Author's Notes: Written for sakuratsukikage as a part of livejournal's usxuk community Secret Santa.

Also, a major thank you to Kel my amazing beta-reader and the book The Lost Tomb by Kent Weeks for inspiration. Indiana Jones fans, this one's for you guys!

Alfred Jones and the Curse of the Pharaoh: Chapter 1

"And so, that is how adventurer and hero extraordinaire- Alfred Jones – found himself running for his life. Bringing you awesomely up-to-date on the situation, here's a quick rundown of our perilous adventure so far!

After finally discovering the whereabouts of Professor Lucas Hamill, the only man known to have information, we set out to this remote island. It seems the good ole Professor has had several threats on his life over this info and we tried our best to explain to him that with us, it would be in good hands. We're not interested in a giant ruby or immortality or whatever the other rumors might say it is. We seek this for the adventure. The thrill of the hunt and the archaeological importance of finally reuniting all the pieces is our prize.

But, well, you know how crazy old Professors can be. So he wouldn't hear anything of it and set the local tribesmen on us. Lucky for us- and for the sake of archeology! – the great and awesome me, managed to snatch up his notebook while my companion created a diversion.

And this is why, at the moment, hero and adventurer Alfred Jones is running like mad for his plane on the beach. The question now is, can he survive this current peril? Will he ever find the mysterious Heart of Osiris? Will he…"

"Ever bloody shut up and keep running?" A proper British voice cut in.

America grinned, flipping his handheld voice recorder off and shoving it into his pocket. "Oh come on, England." They took a quick swerve right, just missing a shower of darts. "It'll make an awesome adventure novel!"

England rolled his eyes. Grabbing America's wrist, he yanked him behind a tree as the bevy of hasty footsteps approached. "Look. I know you think it utterly brilliant that your 'name' happens to sound like a famous Hollywood adventurer. I get that. But I'm quite sure 'Alfred Jones' can put better use to his time at the moment than narrating for himself!"

A spear hit the tree they were behind and England turned right, shielding America from the spray of tree bark that erupted from the spear's impact. America nodded, sliding a hand up behind England's back and holding him close as the footsteps drew near. Leaning down, he whispered, "Sorry. I just got caught up in the heat of things."

"You usually do," England retorted; but there was a hint of a smile in his tone.

On not being met with any other spears, America chanced peering around the remains of the tree. Looking out into the dense jungle that surrounded them, he clutched the Professor's notebook tighter in his hand. They'd worked for years to find where and who might have this information. The final piece to the golden Osiris. It had started as a casual hobby and turned into a full-blown pastime for both of them; using the down time between meetings and their other duties as countries to go adventuring and exploring like they had back in the hey-day of exploration. "It's rather nice to get out and live a little," England had remarked once. And America had to agree. Gosh was he so glad he had England along with him. It would be fun no matter what, but having his partner with him? Made it totally awesome.

"The plane's not too far," England's voice cut into his thoughts.

America nodded, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. It was times like these when his veins were thrumming with adrenaline that the worst case scenario seemed utterly hilarious. "Let's hope they haven't figured out that's our only way off this island."

Wiping the sweat off his brow, England took the notebook from America, stuffing it into the satchel he was carrying. With a smile, he held out his hand. "I suppose we'll just have to run for it then?"

If possible, America grinned wider. Reaching out, he took England's hand and laced their fingers together. Giving a quick squeeze, he replied, "Gotta love the running."

They bolted forward, their sudden motion drawing unwanted attention. Ducking, dodging and swerving (but never once letting go) they made for their two-seater biplane on the beach.

Another rain of darts and spears came, this time with one almost hitting its mark.

"Shit!" America cursed, clutching at his arm. "What did the Prof tell them to get them so pissed off?"

They came to a momentary halt, finally letting go to tend to the wound. It had just grazed him along his upper bicep, but the blood was already beginning to flow. America heard the rip of fabric to his left, a strip of England's khaki shirt being thrust into his field of vision.

"Quickly now, we're almost there. I'll go on ahead and get the plane started."

Nodding, America took the makeshift bandage and started to wrap his arm. England made a dash for the plane, sloshing through the shallow waters out to it and clambering up into the open cockpit.

And here I had questioned America's use of the N3N Canary seaplane. It figures we'd get ourselves into a predicament in which an open cockpit is to our advantage.

Placing the satchel that held their prized information inside safely under the second seat, England settled into the pilot's seat. That's when he heard America's voice calling out a warning.

"England, get down!"

He ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the darts as they hit the plane. Keeping his head low, England started flipping the levers and let the biplane's engine roar to life. The sound of it echoed across the beach, a flock of birds rising from the nearby trees at the noise. Over the din, England called to the younger country who was running down the beach with the tribesmen hot on his trail.

"Come on, Mr. Adventurer. Step it up now!"

America raced forward, grabbing onto the edge of the back seat and gesturing at England to start flying. As he taxied it out over the water, America pulled himself into the backseat and plopped down right as the plane started its rise into the sky.

"Good girl, Ellie!" America said, patting the side of the plane. England cleared his throat. "And thank you England for the awesome rescue."

"You'd better."

They glanced back at the beach they'd just left. Whether they'd given up or were frightened off by the plane, their pursuers had fled. America heaved a sigh of relief.

"That was close."

"Y-Yeah."

Blue eyes went wide at the quake in his voice. "England?" America leaned forward, the plane lurching as England's head started to loll to the side. "England!"

The Briton's hands had slipped from the wheel and the plane started to shake. America grabbed England quickly under the arms, lifting him into the back seat. Settling him down as quickly as possible, America precariously balanced on the plane as it started to nosedive. He slid forward into the pilot's seat, fingers fast over the levers, quickly righting the plane and stabilizing it. With a shuddering breath, he switched on the autopilot.

Swiveling around in his seat, America examined England. He could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, and his heartbeat was normal. That's when America noticed the small dart embedded in the older country's shoulder. America pulled it out and examined it. It was blue tipped, a sleeping dart. Nothing harmful. Letting out his breath in relief, America ruffled England's hair.

"You can be quite the hero sometimes, you know that England?"

And with a bit of a wistful smile tugging on his lips, America turned around and started the flight to their next destination.

America flew them to Australia's house. It wasn't too far a flight from the island, and most of all, it was safe. The other country had accompanied them on a couple of adventures in the past, and America knew that given the top-secret nature of their quest, Australia was someone they could trust.

There was a different type of trust between fellow adventurers. Not so much just the 'don't tell anyone' aspect, but also the 'don't go after this yourself, it's my quarry' element. Australia could be trusted in full.

"Okay mate, slow up and explain this to me again. You're after a heart?"

America grinned, taking another sip of the Foster's beer he'd been given before starting in on the tale. "It's not just any heart. You know the legend behind Osiris right?"

"Old Egyptian god, got murdered by Set and cut into bits. Went on to become their god of the Afterlife?"

America replied. "Yep, that's the one."

"Didn't a fish eat the bloke's donger?"

They both snickered.

"My word, you two," England interjected. He took the proffered teacup Australia was holding out to him and nodded his thanks.

"Jeez England, you tell the stodgy proper version then," America retorted, sticking out his tongue. Australia just shook his head.

"It's like this Australia. In the story, Isis gathered up all the pieces of Osiris and reunited them. Everyone knows that part. But the lesser known matter is that she created a golden Osiris, all the parts divided, and scattered them to several locations. These locations then became the centers for the Cult of Osiris. The rumor is, if all those fourteen pieces are reunited, it gives the owner immortality."

"Or a giant ruby," America added. "Some rumors say that too."

Australia took a sip of his own beer. "Hmm. Well that sounds right troublesome. Bound to have loads of nutters after it with that kind of rumor."

"As you might have guessed, we have recovered all but this final piece. The Heart of Osiris," England continued.

With a grin at America, he asked, "So you got the golden donger already?"

America piped up, "Oh yeah. You are looking at the proud owners of Osiris's golden cock!"

England groaned, rubbing between his eyebrows to stave off an oncoming headache. The two could be downright immature once they put their minds to it.

"Now see here. We cannot arse around here all day and exchange juvenile humor. If Professor Hamill maintained any contacts or was dead set on retrieving the Heart himself, we have to move quickly. Once our gear is loaded in the plane and we have our packs full of supplies, we need to head out immediately. If possible, we should stay in the tomb entrance tonight and guard it."

"England," America's tone turned serious. "Are you sure? I'm sure a few more days wouldn't hurt and…"

"America. You can stop your fussing over the sleeping dart. I suffered much worse when I explored Africa with Livingstone along with Scotland. Half of which, at the hands of Scotland himself," England said firmly, setting his empty teacup aside.

"England's right, America," Australia added. "Other adventurers can turn right nasty if you tango with their goods. You two had best skedaddle."

America sighed in resignation. "All right, if you say so. Australia actually got us all packed up while you slept, so we're ready to go."

England stood up and turned to Australia. "Are you interested in joining us? We could always use another pair of hands."

Australia chuckled. "No way, mate. I'm not being the third wheel. This has 'Couple's Weekend' written all over it."

The pair blushed, and America rubbed the back of his head. "Well, it's just… you know Indiana Jones has Marion."

"Excuse me!"

America grinned. "Come on England. You're not a kid, a ditzy singer, or my son." With a grimace he added, "And you are definitely not my father."

With a resigned sigh, and a glare at the smirking Australia, England replied, "Fine. I'll be Marion. But I'm not wearing a dress, so don't get any funny ideas."

Throwing an arm around him, America smiled. "Awesome! It's a good thing I packed my fedora and whip then."

England rolled his eyes. "All right then, Indiana. Grab your blasted hat and whip and let's get this bloody show on the road."

They arrived in Egypt in the evening, just as the sun had begun to set. Mingling in with the residual crowds flocking to the Valley of the Kings, the two stealthily made their way towards the tomb designated as KV5. It wasn't one open to the public, which was both good and bad. Good because that meant they didn't have to deal with tourists, bad because that meant they'd have to be as inconspicuous as possible when they snuck under the ropes and entered it.

"We kind of stand out with our large backpacks, you know," England had muttered under his breath.

Thankfully, a loud merchant across the road from them was drawing the crowd's attention. When they were mostly certain not a soul was watching, they crept over into KV5- the final resting place for the sons of Ramesses II. America and England shared a triumphant smile as they stole under the ropes and made their way into the tomb.

They were here. They hadn't been followed. And now, it was only a matter of time before the Heart of Osiris was in their collection.

"Ah, America," England called out, drawing America's attention from the carvings on the wall in the Passage of Re.

"Yeah?"

England flushed. This hall would be the last in which the sunlight from the outside could reach, and right now, those last red-toned hues of sunset only made the country appear even more flustered than he was.

Once America reached his side, England cleared his throat and reached over to clasp his hand. Raising his eyes to the ceiling, England pointed up with his free hand.

"I wanted you to see this."

America's eyes found the smudged black on the ceiling with his flashlight, the words clear despite how old the date placed them at.

Burton. 1825.

"James Burton was the first to map this place back then. Wrote that up there with the smoke of his candle. Brilliant British Egyptologist and well, I thought his notes might help us on our quest so I…"

He pulled his hand away and rifled through his satchel, finally pulling out a battered piece of parchment. "It's a copy loaned to me from the British Museum. Never guessed we'd end up in one of his tombs, but he's mapped the first couple of chambers for us."

A wide grin broke on America's face and he hugged England tight and warm against him. "That's freaking awesome, England!"

He pecked a quick kiss to his partner's lips and leaned over to peer at the rough map England held. "Okay, so what do we have here? Standard New Kingdom layout?"

"Seems like it. But he's put down this hall up ahead with sixteen pillars in it. It's the last chamber he noted, since it seems he only made it as far as that doorway," England explained, pointing it out on the sketch.

"That's a lot more pillars than usual. Maybe because this is for the Pharaoh's sons rather than the Pharaoh himself?" America theorized. As much as he'd read about and personally explored Egyptian tombs, this was definitely a new attribute.

"Possibly. I suppose the hieroglyphs in that room might tell us something. But, it's getting late and we'll need our strength for tomorrow. If we just make it into the next chamber, past this door, we should be able to guard it sufficiently without anyone noticing."

"All right!" America replied, pumping his fist. "Sleep first, adventure second."

England chuckled as they approached the large wooden door. It was sealed with a sliding bolt and a wax impression over it. It had obviously only been tampered with, rather crudely, by candle once before. "Looks like Burton passed through here with a candle, so the next chamber should be safe enough."

Nodding, America slid the bolt aside and tugged it loose from the broken wax seal. The doors creaked open and he felt the cool tomb air hit him in the face. A shudder of excitement mingled with a tiny little tinge of fear trickling down his spine. There are no ghosts here. No living mummies or things like that. I'm a hero and I can totally handle this!

Swinging the door open, he walked in and looked around the wide corridor. It was flanked on either side by rows of statues of various gods. He noticed with excitement that one was Osiris and several others were the gods and goddesses that played a part in his story. Isis, Horus, Set.

"I think we might be on the right path, England."

He nodded, looking around as he set up their lantern and unpacked their sleeping bags. "Certainly does. Although a great deal of worship of Osiris did take place during this period, so who knows. But, still, a good sign."

They exchanged an excited smile, both of them eager to venture deeper into the cave, but at the same time knowing they needed a good night's sleep first. Kicking off their boots, they settled down into their sleeping bags and glanced around at the carved faces of the statues in the lantern light.

"It's almost as if they're watching us," America said; half-serious, half-joking.

England sighed in exasperation. "Now don't go thinking they're going to spring to life in the middle of the night and kill us."

America laughed nervously. "No way! They're just…watching over us. Yeah! That's it!"

Reaching over between their sleeping bags, England clasped his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Watching over us, that's right. Now go to sleep, America."

America squeezed his hand back, but he didn't let go. "G'night, England."

They woke early, both rather excited to continue on their quest. America especially was up and relatively bouncy, topping off his light khaki shirt and dark khaki pants with a brown fedora and a whip at his waist. He shot a cocksure grin at England, who rolled his eyes.

"I swear you are never happy to be up this early unless it's an adventure or Christmas."

America adjusted his fedora and smiled. "Or Comic-con."

"Oh yes, that. Forgot how bloody early you dragged me to that," England remarked, tugging on his boots over his khaki trousers.

Up the corridor, towards the tomb's entrance, there was a loud rumbling noise. America and England froze, both listening intently.

"Thunder?"

"Or a loud tourist bus. But it seems a might bit early for that."

A little wary now, they remained mostly silent as they packed up their sleeping bags and ate breakfast; each and every noise from the surface causing them to pause and glance at the wooden door to the chamber they were in.

Slurping down the last of his cereal, America mumbled, "I really hope we weren't followed. Maybe we should have told Egypt we were coming and had him help divert attention..."

England sighed. "The last time we asked Egypt to help we had to buy loads of rubbish pottery off of him before he would agree to it. No, I'm certain it's thunder or something else. If we'd been followed, we would know by now."

"I hope you're right England, I really really do."

According to Burton's map, they would next enter the Hall of Hindering. America always strangely looked forward to that aspect of Egyptian tombs, while England always found it a bit of a bother. Sure enough, once they'd loaded up their things and opened the next door, they found the pathway leading directly into a large and deep well-shaft.

Gazing across, there were two pillars bordering what looked like a solid wall. But with the right inflection of a flashlight's beam, England was able to reveal the minuscule shadows that meant it was a hidden door leading ahead. Now, the tricky matter was getting across.

"Looks like it's about fifteen feet across," America noted.

England frowned. "Yes and there's no way we can cross five meters of space with our minimal supplies. We'll have to scale down into the shaft, cross the bottom and climb up the other side."

"Oh wow, England!" America exclaimed, standing right on the edge and glancing down. "This one's really deep. At least as deep as it is wide, if not more."

"And it appears to be rather finely decorated as well, although that's been faded with age."

They set about climbing down, using their two heavy packs as weights to hold their ropes in place as they scaled down. America volunteered to go first, recklessly dropping down and swinging a bit as he lowered himself to the well-shaft's bottom.

His feet hit the base and he called up. "Come on England, I'll catch you!"

"It's not that I need catching," England said as he grabbed up the rope. "It's that you find this whole swinging about on a thin rope business brilliant fun; while I, since I am in my right mind, find it to be a bit tedious and to be done with proper caution."

As he started to scale down the side, America kept the rope steady and waited. "You can let go at any time now. You're down far enough."

England peered over his shoulder, and met America's eyes. He exhaled, closed his eyes and let go.

Strong and familiar arms caught him, and England allowed himself a brief moment just to linger in America's embrace before he opened his eyes again.

Of course, America was beaming down at him. "Hello, England."

England, despite himself, smiled back. "Hallo, America."

Gently, America lowered England's feet to the ground and they set about yanking their packs down into the pit with them. Their backpacks hit with a thud, but a louder and more ominous noise followed.

"England…" America said suspiciously, his eyes darting towards the chamber they'd just left.

"It's just thunder. Or the busses or…" He trailed off as the rumbling grew louder, the sound of rushing water reaching their ears.

"Flood," America gasped.

They could hear it now, sloshing down through the tomb entrance and easily pushing aside the doors by force. There was no way they could climb out of the deep well-shaft in time; the floodwaters would be on top of them in mere moments. England took a deep breath and turned to America.

"America, hold onto me and no matter what, don't let me go."

America wrapped his arms tight around him and England did the same, clasping him tight. Blue eyes darted up at the doors to the chamber that had just flown open due to the strength of the floodwater. America pressed a quick kiss to England's forehead, and with a defiant gleam in his eyes, he looked back up at the rushing rapids headed straight for them.

"Bring it on, water. Bring it on!"