*The last chapter! I decided to finish the last part in one go and lump
everything together. It's been real fun doing the story, peeking at the
reviews between my fingers and what not. My thanks to all the reviewers!
Cheers!
************************************************************************
Another frenzied thrashing would have been more expected than what Malone did next. Sitting up slowly as the others took their hands off him, he reached up to cradle his sore cheek.
"Ouch, that hurt.."
Veronica sat back on the floor in utter astonishment, mouth agape. That was it? Was that all he was going to say?
"Can't think of anything else really," Malone said quietly, startling Veronica, who hadn't realised she had asked her question out loud. They shared the briefest of smiles, before both turned away, slightly embarrassed.
For the strangest of reasons - none -, Marguerite unsuccessfully tried to suppress a nervous giggle by clamping a hand over her mouth. And that got the whole group started off; each not understanding, yet wholeheartedly immersing themselves in laughter. Though unintentional, it was just the thing needed to lift the gloom and fear that had hung over everyone for the past two days.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------
"Can't say it was the best thing that has happened," Veronica said as she dragged her gaze from the floor, blinking away the sudden moisture, "but it has, so nothing can change that.
"Regrets don't work, though I wished they did. I should've gone back, but Jakum is one stubborn mule."
"Much like you really, only male," Malone teased carefully, probing her emotional limit.
"Was that a joke Ned? It was! I can't believe it," Roxton exclaimed, sending those around the table into a bout of laughter. But the sobriety settled back soon after.
"We all have our own what-ifs, Veronica," Challenger soothed, "myself included. I wished I could have been there to help, could have somehow known in advance so that what happened didn't have to happen. And seeing you on the bed yesterday night, I have to admit Ned, I was very close to suffocating myself under self-guilt."
Roxton remained silent, staring at his clasped hands on the table. But Marguerite detected a slight nod at Challenger's last sentence, and knew he felt the same.
"Roxton and Marguerite took it better than I did," Challenger continued. "Especially considering that they were the ones who got you out..."
Of the cell, were unspoken, but the mere thought of it made Malone tremble ever so slightly.
"Thank you," he whispered before regaining his composure. "Thank you," he said, louder. "I am grateful, truly, I am. And there is no sense in blaming yourselves for what happened. I was too. . too weak, and I couldn't stop them. I brought it upon myself."
Veronica shook her head. "No. I don't believe that Ned. You did all you could to save me, and you almost gave your life for that."
Malone shivered involuntarily, sending a stab of pain up his bruised sides.
"Weakling!"
"Whelp!"
"Scream all you want. . no one will hear you anyway."
Get away, have to get away. No, please... no...
"Malone!"
He jumped slightly, raised his head too quickly and had to grit his teeth to stop the room from spinning.
"Sorry," he mumbled, "got distracted."
Veronica frowned, but refrained from commenting.
Marguerite watched the young man, saw the pain and fatigue on his face that he fought to suppress. And she finally understood his actions earlier that day.
"You don't have to prove yourself to anyone Malone."
Ned looked at him in shock but he knew he shouldn't have been. Marguerite's ability to read into the motives behind people's actions had been apparent from the day they had met.
"I just thought.. I needed to feel that I was worth something."
"Of course you are," Veronica leaned over to grasp his hand. "And nothing would make us think any different."
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Entry 4:
It has been a week since our run-in with the traders. Malone's condition has improved significantly, as well as the general mood in the tree-house. Of course, Malone has yet to leave the incident completely behind him. He still wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, disoriented, but he has been responding much quicker to us than the first night. I am still running tests on the effects of the drug that had been 'administered' and the extent to which it is responsible for his frequent and vivid recollections.
The others have more or less returned to their routine life, including myself. Veronica still hovers around Malone, such is her character to care so much for a companion. Roxton and Marguerite have been somber for the past week, but today's little argument over the viscosity of Marguerite's soup (I would have to agree with Roxton this time: no soup should ever look like that) is most likely a sign that things are more or less returning to normal.
As for myself, it took me two days of coaxing to convince Malone that what happened could not have been prevented: it was meant to be. And ironically, he turned the tables and told me that if I said so, I should not be making what he terms "the guilt trip" because of my supposed failure to protect him. To my surprise, it took that to lift the load off my shoulders. Malone should consider pursuing psychiatry in the future.
Life is not a bed of roses: Funny how such a clichéd phrase could be so applicable to reality itself. The thorns will always be there, but that didn't stop the rose from becoming a lovely flower. Likewise, why should we be daunted by our own thorns in life? They will always be there, we will just have to live with them.
If Summerlee could hear me now. I think he would laugh his head off.
George Challenger
Another frenzied thrashing would have been more expected than what Malone did next. Sitting up slowly as the others took their hands off him, he reached up to cradle his sore cheek.
"Ouch, that hurt.."
Veronica sat back on the floor in utter astonishment, mouth agape. That was it? Was that all he was going to say?
"Can't think of anything else really," Malone said quietly, startling Veronica, who hadn't realised she had asked her question out loud. They shared the briefest of smiles, before both turned away, slightly embarrassed.
For the strangest of reasons - none -, Marguerite unsuccessfully tried to suppress a nervous giggle by clamping a hand over her mouth. And that got the whole group started off; each not understanding, yet wholeheartedly immersing themselves in laughter. Though unintentional, it was just the thing needed to lift the gloom and fear that had hung over everyone for the past two days.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------
"Can't say it was the best thing that has happened," Veronica said as she dragged her gaze from the floor, blinking away the sudden moisture, "but it has, so nothing can change that.
"Regrets don't work, though I wished they did. I should've gone back, but Jakum is one stubborn mule."
"Much like you really, only male," Malone teased carefully, probing her emotional limit.
"Was that a joke Ned? It was! I can't believe it," Roxton exclaimed, sending those around the table into a bout of laughter. But the sobriety settled back soon after.
"We all have our own what-ifs, Veronica," Challenger soothed, "myself included. I wished I could have been there to help, could have somehow known in advance so that what happened didn't have to happen. And seeing you on the bed yesterday night, I have to admit Ned, I was very close to suffocating myself under self-guilt."
Roxton remained silent, staring at his clasped hands on the table. But Marguerite detected a slight nod at Challenger's last sentence, and knew he felt the same.
"Roxton and Marguerite took it better than I did," Challenger continued. "Especially considering that they were the ones who got you out..."
Of the cell, were unspoken, but the mere thought of it made Malone tremble ever so slightly.
"Thank you," he whispered before regaining his composure. "Thank you," he said, louder. "I am grateful, truly, I am. And there is no sense in blaming yourselves for what happened. I was too. . too weak, and I couldn't stop them. I brought it upon myself."
Veronica shook her head. "No. I don't believe that Ned. You did all you could to save me, and you almost gave your life for that."
Malone shivered involuntarily, sending a stab of pain up his bruised sides.
"Weakling!"
"Whelp!"
"Scream all you want. . no one will hear you anyway."
Get away, have to get away. No, please... no...
"Malone!"
He jumped slightly, raised his head too quickly and had to grit his teeth to stop the room from spinning.
"Sorry," he mumbled, "got distracted."
Veronica frowned, but refrained from commenting.
Marguerite watched the young man, saw the pain and fatigue on his face that he fought to suppress. And she finally understood his actions earlier that day.
"You don't have to prove yourself to anyone Malone."
Ned looked at him in shock but he knew he shouldn't have been. Marguerite's ability to read into the motives behind people's actions had been apparent from the day they had met.
"I just thought.. I needed to feel that I was worth something."
"Of course you are," Veronica leaned over to grasp his hand. "And nothing would make us think any different."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------
Entry 4:
It has been a week since our run-in with the traders. Malone's condition has improved significantly, as well as the general mood in the tree-house. Of course, Malone has yet to leave the incident completely behind him. He still wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, disoriented, but he has been responding much quicker to us than the first night. I am still running tests on the effects of the drug that had been 'administered' and the extent to which it is responsible for his frequent and vivid recollections.
The others have more or less returned to their routine life, including myself. Veronica still hovers around Malone, such is her character to care so much for a companion. Roxton and Marguerite have been somber for the past week, but today's little argument over the viscosity of Marguerite's soup (I would have to agree with Roxton this time: no soup should ever look like that) is most likely a sign that things are more or less returning to normal.
As for myself, it took me two days of coaxing to convince Malone that what happened could not have been prevented: it was meant to be. And ironically, he turned the tables and told me that if I said so, I should not be making what he terms "the guilt trip" because of my supposed failure to protect him. To my surprise, it took that to lift the load off my shoulders. Malone should consider pursuing psychiatry in the future.
Life is not a bed of roses: Funny how such a clichéd phrase could be so applicable to reality itself. The thorns will always be there, but that didn't stop the rose from becoming a lovely flower. Likewise, why should we be daunted by our own thorns in life? They will always be there, we will just have to live with them.
If Summerlee could hear me now. I think he would laugh his head off.
George Challenger