Severed, Part II
By Jaclyn
(musicnotej@aol.com; http://www.geocities.com/tlwmr)

Disclaimer: In a shocking turn of events, it has been discovered that I DON'T own these characters! Can you believe it?! Sources have been whispering that The Lost World and all characters/places/stuff contained therein actually belong to Telescene, New Line, and all the rest. Oh yeah, and yesterday I read on the internet that I'm not making any profit off this story! Isn't that absurd?!

Author's Notes: Whoa, sorry about the huge delay, people! Really, my apologies. It's just that I had the idea for this story *very* long ago - it was my first M/R idea EVER. The problem was it occurred to me during a very hectic two weeks, and so I was only able to write it in my head while I was supposed to be doing other things, lol. I never got a chance to actually type it up until now, almost a month later. And so, my muse has sort of moved on to other things (like the four other fics I posted in the interim). Still, I *do* want to get this story down and I'm not gonna leave you hanging with a prologue that created a lot of questions but no answers so-here's Part II! Enjoy!

Oh wait. One more important note: Malone doesn't seem to exist in this story, so let's just assume he's still happily ensconced in the spirit world. I haven't seen all the third season episodes, so I don't know the reason behind his current disappearance (and I DON'T WANT TO - if anyone even *tries* to give me the slightest *hint* I will throw the hugest fit that you have ever seen. Basically....I don't like spoilers. *clears throat* Sorry if I sounded a little heated there....).

Note #3: Let's just say this story takes place after "The Secret." M and R haven't admitted their feelings outright for each other yet, and they've never said the words "I love you." Um, if any of this is wrong, it means I haven't seen that ep....[insert spoiler rant here].


* * *



Roxton - one week after returning to London

His room was dark, silent. Uninviting and cold. Roxton let himself fall heavily on the freshly-made bed, compliments of one of the many maids that scuttled around his mother's household. It had been years since an unseen someone had done anything for him; he'd almost gone to seek out the servant and thank her, but then he remembered that they were considered 'lower' than him, and that speaking to them - especially words of gratitude - was just not done.

The injustice of it. His own mother, for all her grandeur and airs, could have been a maid had she been born to a poverty-stricken family. London society was so twisted, so one-sided.

He hated it.

Funny, Roxton mused, although of course the thought wasn't really humorous at all. After getting stranded on the plateau, all we did was try to get back to London. And now we're here, and I'm once again stranded and trying to get home.

On impulse, he opened a window and leaned out into the cool night air. "Marguerite. Marguerite, can you hear me? I love you. Marguerite?"

There was no answer. Roxton's face crumpled. As far-fetched as it sounded, he had actually been hoping for an answer - the plateau had already blessed them with the link to her he felt in his soul, would one more miracle be so much to ask?

Sighing heavily, Roxton withdrew back to the weighty darkness of his room, leaving the dim and ethereal glow of the streetlights and stars behind. He was so wrapped up in his grief that he nearly stopped breathing.


* * *



Marguerite - one week after being nearly killed by the rockslide

Consciousness came slowly to Marguerite, a fragile thread that slowly wove itself into a full tapestry of alertness. As disoriented as she was, she still knew that she was nowhere familiar. Marguerite jerked into a sitting position, frightened and woozy.

She immediately collapsed back onto the pallet, the fingers of Pain itself clawing at her from the inside. Her lungs were on fire; every nerve in her body cried out. Marguerite could feel splints cutting harshly into her skin. Experimentally, she tried to flex her right arm.

A horrible scream echoed through the small hut, shrill and clear and agonized. Hers? Marguerite wasn't sure; she hadn't purposely screamed, but then there was no one else around who could have done it for her. Willing it all to just go away, she tried to stand and stumble toward the door, but her broken body simply refused to obey her. The floor rushed up to greet her; sprawled on the dirt, she broke into sobs.

"Roxton!" Marguerite shrieked. A terrible sense of foreboding stole over her. She couldn't remember where the hunter was, but something inside was warning her that she didn't want to. "John," she whispered, staring helplessly at the ceiling. "I need you...."

The world swirled, and Marguerite found herself grateful for the reprieve from pain that she knew was coming. How smart her body was, to know how to slip into unconsciousness like that! Her addled brain was so busy marveling over this that she didn't register the entrance of three solemn figures. And when arms like iron suddenly wrapped themselves around her, all she knew was that they weren't Roxton's. Fear tightened her stomach.

"JOHN!" she moaned weakly, wanting to break free. Why weren't her arms moving? Marguerite cast her eyes downward. A wave of revulsion swept over her. Her body was a tapestry of gashes and mottled purple-green skin. The edges of the wounds were brittle, stained brown with dried blood, and yet they were clean.

Marguerite felt herself being laid gently back on the bed. She didn't struggle, having finally placed a label on her 'captors.'

"John?" she whispered desperately. "Where is he?"

"Shhh," Assai soothed. "Sleep now." The Zanga woman pressed a pungent-smelling leaf to Marguerite's nose, commanding darkness to embrace her. Whimpering, Marguerite succumbed.


* * *



Roxton - one month after returning to London

Roxton leapt up, grabbing his rifle and aiming at the sudden noise that had woken him. This instinctive reaction happened so quickly that Roxton didn't even register that the intruder was his mother until it was too late. She was already glaring daggers at him.

"JOHN!" Lady Elizabeth Roxton fumed. "I told you I never wanted to see that thing! You aren't in the wilderness anymore; in polite society, men don't sleep with their rifles like cowards afraid of monsters under the bed."

"Well, pardon me, Mother," Roxton gritted out. "But old habits are hard to break. On the plateau, keeping a rifle close at hand also kept you ALIVE!"

"That's exactly what I came here to talk to you about, John. You've been entirely too wrapped up in your....I don't know what to call it....attachment to that jungle of yours, and that woman-"

"That woman has a name. MARGUERITE." He could barely look at the-the cow in front of him. Elizabeth Roxton had never done an honest day's work in her life, as could be deduced easily by her rather sizeable bulk. Her face was creased in a permanent sneer, a sort of pictorial message: 'I am better than you.' She was shallow, caring not about people, but about their reputations. As a boy, John had never given his mother's arrogance a thought - it was the way of things. But now....he could barely tolerate it. How he yearned to be away from her!

"And do stop with that condescending tone; it's getting tiresome," Roxton continued, still clutching his gun in an iron grip.

Lady Roxton stepped back theatrically as if struck. "How you speak to your elders, John! You aren't fit to carry the family name!" she hissed. "First that horrible business with your brother, and now, when you could be returning triumphant with tales of bravery and adventure, you sit in your room and sulk! Honestly, I don't believe you've left these dark corners since you returned home! You're a disgrace to our honor! Do you know what everyone is saying? Talk has it that you're a coward and a fool, and I refuse to allow your childishness to reflect as a blemish on me!"

Roxton just stared at her. The woman really was heartless. She didn't give a damn that he was slowly dying inside, that he yearned for Marguerite with an intensity that was nearly suffocating him.

"Lady Roxton," he said finally, not able to force the word 'Mother' past his lips. He spoke with a new formality; it was the only way to reign in his anger and despair. "I can no longer live here anymore. By lunchtime I will be out of your sight for good, and you can disown me for all I care. Then you will no longer have any sons left, and it will up to you to keep the family name clear of 'blemishes,' something that I'm sure you'll have no problem ensuring. It is, after all, how you've spent, or shall I say wasted, your life."

Roxton turned away from her. The white knuckles that gripped his gun were the only sign of the emotion that roiled within him.

"John Roxton," he heard from behind him. "You aren't fit to be my son. Consider yourself disowned! I will draw up the paperwork tomorrow. You needn't share the location of your new area of residence with me. Goodbye."

She walked stiffly out the room, the scent of her garish perfume lingering behind her. Something strange happened then, something that hadn't happened in a long time....

John burst out laughing. The sound of his sheer relief filled the room, and John sensed the aroma of new freedom overtaking his mother's perfume.

The solution was so obvious to him now. Why had he allowed himself to sink deeper and deeper into grief when he was just wasting time? The Challenger Expedition had found the plateau once; they could find it again!


* * *



Roxton - three months after returning to London

"No." It was his own voice, angry and firm. Roxton was startled at how strong he sounded.

"Roxton, come on--"

He batted Challenger's hand away and got to his feet. "No one gives me orders, George."

"Roxton, you damn fool, listen to me! I'm trying to help you!"

"Yeah? Then why are you wasting time here? Go take your contraptions and find me a way back to the plateau," Roxton snapped, his tone scalding but serious.

"John....this isn't healthy. A way back won't help anything, you know that."

"I only know one thing, Challenger, and it's that she's still alive."

"You also know that if Veronica and I believed there was any chance at all of her surviving, we wouldn't have deserted her!"

"Fine, I'll give you that," Roxton conceded. "But you have got to admit that many strange things have happened on that plateau, things neither of us would have believed possible before we got there. And I'm telling you, I'm not crazy when I tell you that Marguerite is alive!"

"Roxton, this delusion isn't healthy....when I told them to postpone the press conference three months ago, I had honestly assumed that you'd be past the denial stage by the end of that! Thousands of people are going to be at that hall tomorrow, John, and I won't let you make a fool of yourself! You need to go, but you also need to be rational!"

"No, I don't need to go. It's your damn dream to be famous, not mine. I once swore to myself that when we made our triumphant return to London, I'd ask Marguerite to spend the rest of our lives together. And now I'm here and she's there. And I never renege on a promise, George. So that's quite a little dilemma I've gotten myself into, wouldn't you agree?"

"Your biggest dilemma, old friend, is that you won't accept reality!"

Roxton's face hardened. "Listen to me. I'm not crazy. This isn't just false hope. I know she's alive, George. The only thing I can think of is that, somewhere along the line, between sacred rituals and magical caves, we became linked somehow. Now I've spent three months amassing the huge sum of money we'll need to mount a return expedition to the plateau. I'd like for you and Veronica to come, but I'll go alone if I have to."

Challenger took a deep, steadying breath. His brow creased; thinking had never been this hard before. The intricacies of science came naturally to him, but this-this dilemma had no easy answer. There was no law of nature that could give him the answer he sought. Should he stay by his friend's side, furthering a quest that would ultimately lead to more heartbreak when, after having his hopes raised, John Roxton would find them dashed once and for all? For as much as it pained George, Marguerite was dead. There was nothing any of them could do. Human bones just weren't strong enough to withstand the weight of so many tons of boulders. And even if, by some phenomenon, she'd managed to survive the initial rockslide - if the boulders had fallen in a way that didn't crush her, that left her a bubble of air - she wouldn't be able to free herself without help. And everyone who had known of her location was now safely in London! Challenger could only hope she'd died quickly instead of slowly dying of blood loss or suffocation or thirst....

He shuddered. On the other hand, the only thing that appeared to be keeping John alive was hope. George had no right to shatter that now. Let the man live out his delusions; maybe, somewhere along the way, he would come to accept reality on his own. But until he did, George Challenger would not desert him!

The furrows in Challenger's brow disappeared. "You can count me in, old friend," he said, his voice laden with emotion. "What kind of man would I be if I deserted you now?"

"And Marguerite," Roxton reminded him. "You're doing this as much for Marguerite as for me."

"Of course," Challenger assured him. "Of course I am."


* * *



Roxton - the next day

Veronica ran into the room with a delighted shriek. "ROXTON!" She threw her arms around his neck. "I'm so glad you're here! I missed you so much - I never realized how attached I'd gotten to you, you big lug! You were like my brother all along, and I never realized it until I didn't see you for a quarter of year."

Roxton grinned broadly at her. "I could say the same to you." He loosened the hug, then stepped away entirely to he could see her better. "Oh my god, Veronica, you're wearing CLOTHES!"

She twirled for him, giddy at seeing a part of her makeshift family once again. "I'm still not entirely used to being so confined, but I'm getting there." Her tone grew serious. "Listen, Roxton, how are you? I tried to find you a few months ago but you had moved, and no one knew to where. Are you holding up okay?"

He swiped a hand roughly across his mouth and chin, a habitual gesture that illustrated his discomfort. "Well," he said carefully. "I'm better than I've been in months. Which actually has to do with the reason I came."

"You need a reason to see your 'sister?' Veronica said lightly. But inside, she was worried sick. She knew Marguerite's death had not been easy for him; in fact, that was putting it lightly. It had disturbed her greatly when she'd discovered that no one knew where he was for two months. It was a thought she would never admit to, but she had feared that Roxton becoming a recluse might also mean he had become deeply depressed and maybe even suicidal.

"I'm going back to the Plateau." The abruptness of his statement startled Veronica out of her thoughts.

"I'm coming with you," she answered, just as quickly. "Of course I'm coming with you. I will never be completely happy in London....sometimes I wake up and, for a moment, I think I'm still in the treehouse....and when I realize I'm not, my heart nearly breaks. As much as I love my new family, they will never mean as much to me as you guys."

"Even Marguerite?"

"Of course that includes her....she may not....be here anymore, but she was still my sister, just as you're my brother. We're a family, Roxton, we stand by each other. Of course I'm coming with you," Veronica repeated solemnly.

"Exactly, Veronica, we stand by each other, and that's exactly why I need to do this. I'm going to find Marguerite."

Veronica stared at him. "You mean....her body? For burial? Roxton, it's a little late for that. I don't think it's still-"

"Marguerite is alive, Veronica."

She winced. Oh no.... "No, Roxton, Marguerite died three months ago." As harsh as that sounds, he needs to face it.

"Veronica, I'm telling you with utter certainty that she's alive and well, and probably making a sarcastic remark to Assai or an apeman or god-knows-who at this very moment."

Veronica's eyes widened. She wanted to believe him. He looked so sure. Or so crazy? Dreamlike, her legs brought her to the plush couch against the wall, and she sat down heavily. "How do you know?"

"I just....know."

Veronica began to shake her head sadly. Roxton leaped forward, kneeling in front of her and grabbing her hands. "Listen to me! I thought you of all people would at least keep at open mind! You know that strange things can happen on the plateau, things that aren't possible anywhere else. I'm telling you that Marguerite and I are linked somehow. I can feel her heart beating next to mine. She's alive, Veronica. Now all we have to do is find her."

"You're....sure?" Veronica asked slowly. So badly did she want his words to be true, she almost felt herself believing him.

"Yes." His dark eyes stared, unblinking, into hers. He didn't look delusional; in fact, he looked a lot like Challenger did back when they used to laugh at his latest inventions - inventions that tended to work once he'd built them. So maybe....just maybe....

"You know what, Roxton? I think I believe you," she pronounced slowly. "So when do we leave?"

Roxton whooped. "I knew I could count on you!" He turned his face to the window. "We're coming for you, Marguerite! Just you hang in there!" He added a silent internal rush of love to the message, then looked back at Veronica, who was regarding him with a somewhat amused expression on her face.

"The two of you never cease to amaze me," she said softly. "In the beginning you couldn't manage a civil conversation. Now you're linked at the soul."


* * *



TO BE CONTINUED
(but much quicker this time, as the next chapter will be much more fun to write than this one!)


If you can tell that this chapter was rather hastily cobbled together, do let me know. I figured I'd been procrastinating long enough, so I just took all the bits and pieces that I'd written and wrote the scenes in between so that it would make sense to those of you not living in my head (heehee). I just wanted to get it done with already though so that I could move on to the INTERESTING chapters. I realize this one was sorta blah, not a lot of action or spice or ANYTHING really except a lot of moping around, but it was necessary. If I hadn't given you this to sit through, wanna know how much sense the rest of the story would have made? ZERO.

I hope you enjoyed it anyway though....I read it over again and I guess I kind of like it....but if you felt it was somewhat of a letdown compared to the prologue, do bear with me. Don't lose faith just yet.... [Um, I'm somewhat out of it right now; it's really rather hot in my room - think 'volcanic' - and I think my brain is melting. If I sound a bit crazy....well, at least I have something resembling an excuse.]