The Spice of Life
By Sabrina
Disclaimer: I don't own The Lost World, and all attached with it, and I never will.
Spoilers: Not really, just general knowledge of the show.
Pairing: Marguerite/Roxton (sorta)
Status: Complete
Summary: On a quiet day, the explorers just can't seem to stay out of trouble.
Author's Notes: Well, this was created from a challenge at the Lost World Fix. I just took it and ran with it? Whadda think? LOL.
***
Absolute silence reigned. No screech of birds, no monkey chatter, no dinosaur roars, no trickle of water, not even the gentlest whisper of wind. The only sound was the muffled crunch of her own footsteps. In the lush, vivid jungle, the quiet was anomalous and sent an eerie chill racing down her spine. A sudden, loud crack -- so intense she could feel it in her bones -- reverberated across the plateau. She turned, instinctively knowing where the sound had originated. Terror grabbed her stomach as she muttered, "the tree-house", and took off in a dead run.
***
The day had started out innocently enough. Veronica and Ned had gone off to hunt for some meat, while Roxton and Challenger had gone off to find some plants that Challenger insisted could be found near the Zanga village, it didn't matter that the species had supposedly died with the dinosaurs, he was going to find it. In fact, that was Challengers exact defence, when she explained to him the odds of finding the specimen. Marguerite could hear his exact words. "In a world where Dinosaurs exists, wouldn't it be possible for a species of plant to survive also."
So, she had been left alone in the treehouse, contentedly mind you, but alone none the less. When Roxton had complained that she shouldn't be alone, she had gone to great lengths - almost the same lengths as Challenger - to insist that she would be fine. Marguerite hadn't had a chance to just rest and be by herself for ages that it seemed nice to have the quiet and restfulness that an empty treehouse had offered.
On the balcony she had read some more of the Layton's early journals, trying to immense herself in the love the two parents had shared with Veronica. The same love that kept Veronica searching even after years had passed.
..."The day has been a long one, and Abigail decided that she wanted a picnic with Veronica. I of course couldn't say no. I never could to that woman."...
Marguerite looked up from the journal to sigh in sadness. She didn't understand why she insisted on reading the journals. They just reminded her of what she had never had, and it always left her feeling depressed and with more questions about her own family and childhood. Of course, Marguerite had always made sure she put the books back exactly where they had come from and that none of the other explorers figured out what she had been doing for that certain time. If they knew that she spent hours delving into the journals they would have endless questions, so with answers she knew she didn't want to give.
Closing the journal quietly she decided that this was time to do something else. She could feel the tension building behind her eyes and she knew if she didn't get out, then a steady melancholy would soon settle down on her. Placing the book back on the shelf, she looked around and tried to guess how long the others had been gone. Probably not that long, her mind reasoned. There was still enough time to let her walk around outside for a little while.
Marguerite picked up her gun belt and then headed to the elevator. With one final thought, she turned back, grabbed a piece of Malone's paper and wrote a quick message encase they got back before she did. Once satisfied that everything was fine she left the treehouse.
***
Marguerite sat on the edge of the river with her own journal on her lap. She was so absorbed in the writing that she hadn't noticed how late it was getting. She wasn't sure when the others would return - they said before supper, but you could never really tell - still, she knew that she should head back.
Taking one final look around the river bend Marguerite started back. She walked slowly taking the time to think about what had been going on lately. After two years here the group of explorers had gone through a lot together. Dinosaurs, Lizard Men, Amazon there had been countless dangers yet they had all been through it together. Yes, there had been pain but there had also been joy. Stolen moments where she could convince herself that she never wanted to leave.
So deep in her thoughts, was Marguerite, that she didn't realize how quite the jungle had gotten. Absolute silence reigned. No screech of birds, no monkey chatter, no dinosaur roars, no trickle of water, not even the gentlest whisper of wind. The only sound was the muffled crunch of her own footsteps. In the lush, vivid jungle, the quiet was anomalous and sent an eerie chill racing down her spine. A sudden, loud crack -- so intense she could feel it in her bones -- reverberated across the plateau. She turned, instinctively knowing where the sound had originated. Terror grabbed her stomach as she muttered, "the tree-house", and took off in a dead run.
Marguerite reached the Treehouse to see Roxton running back out. "Marguerite!" He shouted. Marguerite turned around to see a native closing in behind her. She doubled her speed to the gate, but she could feel the villager gaining on her. She missed a step and stumbled. The stubble was enough to send her sprawling on the ground. Trying to pick herself up quickly she realized the man must be right on her. Marguerite could hear a loud bang and tried not to look at where her attacker had fallen. 'Thank you, Roxton.' She thought.
From her vantage point of the ground she could see other men start to sound the camp. "Roxton. They're sounding the treehouse!."
"I know and keep quiet dammit!"
Marguerite headed the hunter's words and felt arms starting to pull at her blouse. Thinking it was the native she flung her arms wide, only to hear a familiar grunt. She turned around to see Challenger holding his head.
"What the hell is going on?" Marguerite shouted.
"We were ambushed on our way back from the Zanga village... Slave traders."
"Just great." Marguerite mumbled.
"We took a circular route home. Roxton was sure we had lost them, but they showed back up just as we reached the treehouse. How the little buggers found us, we still don't know."
Marguerite looked around trying to find a way back to the gate. The only way would be to go straight for it, and right through a rain of arrows.
Challenger seemed to be thinking the same thing for he said; "We have to make a run for it."
"I know."
Marguerite got up and crouched on the ground.
"On the count of three."
"One..."
Marguerite lifted her head a little to look around.
"Two..."
Challenger positioned his rifle before him.
"Three."
Both took off on a dead run, for the second time in one day, Marguerite thought idly. Marguerite pushed the door to the gate open just as she felt something hit her leg. Her fingers reached down automatically and her hand came back up with blood colouring it. "Just great." Challenger reached over and helped her as they both continued to run for the elevator. An arrow narrowly missed Challenger's head as they dove for the elevator.
As the elevator deposited them off in the treehouse, Roxton came and took Challenger's position by her side. Marguerite sighed, she had left her to escape sadness and returned with a wound in her thigh. Not exactly what she had in mind.
Roxton looked worriedly over her, and Marguerite smiled to make him relax. "Well, I have to say this for you Lord Roxton, you definitely know how to show a girl a good time."
Roxton showed her to the balcony and made her sit down. He gingerly touched the wound and looked worried when his hand still came away tipped with blood.
"Really, it's nothing, Roxton." Marguerite tried to calm him down.
"Let Challenger be the judge of that."
Roxton turned over and waved Challenger over. "You need to look at this, Challenger."
Challenger probed the wound gingerly, just like Roxton had done and then looked up. He went into the back and disappeared for a few seconds. Marguerite's mind reeled with all the horrors that Challenger might try and experiment on her. He really was a sweet man, but when he thought he saw an advantage to try out a new remedy he usually took it.
Luckily, Challenger only came back out with salve and bandages. He handed both to Roxton.
"Put the salve on her wound and then wrap it in the bandages."
"I think I can do it for myself." Marguerite said indignantly.
"Will you ever let someone else help you?" Roxton said in a huff.
Marguerite remained silent and tried not to be bothered by Roxton's cool hands on her thigh. She almost cried out when he finished. It had felt so good.
Marguerite opened her eyes and noticed that Roxton had disappeared.
"Roxton?" She called out?"
"Right here, Marguerite. I'll be right back."
And sure to his word, he came back, with a book in his hands. He gently laid down the book in her lap and she also gasped when she saw what it was. It was the journal that she had been reading earlier that day. Marguerite looked up and saw that Roxton only had a smile on his face.
"I believe you were reading this." He said with a smile on his face.
Roxton gently placed a kiss on her forehead and left her to read.
..."Veronica was absolutely adorable on the picnic. She laughed and chased the butterflies. Sometimes I can almost forget where we are."...
Fin
Please, Please, Please Review. I live off of them.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Lost World, and all attached with it, and I never will.
Spoilers: Not really, just general knowledge of the show.
Pairing: Marguerite/Roxton (sorta)
Status: Complete
Summary: On a quiet day, the explorers just can't seem to stay out of trouble.
Author's Notes: Well, this was created from a challenge at the Lost World Fix. I just took it and ran with it? Whadda think? LOL.
***
Absolute silence reigned. No screech of birds, no monkey chatter, no dinosaur roars, no trickle of water, not even the gentlest whisper of wind. The only sound was the muffled crunch of her own footsteps. In the lush, vivid jungle, the quiet was anomalous and sent an eerie chill racing down her spine. A sudden, loud crack -- so intense she could feel it in her bones -- reverberated across the plateau. She turned, instinctively knowing where the sound had originated. Terror grabbed her stomach as she muttered, "the tree-house", and took off in a dead run.
***
The day had started out innocently enough. Veronica and Ned had gone off to hunt for some meat, while Roxton and Challenger had gone off to find some plants that Challenger insisted could be found near the Zanga village, it didn't matter that the species had supposedly died with the dinosaurs, he was going to find it. In fact, that was Challengers exact defence, when she explained to him the odds of finding the specimen. Marguerite could hear his exact words. "In a world where Dinosaurs exists, wouldn't it be possible for a species of plant to survive also."
So, she had been left alone in the treehouse, contentedly mind you, but alone none the less. When Roxton had complained that she shouldn't be alone, she had gone to great lengths - almost the same lengths as Challenger - to insist that she would be fine. Marguerite hadn't had a chance to just rest and be by herself for ages that it seemed nice to have the quiet and restfulness that an empty treehouse had offered.
On the balcony she had read some more of the Layton's early journals, trying to immense herself in the love the two parents had shared with Veronica. The same love that kept Veronica searching even after years had passed.
..."The day has been a long one, and Abigail decided that she wanted a picnic with Veronica. I of course couldn't say no. I never could to that woman."...
Marguerite looked up from the journal to sigh in sadness. She didn't understand why she insisted on reading the journals. They just reminded her of what she had never had, and it always left her feeling depressed and with more questions about her own family and childhood. Of course, Marguerite had always made sure she put the books back exactly where they had come from and that none of the other explorers figured out what she had been doing for that certain time. If they knew that she spent hours delving into the journals they would have endless questions, so with answers she knew she didn't want to give.
Closing the journal quietly she decided that this was time to do something else. She could feel the tension building behind her eyes and she knew if she didn't get out, then a steady melancholy would soon settle down on her. Placing the book back on the shelf, she looked around and tried to guess how long the others had been gone. Probably not that long, her mind reasoned. There was still enough time to let her walk around outside for a little while.
Marguerite picked up her gun belt and then headed to the elevator. With one final thought, she turned back, grabbed a piece of Malone's paper and wrote a quick message encase they got back before she did. Once satisfied that everything was fine she left the treehouse.
***
Marguerite sat on the edge of the river with her own journal on her lap. She was so absorbed in the writing that she hadn't noticed how late it was getting. She wasn't sure when the others would return - they said before supper, but you could never really tell - still, she knew that she should head back.
Taking one final look around the river bend Marguerite started back. She walked slowly taking the time to think about what had been going on lately. After two years here the group of explorers had gone through a lot together. Dinosaurs, Lizard Men, Amazon there had been countless dangers yet they had all been through it together. Yes, there had been pain but there had also been joy. Stolen moments where she could convince herself that she never wanted to leave.
So deep in her thoughts, was Marguerite, that she didn't realize how quite the jungle had gotten. Absolute silence reigned. No screech of birds, no monkey chatter, no dinosaur roars, no trickle of water, not even the gentlest whisper of wind. The only sound was the muffled crunch of her own footsteps. In the lush, vivid jungle, the quiet was anomalous and sent an eerie chill racing down her spine. A sudden, loud crack -- so intense she could feel it in her bones -- reverberated across the plateau. She turned, instinctively knowing where the sound had originated. Terror grabbed her stomach as she muttered, "the tree-house", and took off in a dead run.
Marguerite reached the Treehouse to see Roxton running back out. "Marguerite!" He shouted. Marguerite turned around to see a native closing in behind her. She doubled her speed to the gate, but she could feel the villager gaining on her. She missed a step and stumbled. The stubble was enough to send her sprawling on the ground. Trying to pick herself up quickly she realized the man must be right on her. Marguerite could hear a loud bang and tried not to look at where her attacker had fallen. 'Thank you, Roxton.' She thought.
From her vantage point of the ground she could see other men start to sound the camp. "Roxton. They're sounding the treehouse!."
"I know and keep quiet dammit!"
Marguerite headed the hunter's words and felt arms starting to pull at her blouse. Thinking it was the native she flung her arms wide, only to hear a familiar grunt. She turned around to see Challenger holding his head.
"What the hell is going on?" Marguerite shouted.
"We were ambushed on our way back from the Zanga village... Slave traders."
"Just great." Marguerite mumbled.
"We took a circular route home. Roxton was sure we had lost them, but they showed back up just as we reached the treehouse. How the little buggers found us, we still don't know."
Marguerite looked around trying to find a way back to the gate. The only way would be to go straight for it, and right through a rain of arrows.
Challenger seemed to be thinking the same thing for he said; "We have to make a run for it."
"I know."
Marguerite got up and crouched on the ground.
"On the count of three."
"One..."
Marguerite lifted her head a little to look around.
"Two..."
Challenger positioned his rifle before him.
"Three."
Both took off on a dead run, for the second time in one day, Marguerite thought idly. Marguerite pushed the door to the gate open just as she felt something hit her leg. Her fingers reached down automatically and her hand came back up with blood colouring it. "Just great." Challenger reached over and helped her as they both continued to run for the elevator. An arrow narrowly missed Challenger's head as they dove for the elevator.
As the elevator deposited them off in the treehouse, Roxton came and took Challenger's position by her side. Marguerite sighed, she had left her to escape sadness and returned with a wound in her thigh. Not exactly what she had in mind.
Roxton looked worriedly over her, and Marguerite smiled to make him relax. "Well, I have to say this for you Lord Roxton, you definitely know how to show a girl a good time."
Roxton showed her to the balcony and made her sit down. He gingerly touched the wound and looked worried when his hand still came away tipped with blood.
"Really, it's nothing, Roxton." Marguerite tried to calm him down.
"Let Challenger be the judge of that."
Roxton turned over and waved Challenger over. "You need to look at this, Challenger."
Challenger probed the wound gingerly, just like Roxton had done and then looked up. He went into the back and disappeared for a few seconds. Marguerite's mind reeled with all the horrors that Challenger might try and experiment on her. He really was a sweet man, but when he thought he saw an advantage to try out a new remedy he usually took it.
Luckily, Challenger only came back out with salve and bandages. He handed both to Roxton.
"Put the salve on her wound and then wrap it in the bandages."
"I think I can do it for myself." Marguerite said indignantly.
"Will you ever let someone else help you?" Roxton said in a huff.
Marguerite remained silent and tried not to be bothered by Roxton's cool hands on her thigh. She almost cried out when he finished. It had felt so good.
Marguerite opened her eyes and noticed that Roxton had disappeared.
"Roxton?" She called out?"
"Right here, Marguerite. I'll be right back."
And sure to his word, he came back, with a book in his hands. He gently laid down the book in her lap and she also gasped when she saw what it was. It was the journal that she had been reading earlier that day. Marguerite looked up and saw that Roxton only had a smile on his face.
"I believe you were reading this." He said with a smile on his face.
Roxton gently placed a kiss on her forehead and left her to read.
..."Veronica was absolutely adorable on the picnic. She laughed and chased the butterflies. Sometimes I can almost forget where we are."...
Fin
Please, Please, Please Review. I live off of them.