Title: Consequence of Being Trapped

Author: Angel LeeAnn

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Marguerite, while mysteriously ill, finds herself in a perilous situation.

Disclaimer: These wonderful characters – sadly – don't belong to me. However, they are in the good hands of 'The Over Hill Gang' and were originally created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

NOTE: I wrote part of this story under the name "Unexpected Danger" back in 2003. However, after watching "Trapped" the other night, I decided to repost the story, but edited it to follow that story line (without Finn). So, if some of this sounds familiar, that's because the first half of this story is mostly from the original one I wrote (but minus the whole Sorcerer Klor storyline.)

Chapter One

Sickness Strikes

Twittering on the edge of her mattress, her stomach churned harshly and bile rose up her throat, but she swallowed the acidic fluid down, determined to not throw up. Waiting till she felt secure enough, Marguerite finally climbed to her weak feet. She was dizzy and her head split in two, but she managed to stagger out of her room and make her way cautiously to the kitchen table. Flopping down on a chair, she was frustrated to find herself out of breath. She had hoped that her nap would chase the flu bug away, but she was feeling worse.

Professor George Challenger glanced up from his soup and frowned at the dark haired heiress, his brows creasing with concern. "Are you all right, Marguerite? You look pale." He reached across the tabletop and placed his hand over her forehead. "No sign of a fever, but that doesn't mean you aren't coming down with something."

Marguerite Krux swatted his pestering hand away and groaned. "I feel wretched." She propped her head up with the palm of her hand. A couple weeks ago, she had felt the onslaught of the flu begin, but it was bearable. Today she felt ready to jump off a cliff. "Where are the others?"

The older man beamed, excitement glittering in his eyes. "I sent them out to gather an extraordinary specimen for me. I believe it may be the equivalent of a headache reducer. After some experiments, maybe it'll be good enough to use for your illness. I saw it on one of our scooting excursions, but didn't have a container to bring it back with."

Marguerite leapt from her chair, startling her companion, and raced to the balcony where she thrust her head over the railing. The sour, burning vomit erupted from her mouth and splattered on the branches below before dripping in clumps to the forest floor. After heaving up every last piece of breakfast, she crumbled to the ground, pressing her cheek against a post.

Challenger was kneeling beside her, gently placing his hand on her quivering shoulder. "My God, Marguerite, are you all right?" He carefully helped her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her slim waist. "Let's get you to your room, young lady." He guided her back to her bed.

After settling her in, he quietly rummaged through the cabinets for herbs. He didn't even glance up when he heard the others come off the elevator, returning from their journey. "Marguerite's very ill. I suggest we ask the Zanga for a remedy as soon as possible."

"What's wrong with her," Roxton demanded in a soft voice.

Challenger smashed some purple seeds. "She left a lovely gift for the animals over the railing. She must've emptied everything from her stomach." He sprinkled the powder into the bowl and handed it to Roxton. "I want you to give her this. Make sure she eats every drop."

Roxton accepted the bowl and hastily wandered into Marguerite's room. He could hear Challenger giving Veronica and Malone orders to retrieve a medicine man. What he wasn't prepared for was the pale, trembling, and sweaty woman lying helplessly on the bed. She peered up at him through heavy, glazed eyes and grimaced. "Don't tell me I'm going to have to eat that."

Roxton chuckled. "Sorry, Marguerite, but it's the doctor's orders." He perched him self delicately on the edge of the bed. He eyed her oddly. "You look dreadful, Marguerite." He caressed her cool face with the palm of his hand. "Mm, no fever. You didn't eat any unfamiliar berries, did you? This could be food poisoning."

"I'm not stupid, Roxton." She snatched the bowl from him roughly. "I take that back. I've done a couple stupid things while here, but I plan on preventing such foolishness in the future. Believe it or not, I learn from my mistakes." Her outburst wore her out and she leaned back into her pillow. In a small voice she requested, "Please, leave me alone. You're making me feel worse."

Roxton clenched his teeth and nearly stormed from the room. She's always having mood swings. Three years of her constant bitchiness is enough. What the hell does she want from us…from me? Yet, even as he thought it, he knew he would continue putting up with her mood swings if it meant keeping her safely with him. After the time they shared in the cave, when they finally confessed their love, and Marguerite had lowered her walls, Roxton knew he was eternally bonded to the woman of fire and steel. Even, though, once they were home, she had clammed back up, refusing his desire ... and, more painfully, his love.

Part Two

By mid-morning, Veronica Layton snuck into her companion's room with a dish of steamy herbal soup to shockingly find the heiress propped up reading a book. The jungle girl handed the meal over. "You're looking much better, Marguerite. That remedy of Challenger's did wonders. Clarias was going to come today, but do you still need her?"

Clarias was a medicine woman from the Zanga tribe. She had been tending to a mother in labor last night, but promised to drop in this afternoon to check on Marguerite. By the color and stamina on Marguerite's face, Veronica assumed that Clarias would be making a wasteful trip.

Marguerite wrinkled her nose at the smelly soup. "No, I'm feeling wonderful this morning. I must have eaten something that didn't settle yesterday." She handed the bowl back to Veronica. "I suppose I ought to get up now. If I don't, Challenger will be in here shoving that horrid medicine down my throat." She crawled out of bed, slipping on her lavender blouse. "Are the men here?"

"Malone and Challenger went for a walk around the perimeter. Roxton is outside chopping wood for Challenger's next experiment." Veronica brushed back a strand of golden hair. "He's a brilliant man, but half the time I don't understand what he's rambling on about." Veronica gave her a shrug. "I think I'm going to go find us dinner. I can't stand another night of herbal soup." She paused a moment before exiting the bedroom to gather her hunting knife.

Marguerite pulled on her boots then, walked out and onto the elevator. She swept her hair back and wrinkled her nose. Her hair felt dirty. I really should go take a bath, she thought. At the bottom, she walked off the elevator and spotted Roxton hacking away at firewood. Should I tell him? No, I won't be gone long.

Marguerite crept around him and went to take her bath.

Part Three

Nearly finished, she ducked her head under one more time, marveling in the refreshing feeling of being clean. Sighing, she began wading towards shore, but a sharp pain shot through her stomach and she struggled to stay above water. The pain turned agonizing, tearing through her belly in excruciating waves of hot needle pricks. Holding her side, she used her other arm to propel herself closer to the edge, tears stinging her eyes. Her body impulsively bent over, doubling over in the pain. Frightened, she screamed for all she was worth.

Part Three

Roxton raised the ax, but hesitated at the sound of a shrill cry. In a split second, he was racing towards the sound, panic rising. Clearing the tree line, he saw Marguerite struggling to crawl herself out of the water hole grasping her stomach. She was naked and sobbing. In an instant, he was at her side, yanking her the rest of the way out of water. He reached over and dragged her skirt over her body. It wasn't much coverage, but at least it offered her some protection.

He cradled her to him, checking her over for signs of a wound, wondering where the blood was coming from that she didn't seem to realize was there. "Marguerite, Marguerite," he cupped her tear-streaked face. "What's wrong, Marguerite? What's happened?"

"My…st-stomach!" She howled in pain, squeezing her eyes shut. "Help me, Roxton! Make…make it stop!"

Roxton gathered her in his arms and rushed her to the tree house.

Part Four

Roxton paced the length of the tree house, his heavy boots pounding and his hand constantly sweeping through his chestnut hair. He stopped every so often in front of Marguerite's room, his ears twitching, straining to hear what was going on inside before continuing his long strides. He was worried as hell and anxious for Challenger and Clarias to give him some reassuring word.

Veronica and Malone stood reasonably close conversing. Occasionally one would bring her or his attention to the distraught hunter, but could find no consolation.

Finally, Challenger stepped out of her room, his face grave. He stared pointedly at Roxton before moving towards the pot boiling with water. "She's going to be fine." He gathered up the pot with a towel and started back towards Marguerite's room. "She'll be weak for the next couple of days, but she should pull through with perfection." With that, he disappeared into the bedroom.

"Challenger," Roxton called after him. He was thankful to hear that Marguerite would be fine, but now he wanted answers. What had happened? Was she attacked? Wish she bit by something in the water? Roxton swore that if anyone had hurt her he would kill him with his bare hands…a very slow death.

Part Five

Marguerite's strength finally returned over the course of the next few days. Challenger had warned the others off from prying, saying that Marguerite wasn't up to it. So, she was treated with curious eyes from the others, but didn't allow it to bother her. It was her life, her health, and if she wanted it to be confidential then it was her right to do so.

She trudged off the elevator, her back aching and her breasts sore. She didn't keep a regular monthly cycle anymore for stress and poor diet prevented her body from doing so. Yet, on a rare occasion, it crept up on her. She wasn't actually bleeding, yet, but she was certainly feeling the onslaught of PMS. Her mood bitter, she stomped over to where Roxton was patrolling the fence and snapped, "Can't you follow one simple instruction you worthless prick? I asked you to bring me back fruit!"

Roxton, feeling a bit defensively, eyed her coolly. "I must say I don't think you need any more food." He indicated her stomach. "It looks to me that you're starting to fill out nicely." He didn't really mean it, her blouse was a little snug, but she was still very slender. Yet, he'd learned over the years that the thing women feared most was losing their figure and beauty.

Her eyes went wide and he was sure she was going to tear him apart. "You bastard," she seethed before whipping around and racing back towards the tree house.

He followed her into the elevator. "Marguerite, I'm sorry." He glanced nervously around the cramped space. "I…I just…you're just so moody these days." He bit his lip, fearing he said the wrong thing.

Marguerite sniffled, then turned and buried her face in his shoulder. "Oh, Roxton, please forgive me. I should have told you."

They had reached the top, but didn't get out. Instead, he ran a hand through her hair, kissing her temple. "Tell me what, Marguerite?"

"Roxton!" Veronica yelled from somewhere in the tree house. "A T-rex! Come quickly!"

Roxton peered down at Marguerite. "We'll finish this later." He rushed off, his rifle grasped firmly in his hands.