Title: Concourse
Author: Lady Primrose Roxton
Series: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World
Date: 5/2002
Part: 1 - She Who Watches
Rating: R
Codes: M/R, N/V
Catagory: Romance, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi
Summary: Starts where HoTS left off. Danger Will Robinson! Mushy shipper alert, cliffhanger resolution alert, grandfather paradox alert, and hey, I even like Finn!
Spoilers: The Knife, Tapestry, BiA, Trapped & HoTS
Disclaimer: As a matter of fact, in the shifting planes of my own reality, I *do* own TLW ;)
Feedback: Tell me -- primrose4@canby.com
Website: http://www.canby.com/ryukyu4
Posting: ff.net, others please let me know first.
A/N: Yes, I do indeed feel the need to resolve this year's cliffhanger...It keeps me off the streets *g*. Doubtless, it will be made entirely AU in September, without a doubt. As always, feedback is to me as coffee is to Marguerite - life's blood! Hat's off to the Lost World Discussion Board and the great members there. Great whacking applause and kisses for the Cast & Crew of TLW!
A/N2: A mathematics whiz I am not, but parts of my plot are based on accepted chaos theory application of nonlinear dynamics. As a reason for what happens on the Plateau, I suppose it's a good as any other, but it's not meant to be anything other than entertainment. The story of "She Who Watches" (Tsagaglalal) is a legend among the native peoples of the Columbia River in North America. I have modified it a bit to suit my purposes. All changes are not meant to offend and are a result of me attempting to tell a good story.
***
If I venture to displace ... the microscopical speck of dust... on the point of my finger,...
I have done a deed which shakes the Moon in her path, which causes the Sun to be no longer the Sun,
and which alters forever the destiny of multitudinous myriads of stars.
Edgar Allan Poe (1809–1849)
Damn the torpedos! Full speed ahead!
Admiral David Glasgow Farragut (1801-1870)
***
Tsagaglalal watched. Sometimes, She would think how foolish they were. Sometimes, She even thought She liked them a bit. Mostly, She just watched and waited. The time had come at last She decided.
The Scholar had posed his final query and began his fall. The Druid's storm of unremembered power and responsibility had been unleashed. The Warrior awaited an impossible last test of bravery, honor, and fear of defeat. The seeking Catalyst had unwittingly placed the definitive actions into play. The Protector had sought ascendence but failed to comprehend how to achieve it. The spiral had begun to turn in upon itself. The waiting was almost over.
She felt his presence again. The impertinent Scribe. His ability to center on Her was alarming, and one such as She should not feel alarmed.
"You know how to stop it," Malone accused Her. "You have to help her."
"I have to do nothing but watch," She replied.
"You can't let this happen," he walked closer to where She sat on a simple mat. He knelt down beside Her, his manner agitated but with great purpose. "It will be the end," his voice hoarse with strain.
"It is a beginning," Tsagaglalal responded.
"They're all mixed up; they're not supposed to be all together like that," Ned rubbed his eyes. It hurt to look at the lines of the spirals as they flowed down to the Plateau.
She deigned to look at the man, "You were dead such a short time, Scribe. Do not presume you understand anything."
"I understand that they'll die - we'll *all* die, if Veronica doesn't figure out how to stop it," Malone stated. "I want them to live, and I think you do, too."
"I have no opinion one way or another," She said evenly. "I am She Who Watches."
"I know who you are," the reporter shot back, exasperated. "And I don't believe that you don't care. You wouldn't be watching so closely if you didn't."
"It is not as if I have anything else to do, Scribe," She laughed lightly. "I am as I have been since the Early Time - a Watcher."
"You're still angry," Malone hazarded his guess aloud. "You'd still be Chief if you had not just watched."
"Anger is pointless," Tsagaglalal said flatly. "Coyote has spoken, then as now. The people will reap what they have sown in their ignorance."
"Just as you did?" he said insightfully.
"The path has not taught them anything. They will have to begin again," She turned and looked away.
"I disagree. It's taught us all a lot," Ned insisted. "We've come so far, and we didn't even know why we were there to begin with."
"You've learned very little," She shook her head. "Stumbling around in the dark of ignorance and disbelief - calling it scepticism and science."
"You must help us," he was begging now. "You know we've tried so hard. Doesn't that count for anything?"
"Good intentions?" Tsagaglalal smiled sadly. "I had them, too. They, as you can see," she gestured with a hand, "did not save me from my errors."
"Then help to save us," Malone pressed. He was truly afraid. The spirals were almost completely meshed, each piece fitting to each other as if the same, yet pulled from all the reaches of time and space. It hurt his mind to contemplate it, and he sincerely wished that Professor Challenger was there. He would understand better than a newspaper reporter who was still a bit wet behind the ears. "Help us save ourselves," his voice cracked with its earnestness.
She finally looked back at the Scribe and saw the tears that flowed unnoticed and unchecked down his cheeks. The boy was afraid and didn't understand, but was trying his best. His gifts had been given so recently; he barely understood their nature, let alone their power. He had stumbled about this plane for such a long time, much as he had stumbled about the Plateau he inhabited. He'd left the protection of his family group to find out his destiny and the reasons for the bestowal of his gifts. She'd watched him for a long time before speaking. She'd found him ignorant and impertinent, while at the same time, strangely compelling and gallant. He was a natural Watcher and Scribe, just as She was. She sighed. It was paradoxical, the need for others but the wish to be left alone. She knew that the Scribe felt this way, too. His love for his family pulled at by his need to understand and record. The Protector was especially important to him, and more than once, she sensed his desire to return to her testing his resolve to stay until he understood.
She smiled a little and reached out an ageless has to brush at his cheek, "Be not afraid, Ned Malone. It is as it should be, no matter what happens." At his look of despair, she made a soothing sound and added, "It is true that I cannot give the Protector, you, or any of your friends the answers you seek. It is not the Way of Things." She raised her other hand to his face and cupped it gently, "However, I may give each of you the ability to discover the answer on your own. Be aware, should you choose this, no one will intervene should any or all of you fail. It is for you and your friends to come to their own understanding of their place and their power within it."
"You're telling me the fate of the world is in our hands," Malone stated wryly.
"Your world, your time, your space, the other worlds, time and space. They're all one of the same as well as different. All parts are identical as well as different," She replied enigmatically, sitting back once again.
"Glad you cleared that one up for me," he quipped.
"This is all that I can do,' Tsagaglalal said simply. "On behalf of yourself and the others, do you accept my help?"
Malone knew there was no choice; they would have to succeed, because there was no room for error. "I accept."
She gracefully rose and he hastened to stand, brushing away the last of his tears impatiently. She held both hands palm up, a soft light appeared and when it was gone, a butterfly floated in the air above them. Its wings flapped gently, and it fluttered around Tsagaglalal and made its way over to Ned. He held out his hand and the orange and black creature landed in the middle of his left palm. Its wings moved up and down gracefully as it stayed perched on the reporter's hand. Ned looked at the butterfly, then up at Her. She smiled at him and nodded once. He looked puzzled, but didn't say anything. She approved; the lad was learning after all.
Pointing to the colorful insect, Tsagaglalal said, "Here is the key to all, Ned Malone. The power and the understanding rest here."
"A butterfly," Malone said flatly.
"Yes," She agreed.
"And this," he gestured with his other hand to the butterfly, " is all that I need?"
"Yes," She repeated.
Ned swallowed hard, "You're sure I have the ability to understand this? This sounds like something more in Challenger's line."
"Exactly," Tsagaglalal voice held approval. She made a motion with her hands and Ned felt the swirling sensation of the changing. When the mists cleared, he was in a white room. Challenger was strapped to a table and a strange looking large bald man held a scalpel to his head.
"Ned!" exclaimed Challenger.
To Be Continued
Author: Lady Primrose Roxton
Series: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World
Date: 5/2002
Part: 1 - She Who Watches
Rating: R
Codes: M/R, N/V
Catagory: Romance, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi
Summary: Starts where HoTS left off. Danger Will Robinson! Mushy shipper alert, cliffhanger resolution alert, grandfather paradox alert, and hey, I even like Finn!
Spoilers: The Knife, Tapestry, BiA, Trapped & HoTS
Disclaimer: As a matter of fact, in the shifting planes of my own reality, I *do* own TLW ;)
Feedback: Tell me -- primrose4@canby.com
Website: http://www.canby.com/ryukyu4
Posting: ff.net, others please let me know first.
A/N: Yes, I do indeed feel the need to resolve this year's cliffhanger...It keeps me off the streets *g*. Doubtless, it will be made entirely AU in September, without a doubt. As always, feedback is to me as coffee is to Marguerite - life's blood! Hat's off to the Lost World Discussion Board and the great members there. Great whacking applause and kisses for the Cast & Crew of TLW!
A/N2: A mathematics whiz I am not, but parts of my plot are based on accepted chaos theory application of nonlinear dynamics. As a reason for what happens on the Plateau, I suppose it's a good as any other, but it's not meant to be anything other than entertainment. The story of "She Who Watches" (Tsagaglalal) is a legend among the native peoples of the Columbia River in North America. I have modified it a bit to suit my purposes. All changes are not meant to offend and are a result of me attempting to tell a good story.
***
If I venture to displace ... the microscopical speck of dust... on the point of my finger,...
I have done a deed which shakes the Moon in her path, which causes the Sun to be no longer the Sun,
and which alters forever the destiny of multitudinous myriads of stars.
Edgar Allan Poe (1809–1849)
Damn the torpedos! Full speed ahead!
Admiral David Glasgow Farragut (1801-1870)
***
Tsagaglalal watched. Sometimes, She would think how foolish they were. Sometimes, She even thought She liked them a bit. Mostly, She just watched and waited. The time had come at last She decided.
The Scholar had posed his final query and began his fall. The Druid's storm of unremembered power and responsibility had been unleashed. The Warrior awaited an impossible last test of bravery, honor, and fear of defeat. The seeking Catalyst had unwittingly placed the definitive actions into play. The Protector had sought ascendence but failed to comprehend how to achieve it. The spiral had begun to turn in upon itself. The waiting was almost over.
She felt his presence again. The impertinent Scribe. His ability to center on Her was alarming, and one such as She should not feel alarmed.
"You know how to stop it," Malone accused Her. "You have to help her."
"I have to do nothing but watch," She replied.
"You can't let this happen," he walked closer to where She sat on a simple mat. He knelt down beside Her, his manner agitated but with great purpose. "It will be the end," his voice hoarse with strain.
"It is a beginning," Tsagaglalal responded.
"They're all mixed up; they're not supposed to be all together like that," Ned rubbed his eyes. It hurt to look at the lines of the spirals as they flowed down to the Plateau.
She deigned to look at the man, "You were dead such a short time, Scribe. Do not presume you understand anything."
"I understand that they'll die - we'll *all* die, if Veronica doesn't figure out how to stop it," Malone stated. "I want them to live, and I think you do, too."
"I have no opinion one way or another," She said evenly. "I am She Who Watches."
"I know who you are," the reporter shot back, exasperated. "And I don't believe that you don't care. You wouldn't be watching so closely if you didn't."
"It is not as if I have anything else to do, Scribe," She laughed lightly. "I am as I have been since the Early Time - a Watcher."
"You're still angry," Malone hazarded his guess aloud. "You'd still be Chief if you had not just watched."
"Anger is pointless," Tsagaglalal said flatly. "Coyote has spoken, then as now. The people will reap what they have sown in their ignorance."
"Just as you did?" he said insightfully.
"The path has not taught them anything. They will have to begin again," She turned and looked away.
"I disagree. It's taught us all a lot," Ned insisted. "We've come so far, and we didn't even know why we were there to begin with."
"You've learned very little," She shook her head. "Stumbling around in the dark of ignorance and disbelief - calling it scepticism and science."
"You must help us," he was begging now. "You know we've tried so hard. Doesn't that count for anything?"
"Good intentions?" Tsagaglalal smiled sadly. "I had them, too. They, as you can see," she gestured with a hand, "did not save me from my errors."
"Then help to save us," Malone pressed. He was truly afraid. The spirals were almost completely meshed, each piece fitting to each other as if the same, yet pulled from all the reaches of time and space. It hurt his mind to contemplate it, and he sincerely wished that Professor Challenger was there. He would understand better than a newspaper reporter who was still a bit wet behind the ears. "Help us save ourselves," his voice cracked with its earnestness.
She finally looked back at the Scribe and saw the tears that flowed unnoticed and unchecked down his cheeks. The boy was afraid and didn't understand, but was trying his best. His gifts had been given so recently; he barely understood their nature, let alone their power. He had stumbled about this plane for such a long time, much as he had stumbled about the Plateau he inhabited. He'd left the protection of his family group to find out his destiny and the reasons for the bestowal of his gifts. She'd watched him for a long time before speaking. She'd found him ignorant and impertinent, while at the same time, strangely compelling and gallant. He was a natural Watcher and Scribe, just as She was. She sighed. It was paradoxical, the need for others but the wish to be left alone. She knew that the Scribe felt this way, too. His love for his family pulled at by his need to understand and record. The Protector was especially important to him, and more than once, she sensed his desire to return to her testing his resolve to stay until he understood.
She smiled a little and reached out an ageless has to brush at his cheek, "Be not afraid, Ned Malone. It is as it should be, no matter what happens." At his look of despair, she made a soothing sound and added, "It is true that I cannot give the Protector, you, or any of your friends the answers you seek. It is not the Way of Things." She raised her other hand to his face and cupped it gently, "However, I may give each of you the ability to discover the answer on your own. Be aware, should you choose this, no one will intervene should any or all of you fail. It is for you and your friends to come to their own understanding of their place and their power within it."
"You're telling me the fate of the world is in our hands," Malone stated wryly.
"Your world, your time, your space, the other worlds, time and space. They're all one of the same as well as different. All parts are identical as well as different," She replied enigmatically, sitting back once again.
"Glad you cleared that one up for me," he quipped.
"This is all that I can do,' Tsagaglalal said simply. "On behalf of yourself and the others, do you accept my help?"
Malone knew there was no choice; they would have to succeed, because there was no room for error. "I accept."
She gracefully rose and he hastened to stand, brushing away the last of his tears impatiently. She held both hands palm up, a soft light appeared and when it was gone, a butterfly floated in the air above them. Its wings flapped gently, and it fluttered around Tsagaglalal and made its way over to Ned. He held out his hand and the orange and black creature landed in the middle of his left palm. Its wings moved up and down gracefully as it stayed perched on the reporter's hand. Ned looked at the butterfly, then up at Her. She smiled at him and nodded once. He looked puzzled, but didn't say anything. She approved; the lad was learning after all.
Pointing to the colorful insect, Tsagaglalal said, "Here is the key to all, Ned Malone. The power and the understanding rest here."
"A butterfly," Malone said flatly.
"Yes," She agreed.
"And this," he gestured with his other hand to the butterfly, " is all that I need?"
"Yes," She repeated.
Ned swallowed hard, "You're sure I have the ability to understand this? This sounds like something more in Challenger's line."
"Exactly," Tsagaglalal voice held approval. She made a motion with her hands and Ned felt the swirling sensation of the changing. When the mists cleared, he was in a white room. Challenger was strapped to a table and a strange looking large bald man held a scalpel to his head.
"Ned!" exclaimed Challenger.
To Be Continued