Chapter Three

Wanting to Tell

Part One

Roxton paced the length of the tree house, his heavy boots pounding and his hand constantly sweeping through his chestnut hair.  He stopped every so often in front of Marguerite's room, his ears twitching, straining to hear what was going on inside before continuing his long strides.  He was worried as hell and anxious for Challenger and Clarias to give him some reassuring word.

Veronica and Malone stood reasonably close conversing.  Occasionally one would bring her or his attention to the distraught hunter, but could find no consolation.  To say Marguerite was going to be all right may be a lie and neither wanted to give him false hope to cling to.  It would only make it worse in the end.

Finally, Challenger stepped out of her room, his face grave.  He stared pointedly at Roxton before moving towards the pot boiling with water.  "She's going to be fine."  He gathered up the pot with a towel and started back towards Marguerite's room.  "She'll be weak for the next couple of days, but she should pull through with perfection."  With that, he disappeared into the bedroom.

"Challenger," Roxton called after him.  He was thankful to hear that Marguerite would be fine, but now he wanted answers.  What had happened?  Was she attacked?  Wish she bit by something in the water?  Roxton swore that if anyone had hurt her he would kill him with his bare hands…a very slow death.

Part Two

Marguerite's strength finally returned over the course of the next few days.  Challenger had warned the others off from prying, saying that Marguerite wasn't up to discussing her experience.  So, she was treated with curious eyes from the others, but didn't allow it to bother her.  It was her life, her health, and if she wanted it to be confidential then it was her right to do so.

She trudged off the elevator, her back aching and her breasts sore.  She didn't keep a regular monthly cycle anymore for stress and poor diet prevented her body from doing so.  Yet, on a rare occasion, it crept up on her.  She wasn't actually bleeding, yet, but she was certainly feeling the onslaught of PMS.  Her mood bitter, she stomped over to where Roxton was patrolling the fence and snapped, "Can't you follow one simple instruction you worthless prick?  I asked you to bring me back fruit five-minutes ago!"

Roxton, feeling a bit defensively, eyed her coolly.  "I must say I don't think you need any more food."  He indicated her stomach.  "It looks to me that you're starting to fill out nicely."  He didn't really mean it, her blouse was a little snug, but she was still very slender.  Yet, he'd learned over the years that the thing women feared most was loosing their figure and beauty.

Her eyes went wide and he was sure she was going to tear him apart, but to his astonishment she began to cry.  "You bastard," she seethed before whipping around and racing back towards the tree house leaving Roxton very confused.

He followed her into the elevator.  "Marguerite, I'm sorry."  He glanced nervously around the cramped space.  "I…I just…you're just so moody these days."  He bit his lip, fearing he said the wrong thing.

Marguerite sniffled, then turned and buried her face in his shoulder.  "Oh, Roxton, please forgive me.  I should have told you."

They had reached the top, but didn't get out.  Instead, he ran a hand through her hair, kissing her temple.  "Tell me what, Marguerite?"

"Roxton!" Veronica yelled from somewhere in the tree house.  "A T-rex!  Come quickly!"

Roxton peered down at Marguerite.  "We'll finish this later."  He rushed off, his rifle grasped firmly in his hands.

End Chapter Three