Someone to Watch Over Me
By: Sabrina
Disclaimer: As usual absolutely nothing belongs to me. but I can dream can't I?
Spoilers: The Outlaw
Status: Complete
Pairing: Marguerite/Roxton (I seem to make a lot of these, don't I. LOL.)
Summary: During 'The Outlaw' roles are reversed, as Marguerite takes on the role on protector and Roxton becomes the protected.
Author's Note: Well, after the length of A Path to the Moon, I decided something short was in order, don't think I'm ready to tackle another long piece yet. but I probably will anyways. LOL.
This piece centred during the episode "The Outlaw" and is Marguerite's thoughts after being forced to play Florence Nightingale. I know I got all the dialogue. but I'm not to sure about the movements, like where Marguerite puts her hand and such, so I'm sorry if it's not right. Other than that, I'm pretty happy with this piece, so enjoy!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Marguerite's eyes started to tear as she tried hard not to gag from the smell of burnt flesh. The memory of the act was enough to cause bile to build at the back of her throat; she did not need extra stimuli. She could still remember how the poker had smelled after being heated by the coals. She could still remember the laughter of the guards as she looked on with trepidation. The feel of the hot poker in her hands gave her goose bumps, and the look on Roxton's face when she pressed it to his wound would forever be engraved in her heart. More now then ever she cursed ever coming to the plateau.
Marguerite gently removed a piece of hair from Roxton's forehead as her mind raced a mile a minute. Thoughts of what could have been - what would be- if only she would let it, played through her mind. She knew Roxton loved her, that she had no doubt, but she wasn't sure whether her own heart was ready to love again.
She felt Roxton stirring and stopped in administrations for a second.
"You know I was dreaming...You were feeding me grapes on the bank of a stream."
Marguerite moved her hand from Roxton's forehead to check his wound, inwardly chuckling at the man's ability to make light of everything. "That's what we should have done."
She realized for a second that she really meant that. She knew that she would kill to be anywhere else, but until that moment she didn't realize how much a small gesture like a picnic by the river would appeal to her.
"You saved my life."
Marguerite was startled at how the conversation was rapidly becoming too personal for her taste. Even though she had just started to realize her feelings for the young Lord, she wasn't sure if it was the time to express them yet.
"You promised to save me from the hangmen." The light quip was her last ditch effort of turning around the conversation, but somehow the heiress knew Roxton wouldn't let it go.
Roxton's next sentence was almost quiet enough for Marguerite to miss. "Is that the only reason?"
That small sentence caused a whirl of activity to start inside her mind. Was that the only reason? Of course not, but if not what other reason could there be. Marguerite Krux, famous for always saving her own neck first, had swallowed her pride and saved someone else's life. Most who knew her would say that was not a small incident, easily erased by the passage of time. The loyal Lord John Roxton would forever remember that sacrifice of pride, at least.
So then why did she do it? She knew Roxton wouldn't leave her like so many before him had... was security the reason? No. She could look after herself, always had, and always would. Marguerite almost smiled as one after another, reasons passed through her mind's eye, each being systematically dismissed. She knew she was neglecting to bring up one reason, but she wasn't sure she could take to bring that reason out yet.
Marguerite looked down to see Roxton starring at her and she realized that she hadn't given him an answer. Almost reverently an answer slipped through her lips. "No."
Roxton smiled and Marguerite knew that he had got the answer he suspected. Whether she should be dismayed by that knowledge or not was quickly wiped from her mind as she leaned down to do the only thing she knew to do, she kissed him thoroughly and hungrily. The kiss both spoke of promises, questions and of the uncertainty of the present.
Marguerite eventually parted to breath and Roxton smiled.
"I should get shot more often." He said.
Marguerite couldn't help it, the ridiculousness of the situation finally got to her and she had to laugh. "Not till you get us out of here."
"I really must be dreaming." Marguerite looked down at her protector and almost frowned. The situation might seem hopeless, but she knew that somehow they would get out. They both had too much to live for not to.
Marguerite gently placed a kiss on Roxton's forehead and sat back down next to him, careful guarding her hero. There would be places and times for him to play saviour, but for now it was her turn to watch over him.
Fin.
Disclaimer: As usual absolutely nothing belongs to me. but I can dream can't I?
Spoilers: The Outlaw
Status: Complete
Pairing: Marguerite/Roxton (I seem to make a lot of these, don't I. LOL.)
Summary: During 'The Outlaw' roles are reversed, as Marguerite takes on the role on protector and Roxton becomes the protected.
Author's Note: Well, after the length of A Path to the Moon, I decided something short was in order, don't think I'm ready to tackle another long piece yet. but I probably will anyways. LOL.
This piece centred during the episode "The Outlaw" and is Marguerite's thoughts after being forced to play Florence Nightingale. I know I got all the dialogue. but I'm not to sure about the movements, like where Marguerite puts her hand and such, so I'm sorry if it's not right. Other than that, I'm pretty happy with this piece, so enjoy!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Marguerite's eyes started to tear as she tried hard not to gag from the smell of burnt flesh. The memory of the act was enough to cause bile to build at the back of her throat; she did not need extra stimuli. She could still remember how the poker had smelled after being heated by the coals. She could still remember the laughter of the guards as she looked on with trepidation. The feel of the hot poker in her hands gave her goose bumps, and the look on Roxton's face when she pressed it to his wound would forever be engraved in her heart. More now then ever she cursed ever coming to the plateau.
Marguerite gently removed a piece of hair from Roxton's forehead as her mind raced a mile a minute. Thoughts of what could have been - what would be- if only she would let it, played through her mind. She knew Roxton loved her, that she had no doubt, but she wasn't sure whether her own heart was ready to love again.
She felt Roxton stirring and stopped in administrations for a second.
"You know I was dreaming...You were feeding me grapes on the bank of a stream."
Marguerite moved her hand from Roxton's forehead to check his wound, inwardly chuckling at the man's ability to make light of everything. "That's what we should have done."
She realized for a second that she really meant that. She knew that she would kill to be anywhere else, but until that moment she didn't realize how much a small gesture like a picnic by the river would appeal to her.
"You saved my life."
Marguerite was startled at how the conversation was rapidly becoming too personal for her taste. Even though she had just started to realize her feelings for the young Lord, she wasn't sure if it was the time to express them yet.
"You promised to save me from the hangmen." The light quip was her last ditch effort of turning around the conversation, but somehow the heiress knew Roxton wouldn't let it go.
Roxton's next sentence was almost quiet enough for Marguerite to miss. "Is that the only reason?"
That small sentence caused a whirl of activity to start inside her mind. Was that the only reason? Of course not, but if not what other reason could there be. Marguerite Krux, famous for always saving her own neck first, had swallowed her pride and saved someone else's life. Most who knew her would say that was not a small incident, easily erased by the passage of time. The loyal Lord John Roxton would forever remember that sacrifice of pride, at least.
So then why did she do it? She knew Roxton wouldn't leave her like so many before him had... was security the reason? No. She could look after herself, always had, and always would. Marguerite almost smiled as one after another, reasons passed through her mind's eye, each being systematically dismissed. She knew she was neglecting to bring up one reason, but she wasn't sure she could take to bring that reason out yet.
Marguerite looked down to see Roxton starring at her and she realized that she hadn't given him an answer. Almost reverently an answer slipped through her lips. "No."
Roxton smiled and Marguerite knew that he had got the answer he suspected. Whether she should be dismayed by that knowledge or not was quickly wiped from her mind as she leaned down to do the only thing she knew to do, she kissed him thoroughly and hungrily. The kiss both spoke of promises, questions and of the uncertainty of the present.
Marguerite eventually parted to breath and Roxton smiled.
"I should get shot more often." He said.
Marguerite couldn't help it, the ridiculousness of the situation finally got to her and she had to laugh. "Not till you get us out of here."
"I really must be dreaming." Marguerite looked down at her protector and almost frowned. The situation might seem hopeless, but she knew that somehow they would get out. They both had too much to live for not to.
Marguerite gently placed a kiss on Roxton's forehead and sat back down next to him, careful guarding her hero. There would be places and times for him to play saviour, but for now it was her turn to watch over him.
Fin.