohinder asks, ‘Why would an archaeological dig require a geologist?’

‘We don’t,’ Matt admits. ‘The first thing I knew about it was when he turned up. Apparently, Senator Petrelli sent him as Mrs Petrelli was fuming. She got over it pretty quickly though. He’s not being paid out of our budget and he’s not on site during the day.’

Mohinder rolls the glass between his hands. ‘I knew a geologist had arrived. You look surprised.’

‘I didn’t expect you to admit that.’

Mohinder takes a delicate bite of a honeyed sweet. ‘You’ve been honest with me, Matt. A relationship depends on reciprocation and openness.’

‘I don’t want my dig shutting down,’ Matt says quietly.

‘Oh don’t worry about that,’ Mohinder says, squeezing Matt’s thigh and making him nearly choke on his coffee. ‘I’m a very loyal man, Matt. Now, tell me everything about this geologist.’

‘His name’s Samuel Sullivan, he claims to be a geologist although he’s very vague when you ask him pretty much anything. He kind of wafts about the place getting in the way, asking personal questions, and bleating on and on about his terrible life.’

‘I see he’s made quite a fan of you,’ Mohinder laughs. ‘Well I have engaged a specialist in Britain to find out some information about this mysterious Mr Sullivan. I won’t hear anything for a couple of days but when I do we can go through it together.’ He pats Matt on the knee. ‘Am I making you uncomfortable?’

‘A little, yeah,’ Matt admits. ‘This kind of thing doesn’t normally happen to me.’

Mohinder smiles and leans closer. ‘You mean being seduced?’

‘Is that what’s happening?’

‘That’s the general idea,’ Mohinder agrees, leaning in to kiss Matt softly.

‘I’m glad to have that cleared up,’ Matt murmurs.

Mohinder sits back and gently puts a finger to Matt’s lips. ‘The important thing to remember about seduction is not to rush. A good seduction is done slowly, carefully, and gently.’

‘I see I’m in the hands of an expert.’

‘Soon,’ Mohinder agrees, dropping his hand. ‘But not too soon, rushing savours disappointment, don’t you find?’

‘I’ll have to take your word for it, Majesty,’ Matt says, licking his lips and tasting the honey from Mohinder’s finger. ‘I’m a stranger in a strange land.’

‘Would you like to tell me all your secrets yourself, or should I have a specialist discover them all for me?’

‘I think you know them all.’

‘Already? How disappointing,’ Mohinder pouts. ‘I had high hopes of your being enigmatic and mysterious.’

Matt laughs aloud and shakes his head. ‘Oh you did not. Now I know you’re making fun of me.’

‘A little. A very little. Foreigners should be alien and otherworldly, don’t you think?’ he asks archly.

‘I’ve never found it necessary myself,’ Matt says calmly. ‘But then I’ve never thought that being a different nationality or race made a person either inherently romantic or suspicious.’

‘Aren’t you boringly goody-goody?’

‘What you see is what you get,’ Matt says with a shrug.

Mohinder leans back and licks his fingertips. ‘Yes, it’s rather refreshing.’

Matt tries one of the sweets, using his right hand and keeping his left in his lap. ‘I’m glad you’re refreshed while I’m floundering,’ he says dryly.

‘I hope I’m not wearing out my amusement value,’ Mohinder says, batting his eyes.

‘I can’t see that happening for a good, long while.’

‘Capital!’ Mohinder says, clapping his hands together. ‘Now educate this layman as to the intricacies of archaeology...’



Up on a hill overlooking the dig site Mrs Petrelli is sat on a deck chair under a parasol. She takes another sip of her gin and stares through her binoculars down at the site. All the students scurrying around over the earth seem thrilled with every bit of pottery or shard of ceramic that they find. Ridiculous to be so concerned with scraps of fallen civilisations. Who cares what savages and barbarians did and how they lived?

A shadow falls across her and she turns. A man, impossible to recognise with the sun behind him, staggers screaming into the parasol and collapses onto her.



‘Charlie, Peter, stay here!’ Matt orders as he leaps up. ‘Audrey...’

‘Don’t you even think about it,’ she retorts. ‘I’m the only one with a fucking gun!’

They find Mrs Petrelli no longer screaming but ranting, trapped inside the parasol. Laid on top, unmoving, is the raggedly dressed form of geologist Samuel Sullivan.

‘Guy must be dead drunk,’ Audrey says as they haul Sullivan onto his back.

They look into his blank, pearly greyed eyes.

‘Or just dead,’ Audrey realises.




‘It’s all that walking around in the sun without a hat,’ Mrs Petrelli announces at dinner, and points a fork at Peter. ‘This is why I tell you to wear yours. You never listen. Your brother would wear a hat.’

‘Mrs Petrelli, he didn’t die of heatstroke,’ Audrey says, rolling her eyes at Matt.

‘Of course he did, don’t be foolish.’

‘No, he didn’t,’ Audrey persists. ‘The police told Professor Parkman he was poisoned, right?’

‘Yeah.’

People stop eating slowly and stare down at the food.

‘You didn’t see fit to mention this earlier?’ Mrs Petrelli demands, glaring at Matt.

‘I beg your pardon, ma’am, I thought everyone had been told,’ Matt says with a shrug. ‘It wasn’t an accident, it was murder. We can all expect to be interrogated by the local police.’




‘Thank you for the rescue,’ Matt says, accepting a cool glass of orange sharbat.

‘This has really shaken you up, hasn’t it?’ Mohinder asks gently.

‘I don’t see a lot of dead bodies.’

‘I would’ve thought an archaeologist would see three every day, and four at the weekend.’

Matt laughs slightly. ‘I mean I don’t see a lot that haven’t been dead at least several hundred years.’

Mohinder sits down next to Matt and leans back. ‘What about everyone else, you must be worried about them?’

‘It’s Charlie I’m worried about,’ Matt admits. ‘Audrey’s as tough as old boots but Charlie’s a sensitive soul.’

Mohinder drapes his arm around Matt’s shoulders. ‘Did she see him?’

‘No, we covered him up.’ Matt rubs his face, ‘which the local police weren’t happy about. There was a lot of yelling and threats to have us all deported.’

Mohinder slides closer. ‘Would you like me to have them all driven from the country?’ he jokes. ‘I could have them hung upside down outside the temple for upsetting you.’

Matt smiles slightly. ‘No, but thank you for the offer.’

Mohinder strokes his fingers through Matt’s hair. ‘Why don’t you let me help you relax?’

‘Now?’ Matt asks, raising his eyebrows.

‘Why not?’

‘A man just died!’

Mohinder puts his other hand on Matt’s leg. ‘A man you didn’t like.’

‘I didn’t want him dead!’ Matt protests. He frowns when Mohinder rolls his eyes. ‘Did you?’

‘Did I what?’

Matt gathers Mohinder’s hands together. ‘He turns up, I tell you, and now he’s dead.’

Mohinder laughs, a short, unpleasant laugh. ‘Are you accusing me of something?’

‘It’s an odd coincidence.’

Mohinder moves away. ‘Are you suggesting that I snuck into your dig site and poisoned the food to kill this ratty little geologist? I happen to be the Maharaja!’

‘Okay, fine,’ Matt says, standing up.

‘Is that what you thought? You thought the ruler of the state solves his problems by murdering people?’ Mohinder demands.

‘I thought perhaps you might have security or bodyguards or “people” for that sort of thing,’ Matt says honestly. ‘I didn’t actual think that you’d be...’

‘Do you have so little regard for me? Do you have so little trust for me?’

Matt runs his fingers through his hair. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know... I don’t really know you.’

‘Get out,’ Mohinder snarls. ‘Get out!’

‘Okay,’ Matt says quietly, heading for the door.

‘Don’t you dare turn your back on me!’ Mohinder screams, hurling a vase after him.

Matt shuts the door quietly behind him.



Charlie sits down opposite Matt in the canteen and brushes her hair off her face.

‘Hey Professor Parkman,’ she says, taking a sip of her juice. ‘Did you get questioned by the police?’

‘About four times,’ Matt admits. ‘They definitely don’t think I’m telling them the truth about something.’

‘Well gosh, they’re police officers,’ she says with a shrug. ‘I guess it’s their jobs.’

Matt reaches over and pats her hand. ‘How’re you holding up?’

She blushes bright pink. ‘Oh I’m okay. Um. I’m glad they’re letting us resume the dig. Especially when Mr Sullivan wasn’t anywhere near the dig for days before... you know, it.’

‘You’re doing a great job cataloguing the finds so far,’ Matt says encouragingly. ‘Wait, he wasn’t anywhere near the dig?’

‘Nope,’ Charlie says. ‘The day before he died, Miss Bennet and I saw him a couple of miles away. Out by the Nomad’s Ridge? It was definitely him, he was awful distinctive.’

‘I wonder what he was doing.’

‘I don’t know but Miss Bennet was awful curious about it,’ Charlie confides.

Matt smiles slightly. ‘You’ve been spending a lot of time with Miss Bennet.’

‘Well there aren’t many other girls around,’ Charlie mumbles.

‘She’s pretty,’ Matt says gently. ‘If you like girls.’

Charlie shrugs and pushes her spoon around her bowl. ‘I’m concentrating on the work. I’m all about the work,’ she says, pumping her fist.

‘Yeah, I hear that,’ Matt says sheepishly.

‘Did you have a falling out with the Maharaja?’ she asks sympathetically.

Now Matt’s the one blushing. ‘I uh...’

‘At the reception at the palace he seemed pretty, you know, keen.’

Matt glances around and then back at her. ‘Was it that obvious?’

‘Well, kind of,’ she admits.

‘Nothing’s happened.’

Charlie smiles and shrugs. ‘You’re not in a rush though, right?’

Matt sighs and blows out his cheeks. ‘If I was, then I’d be disappointed.’

‘That bad?’

‘He threw me out.’

‘How come?’

Matt shrugs. ‘He thought I was implying he’d killed Mr Sullivan.’

Charlie raises her eyebrows. ‘Well that’s just silly! He’s the prince; he’d just have someone else do it!’

Matt chuckles. ‘I thought of that, he was not placated.’

‘He was hurt you didn’t trust him, huh?’ she asks, smiling gently. ‘I would be hurt if you thought I killed Mr Sullivan.’

‘But I know you,’ Matt argues. ‘I don’t... I don’t know him, not really.’

Charlie looks at him doubtfully. ‘You didn’t say that to him did you Professor?’

‘Maybe words to that effect,’ Matt says weakly.

‘Oh Professor,’ she says.

Matt waves a hand vaguely. ‘Well he can’t be that mad. He’s not had me kicked out of the country.’

‘Not yet!’ She shrugs. ‘Maybe he’s waiting until they find the killer so he can prove it to you for sure, and you can be together.’

‘You’re a romantic, Charlie,’ Matt says with a smile.

‘Just examining the options,’ she says nicely. ‘Of course if you found out some information that could help the investigation I’m sure that would prove that you believed and trusted him.’

‘I think you just like the idea of snooping around,’ Matt charges, tapping her nose.

Charlie blushes bright red. ‘Curiosity is part of being an archaeologist!’



Matt is preparing some artefacts for authentication in London when he is summoned to Mrs Petrelli’s tent. He doesn’t have much to do with the woman on a day-to-day basis, besides ignoring her holding forth at dinner, and he’s quite happy with it that way.

She’s reclining in her tent like Victoria on the throne with Claire Bennet, clearly bored, on one side, and Peter, scowling, on the other.

‘Professor Parkman,’ she says, fanning herself. ‘I understand that you were at the palace this morning.’

‘Yes ma’am.’

‘Is the Maharaja minded to allow the excavation to continue?’

Matt’s had a long day of being pushed around, screamed at, and being bullied. He’s a patient man but even patient men have their limits.

‘Do you care?’

‘Excuse me?’ she snaps.

Matt throws his hat down. ‘Ma’am, you have zero interest in this excavation and you always did. I figure that you got us all here as a blind to cover for whatever it was that Mr Sullivan was up to.’

‘Shut up, Professor,’ Peter says, lurching to his feet. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I know the last Maharaja was murdered a couple of weeks before we got here and that’s the kind of coincidence that makes me very uneasy.’

Mrs Petrelli stares at him coldly. ‘You have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘I know I’ve been used. I know that so-called “geologist” was out doing something far away from the site. So I’m going to go and see what Mr So-Called-Geologist was up to and I’m going to tell the local police, because I’m sure it was dirty and I’m sure you were in it up to your neck!’ Matt turns and storms from the tent.

He marches across the camp grabbing up a tank of water, a shovel, and some food as he goes.

‘Professor, where’re you going?’ Charlie asks, running over.

‘Going to follow your advice, Charlie,’ Matt says, jumping into a jeep. ‘I’m going to get to the bottom of this mess.’

As he roars off, he doesn’t see as Claire Bennet hurries over to Charlie. Or hear Audrey shout after him.



Nomad’s Ridge is a couple of miles away as the crow flies but driving on the sand is something Matt still finds difficult. The place is empty of human life and completely quiet as he parks the jeep and takes a gulp of his water.

So Sullivan was around here somewhere, was he? The Ridge is the highest point for miles around so it’s no wonder that Charlie and Miss Bennet would’ve glanced over from the road. On a day like this with the air still and dead a man standing here would be visible for miles. Matt gets out of the jeep and slowly makes his way to the lowest point of the Ridge.



Mohinder is still sulking when unexpected visitors arrive, and is in no mood for entertaining.

‘Send them away; we are not speaking to anyone.’

The functionary hesitates. ‘Maharaja, they say it is a matter of life and death.’

‘I should refuse them admittance for committing that cliché upon my ears,’ Mohinder grumbles. ‘Well, send them in.’



On the other side of the Ridge Matt finds caves. Hidden from the merciless heat by the overhanging rim, the caves are cool and damp.

Matt, feeling foolish and rather childish now, sits down in one to eat something and have another sip of water.

Sheltered inside the cave, he doesn’t hear the distant chug of another jeep.



‘Maharaja, I must protest!’ the Colonel cries, running on fat little legs to keep up with Mohinder’s long strides. ‘This is a matter for the police! You ought not to...’

‘Do you tell me what I ought not do?’ Mohinder demands, climbing into one of the heavy trucks that will glide across the sand.

‘Well no, but... at least do not take the females...’

‘Silence man! All wishing to come shall come,’ Mohinder announces. ‘Get out of the way!’



Matt has searched three caves before this one. All of them empty of anything but annoyed wildlife unhappy at being disturbed. But this one... this one has been used as a base of operations. There is a sleeping bag on the floor, tinned food in a case, bottled water in a cooler, and weapons. Enough weapons to start a revolution.

A white man shot the last Maharaja, Matt remembers.

‘Someone is trying to ferment an uprising,’ Matt mutters, and picks up a bottle of something black and oleaginous.

‘Someone’s always trying to ferment an uprising,’ says a too familiar voice. ‘God damn it, Parkman, why the hell do you pick now to worry about something other than the dig?’

Matt turns around slowly, still holding the bottle. ‘Audrey, what’re you doing?’

‘Hoping I don’t have to shoot you,’ she says, holding her gun in the casual grip of an expert shot.

‘I had a shitty day. I don’t know. I thought I’d find something and impress the Maharaja,’ Matt says absently, staring at the gun. ‘Audrey, I’ve known you ten years. I go to bat for you every expedition. Do you know how difficult it is getting permission for a woman?’

‘Listen to the words coming out of your mouth,’ she growls. ‘I have as much experience as you do. My qualifications are nearly as good. But I have to beg and barter to go on digs because I’m a woman. Well, fuck you and your help! Mrs Petrelli is paying me enough money that I won’t need you to “go to bat” for me, Matt. I’ll be able to go anywhere I want.’

Matt shakes the bottle. ‘There’s oil at the dig site?’

‘No, adjoining it, but close enough. A lake of the stuff. The Petrellis are trying to buy the land under the pretence of setting up visitors’ crap for the dig. But the old goat, Chandra, got suspicious.’

‘We were on the boat when the old Maharajah was killed,’ Matt says, licking his lips.

‘Sullivan wasn’t,’ Audrey says with a shrug. ‘He was the advanced guard. Asshole was supposed to get the locals riled up and then kill him. In the confusion, the Petrellis would apply to the British to take over the area. Except Sullivan killed Chandra first and instead of that old man we got your friend. He’s had private investigators snooping around. It was getting hot.’

‘Could’ve just paid him off,’ Matt says weakly. ‘Can pay me off.’

‘Sullivan was a fucking idiot,’ Audrey snorts. ‘He started trying to blackmail Mrs Petrelli. That’s a death sentence right there. You get my drift, Parkman?’

‘I certainly do,’ says another voice.

Audrey spins and raises her gun, as do the dozen armed police with Mohinder.

‘Be sensible Dr Hanson,’ Mohinder says mildly. ‘Would you really rather die than testify against your employers?’ He smiles sweetly. ‘After all, we’re minded to be quite lenient to the person who dispatched our father’s murderer. At most five years in prison, if you testify against the Petrellis.’

Audrey glances at Matt. ‘You know him better than me. Can he be trusted not to have me executed?’

Matt looks at Mohinder for a long moment, and then back at Audrey. ‘Yeah, he can be trusted.’



‘If Claire hadn’t come running to tell me what had happened we would have never known where you were going!’ Charlie explains, gulping down juice between words.

‘Oh but it was Charlie’s idea to come tell the Maharaja,’ Claire says quickly, smiling at the other girl. ‘I had no idea what to do.’

The remains of the expedition team are having a distinctly informal dinner in the palace while Mohinder looks on indulgently.

‘I can’t believe all this stuff was going on and I didn’t know anything about it,’ Peter complains. ‘My mom totally used me as a blind.’

‘If it bothers you that much I can always have you arrested,’ Mohinder suggests sweetly.

‘No thank you!’

‘Peter, he’s kidding,’ Matt laughs. ‘Don’t worry; Doctor Hanson was very clear that neither you nor Miss Bennet had any involvement in anything criminal.’

‘What’s going to happen to Senator Petrelli though?’ Charlie asks. ‘He’s still in the US?’

‘Charges will probably be brought there,’ Mohinder says. ‘The situation is diplomatically rather fraught since my father was the Maharaja but Senator Petrelli is, after all, a senator.’

‘I can’t believe they’d do stuff like this,’ Peter mutters, shaking his head. ‘I don’t know how to say sorry enough.’

‘You’re not responsible for your family’s crimes,’ Matt promises.

‘We have no issue with you remaining here as long as you wish,’ Mohinder says with a shrug. ‘Unless, of course, Professor Parkman wishes to throw you out of his expedition.’

Matt glares at him. ‘That wasn’t amusing, Majesty.’

‘I found it quite amusing, and I’m the Maharaja,’ Mohinder returns.

‘So, the dig is still on?’ Charlie asks hopefully. ‘Mrs Petrelli doesn’t get her money back?’

‘No,’ Matt says. ‘Although I hear all the family property has been seized, is that right Peter?’

‘Yeah,’ he says morosely.

Under the table, Mohinder puts a hand on Matt’s knee.

‘We were thinking it would be quite prestigious to have an official excavation team,’ Mohinder says. ‘The state isn’t the largest but I believe excavations can take quite some time.’

‘Permanently?’ Matt asks quietly.

‘Oh yes,’ Mohinder says with a smile. ‘As long as it remains amusing at any rate, but I can’t see that changing any time soon. Would you be interested in heading up such an endeavour?’

Charlie kicks out under the table.

‘Ow! I was going to say yes,’ Matt protests, glaring at her.

‘Well I’m sure, but your track record is not good!’

Matt turns to Mohinder. ‘Yes, yes I’d love that.’

Mohinder grins widely. ‘Excellent, we’ll start by having you assigned a room in the palace. Somewhere close to mine. I anticipate many involving conversations long into the night.’

‘I look forward to it.’

The End

Comments

[dragon6593.livejournal.com]

Great story. Loved the dialog between Proffessor Matt and Maharaja Mohinder in their first meeting. Equal parts dance and chess game with Matt overmatched on both counts.

Audrey as being in league with the villains was a twist I wasn't expecting. Angela being involved that much I'd figured out but Audrey was a surprise.

Mohinder coiming in to save Matt was Capital!

[kethni.livejournal.com]

Thanks, I'm so glad you enjoyed it :D The prompt was for Mohinder to be seductive which was fun to play with. Seductive but strong hopefully.

Audrey being on the wrong side came to me late in the story but it seemed to make sense. I do like Audrey and I think in that time period she'd have have good reason to be bitter.

Hee! Mohinder to the rescue!

Thanks! <333

[kojonoyuri.livejournal.com]

Excellent! Loved your portrayal of Mohinder in this.

Great job!

[kethni.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much! Mohinder was lots of fun to write :D

Thanks for reading and commenting!

[leadaisy.livejournal.com]

Loved their first meeting. Mohinder making Matt squirm was really hot :P And the twisted with Audrey made me gasp!

A good seduction is done slowly, carefully, and gently.’ Oh you know the first time the boys get it on it’s going to be one kinky night! :P Loved this! <3333

[kethni.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much :D I had lots of fun writing seductive Prince Mohinder. He's such a naughty boy, hehe!

Oh you know the first time the boys get it on it’s going to be one kinky night! :P Loved this! <3333

Well Mohinder was educated in Oxford and there are lots of stories about what those upper class boys used to get up to :D

[amles80.livejournal.com]

Oh, wow – I don’t know how you do it, but it’s obvious that you can do anything!! ! I won’t comment on every line, but let me tell you, this was very enjoyable!

Some of the things I liked:

* You are a true master of dialogue. Especially the scenes with M&M, but actually everything is great.

* I love that you brought Charlie in for this, I had almost forgotten about her, but she’s definitely adorable and perfect for this part. I love what you make of her character in this story. (At first I thought that she didn’t like Claire, but then I thought that she does… If this was a full length movie – it totally could be – I think it would be wonderful, with everything that’s going on with all the characters.)

* And Mohinder, although this story is very far removed from canon, speaks very much in character! :) And then he’s also very… very… Mohinder sits down on the chaise and pats it. ‘Aren’t we friends?’
‘As the lion said to the mouse,’ Matt observes. Yes, that was the feeling I got… Haha, I love it! ;) I always feel that my prompts are sort of vague, but I think you know what I mean better than I know it myself. :)

* You made me very suspicious of Angela’s motives… and then, after the scene with Mohinder and then with Angela reclining in her tent like Victoria on the throne it get really exciting… then Audrey!! I didn’t see that one coming! But yeah; But I have to beg and barter to go on digs because I’m a woman., that makes a lot of sense! And all because the Petrellis want the oil… Oh my God, you’re so clever.

Thank you, this was great. You and boudeica7 are totally my heroes! :)

[kethni.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much, I'm really pleased you enjoyed it :D Thanks for a fantastic prompt. That's for all the great propmts :D

I do like Charlie :D I tend to vary between writing Charlie or Monica for the cheery, enthusiastic female role in fics. I wanted to muddy the waters a bit so I wanted Claire to be a slight red herring :)

Mohinder was tons of fun to write :D License to make him seductive!

Hehe, I figured if Angela was the very obvious suspicious party it made Audrey that much less likely to be a suspect.

Thanks so much! We had a lot of fantastic prompts :D

[boudecia7.livejournal.com]

Wow, this whole thing is really immensely smart and fun to read. :D I love the depth of characterization that's here, especially with Audrey and Charlie, and the little side plots going on with Peter and Claire. I also love the flirty give and take between Mohinder and Matt; the dialogue's really strong there as is the tension. And yay, Matt gets to stay :D:D:D

Fantastic story! All your hard work really paid off with this one. <333

[kethni.livejournal.com]

Thanks honey! And thanks for all your help with the plotting. I was really stumped for the murder and intrigue side of things as you know :)

Heh, I have images of all kinds of diplomats coming to deal with Mohinder and bumping into Matt all tired and covered in sand as he wanders into the palace after a day at the dig.

Thanks babe! <333