Fandom: Night At The Museum II: Battle Of The Smithsonian.
fic list is here.
(sequel to: Running Differently, part one, part two, epilogue).
Characters: Al Capone, Amelia Earheart, General Custer, Darth Vader.
mention made of: Libby Custer, Monahsetah.
Summary: Capone's not the only one in the Smithsonian whose crimes tend to overshadow his good side.
Note: in real life, Capone wanted to be liked.
Location: Smithsonian Museum:
By now, dawn was less than half an hour away. "See you tomorrow, ace?" Amelia asked him, challenging.
"Tomorrow or whenever," Al said. They'd finished getting everyone back to their respective museums and exhibits, and now, so this is so long.
"Then in that case, I need to be getting back down to the basement. Level B, I believe."
"I'll take you," Custer said. Before either of them could object, "I'm on the same floor, and besides, not enough time for you to get down there and back up to the Castle by daybreak," he said to Capone.
"Makes sense I suppose," Amelia said.
"Momento," Capone asked of her, and took Custer aside. "You do anything to her, if she so much's thinks you're doin' or about to do anything -" both warning and threat.
"Trust me," Custer told Capone, "I've already got enough women in my life." Libby, Monahsetah....
Capone nodded. "Make sure you remember that, then."
Amelia shook her head at them, but offered no resistance to being escorted back down to the basement.
As Capone watched her off, there was the sound of music in the air...spoiled only by heavy breathing. Turning around, he saw that black-armor guy. "What is that, a wedding march?" Capone asked.
"The Imperial March," Darth Vader said, clicking the HASBRO tape player off but not setting it down. "One day, it will be considered the height of classical music."
"Think I'll stick with the opera."
"That is your choice. We all must chose at some point in our lives.
"We do great good," Vader said, looking out to the skyline, "and so often they remember only our sins. That is their choice."
"That's people for ya," Capone agreed.
"It is sufficient that we know what we have done. All of it. We are our own judges."
"Makes sense." Capone thought over a few of his better times - as a boy, gathering kids to put a stop to pickpockets and return the stolen possessions to the rightful owners; at his horse-racing tracks, giving winning tickets to people he liked the look of; creating Chicago's first soup kitchen. "Thanks, pops," Capone said.
"I am not your father," Vader replied.
"Yeah no kidding. Mine was from Naples."
Vader threw up his hands and strode back to the museum he'd come from.
"Weird guy," Capone said to himself as he got back in his exhibit. "Right, but weird."