Title: Concourse
Author: Lady Primrose Roxton
Series: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World
Date: 7/2002
Part: 6 - The Unfathomed Retrospect
Rating: R
Codes: M/R, N/V
Category: 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: Finn, Legacy, 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, tlwfix.com, others please let me know first.
A/N: Many thanks to those who have given the nice feedback, especially abouttime, who appears to be my biggest fan ;) More whacking
great applause for TLW BB - a nicer group of folks you'll never find.
A/N2: Apologies to the writers of "The One" and any other multiverse theorists. I've given George the credit for that, too. The man is just
amazing, isn't he?
A/N3: More time travel. In fact, so much time travel that I might recommend some Dramamine if I were a real doctor and didn't play one on T.V. Fasten your seatbelts and warm up the DeLorean - we're going back to the future....
***
Who controls the past controls the future;
Who controls the present controls the past.
George Orwell (1903–1950)
If you want a future, darling,
Why don't you get a past?
Cole Porter (1893–1964)
***
Given the choice between living in the future and the past, Finn definitely decided she would choose the past. The fact that she'd been transported back to the future that she'd been rescued from by Challenger and the others seemed supremely unfair to her. But then, she'd always found that life was profoundly unfair, especially to her, and she just had to deal with it.
She ruthlessly suppressed a desire to actually cry. Her family had all died or been killed when she was young, but she still remembered them and the feeling of belonging she'd felt with them. Her new friends had made her feel that way; the treehouse had been her home, the first home she'd had in so long. She realized that, in such a short time, she'd come to depend on the others to make her life complete - that she really wanted to be with them. Dwelling on her loss wasn't going to help her though, and she'd be captured or dead if she didn't move her ass out of the way of that on-coming vehicle pretty fast.
She waited until the last possible moment, then made a graceful roll to her left and sprang back up onto her feet, making a dead run for a stand of trees a short distance away. A shout from the occupants of the vehicle alerted her to the fact that they'd noticed her and would be following close behind. She dodged around a pile of large rocks randomly strewn across the slight decline. She knew her pursuer's kind, if she didn't actually know them; they'd never give up if they thought there was a chance of catching her. She'd have to kill them. Problem was, the trees weren't all that close, and if she shot her crossbow, she wasn't sure she'd have time to reload a bolt before the other guy got to her.
Finn ran faster, her breath coming in gasps, the unmuffled roar of the engine throbbing in her ears. An edgy, sliding fear caused the sweat running down her back to feel cold. She didn't know when this was, but if Burke was still alive... She pulled her crossbow off her belt and tugged a bolt out of its loop, loading by feel as she pounded across the grassy field. Just as she turned to fire on the driver, a flash of brilliant light blinded her. Instinctively, she moved from her previous location to ensure no one could get a bead on her when their vision cleared.
A scream of wrenching metal assaulted her eardrums, accompanied by shouts of dismay. Turning toward the sounds, Finn could see that in the instant that the blinding flash had engulfed them, the vehicle chasing her had come upon the boulders she had just gone around. The vehicle had apparently hit the rocks straight on, and owing to the slight incline, had became airborne. It had hit the ground and flipped onto it's top, rocking back and forth on its roll bar, hissing steam billowing from its now silent engine. Two figures lay very still on the ground, having been flung from the vehicle. One's neck lay at an impossible angle, and the other's mid-section was bisected by a piece torn off of the front fender. Finn stood bent over, on hand on her left knee, panting, unable to believe that her luck had turned.
"If you think it's so easy, why don't you try it?" sounded a very familiar querulous voice.
"I just remarked that when Malone transported us, we didn't appear three feet off the ground, that's all," came the exasperated reply.
"Well, I'm kind of new at this sort of thing, in this lifetime anyway," groused Marguerite as she tried to get up. She fell back, involuntarily giving a low groan, looking rather pale.
"What's wrong? Where are you hurt?" the kneeling Roxton instantly turned to face Marguerite, gently touching her shoulders with his hands, scanning her person.
"It's just a headache," Marguerite replied softly, looking intently at Roxton. "Nothing to worry about, really," she assured him, putting one hand to his face.
"If you're sure," Roxton sounded anxious, not convinced.
"I am," Marguerite assured him, still in that very soft, gentle voice. The pair remained where they were, just looking at each other.
Finn stared at the two of them for a moment, then said, "Uh, guys? Don't take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?"
Roxton and Marguerite turned to Finn with surprise.
"Well, that was easy," remarked Marguerite as Roxton stood up, bent over, and easily lifted her up onto her feet.
Retaining hold of Marguerite's arms, he turned to Finn, smiling, "We're here to take you home."
"Oh," Finn said, slightly non-plussed.
Roxton brushed some dead grass from Marguerite's hair and beamed at her. Marguerite smiled beatifically back, until she noticed Finn
staring at them, then frowned, "Don't sound so enthused," She made a futile attempt to smooth the wrinkles out of her blouse. She'd
already given up trying to button it as a bad bet; the buttonholes were ripped. "We've come a bloody long way to get you, you know."
"So let's go already," Finn replied brightly, strapping her crossbow back on her belt. "I'm ready. And we don't wanna be around here when those guy's buddies come looking for them," she gestured to the now deceased occupants of the overturned vehicle.
"Just hold on a moment," Roxton said, looking down at Marguerite in alarm. Finn marveled at how she appeared to sway, then collapsed rather gracefully into Roxton's arms.
"What's wrong with her?" Finn crossed to where Roxton had gently laid Marguerite on the ground and was feeling her forehead, then checking her pulse.
"I think bringing us here took a lot more out of her than she let on," Roxton answered grimly. "She feels cold to the touch," he bent down to listen at her chest, "and she's breathing very shallowly."
"She could be in shock," Finn replied thoughtfully. "We should get her out of the open and someplace where she can lay down with her feet up."
Roxton immediately picked Marguerite up with no apparent effort and said, "Where should we go?"
"Maybe those trees?," Finn offered as they began moving.
"Very good," came Roxton's clipped reply. "If I remember right, there's an outcropping of rocks that's fairly defensible nearby."
Finn glanced over at Roxton and was struck by how grim he looked.
"What's going on, Roxton?" Finn asked as they finally reached the edge of the forest. "Why was I transported here? And how in the world did Marguerite get you two get here? What's happened to Vee?"
Roxton sighed, then replied, "I'm not entirely sure what's going on, Finn. It's been explained to me several times, but I don't think I understand a fraction of it. Let's just say that something's happened to the timeline, and all those bloody shifting planes of reality that Challenger is always going on about are smashing into one another, causing a whole hell of a lot of trouble."
"That sounds bad...really bad," Finn observed.
"According to Challenger, it *is* very bad. And, we have to find a way to stop it," he paused, shifted his hold on Marguerite slightly, then continued.
"Where is Challenger?" Finn asked.
"He's somewhere in the distant future," Roxton replied shaking his head.
"Oookaaaay," Finn said in disbelief. "What's he doing there?"
"Having tea with the Queen," shot back Roxton. "How the hell should I know?" He took a deep breath, then said apologetically, "Sorry, Finn. It's just that it's been rather a long day, and it keeps getting longer." He glanced down at the woman in his arms, worry clearly evident in his eyes. "The truth is, I don't know what Challenger is doing there. Malone said something about him finding out what he had done to resist the changes that coming to the Plateau had or would bring to his life."
"Malone? You saw Malone - the reporter guy?" Finn was totally lost now.
"Oh, sorry," Roxton sighed. "It's hard to keep it all straight. Why don't we get where we're going and I'll try to explain it to you. Maybe then, I'll understand it a little better myself."
"Okay," Finn agreed, and they concentrated on reaching their destination. Finn wondered if she was ever going to get used to all the strange things that seemed to happen to her new friends. Probably not, she decided with a grin. At least they were never boring.
***
When Malone appeared for the second time, Challenger was not so surprised as startled. Sitting on the bed, he hadn't heard one word out of the sentient machine that was holding him hostage in the strange white room. The mute human had not returned the whole time, which he figured was at least two hours. His shoulder and legs hurt; all of his wounds, old and new, were complaining loudly of being cooped up, while other certain needs were becoming a bit more imperative also.
"Thank God," he muttered to himself, and got up off the table. In an audible tone he called out, "Glad to see you back, Ned. Did you find who you were looking for?"
Ned was extremely uncomfortable with the patently false smile on Challenger's face. It made his hackles rise, and in the last few months, he'd come to trust those instincts. "Sure, Professor," he replied with a cheery tone and face, but with a puzzled frown in his eyes. "I located everyone."
"Good," Challenger nodded to the panel where the voice emanated from. "As you recall, my friend here told me that it's useless for us to rail against our fate, that they have taken into account every possibility."
"But you think that they're wrong, don't you," Ned replied, not understanding where Challenger was going with this, but getting the impression that he had a plan. Well, it was about damn time *somebody* had a plan, he thought.
"Well, I have an intriguing theory that there is more than one universe, an infinite multitude of universes, created by the branching of events - the choices that we make at critical junctures in our lives," Challenger expounded.
"If you say so, Professor," Malone's head hurt, but manfully tried to keep up with the scientist.
Challenger continued as if Malone had not said a word, warming to his theme, "If one ascribes to this theory, then it would follow that it would be possible to have more than one version of yourself and any other being." Excited, he began pacing back and forth in the small room. "What this sentient machine has told me has confirmed to me the validity of my theory!"
"More than one version of yourself...Didn't you mention that before?" Malone asked.
"Yes!" Challenger pointed at Malone as if he were a star pupil that had made his instructor proud. "I told them that they have the wrong George Challenger. That I cannot be the one that will stop the tide of events that they are trying to forestall."
"Why aren't you the one?" Malone was curious.
"Because you came to me here," Challenger replied with a genuine smile this time. "You came, and they were not expecting you. They underestimated something, which is precisely what their downfall will be - humanity."
"I don't get what you mean, as usual," grinned Malone.
"In one word, Ned, love," Challenger said gently. "The need for you to help me, your friend, regardless of the danger to yourself. You see," he walked over to the young man. "It will *always* be the wrong George Challenger, because you will *always* be willing to help me. No matter which of us they take, the others will do the same."
"You mean, that the characteristics of each version of ourselves are the same?" Malone asked.
"Well, not identical, although they could be, I suppose" Challenger allowed. "But, the fundamentals, they would be the same. That which makes us uniquely ourselves, the very essence of who we are, permeates all of our beings. The spark of life..."
"The soul," finished Malone softly.
"If you will," Challenger smiled. "I must have talked to that bloody contraption for two hours with no answer. Still re-running its calculations," he said with satisfaction.
"How could it calculate it in the first place?" Malone wanted to know. "I mean, if there's an infinite number of versions of you, how could it possibly be able to..."
"There are questions to which even I have no answers, Ned," Challenger moved back to the reporter. "But, I do know something more important."
"What is that?" Malone was curious at the almost reverential tone the scientist's voice had taken.
"I know that no matter what I do, build or theorize, or fail in doing so, means almost nothing in the long run," Challenger replied steadily. "I feared the loss of my dignity, ridicule of my work, and failure to achieve any fame because of being stranded on the Plateau. I railed against my fate, always thinking that if I truly were the genius that I claimed to be, I would be able to find a way off of the Plateau."
"And, now?" Malone prompted.
"Now, my dear friend," Challenger put his arm around Ned's shoulders, and they walked a bit then stopped. Picking up the butterfly's cage, Challenger held it up and looked at it with wonder. "Now, I realize what I knew all along. True success isn't measured by the postulation of theories, the making of things, or even fame. It's by the love of family and friends. Whether I ever get of this bloody Plateau isn't the point. Knowing what's important is. It's not very scientific," he laughed wholeheartedly. "But, it's the God's truth and these blighters will never get it."
Ned laughed aloud at the joy in Challenger's face. "A regular reformed Scrooge," he grinned, taking Challenger's other hand.
"God bless us, everyone, Ned," Challenger nodded solemnly, then winked and squeezed the younger man's hand as they disappeared into the plane to take them to the center and Veronica.
***
Roxton gently placed Marguerite on the ground, holding her head in his lap, directing Finn to take a look around. He felt Marguerite's forehead and was disturbed to find her still chilled, but relieved to hear that her breathing appeared to be easier. Stroking her hair, he murmured, "You're giving me grey hair, my dear. You've got to wake up."
"You already had grey hair," mumbled Marguerite crossly. "Don't blame me."
"Oh, but you're responsible for most of it," Roxton retorted in a loving tone.
"Nice to see that I'm appreciated," she replied opening her eyes finally.
"You are at that, love," he smiled gently. "How do you feel?"
"Like I've gone three rounds with a Trog, and lost," she replied with a wince. Her head was killing her.
"Got to remember to keep your left up," Roxton advised her, stroking her hair back in rhythmic strokes.
"I'll keep that in mind" Marguerite said acerbically, but her eyes gave an entirely different message.
At this point, Finn appeared and said, "Everything looks quiet." She stopped at looked at the pair on the ground. "What's with you two? I mean, every time I see you, you're making eyes at each other. Don't you argue any more?"
Roxton and Marguerite just looked at each other and laughed. Finn shook her head, then grinned.
"Are you feeling any better, Marguerite?" Finn asked as she crouched down by the other woman.
"A little, thank you," Marguerite replied, intrigued by the pleasant emotions engendered by this exchange.
"What do we do now?" Finn asked of no one in particular.
"I think Marguerite should rest," Roxton stated firmly. "Then, we can decide what we do next."
"You were gonna tell me what's going on," Finn prompted.
"Do you have a few years?" Marguerite said archly.
"Quiet," ordered Roxton. Marguerite glared, but said nothing.
"How did you get here?" Finn asked.
"Those shifting planes of reality? Turns out, they can be navigated, if you know how," Roxton said shaking his head. "I ended up sometime a few hundred years before my time on the Plateau. There were these Spanish Conquistadors and they took me prisoner. They were going to kill me, when out of the blue, Malone appears. He fast talked the soldiers, and then we just disappear together. We reappear, and we're in England."
"England?" Finn was puzzled.
"Yes," Roxton replied. "We ended up at my home, sometime before I graduated from University. I met my brother William." He paused, well aware of Marguerite tensing up. "We talked, and I came to understand the changes in my life that prompted me to come to the Plateau, the ones that I had been fighting." He looked down at Marguerite. "Challenger's theory is that we are causing the imbalance in the planes of reality because we are all fighting those changes."
"Our destinies," echoed Marguerite relaxing at Roxton's apparent peace with his brother's memory. "We have to embrace who we are to retrieve order."
"Okay," Finn said. "But, how do we know what we're fighting. I mean, I haven't been fighting anything. Unless you count re-embodied evil spirits, raptors, Trogs..."
"Why do you think you're here?" Roxton suddenly asked.
"I dunno," Finn replied uneasily. "I don't like it, whatever the reason."
"Do you have unfinished business, perhaps?" asked Marguerite quietly.
"What do you mean?" Finn was puzzled.
"What she means is, perhaps there's something about leaving this timeline that bothers you," Roxton explained. "I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I was transported to the time of the Conquistadors. Then, I realized, it had to do with my being very uncomfortable with my ancestor's role in the conquest of the New World."
"Aha," Marguerite crowed in triumph. "I told you, a pirate."
"Marguerite was taken by the Druids, who had killed her centuries ago, because it she had unfinished business with them," Roxton continued with a pointed look at Marguerite. "Perhaps there's something you can think of?"
"Nah," Finn shook her head. "I don't..." she stopped and looked puzzled. "Kayle," she whispered hollowly. "He was there during the bad time. When I was just a kid. I feel like I should have been able to stop him, in *your* time." She looked at them, guilt in her eyes.
Marguerite attempted to sit up, Roxton made chiding sounds, but helped her so she was sitting with her back to his chest, propping her up.
"You feel guilty that you didn't stop him, don't you?"
"So what if I do?" Finn said almost petulantly.
"I know something about guilt, and about wondering what you could have done differently," Marguerite said softly. "So does John. Don't let it eat you up, because if you let it grow, it *will*."
Finn looked at Marguerite and John, her face a study of confused pain. "I think I started this whole mess," she began, self-loathing apparent in her tone. "If I hadn't of wanted to get out of this dump, I wouldn't have upset the balance of Challenger's transport device. Then, when I had a chance to redeem myself by getting the monster that killed my world, I screwed that up, too."
"No," Roxton shook his head. "You're the reason we know who Kayle is. If you hadn't come back with us, we would have been lost in that void forever. You were meant to come back with us; I know it, Finn."
"But, I haven't been able to do anything!" she almost wailed. "I don't even do the garden anymore since Veronica came back. What is it that I'm supposed to do here, there...whatever," she cried exasperated.
"We're still trying to figure out just what it is exactly that Marguerite does," Roxton gently teased. "You don't have to have a specific job description. Just know that your needed and wanted."
"Really?" Finn arched her eyebrows and looked at Marguerite. "What do you say to that?"
"I say that I serve a great purpose on the Plateau," Marguerite said importantly. "I keep Lord Roxton's ego in check," she glared at Roxton, but it didn't go too well with the twinkle in her eyes. "As for you," she softened her tone. "You serve a purpose by being with us. You are our friend and you help us any way that you can. You don't have to be anything more than that Finn. Trust me, I've been less, and they didn't kick me out of the Treehouse." She smiled at the younger woman, who smiled back.
"Well," Roxton said presently. "What do you think?"
"I think you may be right," Finn said thoughtfully. "It's like I wished so hard for a place to belong, a family to be part of again, and it came true." She looked at the couple in front of her. "Thank you."
"You entirely welcome, I'm sure," Roxton replied easily, gently stroking Marguerite's shoulders when she tensed up again at Finn's words.
"You're welcome," whispered Marguerite, realizing that this young woman considered her family. It was a very nice thought.
"So," remarked Finn after a few moments. "How do we get home now?"
"Well, Marguerite?" Roxton queried. "Are you up to taking us back to the center?"
"Yes," Marguerite replied. "More than ready to leave this place." Roxton and Finn assisted her standing up. She took hold of a hand of each of them and closed her eyes. Reaching down inside for the power that she'd so recently found, she dug deep into it. The pain she had felt previously was mild compared to this. It would take all she had to do this, she realized. Opening her eyes, she said to Roxton, "I love you." His reply was lost in the shimmer, but she knew what it was anyway.
To Be Continued
Author: Lady Primrose Roxton
Series: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World
Date: 7/2002
Part: 6 - The Unfathomed Retrospect
Rating: R
Codes: M/R, N/V
Category: 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: Finn, Legacy, 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, tlwfix.com, others please let me know first.
A/N: Many thanks to those who have given the nice feedback, especially abouttime, who appears to be my biggest fan ;) More whacking
great applause for TLW BB - a nicer group of folks you'll never find.
A/N2: Apologies to the writers of "The One" and any other multiverse theorists. I've given George the credit for that, too. The man is just
amazing, isn't he?
A/N3: More time travel. In fact, so much time travel that I might recommend some Dramamine if I were a real doctor and didn't play one on T.V. Fasten your seatbelts and warm up the DeLorean - we're going back to the future....
***
Who controls the past controls the future;
Who controls the present controls the past.
George Orwell (1903–1950)
If you want a future, darling,
Why don't you get a past?
Cole Porter (1893–1964)
***
Given the choice between living in the future and the past, Finn definitely decided she would choose the past. The fact that she'd been transported back to the future that she'd been rescued from by Challenger and the others seemed supremely unfair to her. But then, she'd always found that life was profoundly unfair, especially to her, and she just had to deal with it.
She ruthlessly suppressed a desire to actually cry. Her family had all died or been killed when she was young, but she still remembered them and the feeling of belonging she'd felt with them. Her new friends had made her feel that way; the treehouse had been her home, the first home she'd had in so long. She realized that, in such a short time, she'd come to depend on the others to make her life complete - that she really wanted to be with them. Dwelling on her loss wasn't going to help her though, and she'd be captured or dead if she didn't move her ass out of the way of that on-coming vehicle pretty fast.
She waited until the last possible moment, then made a graceful roll to her left and sprang back up onto her feet, making a dead run for a stand of trees a short distance away. A shout from the occupants of the vehicle alerted her to the fact that they'd noticed her and would be following close behind. She dodged around a pile of large rocks randomly strewn across the slight decline. She knew her pursuer's kind, if she didn't actually know them; they'd never give up if they thought there was a chance of catching her. She'd have to kill them. Problem was, the trees weren't all that close, and if she shot her crossbow, she wasn't sure she'd have time to reload a bolt before the other guy got to her.
Finn ran faster, her breath coming in gasps, the unmuffled roar of the engine throbbing in her ears. An edgy, sliding fear caused the sweat running down her back to feel cold. She didn't know when this was, but if Burke was still alive... She pulled her crossbow off her belt and tugged a bolt out of its loop, loading by feel as she pounded across the grassy field. Just as she turned to fire on the driver, a flash of brilliant light blinded her. Instinctively, she moved from her previous location to ensure no one could get a bead on her when their vision cleared.
A scream of wrenching metal assaulted her eardrums, accompanied by shouts of dismay. Turning toward the sounds, Finn could see that in the instant that the blinding flash had engulfed them, the vehicle chasing her had come upon the boulders she had just gone around. The vehicle had apparently hit the rocks straight on, and owing to the slight incline, had became airborne. It had hit the ground and flipped onto it's top, rocking back and forth on its roll bar, hissing steam billowing from its now silent engine. Two figures lay very still on the ground, having been flung from the vehicle. One's neck lay at an impossible angle, and the other's mid-section was bisected by a piece torn off of the front fender. Finn stood bent over, on hand on her left knee, panting, unable to believe that her luck had turned.
"If you think it's so easy, why don't you try it?" sounded a very familiar querulous voice.
"I just remarked that when Malone transported us, we didn't appear three feet off the ground, that's all," came the exasperated reply.
"Well, I'm kind of new at this sort of thing, in this lifetime anyway," groused Marguerite as she tried to get up. She fell back, involuntarily giving a low groan, looking rather pale.
"What's wrong? Where are you hurt?" the kneeling Roxton instantly turned to face Marguerite, gently touching her shoulders with his hands, scanning her person.
"It's just a headache," Marguerite replied softly, looking intently at Roxton. "Nothing to worry about, really," she assured him, putting one hand to his face.
"If you're sure," Roxton sounded anxious, not convinced.
"I am," Marguerite assured him, still in that very soft, gentle voice. The pair remained where they were, just looking at each other.
Finn stared at the two of them for a moment, then said, "Uh, guys? Don't take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?"
Roxton and Marguerite turned to Finn with surprise.
"Well, that was easy," remarked Marguerite as Roxton stood up, bent over, and easily lifted her up onto her feet.
Retaining hold of Marguerite's arms, he turned to Finn, smiling, "We're here to take you home."
"Oh," Finn said, slightly non-plussed.
Roxton brushed some dead grass from Marguerite's hair and beamed at her. Marguerite smiled beatifically back, until she noticed Finn
staring at them, then frowned, "Don't sound so enthused," She made a futile attempt to smooth the wrinkles out of her blouse. She'd
already given up trying to button it as a bad bet; the buttonholes were ripped. "We've come a bloody long way to get you, you know."
"So let's go already," Finn replied brightly, strapping her crossbow back on her belt. "I'm ready. And we don't wanna be around here when those guy's buddies come looking for them," she gestured to the now deceased occupants of the overturned vehicle.
"Just hold on a moment," Roxton said, looking down at Marguerite in alarm. Finn marveled at how she appeared to sway, then collapsed rather gracefully into Roxton's arms.
"What's wrong with her?" Finn crossed to where Roxton had gently laid Marguerite on the ground and was feeling her forehead, then checking her pulse.
"I think bringing us here took a lot more out of her than she let on," Roxton answered grimly. "She feels cold to the touch," he bent down to listen at her chest, "and she's breathing very shallowly."
"She could be in shock," Finn replied thoughtfully. "We should get her out of the open and someplace where she can lay down with her feet up."
Roxton immediately picked Marguerite up with no apparent effort and said, "Where should we go?"
"Maybe those trees?," Finn offered as they began moving.
"Very good," came Roxton's clipped reply. "If I remember right, there's an outcropping of rocks that's fairly defensible nearby."
Finn glanced over at Roxton and was struck by how grim he looked.
"What's going on, Roxton?" Finn asked as they finally reached the edge of the forest. "Why was I transported here? And how in the world did Marguerite get you two get here? What's happened to Vee?"
Roxton sighed, then replied, "I'm not entirely sure what's going on, Finn. It's been explained to me several times, but I don't think I understand a fraction of it. Let's just say that something's happened to the timeline, and all those bloody shifting planes of reality that Challenger is always going on about are smashing into one another, causing a whole hell of a lot of trouble."
"That sounds bad...really bad," Finn observed.
"According to Challenger, it *is* very bad. And, we have to find a way to stop it," he paused, shifted his hold on Marguerite slightly, then continued.
"Where is Challenger?" Finn asked.
"He's somewhere in the distant future," Roxton replied shaking his head.
"Oookaaaay," Finn said in disbelief. "What's he doing there?"
"Having tea with the Queen," shot back Roxton. "How the hell should I know?" He took a deep breath, then said apologetically, "Sorry, Finn. It's just that it's been rather a long day, and it keeps getting longer." He glanced down at the woman in his arms, worry clearly evident in his eyes. "The truth is, I don't know what Challenger is doing there. Malone said something about him finding out what he had done to resist the changes that coming to the Plateau had or would bring to his life."
"Malone? You saw Malone - the reporter guy?" Finn was totally lost now.
"Oh, sorry," Roxton sighed. "It's hard to keep it all straight. Why don't we get where we're going and I'll try to explain it to you. Maybe then, I'll understand it a little better myself."
"Okay," Finn agreed, and they concentrated on reaching their destination. Finn wondered if she was ever going to get used to all the strange things that seemed to happen to her new friends. Probably not, she decided with a grin. At least they were never boring.
***
When Malone appeared for the second time, Challenger was not so surprised as startled. Sitting on the bed, he hadn't heard one word out of the sentient machine that was holding him hostage in the strange white room. The mute human had not returned the whole time, which he figured was at least two hours. His shoulder and legs hurt; all of his wounds, old and new, were complaining loudly of being cooped up, while other certain needs were becoming a bit more imperative also.
"Thank God," he muttered to himself, and got up off the table. In an audible tone he called out, "Glad to see you back, Ned. Did you find who you were looking for?"
Ned was extremely uncomfortable with the patently false smile on Challenger's face. It made his hackles rise, and in the last few months, he'd come to trust those instincts. "Sure, Professor," he replied with a cheery tone and face, but with a puzzled frown in his eyes. "I located everyone."
"Good," Challenger nodded to the panel where the voice emanated from. "As you recall, my friend here told me that it's useless for us to rail against our fate, that they have taken into account every possibility."
"But you think that they're wrong, don't you," Ned replied, not understanding where Challenger was going with this, but getting the impression that he had a plan. Well, it was about damn time *somebody* had a plan, he thought.
"Well, I have an intriguing theory that there is more than one universe, an infinite multitude of universes, created by the branching of events - the choices that we make at critical junctures in our lives," Challenger expounded.
"If you say so, Professor," Malone's head hurt, but manfully tried to keep up with the scientist.
Challenger continued as if Malone had not said a word, warming to his theme, "If one ascribes to this theory, then it would follow that it would be possible to have more than one version of yourself and any other being." Excited, he began pacing back and forth in the small room. "What this sentient machine has told me has confirmed to me the validity of my theory!"
"More than one version of yourself...Didn't you mention that before?" Malone asked.
"Yes!" Challenger pointed at Malone as if he were a star pupil that had made his instructor proud. "I told them that they have the wrong George Challenger. That I cannot be the one that will stop the tide of events that they are trying to forestall."
"Why aren't you the one?" Malone was curious.
"Because you came to me here," Challenger replied with a genuine smile this time. "You came, and they were not expecting you. They underestimated something, which is precisely what their downfall will be - humanity."
"I don't get what you mean, as usual," grinned Malone.
"In one word, Ned, love," Challenger said gently. "The need for you to help me, your friend, regardless of the danger to yourself. You see," he walked over to the young man. "It will *always* be the wrong George Challenger, because you will *always* be willing to help me. No matter which of us they take, the others will do the same."
"You mean, that the characteristics of each version of ourselves are the same?" Malone asked.
"Well, not identical, although they could be, I suppose" Challenger allowed. "But, the fundamentals, they would be the same. That which makes us uniquely ourselves, the very essence of who we are, permeates all of our beings. The spark of life..."
"The soul," finished Malone softly.
"If you will," Challenger smiled. "I must have talked to that bloody contraption for two hours with no answer. Still re-running its calculations," he said with satisfaction.
"How could it calculate it in the first place?" Malone wanted to know. "I mean, if there's an infinite number of versions of you, how could it possibly be able to..."
"There are questions to which even I have no answers, Ned," Challenger moved back to the reporter. "But, I do know something more important."
"What is that?" Malone was curious at the almost reverential tone the scientist's voice had taken.
"I know that no matter what I do, build or theorize, or fail in doing so, means almost nothing in the long run," Challenger replied steadily. "I feared the loss of my dignity, ridicule of my work, and failure to achieve any fame because of being stranded on the Plateau. I railed against my fate, always thinking that if I truly were the genius that I claimed to be, I would be able to find a way off of the Plateau."
"And, now?" Malone prompted.
"Now, my dear friend," Challenger put his arm around Ned's shoulders, and they walked a bit then stopped. Picking up the butterfly's cage, Challenger held it up and looked at it with wonder. "Now, I realize what I knew all along. True success isn't measured by the postulation of theories, the making of things, or even fame. It's by the love of family and friends. Whether I ever get of this bloody Plateau isn't the point. Knowing what's important is. It's not very scientific," he laughed wholeheartedly. "But, it's the God's truth and these blighters will never get it."
Ned laughed aloud at the joy in Challenger's face. "A regular reformed Scrooge," he grinned, taking Challenger's other hand.
"God bless us, everyone, Ned," Challenger nodded solemnly, then winked and squeezed the younger man's hand as they disappeared into the plane to take them to the center and Veronica.
***
Roxton gently placed Marguerite on the ground, holding her head in his lap, directing Finn to take a look around. He felt Marguerite's forehead and was disturbed to find her still chilled, but relieved to hear that her breathing appeared to be easier. Stroking her hair, he murmured, "You're giving me grey hair, my dear. You've got to wake up."
"You already had grey hair," mumbled Marguerite crossly. "Don't blame me."
"Oh, but you're responsible for most of it," Roxton retorted in a loving tone.
"Nice to see that I'm appreciated," she replied opening her eyes finally.
"You are at that, love," he smiled gently. "How do you feel?"
"Like I've gone three rounds with a Trog, and lost," she replied with a wince. Her head was killing her.
"Got to remember to keep your left up," Roxton advised her, stroking her hair back in rhythmic strokes.
"I'll keep that in mind" Marguerite said acerbically, but her eyes gave an entirely different message.
At this point, Finn appeared and said, "Everything looks quiet." She stopped at looked at the pair on the ground. "What's with you two? I mean, every time I see you, you're making eyes at each other. Don't you argue any more?"
Roxton and Marguerite just looked at each other and laughed. Finn shook her head, then grinned.
"Are you feeling any better, Marguerite?" Finn asked as she crouched down by the other woman.
"A little, thank you," Marguerite replied, intrigued by the pleasant emotions engendered by this exchange.
"What do we do now?" Finn asked of no one in particular.
"I think Marguerite should rest," Roxton stated firmly. "Then, we can decide what we do next."
"You were gonna tell me what's going on," Finn prompted.
"Do you have a few years?" Marguerite said archly.
"Quiet," ordered Roxton. Marguerite glared, but said nothing.
"How did you get here?" Finn asked.
"Those shifting planes of reality? Turns out, they can be navigated, if you know how," Roxton said shaking his head. "I ended up sometime a few hundred years before my time on the Plateau. There were these Spanish Conquistadors and they took me prisoner. They were going to kill me, when out of the blue, Malone appears. He fast talked the soldiers, and then we just disappear together. We reappear, and we're in England."
"England?" Finn was puzzled.
"Yes," Roxton replied. "We ended up at my home, sometime before I graduated from University. I met my brother William." He paused, well aware of Marguerite tensing up. "We talked, and I came to understand the changes in my life that prompted me to come to the Plateau, the ones that I had been fighting." He looked down at Marguerite. "Challenger's theory is that we are causing the imbalance in the planes of reality because we are all fighting those changes."
"Our destinies," echoed Marguerite relaxing at Roxton's apparent peace with his brother's memory. "We have to embrace who we are to retrieve order."
"Okay," Finn said. "But, how do we know what we're fighting. I mean, I haven't been fighting anything. Unless you count re-embodied evil spirits, raptors, Trogs..."
"Why do you think you're here?" Roxton suddenly asked.
"I dunno," Finn replied uneasily. "I don't like it, whatever the reason."
"Do you have unfinished business, perhaps?" asked Marguerite quietly.
"What do you mean?" Finn was puzzled.
"What she means is, perhaps there's something about leaving this timeline that bothers you," Roxton explained. "I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I was transported to the time of the Conquistadors. Then, I realized, it had to do with my being very uncomfortable with my ancestor's role in the conquest of the New World."
"Aha," Marguerite crowed in triumph. "I told you, a pirate."
"Marguerite was taken by the Druids, who had killed her centuries ago, because it she had unfinished business with them," Roxton continued with a pointed look at Marguerite. "Perhaps there's something you can think of?"
"Nah," Finn shook her head. "I don't..." she stopped and looked puzzled. "Kayle," she whispered hollowly. "He was there during the bad time. When I was just a kid. I feel like I should have been able to stop him, in *your* time." She looked at them, guilt in her eyes.
Marguerite attempted to sit up, Roxton made chiding sounds, but helped her so she was sitting with her back to his chest, propping her up.
"You feel guilty that you didn't stop him, don't you?"
"So what if I do?" Finn said almost petulantly.
"I know something about guilt, and about wondering what you could have done differently," Marguerite said softly. "So does John. Don't let it eat you up, because if you let it grow, it *will*."
Finn looked at Marguerite and John, her face a study of confused pain. "I think I started this whole mess," she began, self-loathing apparent in her tone. "If I hadn't of wanted to get out of this dump, I wouldn't have upset the balance of Challenger's transport device. Then, when I had a chance to redeem myself by getting the monster that killed my world, I screwed that up, too."
"No," Roxton shook his head. "You're the reason we know who Kayle is. If you hadn't come back with us, we would have been lost in that void forever. You were meant to come back with us; I know it, Finn."
"But, I haven't been able to do anything!" she almost wailed. "I don't even do the garden anymore since Veronica came back. What is it that I'm supposed to do here, there...whatever," she cried exasperated.
"We're still trying to figure out just what it is exactly that Marguerite does," Roxton gently teased. "You don't have to have a specific job description. Just know that your needed and wanted."
"Really?" Finn arched her eyebrows and looked at Marguerite. "What do you say to that?"
"I say that I serve a great purpose on the Plateau," Marguerite said importantly. "I keep Lord Roxton's ego in check," she glared at Roxton, but it didn't go too well with the twinkle in her eyes. "As for you," she softened her tone. "You serve a purpose by being with us. You are our friend and you help us any way that you can. You don't have to be anything more than that Finn. Trust me, I've been less, and they didn't kick me out of the Treehouse." She smiled at the younger woman, who smiled back.
"Well," Roxton said presently. "What do you think?"
"I think you may be right," Finn said thoughtfully. "It's like I wished so hard for a place to belong, a family to be part of again, and it came true." She looked at the couple in front of her. "Thank you."
"You entirely welcome, I'm sure," Roxton replied easily, gently stroking Marguerite's shoulders when she tensed up again at Finn's words.
"You're welcome," whispered Marguerite, realizing that this young woman considered her family. It was a very nice thought.
"So," remarked Finn after a few moments. "How do we get home now?"
"Well, Marguerite?" Roxton queried. "Are you up to taking us back to the center?"
"Yes," Marguerite replied. "More than ready to leave this place." Roxton and Finn assisted her standing up. She took hold of a hand of each of them and closed her eyes. Reaching down inside for the power that she'd so recently found, she dug deep into it. The pain she had felt previously was mild compared to this. It would take all she had to do this, she realized. Opening her eyes, she said to Roxton, "I love you." His reply was lost in the shimmer, but she knew what it was anyway.
To Be Continued