Title: "Unexpected Freedom"
Author: Annie.
Email: anniexus
Pairing: Roxton/ Marguerite.
Rating/Codes: PG-13, Romance/Drama/Supernatural
Summary: The life of a spy is riddled with danger, something Marguerite has tried to spare her friends through her own unique way. Fear of the unknown and knowledge of what could happen has always held her back. As is the case with many things in life, death is the only way to remove fear and uncertainty.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Lost World or these characters nor do I make money off this. I just borrow them for my own enjoyment.
Warning: Death.
"John, you know I didn't mean what I said, don't you?"
John stopped and looked at her, his expression going from tense and angry to hopeful in a second. "You didn't?"
Marguerite shook her head. "Not even a little. I'm so sorry I hurt you."
"Would you tell me why you said what you did?"
"Yes. I think you deserve the truth."
Roxton smiled then and came to her. Lowering his head, they kissed. It was short and sweet, the kind he always gave her when one of them was angry and forgiveness was blossoming. He gestured to the forest around them, the forest that so often tried to kill them. "Then shall we continue this later?"
Marguerite nodded, but just as Roxton turned, she pulled on his arm, forcing him off balance and closer to her. He tried to catch himself, but he couldn't and collided with her. Shock and pain filled his expression once he did.
Roxton pulled away, eyes wide with unspoken betrayal. He looked down. A patch of blood spread across his abdomen where Marguerite's own hand held a knife.
She smiled at him.
"Why?" John's hands automatically tried to stop the loss of blood.
He grimaced as Marguerite coldly pulled the knife from his body. She watched him die then turned.
Marguerite watched from two positions at once, a few feet away with her hands over her face and at Roxton's feet. The two forms of the same woman were identical in every way except for their expressions. While the one who'd just murdered her lover grinned like a madwoman, the other was horrified.
The Marguerite who held the bloody knife smiled and said, "This is what we do."
"No!" Marguerite's hands covered her mouth. "You did it!"
"No, we did and we will again." Her smile widened then and looked at her counterpart's hands.
The grief-stricken version of Marguerite pulled her hands away from her tear-streaked face to see blood and the same knife that had taken Roxton's life. She looked around, but the doppelganger was gone and she now stood in front of Roxton's lifeless body.
Marguerite sat up in bed so fast that her loose hair fell around her head like the branches of a willow tree. Her breathing came in panicked bursts and she could feel herself coming close to tears. With a shaking hand, she pushed her dark locks from her face.
"Just a dream," she gasped. "It was just a dream." It was no good. Marguerite began to rock back and forth as tears ran down her face, one hand covering her mouth. Her chest heaved in and out as her body tried to sob and she steadfastly refused to make a sound.
"I won't let it happen again," she whispered through her fingers, her conviction making the words a vow. "I won't let it come true."
She knew it hadn't been real, but the undeniable need to make sure he was alive and well would not be quashed. Her eyes refused to close so she sat up. Her legs would not stop twitching so she stood and paced her room.
Was the treehouse always so quiet? Should she not hear Challenger's snores? Yes, there was the customary roaring of the older man's nightly sinus problems. What about John? If he ever snored it was soft and very rare. Marguerite listened hard, but there was nothing to hear.
Before she could stop them, Marguerite's feet carried her into the hallway and halfway to Roxton's door. She stopped, realizing what she was doing. "Don't be silly," she whispered.
Silence. Even Challenger had quieted.
Well, since she was almost there…
Roxton's room was cooler than the hallway, the open window catching a pleasant breeze. A white sheet with a lump underneath was the only sign John was in the bed. The sight didn't satisfy. He was curled on his side so she couldn't tell if he was even breathing.
A floorboard creaked and Roxton stirred. Marguerite didn't have time to back out of the room. She was caught.
"Marguerite?" Roxton blinked blearily at his visitor. "What's wrong?"
"I… Nothing. Go back to sleep, John." She tried to leave, but his voice, adorable to her ears in his sleepiness, stopped her.
"Wait. Don't you trust me?"
She sighed. He obviously wasn't too sleepy to try a little manipulation. "That's not nice, Roxton."
Chuckling, John sat up and rubbed his eyes. He patted the space beside him and was surprised when, after a brief hesitation, Marguerite joined him without argument. When she leaned against his bare chest, wrapping an arm around him John grew concerned.
"Marguerite, what is it?"
"Nothing. You'll think I'm silly." He had bathed so he smelled clean and manly. With the breeze from the window and Roxton's warmth, the comfort of his heartbeat beneath her ear, Marguerite began to calm and relax.
Roxton felt her grow heavier against him. He gave her shoulder a shake. "I already think you're silly. Tell me?"
"It was just a nightmare," she mumbled. Marguerite was quickly losing her battle against sleep. "You died."
"And that made you come in here to check on me?"
"Hmm."
Roxton bent to kiss her forehead, touched by her ridiculous concern. He was curious though. "What killed me?"
"Me."
"What?" But Marguerite was asleep, her breathing deep and even. With care not to jostle her too much, John drew her down so they wouldn't wake with sore necks.
Like a child, Marguerite was peaceful when she slept. Her wariness disappeared behind a fairness Roxton couldn't help tracing just once before he too settled down.
XXX
There was a parrot just outside the window and if it valued its life, it would stop squawking.
Marguerite sat up irritably, her hair a mass of dark curls, with the full intention of finding and choking the parrot to death. She reached the window, but the bird flew away with a sound that seemed remarkably like laughter.
"You didn't really think you'd catch it, did you?" Roxton smirked. Marguerite turned to him, an answering smile dispelling her irritation as she took in his roguish appearance. His hair was tousled and he propped himself on an elbow, his chest bare in the morning light. Though it was early still Roxton's eyes were bright and aware. He looked the part of a charming lover and the thought made Marguerite shiver.
"I would have if a certain scoundrel hadn't been squashing me flat like an overused pillow."
Roxton laughed. "Scoundrel? If I remember correctly, my dear Marguerite Krux, you were the improper intruder last night." His grin became, if possible, even more teasing. "Since this is my room, I ought to have the right to do as I please with such a tempting visitor."
"Oh?" Marguerite sauntered back to the bed and lay down facing him. "And is that what you do every time there's a woman in your bed, use her as a mattress?"
"Only if I truly esteem her." Marguerite chuckled and they lay in comfortable silence a few moments. Roxton raised a hand to trace her features, brushing away stray locks of black hair as he did. He pretended to ignore her large eyes on his face, watching him in a way no other woman had before. If he looked too directly into those eyes, he'd be lost and he didn't want to ruin the sweetness of the moment.
"John?"
"Yes?"
"I should go before… before the others wake up." But she made no move to leave. He kissed her once.
"You don't have to."
"I can't stay here." Though she didn't give voice to her concerns of their future or worries of the past, her simple statement encompassed all those problems. She couldn't stay in his bed. She couldn't stay with him… now or ever.
"There's nothing stopping you." Because she was willing and because he'd detected something in her tone which gave him concern, he cupped her cheek and kissed her more thoroughly. "You don't have to go anywhere." Another kiss. "I don't want you to leave."
"I know." Marguerite remembered her nightmare. Was it cruelty to tease him when she knew hopes for a future with him were nothing more than fantasy? Or was it worse to deny him now, to take back every hint of love she'd shown him and hope his wounds – and her own – would heal?
"Marguerite, you know I lo-"
"John, I'm sorry, but I – I just can't." She made to rise, but John grabbed her arm and she didn't have the strength to struggle.
"What happened to make it so hard for you to trust me?" It seemed like an argument they'd had a million times before even as he asked the question.
"I do trust you." It was miserable. She cursed the threatening tears for thickening her voice.
"With your life, but not your heart. Marguerite, what happened? Why are you so sure we can't be together?" She was silent as the thumb of his restraining hand smoothed circles on her arm. When it became obvious she wouldn't or couldn't answer, John decided to voice a desire he'd held for a long time. "Marguerite, you know how I feel. I want you to be my wife."
XXX
There was a tension at the breakfast table and though only two people knew where the strain stemmed from, it permeated the minds of Finn and Veronica. Challenger alone seemed oblivious. He picked out the burned bits of egg from the otherwise decent breakfast Marguerite managed to turn out and then disappeared into his lab with his usual mutterings about notes, tests and chemicals.
"I guess we won't see him for a while," said Finn with forced cheeriness. Veronica smiled, but her eyes darted to Marguerite and Roxton, whose only responses were distracted nods.
"So, what's everyone doing today?" Veronica looked deliberately at Roxton, but he'd fixed his eyes on Marguerite, who was staring at her plate. "Marguerite, it's your turn to help weed the vegetable garden and water. You'll want to do that before it gets too hot and burns the plants."
"I watered them last night. Finn was there. She saw me and there aren't any weeds yet." While usually such a response would have been delivered with at least some hint of a challenge, Marguerite's voice was monotone and emotionless.
"Oh." Veronica glanced at Finn, who nodded. "Well, that's good. It's better in the evening anyway."
"I know." Still the dead voice. "I'll water them again tonight."
"Okay." Her attempt at a conversation fallen flat, Veronica raised a brow at Finn, who shrugged.
"Well-"
"I have some sewing projects." Marguerite stood abruptly and though she didn't run, she disappeared from view with remarkable speed.
"What was that all about?" Finn asked. She and Veronica turned identical, incredulous expressions to Roxton. He spared them the sparsest of glances before pushing off from the table. He grabbed his rifle and canteen from the hangers at the entrance and allowed the elevator to carry him away.
"They must have had a fight," said Veronica.
"When? We just got up!"
XXX
It was well past noon by the time Roxton's strongest emotions calmed enough for him to slow his pace and note his position. He was in Zanga territory, but it still wasn't smart to go barging through the forest without paying attention.
There was a Zanga marker on a tree nearby, a cut in the bark with blue paint to indicate a water source nearby. Since he'd travelled with too little care to catch any prey unaware, now seemed like a good time to take a rest and get a drink.
Without any trouble he found the stream, recognizing it as one usually full of fat fish. It seemed like as good an idea as any to give him time to think. With a deep sigh Roxton tore a strip of bark from a particularly useful tree, found a sturdy reed and sat to make a fishing rod. A bit of wood carved with a hunting knife served as a hook and in no time at all Roxton was gainfully employed and able to think about the morning's events.
Lord John Roxton was so deep in thought that he almost didn't notice the twigs snapping behind him.
XXX
Finn, eager to get out of the house and do something decided to gather various items for the tree house's stores. In an hour she managed to fill a basket with various root vegetables.
She knew yams were some of the favourites and though it was tough, dirty work, she did so happily. After finding a particularly yielding plot of soil, she set to her self-appointed task with vigour. She'd brought a short shovel just for the task and it made quick work of the dark dirt.
Finn was so absorbed in her task that the footsteps behind her quite escaped her notice.
XXX
Marguerite surfaced from her room for lunch with Challenger. Veronica had gone to the garden and it was obvious neither Finn nor Roxton would be back in time so Marguerite chopped some fruit and left it at George's elbow. He mumbled some distracted thanks and she left him to his work.
Someone left a stack of books on the balcony. Marguerite spotted them on her way to clean up the kitchen. With a sigh she went out to retrieve them and saw it was Veronica's sketchbook, one of Malone's old journals and a novel Finn had been learning to read with.
Bending to gather up the forgotten items, Marguerite felt a sudden chill up her spine like icy fingers and straightened up quickly. Her sharp eyes scanned the trees, certain someone or something was watching.
A few birds stirred, but otherwise the jungle was silent.
Still wary, Marguerite scooped up the books and went inside, casting a suspicious glance over her shoulder. Though she brought her sewing upstairs and kept checking the forest for signs of danger, nothing surfaced to substantiate her worry. The silence only made her more nervous. As the afternoon stretched on she began fidgeting, glancing up more and more often with the hope of seeing Veronica, Finn and Roxton return.
Veronica was the first to appear on the path. Her golden hair was wet, having gone for a swim to clean the dirt and sweat from gardening off. She gave a tired, cheerful wave when she noticed Marguerite watching from the balcony.
"How did your sewing go?" Veronica went to the kitchen and began pulling out the ingredients for a simple dinner. Marguerite, needing to do something besides sit and worry, joined her. Veronica was surprised by the gesture, but chose not to comment. She also chose to give Marguerite a task that didn't require actual cooking.
"Fine. I fixed your spare boots. They're by your bed."
"Oh, thank you. And Challenger, what has he been up to?"
"I was afraid to ask. He's been downstairs muttering over beakers and notes the entire time."
Veronica chuckled. "Well, at least nothing exploded today." She looked up quickly. "Nothing exploded, did it?"
"No." Marguerite took out some plates and began setting the table. The sun started to set while the two women worked in companionable silence, one glad for the quiet. The morning drama was not forgotten, but Veronica wasn't brave enough to break it yet.
Marguerite had lit the necessary lamps when the elevator was activated. She smiled for a moment, glad the last two housemates were back. Her happiness was premature.
"Where's Finn?"
Roxton forgot his heartache in an instant, something an entire day of personal time had been unable to do. His irritation with Marguerite's wavering, his frustration with her fears and evasion, his sadness that she wouldn't trust his love all fled Roxton's mind with one glance at Marguerite's worried eyes. There was a look there he recognized too well.
"I'll go look." He grabbed a full bag and was surprised for the second time in less than a minute when Marguerite moved to him.
"No, John, you can't." Roxton looked at her with surprise and a touch of incredulity, but the bolt of pure fear that ran up and down her spine wouldn't let her take back her words. He could not go out; she wouldn't let him run out to his death.
Torn, Roxton grasped the light hand that gripped his upper arm while he tried to think up a way to reassure Marguerite. The pulse in her wrist and throat beat wildly, making him sure her uncanny sixth sense was telling her more about the situation than she would ever admit. It was Veronica who saved them.
"She's right, Roxton. You can't go out in the dark without any idea where you're going. Finn is resourceful." Veronica's eyes met Marguerite's, seeking to assure and be reassured. "She'll be fine for one night."
"Right." Roxton put his equipment away, every muscle tense with his concern. They were right, but it didn't make him any happier about the situation.
They would wait out the night and leave at first light.
XXX
Morning came and with it a grim determination settled over the four residents of the tree house. Challenger didn't fuss about his experiments, truly worried about the sweet, somewhat unusual girl from the future. Instead, he got up early with the rest of the party and donned his gear with a grim expression. The same could be said of Marguerite, whose sense of impending disaster prevented her from sleeping more than a few hours. She'd beaten both Roxton and Veronica up to the kitchen.
They stuck together at first, following Finn's trail out to a small stream and then around the lee side of a small hill where they found she'd been digging for yams. Roxton and Veronica circled the area, looking for the point where Finn left her endeavours. A sharp intake of breath caused them to look over at Marguerite.
"She didn't leave here willingly." Marguerite held up the remains of Finn's bag. A few yams and other roots toppled out from a gash that ran the length of the sac.
"Raptor?" Challenger reached for the bag. Marguerite handed it over with a shake of her head.
"It's a single cut. I'd say a very sharp knife."
Veronica peered at the ruined canvass and around the site, finding a little hope. "There's no blood. Maybe she got away."
"Right," Marguerite snorted, "and then she took the time to wipe away her footprints after someone attacked her in broad daylight."
"Marguerite, really, there's no need-" Challenger began to chid, thinking her tone was too harsh.
"No," Veronica grimaced, but acknowledged the truth in Marguerite's words. "Someone did get rid of their trail. I don't see any prints leading away from here."
"Could be slavers," suggested Roxton. He looked to Marguerite as he said this, certain her gut instincts would provide some insight. They had, after all, kicked in before Finn was missing more than a few hours.
"They're not this careful," said Veronica. "Neither are the other groups we know unless it's someone with a personal grudge."
"There's got to be a trail, no matter how clever this person or group is," said Roxton. He returned to scanning the underbrush. The others fanned out and did the same.
They hadn't been searching for more than a few minutes when a faint chirping caught Challenger's attention. He looked up, right into a pair of yellow eyes.
Roxton and Veronica weren't the closest to Challenger when he yelled, but they were the first to react, Marguerite being in a sudden predicament herself. One raptor had leapt on Challenger, who was only saved by rolling onto his stomach so the lizard took a bite of his backpack instead of his neck.
A second raptor jumped out from the bushes closest to Marguerite, which was entirely too close for comfort. She didn't have time to draw her weapon before the animal leapt at her. She managed to save herself by diving and rolling out of the way just in time. It wasn't enough though. Another was at her heels and she was forced to avoid its teeth by dodging into the bushes where it pursued her, its teeth and claws an inch from her the entire time.
By the time Challenger, Veronica and Roxton were safe, five raptors lay dead on the forest floor and Marguerite was nowhere in sight.
"I'll go after her," said Veronica. "You two keep looking for Finn." It was only Roxton's faith in Veronica which allowed him to agree with the suggestion instead of going after Marguerite himself.
Veronica disappeared into the thick foliage and the men continued on.
XXX
The universe was a mixture of sounds and images and pain… too much pain.
Finn jerked awake, hitting a tree trunk behind her. She tried to rub her aching head, but something prevented her from raising her arms. Finn looked down, her mind still slow with the haze of concussion, and realized she was tied soundly and surely to a thick tree trunk. Her weapons had been removed and when she looked around, she saw her various knives lined up a little to her left. They sat at the foot of an unknown man, who stared at her with unreadable eyes.
"Let me go," Finn demanded. She didn't struggle, hoping the glare she levelled at the dark-haired man would get her point across. It did nothing.
"I am sorry, Fraulien." The dark-haired man returned to cleaning one of his handguns. Finn leaned her head back against the tree, her head still woozy from the blow it had taken.
"Who are you?"
"It doesn't matter," he said with a heavy accent.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Because I have an enemy you know very well. I believe you know her as the widow Marguerite Krux."
XXX
The raptors were too close, driving Marguerite onward in an attempt to avoid the teeth an inch from her at every turn. There was no time to climb a tree or draw her weapons. She could barely take a second to judge what was in front of her.
Too caught up in putting some small amount of distance between her and the lizards, Marguerite didn't hear the rushing of the river ahead. She plunged through the bushes and tumbled headlong into the white water.
Marguerite spluttered as her head surfaced and she had a moment of panic, heightened when two splashes indicated the raptors had fallen as well. Their screeching only lasted a minute. They didn't have the bodily equipment to navigate the deeper water or rock-strewn maze. Even Marguerite knew it was unlikely she would manage to make it to shore.
The river was fast and though Marguerite struggled, she could feel her adrenaline-driven strength starting to wane after a while. She wasn't sure how far she'd gone, which only disheartened her more.
A passing branch was her salvation. She reached out and snagged it, managing to use the last of her energy to pull her sodden body to the grassy shore. She lay there panting and let her body give in to its exhaustion.
XXX
Veronica followed the obvious trail Marguerite left. She didn't have to go as far as she feared. The trail wove a great deal before a turn made Veronica's stomach turn. The river in front of her was merciless.
Hurrying, hoping to see the telling signs of a human pulling themselves out of the water, Veronica followed downstream. There was nothing until the flow dropped off over a steep cliff.
With a gasp, Veronica ducked back into the jungle, hoping to find a safe way down the edge of the waterfall to see if Marguerite had survived by some miracle. The thought of what she would tell Roxton if she went back empty handed was momentary, but no less dreadful.
Veronica was in such a hurry that she didn't look closely at the tangled grass and brambles on the other side of the river. If she had, she would have seen Marguerite's unconscious form concealed on the opposite shore.
XXX
Something disturbed Marguerite's light slumber, but by the time she opened her groggy eyes and looked around she was quite alone. She glanced across the river and saw some leaves ruffling, but whatever had been there was gone.
With a sigh she stood and headed upriver, hoping to find a place to cross.
XXX
"What did she do?" Feeling a little better, Finn decided to use the abundance of time to figure out why this stoic man had come so far to chase down Marguerite.
"Many things." He'd finished cleaning his gun and sat on a fallen log without appearing to have any intention of moving in the near future.
"It must have been pretty bad for you to follow her all the way here."
"Yes."
"You couldn't have even known if she was alive or dead."
"No."
Finn groaned. "Listen, if you're going to kill me or use me to get to Marguerite and then kill me, you might as well tell me why." The man looked at her fully for the first time. Finn tried not to flinch at his unwaveringly cold gaze.
"I am not going to kill you if I do not have to."
"If you don't have to? What would make you not have to?"
"If Marguerite gives herself up, I will let you go. If she remains elusive, she will seal your fate."
"Right, because you can be trusted even if she does do what you want." She knew it probably wasn't wise to antagonize her captor with a snarky tone, but she was unable to stop. Part of her attitude was from fear. Of course Marguerite wouldn't give herself up to save Finn.
"You will see."
"But you'll kill Marguerite. Why?"
"She knows why."
"I'm asking you now."
"I cannot tell you."
"Why not?"
"It is not my story to tell."
"Not your…" Finn was incredulous and growing quite furious with his short answers. The man was as infuriatingly ambiguous as Marguerite could be.
"I am not without honour."
"And yet you're setting a trap for a woman you haven't seen in how long?"
"Six years. A trap is the only way to handle her."
"You're mad at her for something she did in the war, aren't you?" That got the man's attention. His brows rose in surprise as he turned to her again. "She was a spy so she must have done something devious to you during the war."
He nodded. "Yes, we were rivals. She has many secrets from that time." His eyes narrowed slightly, making Finn squirm. "Perhaps she told you some."
"No, she didn't even tell us she was a spy until someone else forced her to." For the first time Finn had an appreciation for why Marguerite kept her silence. It had been years since the end of the war her tree house companions mentioned in sad, regretful tones. Still, the end of the war had obviously not meant the end of danger to those who'd been behind the scenes of its mechanics. Whatever Marguerite had done to be hunted so obsessively was better left to old shadows. "She hasn't mentioned it since."
The man nodded, accepting Finn's words. He knew it was unlikely that a woman of Marguerite's quality had spilled her secrets to anyone outside Britain's highest government. The blonde's guileless face confirmed she at least was not privy to the tales of horror and intrigue he and Marguerite shared. He hadn't lied; he was a man of honour. If he didn't have to kill the others, he wouldn't. It wasn't what he was being paid for.
"So, how do you expect Marguerite to get here?" Finn didn't recognize the area, but knew the others had explored a great deal of territory prior to her own arrival.
"I sent a guide." He smiled briefly, making Finn shudder.
XXX
There was someone watching. Marguerite could feel their eyes, but she couldn't tell where they were. Armed now and relatively dry since she'd managed to find an old bridge upriver to cross instead of testing the angry water, she kept a constant vigil on the surrounding jungle. Her eyes didn't stay in one place for more than a second, cataloguing every change, every bit of movement.
Up ahead there was a flash of white cloth, the hint of a boot. She pretended not to see it, but changed course to appear as though she was wandering in that direction. The mere fact that no one had approached or called out to her told her all she needed to know; whoever it was, they weren't friendly.
Ahead was an enormous and ancient tree that had been knocked in two by something or other. From her vantage point she could see it was hollow and more than large enough to hide her. She pretended to circle around.
When she didn't come out from behind the tree, the hiding figure shuffled. She could not have disappeared. Was she resting? The size of the tree she'd disappeared behind made the watcher nervous. She could have changed course and he wouldn't have seen. Impatience and fear he'd lost his target made him squirm. He couldn't lose her, but if it was a trap…
Unable to wait more than fifteen minutes, the watcher emerged from his hiding place and approached the base of the tree Marguerite Krux had been seen at last. He looked around the huge trunk, but didn't see anything. He looked for a trail leading away. As he did so, he heard a click and understood his mistake.
Marguerite emerged from the hollowed trunk and sized up the fair-haired man without too much trouble. He was not very tall, but powerfully built. She guessed he was military, too young to be a leader but too old to be a nobody. He didn't wear any medals or patches to identify his connections, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Whoever he was, she wouldn't trust him.
"Who are you?" The man tilted his head, not understanding. On a hunch, Marguerite repeated her question in German.
"My name doesn't matter, but you might remember Captain Esser." He took a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket and held it out.
Marguerite paled. She certainly did remember Captain Esser and she'd hoped never to hear his name again. He was a man of considerable skill and cunning. If she followed this accomplice, it would surely lead to a trap. However, if she left Finn in his hands, he would torture and kill the younger woman. She took the proffered paper and read it, keeping one eye on the man.
Fraulien,
You know what I am capable of and you know what I have taken from you. Accompany my messenger and meet your fate.
Captain Esser
"Do you I'm a fool?"
The man didn't answer, but he smiled. "Captain Esser says you have until sundown to claim your friend."
Marguerite was silent, taking stock of her very few options. If what he said was true – she knew Captain Hans Esser too well to doubt such a message – then she had no time to find the others to form a proper rescue party. She had to go with this man at least until she could find where they were keeping Finn.
"Where are they?"
The man took that as consent to lead the way. Keeping his hands on his head, he turned into the forest and followed the trail he'd marked out hours earlier.
He thought the markers were inconspicuous and varied enough that she would have to rely on him to lead the way right to the camp. One tree was marked with cuts, another with a smearing of berries. A strangely shaped rock pointed the way onward.
He didn't consider that he was dealing with a woman more observant and cunning than he was.
Marguerite heard the satisfying crunch as the butt of her pistol collided with the man's skull. She took out a length of rope from her bag and tied him up securely to the closest, thickest tree.
For a brief moment she laughed at herself, all too aware that a few years ago she wouldn't have hesitated to kill the man and be done with it. A very small part of herself whispered that John wouldn't like such a cold-blooded act.
She knew, though that the captive man could be useful if the rest of her housemates came across him; he was a pretty distinct trail marker. She quickly tore a bit of paper from a notepad she always brought with her and wrote a quick message. Slipping it between the ropes to hold it in place, Marguerite was ready to leave.
It was late in the afternoon, not yet darkening by the time Marguerite settled down in a proper vantage point. She found the camp, but circled it several times in order to find the right place to observe it from. The sight didn't give her any hope.
Finn was tied to a tree and surrounded by several weapons hidden in the foliage, each rigged by the man who sat in front of the blonde, any shot at him blocked by tree branches. Marguerite had seen such a setup before and knew better than to approach. Esser could and would kill Finn in the blink of an eye if Marguerite made the wrong decision. She was too aware of passing time, the sun getting lower in the sky. It was becoming less and less likely that Roxton and Veronica were going to find their way to her.
Esser stood and looked around, making Marguerite worry for a few minutes that he'd seen her. He didn't appear to, but he did take out a knife from his boot and move towards Finn with purpose.
Panicked, out of time and out of options, Marguerite called out. "Hauptmann Esser!"
Esser paused and smiled, recognizing the commanding, feminine voice. He and the owner of that voice had spent many days together and even more nights dodging or hunting one another during the war. They each had their own missions so they'd not been in constant contact or rivalry, but when they had, their skills were always tested to their fullest.
"Marguerite, how nice to hear from you." Because he enjoyed the practice and it was polite to converse in the woman's native language, Esser chose to speak English. Unlike the uncanny Mrs Krux, he still retained an accent when he spoke languages other than German and French. It was the one thing he envied her for.
"Why have you come here?"
"My clients want proof of your death. I would sleep easier too if I watched you die."
"I could give you proof and you can have my word that I won't leave the plateau," she shouted back.
"I'm sorry, Fraulien, but you know I cannot do that. You would not."
Indeed, if an enemy was so tantalizingly close, Marguerite would not allow them to walk away, especially one so dangerous.
"Your ultimatum is unnecessary."
"And you are wasting time. I'm sure by now you can see how easy it would be for me to kill your friend, but I am not heartless."
"What do you propose? I will accept nothing less than the safety of all my friends."
"Certainly. I only ask for you to meet me, accepting your fate as the woman I know you to be." He fixed his eyes on her direction. "We were always more alike than was safe for our peace of mind. I know you don't want your friends to die and I know what you would be willing to give to keep them safe."
"It is too bad our ideals were never the same, Vorik." Marguerite's voice turned slightly sad. "We could have been a formidable team."
"Unstoppable," he agreed. Both were ruthless and clever, but able to maintain a level of honour and dignity in a lifestyle that stripped humanity away faster than turpentine stripped off oil paint. For all her jokes about being a jewel thief and her scheming as though all that mattered was personal wealth, she'd spent the majority of her life as something as akin to a national hero as Ned Malone could have hoped to interview.
The sun, all but forgotten as they talked, dipped beyond the tall trees.
"You're out of time, Fraulien. What is your choice?" He crouched low over Finn, his body shielded by the tree. There was nothing else to do.
"All right."
"Marguerite, don't!" Finn, who had been silent throughout the exchange suddenly shouted, horrified at the idea of what would happen if Marguerite gave up.
Despite Finn's heartbreakingly honest protest, Marguerite stood and emerged from her hiding spot. She was closer than Esser had thought. She paused just behind a tree, out of his range.
"First I want your word."
"You have it. I will not harm any of your companions."
"Marguerite, you can't trust him," Finn couldn't believe what she was witnessing. How could Marguerite just offer herself up to this man? Esser stuffed a rag in her mouth and tied it in before she could mutter anything else.
"It's all right, Finn. I know what I'm doing." Marguerite hoped the waver in her voice was only audible to her. Despite her willingness, despite her general nonchalance, despite her bravado in public… Marguerite was afraid to die.
"Drop your weapons there," Esser commanded in his surprisingly mild voice. Despite being enemies, he was proud of the woman who took off her pistols and bag without wavering. There wasn't even a hint of a tremor in her body as she tossed her items to the side and faced him, faced her death.
Marguerite stood defenceless in the tiny break between trees, in front of Finn and in front of just one of the numerous enemies she'd made during her life. Her eyes met Finn's for just a glance before moving on to the piercing green of Vorik Esser's military stare. He had emerged from his cover and levelled a pistol at her chest.
"You always were honourable." Mutual respect, mutual acceptance and some tinge of fear passed between the two assassins. Esser felt a moment of regret, but it wasn't enough to stop him from pulling the trigger.
It was one shot, one percussion throughout the jungle and piercing several hearts at once. Marguerite didn't clap her hand to the wound. She felt the blow, the sudden sting worse than a hornet or dull needle deep into her flesh. Her body seized, her lungs caught in shock, and she fell to her knees.
Captain Esser caught his nemesis and helped her lean against a tree, taking care to ensure she was comfortable as he crouched in front of her. Were he not still holding the gun, it would have been a tender moment.
"You missed," Marguerite gasped. Her hand had automatically reached up to her abdomen to stop the flow of warm blood. She was no doctor, but she knew a fatal wound. She had expected Captain Esser to aim for her heart, to finish his job sooner.
"I'm sorry, I didn't intend to." It wasn't a lie. Their mutual respect had made him aim for her heart, a promise of no pain, an instant death not common to those in their positions. However, as would happen to many people working with handguns, the aim wasn't perfect and the jump of the gun caused him to hit lower than he intended. Esser regretted the lapse in professionalism.
"It's okay." The pain made her reassurance fall somewhat flat, spit out through her teeth as it was.
"Would you like some water?"
"No." Marguerite shook her head. She eyed the gun he'd holstered. "No mercy?"
"It would be dishonourable to shoot you again, wounded and without weapons as you are. I don't like to see you in pain, but it will be over soon enough."
They both knew the truth of his words.
"I would finish it if you asked, but perhaps you would like to make your peace if you can?"
Marguerite nodded.
There was silence. A mockingly refreshing breeze caressed the circle of people. The trees rustled gently, swaying the silent witnesses, birds… and other things.
A few tears escaped Finn's control. Though she wanted to look away from the bloody scene and to shut out the war agents' confusingly amiable conversation, she had no will to erase the images.
Marguerite sat almost directly in front of Finn, the red stain on her stomach and pale face evidence of her future absence. She didn't groan or cry. The only evidence that she was in pain and perhaps a little afraid was the strain around her eyes and the sharper intake of breath.
Finn wished for the gag to be removed, so she could say her goodbyes to the woman who'd had a polarized reputation depending on the person asked. Marguerite had been the first to see through Finn's bravado, her assertions of coldness towards the people who rescued her from a life in the heartless future. Despite her closeness with Veronica it was Challenger, Roxton, and Marguerite who were the original trio to find and befriend Finn. When Challenger began teaching Finn to read, Marguerite was invaluable as a tutor. The brunette had gone out of her way to pretend the assistance to Finn's education was a burden and done her tutoring when the others were occupied, making Finn think she was the only one who knew of Marguerite's assistance at all. The subterfuge had also made Finn wonder – without hope of relief for her curiosity – why Marguerite would hide the best of herself and highlight the worst. It seemed that despite herself, Marguerite had made Finn into a friend.
"What sort of evidence do you need?" Marguerite knew she had a bit of time before she died. She might as well fill the silence to distract herself from the pain. "I daresay you don't need to cut off my head and drag it back to Germany."
Captain Esser chuckled. "No, just a lock of hair, some bloody clothing, and a photo will do. Those are the terms of my employment."
"I see."
"I would take your locket." He eyed her neck. "But I see you aren't wearing it just now."
"No, not today. I didn't want it to get lost." No need to mention that her sense of pending trouble had led her to place her pendant in the wood box under Roxton's bed, the one where he kept the voodoo doll and one of her old scarves. She'd smiled when she saw his collection of items. He would be able to keep it or be rid of it as he saw fit after this.
Esser glanced over and noticed Finn's expression. "Your friend cares for you. I suspect she wonders at our conversation."
"Yes," Marguerite managed a chuckle, "I suspect she does. Would you like to enlighten her?" She couldn't meet Finn's eyes just yet. There were goodbyes she wanted to make, but acknowledgement would make the situation more real than the pain.
"I suppose it couldn't hurt." Esser went to Finn and took out the gag. "Ask or say what you want."
"How can you just sit there like you two are old friends?"
"We are old enemies, which is sometimes as close as friends, especially when it is between two equals." Esser looked at Marguerite. There was no mistaking the respect in his gaze. "I recognize the significance of a woman who can compete with the best Europe has to offer. Would it surprise you to know I don't do this because I want to see her dead? It's just business."
"Marguerite?" Finn was unnerved by the sense of calm between the spies, perhaps even more so by her friend's acceptance of the situation. How could it be possible that Marguerite willing walked into her death and stood there waiting for it?
"Yes, Finn?"
"You didn't have to do this."
"Yes, I did." Marguerite gave an indulgent smile, like she was speaking to a silly child. "I couldn't let you die for me. Besides, what do you think Veronica would do to me if I went back home without you?"
"What do you think Roxton will do when he finds out you're dead?"
"Roxton will be fine. He'll find someone to love and marry either here or when you all find a way out of this bloody jungle." A hint of regret and utter sadness passed over her. "John will find someone worthy of him and be happy." Her eyes met Finn's. "Tell him to be happy."
Finn nodded. How could she refuse?
Minutes passed as the sun sank lower and Marguerite tried to think of what to say. It was no easy task summing up a relationship such as the one she shared with her tree house companions. In the end she went for simplicity, honesty, and what she had never been able to verbalize.
"Can you tell Challenger and Veronica how grateful I am for their friendship, and that I'm sorry for all the horrible things I've done." Marguerite paused, knowing there was no way to say all she wanted. She could feel her limbs getting heavier by the second, her strength waning. "Thank you, Finn. I'm glad I met you."
Finn couldn't speak, only nod as tears made tracks on her dirty cheeks.
The last rays of sun were peeking through the trees when Marguerite closed her eyes and released a sigh.
Esser stood and levelled a camera at the peaceful visage of Marguerite's body against the tree. If it weren't for the blood, she could have been sleeping.
"Leb wohl, bis wir uns wiedersehen," Captain Esser said. It was only right to say farewell to one such as her. Her hair was loose and spread over her shoulders, making it easy to cut a bit of it and put it in an empty cigarette holder.
Finn was aware through the haze of grief and tears of a photo being taken and movement as Esser removed Marguerite's stained blouse. The man then packed his belongings and disappeared into the trees. His employers would be pleased.