A/N: Here's some to hold you until she tells the whole story. I know she
starts to sound Mary-Sueish in this chapter, but she has weaknesses soon to
be revealed. Enjoy!
Roxton was the first one up the next morning. He made his coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. Malone soon joined him, youth clinging to him with the last remembrances of sleep.
"Good morning old boy."
"Was yesterday a dream, or is your daughter really here?" Malone asked sleepily, pouring himself some coffee and slumping into the seat across the table.
Roxton laughed lightly. "She's really here, I think. Let me go check."
He pushed himself up from the table and walked quietly over to the room Isabella fell asleep in the previous night. Silently, Roxton lifted the curtain.
In the early morning light of the plateau she looked so entirely fragile and vulnerable, he was unsure if she actually was real. The wound under her eye was beginning to fester, which made Roxton ponder how she received such a nasty blow. Bruises also appeared along her arms. Intrigued, he padded into the room, careful not to wake her. One arm was lazily thrown out from under the covers. This one had a pattern of bruises that looked sickly like the grip of a hand. A contusion rose along the right side of her jaw, a place nearly impossible to injure simply by falling. With horrid realization, John took a step back, almost nauseous. There was no question this girl had been beaten. The sickening welt beneath her left eye was too calculated to be anything else, as well as the hand print on her forearm. He closed his eyes and turned away, leaving the girl.
He sat back down at the table.
"Still there?" Malone asked of him.
Roxton nodded. "I do hope Challenger will return soon. She needs some medical attention."
"She did look really beat up. Any idea what happen?" the inquisitive reporter queried.
Roxton gulped. "She doesn't just look really beat up. I think she was really beat up."
"By who?"
"I have no clue. Believe me, if I did I'd go forward in time and kill them for harming her."
"What's for breakfast?" came a yawn from behind Roxton. He turned around to see Isabella, barefoot and still in her torn dress. Her curls were an unruly mess and her gray eyes twinkled with rested gleam.
"Good morning," Lord Roxton greeted, rising and pulling a chair out for her next to him. Isabella made her way over and took a seat.
"Breakfast?" she questioned, noticing neither man had any food in front of him.
"We usually wait until everyone is up before we eat. Besides, it is Marguerite's turn to make it this morning," Malone answered.
"She's already up, in her room, reading. I went to check on her after I got up. Make sure it wasn't all a dream. And I can make breakfast if you tell me where everything is." She paused for a moment. "Wait! Did you say you are letting her make breakfast?"
Malone chuckled.
"She'll burn it!" Isabella cried. "I'm definitely making breakfast. What do you have?"
Malone set about showing Isabella where everything was and the two of them started preparing breakfast for the four occupants of the tree house. After watching them got boring, Roxton walked over to the balcony and kept his eye out for the others to return.
When Isabella was finished, she made Malone and Roxton set the table while she went to retrieve Marguerite from her room.
She knocked softly on the outer wall of the room.
"Come in!"
Taking a deep breath, Isabella pushed back the curtain and ducked under it. She offered a strong smile to the woman who sat in a chair in the corner.
"Good morning. I made breakfast, if you're hungry."
Marguerite turned from looking down at her book to look at the young girl nervously standing in her door. For a moment, her eyes softened and she almost smiled. Her internal defenses naturally kicked in though, and her face showed no emotion.
"Did those men really make the guest make breakfast?" she asked, laying her book down.
"Well.they told me you were supposed to make it. I thought I would give you a break, and well, I've had your cooking before." the girl answered with a sheepish grin.
A soft chuckle broke through the woman's emotionless façade.
"I don't get any better at that?"
Isabella answered, "No, ma'am." Her eyes fell back to her feet.
"Isabella, are you afraid of me?"
"No...it's just, I haven't seen you in a long time...."
Marguerite nodded sadly and Isabella stopped. She forced a smile and said, "Well, what am I supposed to call you?"
She thought for a moment, looking at the tattered girl that would be her daughter. "I.I honestly don't know. What do you call Roxton?"
"He said to call him John, so I'm trying to. Should I just call you Marguerite?"
"I guess it will have to do," Marguerite sighed. "You said breakfast was ready?"
Isabella smiled and nodded, a new lightness in her pace.
Challenger, Finn, and Veronica returned shortly after breakfast. After hearing the explanation for Isabella's appearance, Veronica and Finn volunteered to take the girl down to the lake to wash up while Challenger stayed to speak with Roxton.
Newly clean and feeling better than she had in a very long time, Isabella led the way back to the tree house, her curls hanging limp around her shoulders as she almost skipped ahead of Veronica and Finn.
"So, you say I have a son and a daughter in your time?" Veronica asked as she watched the girl nearly floating in front of her.
"Yep. With Malone. Jane Anne and Arthur Layton. Or just Jane and Layton. Layton's been my best friend since forever. He's a year younger than I am, thirteen. Jane's nine. She tags along with me and Layton all the time," Isabella answered, talking a mile a minute. She stopped for a moment, her eyes catching on a very straight branch coming from a tree near the path. She floated over to it and looked to Veronica.
"Vee, can I borrow your knife?"
"Sure, Isabella," Veronica answered guardedly, looking at the girl quizzically as handed the knife over.
"Thanks." Isabella began to cut the branch, quickly detaching it from the trunk and handing the knife handle back to the jungle woman. She swung the branch around in her hand, wrist twisting as light filled her eyes. Isabella laughed and took a swipe at Finn. "Fencing," she said with bright giggles, "A pure art form, relying on every single muscle of the body to be working in perfect unison." She leapt onto a low tree branch then off with a somersault in the air. "At least that's what my teacher tells me. This should make a good practice sword. My other one is stuck in 1939."
Both Finn and Veronica were giving her looks of mixed astonishment and awe.
"Nice," Finn commented as Isabella kept walking towards the tree house.
"Very nice, Isabella. How long have you been studying fencing?" Veronica asked.
"Please, just Bella. Umm," her eyes half shut as she did mental calculations, "Eight years, about. Whip Layton every time."
All three laughed.
"C'mon, I'll race you two back to the tree house!" Bella cried taking off in a run down the path.
Marguerite watched as Finn, Veronica, and Isabella raced into the clearing. Veronica finished first, then Finn, as Isabella twisted in the air and landed, still in third place, next to the others. She was so much like Finn and Veronica, and so much like Roxton, it was hard to find any of herself in the sweet girl. Then again, she had been absent for the past five years of Isabella's life. Marguerite turned away from the balcony as the trio headed into the elevator and up the stair.
Roxton was the first one up the next morning. He made his coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. Malone soon joined him, youth clinging to him with the last remembrances of sleep.
"Good morning old boy."
"Was yesterday a dream, or is your daughter really here?" Malone asked sleepily, pouring himself some coffee and slumping into the seat across the table.
Roxton laughed lightly. "She's really here, I think. Let me go check."
He pushed himself up from the table and walked quietly over to the room Isabella fell asleep in the previous night. Silently, Roxton lifted the curtain.
In the early morning light of the plateau she looked so entirely fragile and vulnerable, he was unsure if she actually was real. The wound under her eye was beginning to fester, which made Roxton ponder how she received such a nasty blow. Bruises also appeared along her arms. Intrigued, he padded into the room, careful not to wake her. One arm was lazily thrown out from under the covers. This one had a pattern of bruises that looked sickly like the grip of a hand. A contusion rose along the right side of her jaw, a place nearly impossible to injure simply by falling. With horrid realization, John took a step back, almost nauseous. There was no question this girl had been beaten. The sickening welt beneath her left eye was too calculated to be anything else, as well as the hand print on her forearm. He closed his eyes and turned away, leaving the girl.
He sat back down at the table.
"Still there?" Malone asked of him.
Roxton nodded. "I do hope Challenger will return soon. She needs some medical attention."
"She did look really beat up. Any idea what happen?" the inquisitive reporter queried.
Roxton gulped. "She doesn't just look really beat up. I think she was really beat up."
"By who?"
"I have no clue. Believe me, if I did I'd go forward in time and kill them for harming her."
"What's for breakfast?" came a yawn from behind Roxton. He turned around to see Isabella, barefoot and still in her torn dress. Her curls were an unruly mess and her gray eyes twinkled with rested gleam.
"Good morning," Lord Roxton greeted, rising and pulling a chair out for her next to him. Isabella made her way over and took a seat.
"Breakfast?" she questioned, noticing neither man had any food in front of him.
"We usually wait until everyone is up before we eat. Besides, it is Marguerite's turn to make it this morning," Malone answered.
"She's already up, in her room, reading. I went to check on her after I got up. Make sure it wasn't all a dream. And I can make breakfast if you tell me where everything is." She paused for a moment. "Wait! Did you say you are letting her make breakfast?"
Malone chuckled.
"She'll burn it!" Isabella cried. "I'm definitely making breakfast. What do you have?"
Malone set about showing Isabella where everything was and the two of them started preparing breakfast for the four occupants of the tree house. After watching them got boring, Roxton walked over to the balcony and kept his eye out for the others to return.
When Isabella was finished, she made Malone and Roxton set the table while she went to retrieve Marguerite from her room.
She knocked softly on the outer wall of the room.
"Come in!"
Taking a deep breath, Isabella pushed back the curtain and ducked under it. She offered a strong smile to the woman who sat in a chair in the corner.
"Good morning. I made breakfast, if you're hungry."
Marguerite turned from looking down at her book to look at the young girl nervously standing in her door. For a moment, her eyes softened and she almost smiled. Her internal defenses naturally kicked in though, and her face showed no emotion.
"Did those men really make the guest make breakfast?" she asked, laying her book down.
"Well.they told me you were supposed to make it. I thought I would give you a break, and well, I've had your cooking before." the girl answered with a sheepish grin.
A soft chuckle broke through the woman's emotionless façade.
"I don't get any better at that?"
Isabella answered, "No, ma'am." Her eyes fell back to her feet.
"Isabella, are you afraid of me?"
"No...it's just, I haven't seen you in a long time...."
Marguerite nodded sadly and Isabella stopped. She forced a smile and said, "Well, what am I supposed to call you?"
She thought for a moment, looking at the tattered girl that would be her daughter. "I.I honestly don't know. What do you call Roxton?"
"He said to call him John, so I'm trying to. Should I just call you Marguerite?"
"I guess it will have to do," Marguerite sighed. "You said breakfast was ready?"
Isabella smiled and nodded, a new lightness in her pace.
Challenger, Finn, and Veronica returned shortly after breakfast. After hearing the explanation for Isabella's appearance, Veronica and Finn volunteered to take the girl down to the lake to wash up while Challenger stayed to speak with Roxton.
Newly clean and feeling better than she had in a very long time, Isabella led the way back to the tree house, her curls hanging limp around her shoulders as she almost skipped ahead of Veronica and Finn.
"So, you say I have a son and a daughter in your time?" Veronica asked as she watched the girl nearly floating in front of her.
"Yep. With Malone. Jane Anne and Arthur Layton. Or just Jane and Layton. Layton's been my best friend since forever. He's a year younger than I am, thirteen. Jane's nine. She tags along with me and Layton all the time," Isabella answered, talking a mile a minute. She stopped for a moment, her eyes catching on a very straight branch coming from a tree near the path. She floated over to it and looked to Veronica.
"Vee, can I borrow your knife?"
"Sure, Isabella," Veronica answered guardedly, looking at the girl quizzically as handed the knife over.
"Thanks." Isabella began to cut the branch, quickly detaching it from the trunk and handing the knife handle back to the jungle woman. She swung the branch around in her hand, wrist twisting as light filled her eyes. Isabella laughed and took a swipe at Finn. "Fencing," she said with bright giggles, "A pure art form, relying on every single muscle of the body to be working in perfect unison." She leapt onto a low tree branch then off with a somersault in the air. "At least that's what my teacher tells me. This should make a good practice sword. My other one is stuck in 1939."
Both Finn and Veronica were giving her looks of mixed astonishment and awe.
"Nice," Finn commented as Isabella kept walking towards the tree house.
"Very nice, Isabella. How long have you been studying fencing?" Veronica asked.
"Please, just Bella. Umm," her eyes half shut as she did mental calculations, "Eight years, about. Whip Layton every time."
All three laughed.
"C'mon, I'll race you two back to the tree house!" Bella cried taking off in a run down the path.
Marguerite watched as Finn, Veronica, and Isabella raced into the clearing. Veronica finished first, then Finn, as Isabella twisted in the air and landed, still in third place, next to the others. She was so much like Finn and Veronica, and so much like Roxton, it was hard to find any of herself in the sweet girl. Then again, she had been absent for the past five years of Isabella's life. Marguerite turned away from the balcony as the trio headed into the elevator and up the stair.