Disclaimer: I didn't actually write this story, a friend of mine did but wanted me to post this on the web site for her. I'll be sure to forward all reviews to her. Please dont sue either of us, we're both poor fans and arnt making any money from our pathetic attempt to get closer to the beloved charicters on The Lost World...
It was a typical morning on the Lost World Plateau. Not too hot, or cold, wet or humid, just right. All of the explorers were scattered about the main room, all but the rich heiress, Marguerite Krux, who never made it a habit to get up before anyone else. She eventually entered, and soon crossed her arms displeasingly at the lack of acknowledgment she received from the rest, and finally seated herself at the table.
"Do you know what tomorrow is?" Reporter, Ned Malone, asked as the last member of the expedition entered the room that morning. Lord John Roxton gave a disinterested glance over the maps he was charting of the plateau at the table and answered, "Tuesday."
Malone blinked a few times at his friend's answer. "No..."
"Tomorrow's not Tuesday?" Roxton replied with a quirked brow, setting down his pen for a moment.
"No, it is Tuesday, but that's not what I meant." Malone explained, a bit flabbergasted no one even remembered. "Tomorrow's Valentine's Day."
"But it's still Tuesday." Roxton smirked slightly and looked back down at his maps.
Veronica shook her head a bit at Roxton's carefree attitude concerning the holiday, then raised a brow at the lack of enthusiasm from the rest. "Not fans of Valentine's Day?" Veronica presumed, though she stated her sentence as a question. Marguerite scoffed slightly, gray eyes floating to blonde woman in animal skins across the room from her. "What's there to be a fan of on this God forsaken plateau? Valentine's Day is about furs, silks, chocolates, jewelry, perfume..." she counted the various items she named on her fingers as she spoke, and was quite prepared to go on before she was interrupted.
Professor George Challenger was the only one to correct the dark-haired woman on this. "Marguerite, Valentine's Day is a way to show people you love that you care about them. It's a celebration of love and even friendship."
"Ha!" Marguerite dared, an amused, yet sarcastic, smile on her face. "If you want to show me you care, George, find a way to install some pluming so I don't have to trudge through the Amazon every time I want to take a bath."
"Marguerite." Roxton shot a stern glance to her. "I don't generally celebrate the holiday either, but don't ruin the day for everyone else."
"Oh, come on, John!" Marguerite exclaimed, another amused smile playing at her lips. "We both know Valentine's Day is just an excuse exchange gifts then get it on." A cruel smirk tugged at the corner's of her lips as she looked towards the young reporter, seated beside his typewriter. "No wonder you and Veronica like it so much, Malone."
Malone's face was already a bright shade of red as Veronica lunged at Marguerite. Roxton, who was generally the one to stop their fights, was just sitting their with his own amused smirk on his handsome face. This just might be interesting... However, Professor Arthur Summerlee didn't think so, and he quickly jumped between the two women. Marguerite was standing now, a hand on her hip and elegant eyebrows skeptically raised with a smirk on her face.
"Really, Veronica. You've been on this plateau too long. You're about as uncivilized as those apemen." She scoffed, and this time it was Roxton who had to hold back Malone. "Marguerite, quite while your ahead!" Roxton spat, pushing Malone back into his seat. "Ahead?!" Veronica growled, "God, Roxton! She's really got you wrapped around her finger, doesn't she?!"
Roxton's dark eyes were soon glaring at the jungle woman, and Marguerite had to fight off a wild grin. She walked to the gun rack and grabbed her pistol, immediately strapping it to her belt and placing her hat on her head. Challenger quirked a brow from his spot at the table, papers and papers of scrawled formulas in front of him. "Marguerite, where are you going?"
"I'm going for a walk." Marguerite stated simply as she adjusted her hat once again and stepped into the elevator. "Alone?" Roxton's gaze finally left Veronica and adverted to the elevator.
"Yes, John. Alone. Is that all right with you? Do I have your permission?" She mocked. Marguerite wasn't quite sure what it was that just naturally made her snap at people when she was questioned too much, perhaps because no one had ever cared before, she thought.
"Not unless I come with you." Roxton answered and walked to the gun rack and placed his own hat on his head and entered the elevator. "Do you think I'm incapable of taking a walk by myself, Lord Roxton? Do you think I'm stupid?"
"I think you've got too much of an attitude, Ms. Krux, and if I come, I don't have to go off later and save your pretty behind, as I usually do."
Marguerite scoffed with a half smirk and pressed the lever to lower the elevator. "I let you save my "pretty behind" because you'd fall into a terrible depression if you couldn't be the hero. We both know that, John." Roxton laughed out loud at this, "I'd like to see you in ONE situation where you don't grab me by the arm and scream 'JOHN!'."
Roxton smirked slightly at the lack of response he heard from her. All he heard were muffled screams and squeals. "Break a nail?" he asked disinterestedly then looked over his shoulder. And there was Marguerite, a good distance away, being carried over some man's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She was kicking and screaming, of course. Immediately, the dark haired hunter went after the group of tribal warriors, but when they realized they were being trailed, they quickly broke into a run of their own.
It was dark by the time Roxton got their trail again, and by this time, the others had come after he and Marguerite. The five travelers were lead towards the village by what looked like the light of fire, but when they finally reached their destination, the sight shocked them all. Up on a platform, tied to a wooden pole was Marguerite, a fire lit below her.
Her head was leaned back against the wood, and her face showed pain and regrets. Her eyes were filled with terror, and she was sweating from the intense heat below her. The fire had yet to catch on her, but she was coughing terribly from the smoke, and she had scratches and bruises from being tied so tightly. The rope was wearing at her skin as she struggled desperately to get away, and she could feel the fire nearing to the bottom of her boots.
Roxton's dark eyes were filled with horror and rage. As usual, he felt responsible... How could he not notice her just being grabbed and carried off? No time to think now... Not that he ever did. He ran through the center of the village, pistol drawn. "...John..?" Marguerite coughed, squinting her tearing eyes to see through the spoke.
"Roxton, no!" Veronica called after him, but she was too late... Instead, she went up behind and cut Marguerite's ropes. Roxton, however, was shot in the chest with an arrow before he could reach her. "JOHN!" Marguerite called, screeched really, and rushed over to him as fast as she could, careful not to catch herself on fire.
Malone set off a few gunshots to scare the villagers away, then ran to Roxton, who was already being gathered around by the others. Marguerite was on her knees, holding his face in her small, delicate, hands. "I'm so sorry, John." she wept, "Please, don't leave me... I need you... Please..." But Roxton was too weak to even answer.
Veronica removed the arrow and bandaged it with his shirt, while Summerlee constructed something to carry him back to the tree house on. Marguerite just held him in her arms before Roxton was eventually moved onto the constructed carrier and taken back to the tree house. He drifted in an out of consciousness for a few hours, delirious in some points, all the while Marguerite remained on a chair by his bed, stroking his face and holding his hand.
Challenger eventually revealed though it seemed no bones were broken and no organs were damaged, Roxton still might not make it. Veronica fought off tears as Malone held her in his arms, trying to comfort her, and Summerlee just shook his head and removed his hat. Upset as they all were at the news, none were as shaken as Marguerite.
"He can't die! Damnit, Challenger! Can't you do something? We can't let him die!" She exclaimed before sobbing bitterly into her hands, murmuring the words, "No, John, you can't.. no.." Veronica bit her lip and glanced over to the red-haired professor, "You said he might not live, but that also means he could... right?"
"There's a rather favorable chance he will, but there's always the chance he won't..." Challenger answered truthfully, putting an arm on Marguerite's stiffened shoulder. "John's a strong man, he'll pull through. How about we all go get some sleep..." Veronica and Malone exited together, praying for the best, and Summerlee soon followed, hat still in his hands.
"No." Marguerite stated firmly, tear-filled eyes looking back up at Challenger. "I won't leave him."
"Marguerite, be reasonable!" Pleaded Challenger, but Marguerite shook her head firmly. "No, George. He needs me here with him..." Challenger shook his head with a sigh. He knew how stubborn Marguerite was, so he simply walked into his own room and brought her a spare blanket he had.
She thanked him quietly, and indeed, spent the most of the night on that chair, watching Roxton. When he finally awoke around 4:30 AM, no longer delirious or feeling dizzy, Roxton gazed over at the chair he remembered seeing Marguerite in before. Even delirious and in excruciating pain, he could sense her presence... But at that time, it wasn't there. Challenger's blanket was in the chair, unfolded and half hanging off, and her pistol, hat, and boots were on the floor, but Marguerite was no where to be seen.
Out on the balcony, Marguerite leaned frontward against the railing, arms crossed and her face tearstained. She starred up at the stairs and began to do something she hadn't done in years... Marguerite began to pray. "God... you know I'm not much for prayers, or asking for help, but please... I can't loose him. My parents were never around, and I was never quite popular, in fact, I didn't even have friends before I came on this expedition... He was the first person to ever care about me. Please, God, let him be okay."
"Let who be okay?" Came a familiar, deep, roughish voice from behind her. Marguerite whirled around, a glowing smile on her face, and rushed to him. She threw her arms around his neck and smothered his face with kisses. Roxton grinned stupidly and spoke, "Maybe I should got shot with arrows more often..."
"Shut up, John." Marguerite murmured with a soft smile before placing her soft, delicate, hands on his face and kissing him a bit more intimately than before. Roxton smiled a bit, and lead her to the hammock they'd recently put up. Marguerite curled into him a bit as he wrapped his arm around her and spoke again, breaking the silence as the sun rose. "You know, I was going to get you a Valentine's gift when we went out yesterday."
She just smiled softly and leaned her head on his shoulder. "John, you are my Valentine."