A/N: Okay... I've figured it out... you guys are feeding my muse with all your ever so kind reviews. :D Thank you all so much. Especially dear Veggie... with all your wonderful comments and help along the way. :D
A/N 2: Nope, not explained in this chapter either... but hey, at least *I* know what's going on. :D Don't worry, don't worry, I'll let you all in on the joke eventually. :D Keep in mind that I'm bouncing time with each character in this... to cover the same period of time, I have to go back and forth with the characters in each scene... so some things Challenger and Veronica are doing are a half hour before something Roxton is doing until they overlap into the same time period. Hope it makes sense. :D
A/N 3: Don't count on Part Four being out tomorrow... I'll *try*, I do promise that, but I've got a full work day ahead of me, and the only reason this part got finished so fast is because I had the store to myself for a few hours this morning. Either way, it'll be out by Monday evening for sure. :D
Disclaimer: See Part One
Phased and Confused
Part Three: Open Wounds
By: Danae Bowen
Email: logansfox@rogers.com
She was cold and tired; her body shivered from the tips of her ears right down to the bottom of her toes and she couldn't do anything to stop it. As she walked, she swore she heard a crackling behind her on the trail, but when she turned, there was nothing.
"Idle whimsy, Marguerite," she told herself bitterly, "He's not going to be coming for you any time soon."
Choking back the emotional nausea that radiated through her, Marguerite forced her mind to a topic other than the Lord and hunter to whom she had stupidly given her heart. Rather than bear the emotional agony of memory, Marguerite concentrated on the physical pain spiraling through her torn body. The urge to stop and rest grew intense, even though she'd been traveling less than an hour, and Marguerite realized she was losing a lot of blood. Her camisole had soaked through, the sap from the leaves no longer helping to clot the flow, leaving the heiress surprisingly weak. She swallowed with difficulty, glancing around the now darkened jungle and knew she had to lie down and rest before she was overcome.
It took less than a half hour to find a suitable clearing for Marguerite to spend the night, and very quickly she set out her bedroll, building a fire large enough only to keep her from feeling the absolute chill of the evening. Retrieving her canteen from her pack, she drank deeply of the tepid water within before stretching out on her stomach and closing her eyes. She'd eat in the morning, drink more in the morning. Right now all she wanted to do was sleep.
******
John spun in place, his brow deeply furrowed even as his teeth nervously worried his lip. He'd followed Challenger's tracks, soon realizing that not only was he following his elder, but also Veronica's tracks. Just as he'd expected, the path lead him back to the river bank, where again he found further footsteps of each of his companions marring the soft ground.
"Challenger? Veronica?!" His voice carried far across the jungle as he desperately attempted to call attention to himself, but as before, his companions never answered.
Swallowing nervously, Roxton turned back into the jungle. Tracking them in the dark would be next to impossible; he chose to stay the night at their makeshift campsite and return in the morning to follow the trail of his friends, wherever it may lead. His heart was heavy as he moved back through the jungle, his mind turning to Marguerite.
It hit him then, pressing the air from his lungs, his heart suddenly hammering against his chest: he'd followed two sets of footprints to the riverbank. Challenger and Veronica. With the exception of the blood and scraps of blouse he'd found on the riverbank earlier, he'd seen no sign of Marguerite since this all began.
Nausea welled in Roxton's throat as very slowly his fingers began to shake. His eyes closed briefly, his concentration forced on controlling his body's reaction to the concept that Marguerite could quite possibly be dead. A deep breath in. A slow breath out. Numbers from one to ten slowly dripped from his lips as he regained control of his rapid heartbeat and his mutinous lungs. A moment passed. Two moments. Three moments, and when he finally opened his eyes there was a gleam of desperation shining within their depths, but aside from the death grip Roxton held on his rifle, no further signs of distress were apparent.
He forced himself to swallow once more, doubling his pace until he arrived back at their deserted camp. In the morning he would scan the area for signs of Marguerite. In the morning he would start out after whomever had taken her. In the morning he would find her, drag her into his arms and apologize for antagonizing her the day before. All he had to do now was close his eyes; once the sun came up, everything would be far clearer.
*****
"I don't know where she could have gone off to! I mean, I left her right here, and you know Marguerite, once she's sitting some place..."
"Now, Veronica; the odds are very good that Roxton came upon her and has taken her back to camp." George Challenger felt the worry as it began to eat its way into his heart, still his voice remained calm even as his hand tightened on Veronica's shoulder, both as a lending of support, and receiving of it.
"Then why didn't we pass them along the way? Marguerite was hurt pretty badly; we should be able to hear her whining all the way from camp if she were there. And why didn't Roxton fire off a shot to let us know there was trouble?" Veronica's frown was dark, her mind racing ahead even as the words stumbled from her lips. "Something's going on here, Challenger. This just isn't right. You didn't hear our shots, but Marguerite must have put five rounds into the raptors. Roxton came looking for us, but he never arrived. Marguerite swore she was going to stay here, but when we come back for her, she's gone. And nowhere is there a sign of struggle. Something is very wrong."
Challenger immediately set out to once again reassure the girl that Roxton and Marguerite were likely just back at their camp when in the middle of opening his mouth he paused. He glanced around the riverbank, a frown darker than the plateau's worst storm front shadowing his face. At last, he nodded. "We'll return to camp for now, Veronica. If, once we arrive, there still appears to be no sign of either Roxton or Marguerite, we'll worry." His expression turned thoughtful as his head turned upwards to take in the almost invisible moon. "I do wonder, however..." he mumbled to himself, hardly aware that he'd spoken aloud.
"What, Challenger? What do you wonder?" Veronica jumped on the older man's musing much as a drowning person would a lifeline.
Challenger stroked his chin softly before turning his attention back to the blonde girl waiting impatiently for a response. "Hmm? Oh, it's nothing, my dear, I'm sure. Come now, time for rest. In the morning we'll begin the search once more."
Veronica gave one last glance over her shoulder before issuing a heavy sigh and following Challenger back into the jungle. Something just wasn't adding up, not to Veronica, and a quick glance at the red headed man in front of her told her it wasn't adding up to Challenger either. She set her jaw in determination and silently vowed that come sunup, she and Challenger would find out what happened to their missing companions.
*****
Sometime after dark, Roxton woke sharply, his consciousness sure there was someone else in the camp with him. Remaining motionless, the hunter listened carefully, isolating small sounds from the normal jungle noises. Bushes moved as though someone were moving through them, and in moments of silence, Roxton could swear he heard whispers of conversation. His hand moved quietly to his nearby gun, pulling it close to his body even as he scanned the darkness around him for any sign of movement.
Shadows flickered, nothing more.
His eyes quickly flickered off to the side of the camp, noticing instantly the fire blazing in the pit he'd begun to clear earlier. He frowned. He'd not started the fire when he returned, rather, closed his eyes and forced sleep upon himself so that he'd be ready for a daybreak start to his latest expedition. As quietly as possible he climbed to his feet, keeping low to the ground as he moved across the clearing to the fire. New grass was crushed under the weight of a human body, but Roxton found no one in the immediate area. He frowned, shaking his head even as the feeling of not being alone grew stronger. A moment later his eyes tracked across the clearing to rest upon a pack other than his own. He frowned. Challenger's. Sometime during the night, Challenger had returned to the campsite only to leave once more.
Roxton turned in a circle, once again scanning the tree line for signs of movement. "Challenger!!!" His voice echoed back to him, but no response came from the scientist. Agitated and distraught, Roxton poked at the fire angrily, sending sparks flying through the clearing before he tossed another piece of wood into the midst and slumped to the ground.
For the rest of the night he remained awake, leaning against a fallen tree, staying near the fire for warmth. At one point he may have dozed off as he imagined he heard Veronica and Challenger quietly discussing Marguerite's disappearance, but when his eyes flew open, everything was quiet and he remained alone.
*****
"I just don't get it! If Marguerite was here, why would she leave again?" Veronica shook her head in exasperation, her eyes pinned to the spot where Marguerite's pack had rested when she and Challenger left.
Challenger shrugged helplessly, for he too had noticed Marguerite's missing belongings, along with the fact Roxton's pack had been moved and his bedroll set out upon the ground. "Thieves perhaps?" he mused quietly.
"Then why is nothing gone? Nobody just moves a pack and lays out a bedroll!" She spoke more harshly than she'd intended, and instantly flashed Challenger a look of apology.
"Veronica, I have no more answers than you right now. When the sun comes up we'll examine the local area and see if we can find any signs of what's going on. Until then, please, try to relax. As it stands, it appears tomorrow will be a very long day." Challenger eased back against a nearby fallen log, running his hands over his face, taking comfort in the warmth of the newly built fire. For a long while Veronica sat along side him, their voices quiet in the cool night as they mulled over what could have happened to Roxton and Marguerite. At one point Veronica forced a grin to her face, nudging Challenger in the side.
"You don't suppose this is a ploy to allow them some privacy, do you?" She tried to keep her tone light, tried to make Challenger chuckle in the wake of all they were facing, but her smile didn't mask the deep worry in her lovely eyes.
Still, Challenger allowed himself a moment to smile, shaking his head. "If it turns out that's all this is, then rest assured, Veronica, I'll be using both their heads in my next experiment." He glanced at her, offering her one final weak joke. "You wouldn't happen to care for a brunette wig, now would you?"
The smile that crossed her face was less forced this time, but still, Veronica's heart was heavy. It was a cold, dark night to be out alone, especially with Marguerite wounded. Contrary to her generally patient nature, Veronica only hoped daybreak would come quickly so she and Challenger could begin the search anew.
*****
Marguerite awoke just before dawn, a groan of pain crossing her lips. Sometime during the night her wounds had grown worse, and now, rather than the dull ache that plagued her the evening before, a deep heat burned across her back making the strong woman whimper.
Her breathing came in short gasps, her camisole cutting tightly against her ribs. She thought of loosening the straps, easing the pressure on her lungs, but the agony of movement deterred her from acting. If she'd have thought to check, Marguerite would realize she had a fever, her normally pale complexion flushed with the heat pooling within her body. Instead, she forced herself to her feet, biting back the tears that threatened to spill from her cloudy gray eyes and turned her gaze skyward.
When the horizon grew light, showing her which direction was east, she clutched her fingers around her pack's straps and stubbornly set one foot in front of the other.
"Rome wasn't built in a day, Marguerite," she whispered to herself, her nails digging deep into the palms of her hand as she forced herself to continue on. "If it takes you four days rather than two, you will reach the tree house. Patience. Always patience and will." She lifted her chin, gazing into the beautiful red sun as it climbed higher in the sky, its color growing lighter, and the jungle growing brighter. "Never got anywhere in life waiting for someone to come for you. One foot after the other, Marguerite, and you will get there."
Her one sided conversation continued, her voice comforting her, giving her the strength she needed to push past the pain and fever ravaging her body. The dark haired heiress was determined to make it home, if only to look the others in the eye and prove she didn't need a damn one of them.
"Patience and will."
****
End Part Three
A/N 2: Nope, not explained in this chapter either... but hey, at least *I* know what's going on. :D Don't worry, don't worry, I'll let you all in on the joke eventually. :D Keep in mind that I'm bouncing time with each character in this... to cover the same period of time, I have to go back and forth with the characters in each scene... so some things Challenger and Veronica are doing are a half hour before something Roxton is doing until they overlap into the same time period. Hope it makes sense. :D
A/N 3: Don't count on Part Four being out tomorrow... I'll *try*, I do promise that, but I've got a full work day ahead of me, and the only reason this part got finished so fast is because I had the store to myself for a few hours this morning. Either way, it'll be out by Monday evening for sure. :D
Disclaimer: See Part One
Phased and Confused
Part Three: Open Wounds
By: Danae Bowen
Email: logansfox@rogers.com
She was cold and tired; her body shivered from the tips of her ears right down to the bottom of her toes and she couldn't do anything to stop it. As she walked, she swore she heard a crackling behind her on the trail, but when she turned, there was nothing.
"Idle whimsy, Marguerite," she told herself bitterly, "He's not going to be coming for you any time soon."
Choking back the emotional nausea that radiated through her, Marguerite forced her mind to a topic other than the Lord and hunter to whom she had stupidly given her heart. Rather than bear the emotional agony of memory, Marguerite concentrated on the physical pain spiraling through her torn body. The urge to stop and rest grew intense, even though she'd been traveling less than an hour, and Marguerite realized she was losing a lot of blood. Her camisole had soaked through, the sap from the leaves no longer helping to clot the flow, leaving the heiress surprisingly weak. She swallowed with difficulty, glancing around the now darkened jungle and knew she had to lie down and rest before she was overcome.
It took less than a half hour to find a suitable clearing for Marguerite to spend the night, and very quickly she set out her bedroll, building a fire large enough only to keep her from feeling the absolute chill of the evening. Retrieving her canteen from her pack, she drank deeply of the tepid water within before stretching out on her stomach and closing her eyes. She'd eat in the morning, drink more in the morning. Right now all she wanted to do was sleep.
******
John spun in place, his brow deeply furrowed even as his teeth nervously worried his lip. He'd followed Challenger's tracks, soon realizing that not only was he following his elder, but also Veronica's tracks. Just as he'd expected, the path lead him back to the river bank, where again he found further footsteps of each of his companions marring the soft ground.
"Challenger? Veronica?!" His voice carried far across the jungle as he desperately attempted to call attention to himself, but as before, his companions never answered.
Swallowing nervously, Roxton turned back into the jungle. Tracking them in the dark would be next to impossible; he chose to stay the night at their makeshift campsite and return in the morning to follow the trail of his friends, wherever it may lead. His heart was heavy as he moved back through the jungle, his mind turning to Marguerite.
It hit him then, pressing the air from his lungs, his heart suddenly hammering against his chest: he'd followed two sets of footprints to the riverbank. Challenger and Veronica. With the exception of the blood and scraps of blouse he'd found on the riverbank earlier, he'd seen no sign of Marguerite since this all began.
Nausea welled in Roxton's throat as very slowly his fingers began to shake. His eyes closed briefly, his concentration forced on controlling his body's reaction to the concept that Marguerite could quite possibly be dead. A deep breath in. A slow breath out. Numbers from one to ten slowly dripped from his lips as he regained control of his rapid heartbeat and his mutinous lungs. A moment passed. Two moments. Three moments, and when he finally opened his eyes there was a gleam of desperation shining within their depths, but aside from the death grip Roxton held on his rifle, no further signs of distress were apparent.
He forced himself to swallow once more, doubling his pace until he arrived back at their deserted camp. In the morning he would scan the area for signs of Marguerite. In the morning he would start out after whomever had taken her. In the morning he would find her, drag her into his arms and apologize for antagonizing her the day before. All he had to do now was close his eyes; once the sun came up, everything would be far clearer.
*****
"I don't know where she could have gone off to! I mean, I left her right here, and you know Marguerite, once she's sitting some place..."
"Now, Veronica; the odds are very good that Roxton came upon her and has taken her back to camp." George Challenger felt the worry as it began to eat its way into his heart, still his voice remained calm even as his hand tightened on Veronica's shoulder, both as a lending of support, and receiving of it.
"Then why didn't we pass them along the way? Marguerite was hurt pretty badly; we should be able to hear her whining all the way from camp if she were there. And why didn't Roxton fire off a shot to let us know there was trouble?" Veronica's frown was dark, her mind racing ahead even as the words stumbled from her lips. "Something's going on here, Challenger. This just isn't right. You didn't hear our shots, but Marguerite must have put five rounds into the raptors. Roxton came looking for us, but he never arrived. Marguerite swore she was going to stay here, but when we come back for her, she's gone. And nowhere is there a sign of struggle. Something is very wrong."
Challenger immediately set out to once again reassure the girl that Roxton and Marguerite were likely just back at their camp when in the middle of opening his mouth he paused. He glanced around the riverbank, a frown darker than the plateau's worst storm front shadowing his face. At last, he nodded. "We'll return to camp for now, Veronica. If, once we arrive, there still appears to be no sign of either Roxton or Marguerite, we'll worry." His expression turned thoughtful as his head turned upwards to take in the almost invisible moon. "I do wonder, however..." he mumbled to himself, hardly aware that he'd spoken aloud.
"What, Challenger? What do you wonder?" Veronica jumped on the older man's musing much as a drowning person would a lifeline.
Challenger stroked his chin softly before turning his attention back to the blonde girl waiting impatiently for a response. "Hmm? Oh, it's nothing, my dear, I'm sure. Come now, time for rest. In the morning we'll begin the search once more."
Veronica gave one last glance over her shoulder before issuing a heavy sigh and following Challenger back into the jungle. Something just wasn't adding up, not to Veronica, and a quick glance at the red headed man in front of her told her it wasn't adding up to Challenger either. She set her jaw in determination and silently vowed that come sunup, she and Challenger would find out what happened to their missing companions.
*****
Sometime after dark, Roxton woke sharply, his consciousness sure there was someone else in the camp with him. Remaining motionless, the hunter listened carefully, isolating small sounds from the normal jungle noises. Bushes moved as though someone were moving through them, and in moments of silence, Roxton could swear he heard whispers of conversation. His hand moved quietly to his nearby gun, pulling it close to his body even as he scanned the darkness around him for any sign of movement.
Shadows flickered, nothing more.
His eyes quickly flickered off to the side of the camp, noticing instantly the fire blazing in the pit he'd begun to clear earlier. He frowned. He'd not started the fire when he returned, rather, closed his eyes and forced sleep upon himself so that he'd be ready for a daybreak start to his latest expedition. As quietly as possible he climbed to his feet, keeping low to the ground as he moved across the clearing to the fire. New grass was crushed under the weight of a human body, but Roxton found no one in the immediate area. He frowned, shaking his head even as the feeling of not being alone grew stronger. A moment later his eyes tracked across the clearing to rest upon a pack other than his own. He frowned. Challenger's. Sometime during the night, Challenger had returned to the campsite only to leave once more.
Roxton turned in a circle, once again scanning the tree line for signs of movement. "Challenger!!!" His voice echoed back to him, but no response came from the scientist. Agitated and distraught, Roxton poked at the fire angrily, sending sparks flying through the clearing before he tossed another piece of wood into the midst and slumped to the ground.
For the rest of the night he remained awake, leaning against a fallen tree, staying near the fire for warmth. At one point he may have dozed off as he imagined he heard Veronica and Challenger quietly discussing Marguerite's disappearance, but when his eyes flew open, everything was quiet and he remained alone.
*****
"I just don't get it! If Marguerite was here, why would she leave again?" Veronica shook her head in exasperation, her eyes pinned to the spot where Marguerite's pack had rested when she and Challenger left.
Challenger shrugged helplessly, for he too had noticed Marguerite's missing belongings, along with the fact Roxton's pack had been moved and his bedroll set out upon the ground. "Thieves perhaps?" he mused quietly.
"Then why is nothing gone? Nobody just moves a pack and lays out a bedroll!" She spoke more harshly than she'd intended, and instantly flashed Challenger a look of apology.
"Veronica, I have no more answers than you right now. When the sun comes up we'll examine the local area and see if we can find any signs of what's going on. Until then, please, try to relax. As it stands, it appears tomorrow will be a very long day." Challenger eased back against a nearby fallen log, running his hands over his face, taking comfort in the warmth of the newly built fire. For a long while Veronica sat along side him, their voices quiet in the cool night as they mulled over what could have happened to Roxton and Marguerite. At one point Veronica forced a grin to her face, nudging Challenger in the side.
"You don't suppose this is a ploy to allow them some privacy, do you?" She tried to keep her tone light, tried to make Challenger chuckle in the wake of all they were facing, but her smile didn't mask the deep worry in her lovely eyes.
Still, Challenger allowed himself a moment to smile, shaking his head. "If it turns out that's all this is, then rest assured, Veronica, I'll be using both their heads in my next experiment." He glanced at her, offering her one final weak joke. "You wouldn't happen to care for a brunette wig, now would you?"
The smile that crossed her face was less forced this time, but still, Veronica's heart was heavy. It was a cold, dark night to be out alone, especially with Marguerite wounded. Contrary to her generally patient nature, Veronica only hoped daybreak would come quickly so she and Challenger could begin the search anew.
*****
Marguerite awoke just before dawn, a groan of pain crossing her lips. Sometime during the night her wounds had grown worse, and now, rather than the dull ache that plagued her the evening before, a deep heat burned across her back making the strong woman whimper.
Her breathing came in short gasps, her camisole cutting tightly against her ribs. She thought of loosening the straps, easing the pressure on her lungs, but the agony of movement deterred her from acting. If she'd have thought to check, Marguerite would realize she had a fever, her normally pale complexion flushed with the heat pooling within her body. Instead, she forced herself to her feet, biting back the tears that threatened to spill from her cloudy gray eyes and turned her gaze skyward.
When the horizon grew light, showing her which direction was east, she clutched her fingers around her pack's straps and stubbornly set one foot in front of the other.
"Rome wasn't built in a day, Marguerite," she whispered to herself, her nails digging deep into the palms of her hand as she forced herself to continue on. "If it takes you four days rather than two, you will reach the tree house. Patience. Always patience and will." She lifted her chin, gazing into the beautiful red sun as it climbed higher in the sky, its color growing lighter, and the jungle growing brighter. "Never got anywhere in life waiting for someone to come for you. One foot after the other, Marguerite, and you will get there."
Her one sided conversation continued, her voice comforting her, giving her the strength she needed to push past the pain and fever ravaging her body. The dark haired heiress was determined to make it home, if only to look the others in the eye and prove she didn't need a damn one of them.
"Patience and will."
****
End Part Three