Severed, Part IV
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?! PS: But the nameless thief belongs only to me. And so does Lady Roxton's characterization.

Author's Notes: I just want to take this opportunity to thank all those lovely, kind people who have read and reviewed this story from the beginning, even though I'm awful about updating in a timely manner. I'm soooo incredibly sorry about that! It's just that I really have absolutely no time anymore....I NEED THE SUMMER. NOW!


* * *



Marguerite - five months and three weeks after being nearly killed by the rockslide
(meaning three weeks after the last chapter ended)



Marguerite put her book down with a sigh. It was a mushy French novel, a romance.... and one of the more unrealistic ones at that. I don't think I've ever encountered something quite so stupid, she mused gloomily. No wonder I've never bothered to read this book before. At least I had the good sense then to stay away from it. But honestly, what else is there to do without Challenger to send us on some misguided excursion to collect piles and piles of weeds?

God, how she missed them all. Especially the 'us' - in her head, that had been her and Roxton, going on yet another camping trip. Much as she used to complain, she'd grown to love those little outings - well, only the ones that involved the two of them alone, that is.

The shadow behind her inched nearer, protectively keeping his gun aimed at her.

Marguerite didn't notice. Humming along to the haunting melody she'd set the phonograph to play, Marguerite reached for the photograph Summerlee had taken of Roxton ages ago, the one she never went anywhere without. She gazed sadly at her beloved's face, remembering how his lips had felt against hers....

The music crescendoed, and Marguerite fell back onto her pillow with a sigh. She let her eyes drift closed, intending to lose herself in the lilting tune until sleep claimed her.

"You don't think it's a bit early for bedtime?" a merry voice queried.

Marguerite's eyes flew open. She glared at the handsome stranger in front of her. "YOU again," she grumbled, sitting up.

"Ah ah ah," he warned jovially, gesturing with his chin at the pistol barrel he held in front of him. "No sudden movements."

"Don't tell me those gems I gave you weren't enough. They were worth a fortune!"

"This music is lovely," the intruder remarked thoughtfully, ignoring her indignant comment. "What is it?"

"Chopin. Prelude in E minor. It's called 'Suffocation.' I could be persuaded to show you how that's done, if you'd like. Or maybe I'll just demonstrate anyway, as I'm in a rather foul mood and your presence is making it worse."

He made a face at her. "Nice choice of title, Mr. Chopin. Really."

"What do you want?" she asked pointedly. "I don't have all day."

"Of course not. That would explain why you've been spending it doing absolutely nothing, just-"

"How would YOU know how I spent my day?" she asked suspiciously.

"I've been watching you."

"EXCUSE ME?! Why? If you wanted something, why didn't you just take it and leave? Don't YOU have better ways to spend YOUR time?"

"Well, quite frankly....I'm worried about you. Lying around here moping, staring forlornly at some blurry photograph, listening to music about dying.... I can't in good conscience leave a lady like that!"

"But you can steal from one? You listen here, I don't want your conscience waking up on my account! I'll survive this just as I've survived everything else that life threw at me! I don't need anybody's help, and I certainly don't need your meddling! Now get out of here before I lose my patience and turn a gun on you!"

"How would you possibly get your hands on a gun before my reflexes kicked in and I turned MINE on YOU?"

"Well if I told you that," she snapped. "It wouldn't be too helpful later on, now would it?"

"I have an idea. Why don't you tell me what's wrong? Maybe it'll make you feel better."

She laughed. It wasn't a happy sound. He tried to hide his wince.

"I've had just about enough of you. Get the hell out of my house."

"All right, let's start with the house. Sounds like as good a beginning as any. Who built it? You? Seems unlikely. And why was it built? Why are you here? And why are there so many rooms if there's only one person-"

"Are you KIDDING ME? Just grab a necklace from somewhere and GO already. If you're trying to be amusing, you're failing miserably."

"I'm completely serious. I'm not leaving until you tell me the whole story, and until I've assured myself that you'll be okay. Honestly, you look entirely too-"

"GO AWAY!"

"No!"

She stared at him. "Listen to me. I'm fine. I get dressed every morning, I eat regularly, I exercise, I socialize with the Zanga villagers, I do everything that normal people do. I'm just get a little....nostalgic sometimes, but it's not something you need to worry about. Now go away."

"That man in the photograph....is he dead?"

"GOD FORBID!" Marguerite shouted furiously. "Don't even say that!"

"Okay, okay, don't get so worked up. So why isn't he here then? Did he leave you for another woman?"

"Of course not!" Marguerite snapped. But suddenly, a thought crept into her head, one that she'd never allowed herself to think before. Roxton returns to London a celebrated hero, and all the woman throw themselves at him. He thinks I'm dead, and allows them to try to take his mind off me. Or.... and this thought hurt the most, maybe he never really cared about me to begin with, and he promptly forgot about his 'dear Marguerite' as soon as Miss Perfect Member of London Society touched his arm....

No. That feels wrong. He's waiting for me. I can feel him waiting.


"We were separated by a cave-in," Marguerite told him stiffly. "And this is just making me feel worse, so quit it already and leave me alone."

"Now you've gotten me all curious. I told you I wouldn't leave until I hear the whole story. I never lie."

"Doubtful, considering you're a thief." An overwhelming tiredness swept over Marguerite. She didn't want to argue with this stranger. She just wanted to sleep and dream of Roxton. And the fastest way to do that was to.... "Fine, I'll tell you. Some. I guess it doesn't matter; it's not like I'll ever see you again, RIGHT?!"

"Sure."

Marguerite suddenly felt quite shy. It had taken her years to open up to Roxton and the rest of her adopted family, and now this stranger expected her to just tell all the second time they met? "I don't even know your name."

"And I don't know yours. It's better this way, trust me. You'll be able to speak easier if I remain a nameless stranger who'll disappear from your life forever as soon as you're done."

Marguerite took a deep breath. "I hope you know the only reason I'm doing this is because you're pointing a gun at me."

"Of course," he assured her.

"Okay....here goes...."


* * *



"Hmm," he finally said. "Now you need to realize that your life does not begin and end with Roxton."

"Of course it doesn't. But he's an integral part of it, and I'm just not the same without him."

"Don't move. I'll be right back."

Curious, Marguerite obeyed. He returned a moment later with a piece of paper and a pen.

"Let's go sit down at the table. Write me a list of ten things you like about this plateau that don't relate to Roxton."

She looked at him incredulously. "Are you serious? What is this, elementary school all over again? Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?"

"Come on, humor me. I think it'll really help," he said genuinely.

"And I think you're out of your mind. No way am I degrading myself-"

"I have the gun, remember?"

"Oh give it up already, you're not going to shoot me," Marguerite said disdainfully as she followed him to the kitchen.

"So? I can still threaten to burn your precious picture."

"You wouldn't do that either," Marguerite informed him, very sure of herself.

"Watch me. It might hurt in the beginning, but you'd get over him a lot faster."

"I don't want to get over him. What would be the point, when I know he's coming back for me as soon as he can? It's only been a few months. He's doing the best he can."

He shook his head, marveling at her. "You know, part of me admires your devotion. He's a very lucky man, this Roxton."

"And I'm very lucky to have found him. But you're not upholding your part of the deal. You were supposed to leave when I finished my story. Well, I just finished. So why are you still here?" She cocked an eyebrow at him. "I thought you never lied."

"That was a lie," he told her with a smile.

Marguerite waited for the surge of anger to fill her. But it never came. There is something rather charming about him. And getting this whole mess out of my system did help to put it in perspective, I guess. Not that I miss Roxton any less. Still, maybe it was therapeutic. But why aren't I annoyed at him for lying to me? Why aren't I upset that he's still sticking around?

At that moment, Marguerite realized just how lonely she really was. She bit her lip and stared helplessly at the suave thief looking gently at her. Did he understand her confusion? Was that what his eyes said? But his kind gaze didn't make her feel any better. It wasn't him she was lonely for, it was John.

"Just write," he advised, plunking down on a chair and propping his legs up on the tabletop.

Rolling her eyes, she picked up the pen. For a while, she really did try to think of things that didn't relate to Roxton. She really did....and it took her a good fifteen minutes to think of even one. And after that....well, I don't *want* to move past Roxton ANYWAY!


1. sunsets from the treehouse balcony
2. meeting Roxton
3. those charged bickering sessions with Roxton
4. flirting with Roxton
5. Roxton kissing me
6. kissing Roxton
7. hugging Roxton and feeling his arms immediately wrap tightly around me
8. leaning against Roxton
9. camping with Roxton....sharing body heat
10. just....being with Roxton. Knowing he loves me. Knowing I love him.
11. PS: and the rest of my family. I miss them too. But it's not quite as desperate.


Now that I've shared more personal information with you than I've ever shared with
anyone except Roxton, Summerlee, and Veronica....now will you leave me alone so I
can mope in peace???



"No," he stated calmly, after looking up from her list. "I'm worried about you."

"Oh no you're not....you're just bored. Looking for a damsel in distress to save. Well, let me tell you something....I'm not a damsel, and I won't want your heroics. Go find some young maiden somewhere, someone who's had an easier life than me. She won't know how to deal with her newfound trouble, and she'll actually need you."

"I think you need me. If only to rant to, you need me."

"You're not going to leave no matter what I say, are you?" Marguerite sighed. "No matter how nasty I am."

"I know you don't mean it."

"I do so!" she snapped defensively.

"Liar," he egged her on. "I've seen squirrels with more ferocity in their eyes than you."

"WHAT ARE YOU IMPLYING?!" she shrieked, sending her chair tumbling as she jumped up. Did he just call me weak? The old instincts that had kept her alive in the dangerous dealings of her past kicked in. Use the element of surprise and speed to your advantage. Make sure he ends up on the ground, looking up at you. You'll be in a better bargaining position that way.

Marguerite didn't think, she just moved. She charged at him, sending his gun flying across the room and knocking him to the floor. Echoing her actions from the first time she'd met him, she straddled his body and wrapped her hands threateningly around his neck. "How's THAT for weak?"

"I knew it," he choked out, struggling for breath. "Why would you keep doing this if you didn't?"

"Didn't what?" she prodded suspiciously.

He looked straight at her and said simply, "Feel something for me."

In her shock, her hands loosened, and he surged upwards, catching her lips full on in an impassioned kiss. Marguerite's eyes widened as she struggled desperately to pull away. But his arms around her were like a vise, and he didn't seem to realize that she wasn't kissing him back.

Marguerite finally resorted to shoving a fist into his stomach, as much to get his attention as to buy her a few seconds to escape.

"Why did you DO that?" she cried furiously, wrenching away.

"Wha-I-thought you-wanted it too...." he stuttered.

"HELLO?! HAVE YOU NOT BEEN PAYING ATTENTION?! I JUST WROTE AN ENTIRE LIST ABOUT ROXTON!!"

"Yes, but....I thought it was just habit. You've been yearning for him for so long that I thought it had turned into a matter of routine, that you just liked wallowing so much that you did it as a matter of course. I didn't think you really cared for him anymore."

For an instant, Marguerite felt the slightest stab of fear in her stomach. Was is possible that he was right? Could that really be true? She pictured Roxton in her mind, remembering the way they would stand at the balcony sometimes, late at night when everyone else was asleep. He would drape an arm across her waist, his palm reaching around to cup her hip, pulling her toward him. She would rest her head on his shoulder, and together they would stare at the stars, not speaking, simply sharing a comfortable moment alone.

Marguerite felt her eyes prickle at the memory. Oh yes, this stranger was definitely wrong. Her feelings for Roxton had not faded in the least. If anything, they'd grown stronger as she'd realized belatedly how much she needed him. Once she'd admitted that to herself, it had been so easy to love him. If only he were here so she could tell him that....

"I love Roxton," Marguerite said simply. "Your naïve little fantasies won't ever change that. Now leave." Her voice was cold as she stood up and walked back to the table. "I don't ever want to see you again, and next time you come back I really will shoot you for what you've just done. Could you imagine if Roxton had come back at just this moment and seen me with another man?"

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"You should be. Goodbye."

The intruder picked himself up off the ground and dusted himself off. "I really am sorry."

She relented. "Fine. I accept your apology. Now please go before you make things even worse."

Dejected, he got into the elevator. "I meant it when I said Roxton was a very lucky man, to have someone like you. And for your sake, I hope he comes for you. But if he doesn't....maybe we'll meet again."

The elevator descended slowly. First his knees vanished from view, then his hips, then his chest. She knew he was waiting for her to say something.

Marguerite stayed silent. When his head finally disappeared from her line of sight, she whispered, "Of course he'll come for me. Of course he will. Don't say it like that, whoever you were. Of course he'll come."

She turned away from the elevator and looked out towards the horizon. "Where are you already, John?" she fretted. "I'm staring to get scared."


* * *



Roxton - five months and three weeks after the rockslide
(meaning Roxton's and Marguerite's parts of the chapter take place synonymously)


The sun beat down mercilessly on John Roxton's shoulders. He wiped a calloused hand across his brow, then flung the droplets of sweat off his knuckles and into the softly rippling water of the Amazon river.

Behind him, Veronica was smiling happily. "It feels so nice to feel the real heat of the sun again. In London you could barely even see it because of the smog, let alone feel it on your skin," she chatted happily.

Roxton grunted. "Glad you're enjoying yourself." Was the sun always this hot? Or did I just spend too much time moping in the cool darkness of my room?

"Let me guess, Veronica....the first thing you're going to do when we get back is stretch out on the beach and bask in the sun like a cat."

"Of course not, silly....I'm going to give Marguerite a hug so huge that sh-"

"That's assuming she's-" Challenger cut himself off nearly as quickly as he had interrupted Veronica. He glanced nervously at Roxton, hunched over his oars in the front of the canoe. "I mean....forget it."

"You better forget it, Challenger," Roxton growled. "And soon enough, you'll get your indisputable scientific proof." In the form of my beautiful Marguerite, probably wondering what the hell took us so long. Damn Zoological Society and their 'protective regulations!'

"I sure hope so, John," the scientist admitted. "This is one instance where I'd give anything to be wrong."

The trio settled into silence once again. Only the faint splash of the oars plunging into the waves could be heard.

Whatever you're doing now, Marguerite, John thought. Just know I'm coming for you.


* * *



Marguerite

The sky was turning orange. Marguerite allowed herself one last longing look in the direction of the faraway world that had taken John Roxton from her, and then she silently turned away.

Wishing she still remembered how to be numb, as she had been in the old days before the Challenger expedition, Marguerite descended down the elevator to the yard outside. She hurried, as the sun was about to go down and plunge the plateau into a darkness that had the potential to be fatal.

Marguerite methodically pinned up her laundry on the clothesline to dry, wondering - as she did every night - whether tomorrow would be the day that this hell on earth would at last be resolved....either with Roxton finally joining her, or with her own lonely death at the hands of some prehistoric beast.

"Please let it be the former," she said aloud. "God? If you're listening, I know we've never been close....but please, please, don't make me die alone without ever having seen him again. Please."


* * *



Roxton - 6 months after the rockslide
(meaning one week after the preceding part of this chapter)


Roxton reached out a tentative hand towards the fabric.

His breathing came in shallow gasps as his fingers made contact. This isn't a dream. All of this....this is definitely real.

He stared reverently at the shirt. It was hers. He'd never been so happy to see a still-damp lavender blouse in all his life.

His Marguerite was alive.

Almost shaking with relief and joy, Roxton put one foot in front of the other and made his way to the elevator that would reunite him with his lost, but not forgotten, love.


* * *



TO BE CONTINUED

Okay, so that chapter really stunk. I'm sorry. I wrote it with a mild fever, so that might have something to do with it. But at least I wrote it at all....I suppose I should thank that nasty 24-hour bug because it's what finally gave me time to write. But yuck. I'm only posting this so I'll finally be able to get to the *really* fun part - the reunion!!!

And yes, the nameless thief really *does* have a point in this story. You'll see. Just bear with me. I know I take a really long time between chapters, but RL is very hectic right now. Once again, I'm so sorry....but please don't desert me. I feed on reviews.... :)

PS: The next chapter, the reunion, is almost done! This time, I really mean it when I say it should be up in a few days....