Disclaimer:The characters from "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World" are owned by Telescene, NewLine Television, The Over the Hill Gang, Coote/Hayes, etc. No profit is being made from this story. No infringement upon copyrighted material is intended.
Setting:A continuation of Daughter of Elysium
Spoilers:Paradise Found, Tribute
Description:Daughter of Elysium was intended to be a longer story, but time constraints prevented the whole story from being told. Here is the completion of Roxton's dream.
Thanks: To Ariadne and CMS for the beta work, the many discussions, and as always, the friendship.
Epilogue to Daughter of Elysium
by rann
Before the dawn crept over the horizon, sleep had found all the treehouse residents.
Untroubled, the blonde jungle girl slept peacefully.
The elderly botanist shifted uncomfortably, an arthritic twinge in his hip.
A snore arose from the room occupied by the red-hair scientist, mingling with a mumbled phrase about adding more salicylic acid.
Thirst slaked, the young reporter easily found his repose.
Putting away the thoughts of her past that had been stirred up by Dieter's landing on the plateau, determined not to give in to recriminations because that was a way to permit her enemies a victory, the dark haired woman imposed her will upon her body and slept.
A conscience once more soothed by the most enigmatic of his companions, the hunter allowed his mind to drift off into the arms of Morpheus. Again his thoughts returned to the evening in the false Paradise.
Roxton had discovered early on in their travels that Marguerite was his one companion who understood the potential for danger, thinking things through. She saw it before they set out on that damned excursion to Paradise. He now could better appreciate her frustration. Veronica was so obsessed with finding her parents that there was no reasoning with her, even when it came to the wisdom of traveling in the jungle at night. Malone was so anxious to show his support for the jungle girl that he never considered the wisdom of any of his or her actions. And as for Roxton himself—well, he had to admit he could never resist the urge to be protector to them all and this wish had gotten the better of him.
Marguerite always looked beneath the surface. On the journey that took them to the Paradise village, she knew that Summerlee's diagnosis was wrong. It was her intuition that made him more sensitive to the danger once they entered the box canyon.
He thought drowsily of the consequences. If only he had stayed with her that night in the tent…..
The candles in the tent were gutting, their glow no match for the warmth that suffused the occupants of the bed. Roxton's breath began to slow to a normal rate. With a self-satisfied smile, he realized that the pulse beneath his fingertips was still racing. The owner of the pulse had yet to lift her head from his shoulder. Her hair fanned out covering his arm as he held her close. Cautiously, unwilling to break the moment, he reached with his free hand to stroke her hair, tucking it back, wanting the sensation of its silky feel.
For long moments they lay quiet, unsure of the words they might speak. Roxton knew he still wanted her, his appetite only whetted by their coupling, but now what? This time wasn't like the countless encounters in his past, where easy affection accompanied energetic tussles between the sheets. What had happened was too intense for that. He knew he wasn't alone in feeling that. When he lowered her to the bed, Marguerite's eyes had widened, the surprise evident in her face mirroring the sentiments he felt. Neither of them was prepared to deal with the depth of emotion they had uncovered.
Roxton's introspection was interrupted. Marguerite began to rouse from her quiescent state. Eyelashes fluttered against his chest, her head moved and she shifted her weight from his chest and leg. With considerable reluctance he loosened his grip on her.
"Something's wrong, John." The words were softly spoken, but they had the effect of a hard hit to his gut.
"I did try to be sure, Marguerite…" His voice trailed off as he realized she wasn't looking at him, but around the tent. The hunter in him came to the fore. "Did you hear something?"
She stayed propped up on one elbow. "No, but it's as if I'm more aware than I was. I was …disconnected before, any troublesome thoughts slipped away from my mind. I couldn't hold onto my concerns."
"You certainly seem very aware to me." His grin was salacious as his finger traced a line down her neck to the skin beneath the edge of the camisole that still hung open on her shoulders. Their frantic joining had not allowed for the complete removal of their clothing. Garments remained draped half on and half off their bodies.
A small smile crept on her lips as she grasped his hand, stopping its enticing journey. "I can't be sure what, but something's not right."
"Perhaps if you have something to eat." He smiled knowingly. "I've certainly worked up an appetite." He reached for a piece of fruit on the bowl near the bed.
"No, John, don't." Her hand on his arm stopped him from taking a bite.
"You think…?"
"I don't know what I think. But I haven't been myself since we got here." As Roxton looked at her, she flushed. With a sinking feeling he knew this interlude was not going to last. The pain of that was worse than he anticipated.
"Marguerite, I know you refused me earlier, but I see the candles are still lit…" The tent flap was pushed back as Kieran entered.
Roxton instinctively rolled to his side, facing the intruder, blocking Kieran's view of his partially unclothed bedmate. Kieran stopped at the tent's entrance as he saw Marguerite was not alone.
Kieran looked at the fruit in the hunter's hands, then at the two lovers. With a glib, practiced smile he turned. "Sorry to have interrupted." His voice was smug. He left the tent.
Roxton had noticed Kieran's gaze focus on the fruit. "You're right. Whatever's going on here has something to do with this fruit."
"No one's ever sad, or angry, or upset." Marguerite mused as Roxton turned back toward her. She hung on to the sheet she'd tucked around herself at Kieran's entry.
"Everyone's very polite but noncommittal. When I pressured people for answers they just smiled, then they'd find a reason to leave." Roxton reflected about his search for Malone.
"Perhaps they're worried about the effect of strong emotion. They're trying to avoid anything that disrupts their contentment." Marguerite speculated.
"So the fruit encourages a sense of well being?" Roxton speculated as he remembered the image of Marguerite and Veronica relaxed, companionable, earlier this evening; "And releases inhibitions," he realized, suddenly understanding the origin of the pleasurable greeting Marguerite gave him upon entering the tent.
"We probably ought to find Malone, then see that the others are okay." Marguerite seemed edgy.
In the treehouse, the hunter shifted in his narrow bed, restless again. "Make sure the others are okay." He sighed in agreement with his dream.
A soft hand touched his arm. "Shh, everything's all right. Everyone's safe." Marguerite's voice was just a murmur. She had been restless herself again. Telling herself that a glass of water was all she needed, she'd gone to sip it on the balcony, where she discovered that Roxton was no longer keeping his solitary vigil. Somehow her steps took her past his room.
Roxton, soothed by her touch and her words, slipped easily back into his dream, her assurance easing his worries, her touch causing him to focus on the physical sensations in his dream.
"You had quite a bit of that fruit, perhaps we'd better make sure we've countered its effects." Roxton tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, then let his fingers trace a path from her earlobe to her collarbone. She shivered at his touch. "Another dose of strong emotion," he whispered, bending his head so his words were a breath in her ear. The protest he had been sure she'd make was lost as his lips took hers.
The one solace to his pride, when he felt overwhelmed by his response to her, was that she seemed equally affected. It was this mutual response to each other that kept them living on a knife's edge.
The feel of her hands on him, the taste of her skin, the soft sounds she made as he touched her, the scent of lavender in her hair, or just the look of her at anytime swamped his senses. Any of it was all it took to make him want her.
"Where should we begin?" Marguerite's voice was a whisper in his ear as they made their way around the quiet tents.
"I tried a frontal approach before, maybe now it's time for some subtlety." Roxton was equally quiet as he turned to her.
"In other words, it's up to me." Her pithy words brought a slight smile to Roxton's face. As much as he had enjoyed her seductive side, he was glad to have the spirited Marguerite back.
"I noticed a number of these yahoos with the gray on their robes following me around." Roxton mentioned softly. A pair appeared walking a short distance away.
Marguerite looked towards the pair and slipped her hand into Roxton's, leaning flirtatiously against his arm. As the two men glanced their way, she wrapped her free hand at the back of Roxton's neck and brought his head down to kiss him. As his lips moved on hers he felt more than heard her words. "Easy, John, I can't tell if they're still watching."
Obligingly he let his lips move down to nuzzle her neck allowing her to see over his shoulder. He nipped her gently on the neck.
"John, behave yourself." The quiet tone lost nothing in its forcefulness.
"That's not what you said before." The teasing earned him a swat. "I take it they're not watching."
"We need to search the tents." Marguerite pointed out.
"If we just blunder our way in, we'll make them suspicious."
"We'll just have to seem…preoccupied."
Roxton grinned as he caught on to her plan.
"Watch your hands this time." Marguerite admonished in stilled tones as they prepared to try the fifth tent.
"Just getting into my role." Roxton scooped her up to give the appearance of an amorous couple too interested in each other to pay attention to mundane things like the right tent.
With the hand not draped around the hunter's shoulders, she brushed back the tent flap. A muffled cry greeted their entrance, not the tolerant laughs they had received before.
"Malone, what have you gotten yourself into?" Marguerite scolded softly as Roxton let her go. She pulled the gag from the reporter's mouth as Roxton untied him.
"It's the tree, it drains people! They need it for the fruit." Malone's words tumbled out. Roxton exchanged a puzzled look with Marguerite as she handed a cup of water to the young man.
"Malone, are you sure you haven't taken too hard a knock on the head?" Marguerite was dubious, looking carefully for a telltale bump.
In the treehouse Marguerite shook herself awake. She had only meant to sit in the chair beside Roxton's bed a moment to be sure he was no longer restless. Yawning, she glanced at the hunter, who still slept soundly. She hadn't meant to doze. She stretched easily, apparently only a few minutes had passed. A moment longer and she'd get the energy up to return to her own bed.
"And that's when they grabbed me and dragged me back here." The young reporter concluded his tale.
Malone's explanation had left them horrified. Marguerite started to put what she had heard earlier together with what Malone had just said.
"The fruit keeps them young." At Roxton's inquiring look, she explained. "Kieran told me they're cheating time."
"He said during the harvest the tree feeds every twelve hours." Malone had drained the cup of water.
"No wonder he thought we got here at an auspicious time." Roxton pointed out cynically.
"They're going to feed us all to the tree." Malone continued.
"Maybe not all of us." Roxton looked speculatively at Marguerite remembering Kieran's words about Marguerite having refused him earlier. "We need to keep Kieran out of the way while we get Veronica, Summerlee and Challenger."
"I'll have my secretary squeeze him in." Marguerite replied lightly.
Glancing around Roxton saw a knife in a sheath lying on a chest of drawers. He handed the weapon to her, suddenly unsure of the wisdom of her confronting Kieran. His mind conjured up any number of disastrous scenarios. But if she was going to face Kieran on her own, he wanted her to have an ace up her sleeve. She nodded to him, turning to leave. The tent flap was thrust aside as Kieran entered.
"What – "
"Why, Kieran," Marguerite's easy smile was disarming. "Look who we found. We were just about to get him something to eat, …..but Roxton can handle that. Why don't you and I stay right here, by ourselves?" Her voice dropped suggestively. "We'll have a chance to get to know each other."
Suspiciously Kieran looked at the three explorers. As he opened his mouth, Roxton's fist made contact. Marguerite grabbed a metal vase and brought it down ruthlessly on his head.
"Hurry it up!" Marguerite was at the tent door keeping an eye on the settlement as Roxton and Malone tied and gagged Kieran.
"Any ideas where the others are?" Roxton joined her at the entrance to the tent, Malone a step behind him.
"I think so." With the tent flap held partially open, she indicated a tent across the way. The most direct way was in full view of anyone who happened to be wandering about.
"Malone, you'll have to take a circular route. Stay in the shadows." The young reporter nodded at the hunter's words.
"Don't get caught this time." Marguerite's dry tone had Malone stiffening in resentment. He threw her a look of intense dislike.
As Malone slipped around behind the tents, Marguerite leaned into Roxton's side as he draped his arm over her shoulders.
"Why weren't you sleeping in the same tent as the others?" Roxton inquired as they approached their destination.
"Kieran overestimated his attractions."
Roxton felt a pang as he realized she was using her sarcasm to put back the emotional distance between them.
Roxton stepped ahead of Marguerite as they entered the darkened tent. As his eyes grew accustomed to the deeper shadows of the tent he made out the forms of their three companions. Marguerite went to Summerlee's side.
"Arthur, Arthur!" She shook his shoulder lightly. The elderly scientist awoke from a light sleep, smiling slightly as if in the midst of a pleasant dream.
"Why, what is it, Marguerite?" Arthur asked on a note of mild inquiry. He fumbled at the bedside table for his glasses.
"Challenger!" Roxton nudged the scientist sharply. "Wake up, you have to snap out of this."
"Roxton, whatever are you going on about?" Challenger's uncharacteristically affable tones were unnerving, especially after such a rude awakening.
"This is going to be harder than I thought." Marguerite commented wryly moving over to try and wake Veronica. "Come on, sleeping beauty." She touched Veronica lightly. Normally both Veronica and Roxton roused fully alert at the slightest touch, particularly in potentially precarious circumstances.
"Hmmm, Marguerite, is it morning already?" She stretched sleepily, still drowsy and not vigilant at all.
A stir at the door had both Marguerite and Roxton wheeling about. Malone entered casting a glance around.
"Were you seen?" Roxton demanded.
"I…I can't be sure." Malone stammered his uncertainty with his skills at stealth evident.
"Great!" Roxton's frustration with this whole mess was straining his control.
"We'd better get a move on. Malone, why don't you see what you can do with Veronica." Marguerite suggested as she returned to Summerlee's side.
"Your lives are in danger. They're going to feed you to their damned tree." Malone spoke up a bit, so everyone could hear him.
"Don't be absurd! That is completely unscientific!" Challenger, still in an agreeable mood, discounted the reporter's warning.
"Really, Ned. They've been nothing but kind to us." The elderly scientist dismissed the notion with an amiable smile.
"Come on, Ned, you and I can spend a little time together." Veronica giggled as she wound her arm around Ned's neck and tugged.
"I don't think…" Unable to get away, Ned searched for an excuse, his blush evident even in the dim light.
"You always back away, Ned." Veronica pouted.
"I can't! You know, there are …reasons." Ned tried again to untangle himself from the blonde girl's arms. Veronica's clumsy attempt at seduction and Ned's response had Marguerite and Roxton exchanging amused looks.
"You mean Gladys! But that doesn't stop you from kissing me!" Veronica started to get mad and let go of the reporter abruptly. Roxton could tell that Marguerite had an idea from the glint in her eyes.
"That's right, you tell him, Veronica! Would any kind of respectable man try and keep two women on a string?" Marguerite encouraged her anger.
"No he wouldn't! He'd either decide it was all over with one or wouldn't romance the other." Veronica fumed.
"Clever, Marguerite." Roxton murmured as he turned on his side.
Marguerite smiled. "Well at least you realize that in your dreams." She smoothed his hair back, with an automatic glance over her shoulder to be sure no one else saw her tender gesture and then chided herself. "It's not like I'm doing this for him. If he's not well rested he can't watch out for the rest of us." Satisfied in her mind that she was simply looking out for her own interests, she leaned back and took another sip of water.
"What's going on here?" A half dozen gray-clad guards pushed their way into the tent.
"We were just chatting with our friends." Marguerite smiled sweetly, watching Roxton edge into position from the corner of her eye.
"Where's Kieran?" The apparent leader of the group advanced on Marguerite, reaching for her arm.
"Haven't seen him. You know how it is – busy, busy, busy."
The unconcerned air the expedition's financier projected was not entirely convincing to the guard, but his puzzlement was apparent, unsure of how to proceed. He had no experience in dealing with a woman like Marguerite. "But then," Roxton thought, "who has?"
The guard made up his mind, and reached out to grab Marguerite's arm. Seeing that, Roxton made his move, catching the nearest guard taking him down in the next moment. Then Malone and Veronica were kicking and throwing punches. A quick look at Marguerite showed her smashing an instep and following up with a knee to the groin of the unfortunate guard who had tried to take hold of her. As the would-be assailant was bent over, an ornate wooden candlestick crashed into his skull courtesy of Summerlee. Challenger was now up and about as well, joining his comrades in the fight.
"We need to settle this now and get out of here." Roxton dodged a blow and returned it with interest to the man's abdomen.
"First we need to destroy that monstrosity of a tree." Summerlee informed them as he looked about to see who else should get a taste of his makeshift cudgel.
"How?" Malone knocked a guard into a pole.
"No!" Marguerite's shout wasn't in time. The tent collapsed around them. The lantern started as small blaze. Scrambling under the weight of the canvas, the explorers managed to find the edges of the tent and escape from the kindling flames.
Taking an axe from one of guards they dragged to safety, Roxton turned to Summerlee. "We'll take care of the tree."
"I think I know where our guns are." Marguerite began to circle the edge of the surrounding woods.
"Go with her." Roxton ordered Challenger and Malone.
Veronica had another axe in her hand. "Let's take care of the tree."
The burning tent provided an excellent distraction. As the villagers began a bucket brigade to prevent the blaze from spreading, the explorers slipped off.
Alternating strokes with their axes, Veronica and Roxton made quick work of the root Summerlee determined to be the crucial one.
Blood flowed from the root. As the fruit on the tree withered, some sixth sense of danger caused a panic among the inhabitants of Paradise. The scramble for the harvested fruit became a riot.
Marguerite, Challenger, and Malone waited for them at the edge of the village.
"Any ideas about how to get past the beast in the cave?" Summerlee asked as they holstered their restored weaponry. Luckily they discovered Kieran had had someone retrieve their packs from where they had left them the prior night in their mad dash to safety. They had been stored in his tent with their weapons.
"I found another way. There's a pass heading over the mountains." Roxton was glad he'd done some exploring when they first got there.
They picked their way up the steep trail. Roxton stopped to let the others continue on as he looked back at Marguerite. Their eyes met. She looked steadily at him. He gave a half smile, admiring the woman who would face him only on her own terms. "Fire and steel." His words broke their impasse.
"I'd say eternity was overrated." Marguerite moved passed him.
"It had its moments." Roxton temporized.
Marguerite bent over to try and catch the words muttered by the man on the bed. "Fire and steel." were the only words she caught.
Marguerite sat back with a wistful smile. "Hush, John, everything is fine."
Taking the path out of the canyon, Roxton led them at right angles away from the cave guarded by their 'large, scaly friend' as Marguerite termed him. No one other than Roxton was amused by that, but then she was the only who smiled when he wisecracked about 'plenty of expeditions hum Beethoven'. Veronica and Malone had thrown him angry looks at his remark.
After several hours of hiking they stopped by a stream for water and Roxton studied the sun's position.
"Will we make it back to the treehouse today?" Marguerite's voice didn't hold much hope.
"No, but it shouldn't take us five days, either. We should be able to take a more direct route and perhaps get there by tomorrow evening."
"Well we won't get anywhere standing around here." Veronica stood and prepared to lead their party onward. Roxton offered Summerlee a hand.
"Thanks, old boy." The white haired man smiled briefly, and took a breath. "I think I'm getting better at this."
"I'm sure you are, Professor." Roxton had grown to respect the man who despite age and infirmity had proven to be a full member of their expedition.
"I'm glad one of us is." Marguerite put in sardonically, drawing smiles from both men.
Dusk found them by the side of a small pond. Careful inspection did not reveal any trace of larger animals frequenting this watering spot.
"We'll keep the water to our side, the clearing looks like our best bet for the night." Roxton decided. Veronica nodded her agreement.
After sharing a brief meal the explorers settled in for the night. Disturbed by something unknown Marguerite lifted her head and looked about. Veronica still slept peacefully under the tarp the two women shared. Glancing out towards the fire she saw only two of her male companions sleeping.
Rising, she quietly walked to where the hunter sat looking out into the jungle.
"What's bothering you?" Marguerite sat carefully on a log next to where Roxton leaned against a tree, rifle across his lap.
"What do you care?" The sharp words were blunted with a smile.
"You lack my instinct for self preservation, but you have an unfailing one for preserving the rest of us." Marguerite turned his words back on him.
"I can't help but think we seem to have a knack for disrupting how other people live. Each new group we meet ends up transformed. Sometimes completely overset." He looked out into the deeper shadows the moonlight threw.
Marguerite tilted her head, her eyes fixed on him, no accusation, just the patient understanding of one who knows there are no absolutes.
How do we know we're right?" Roxton's voice was soft. "Each time we meet with a new group on the plateau, we change them. We make them give up what they had."
"John, no. No, we don't, …you don't make their choices. We're the catalyst, as Challenger might put it. But the other ingredients have to be there." Her tones were soft and sure. "We're not that good that we can set whole societies on their ears if they didn't want to be upset." The smile was gentle, her eyes conveying her faith in him.
He reached out with his hand to cup her cheek. She turned her head to place a kiss in his palm.
In the treehouse Marguerite rose from her self-imposed vigil. The protector of the expedition was quiet and judging by the smile that played over his face having a pleasant dream.
She studied the small stone resting by his bed. About the size of a man's fist, blue-green in color, not very impressive.
Grateful villagers had given the 'Decision' stone to the reporter and the elderly scientist. Summerlee helped bring their new shaman into the world at the same time Malone corrected the imbalance by killing the possessed shaman.
The purpose of the so-called Decision Stone was to let one see what changes in your life might occur if another choice was made. Summerlee had been fascinated by the possibilities. To know how things might have been different when one reached a crossroad in his or her life intrigued the elderly scientist.
Summerlee related some of the experiences the villagers had attributed to using the stone. As he sat puffing on his pipe, a cup of tea by his hand and the stone in front of him, he talked about the peace of knowing what might have been. Of the path not taken. His eyes had grown distant as if he looked in his own past.
To his surprise the most common phenomena reported was that the two paths ultimately converged. He had nodded to himself, a soft smile at the irony. Marguerite wasn't sure if she believed it, but stranger things had occurred on this bloody plateau. It seemed worth a shot if it could resolve the dilemma that was troubling Roxton.
They all depended on Roxton when there was danger to be faced; she thought it only fair that he be well rested. She had been aware of his unease since he had returned with Veronica and Challenger from the Tintas' village. His long watches from the balcony at night had not gone unnoticed. Tonight she had decided to find a way to end them, at least if she could do so unobtrusively. It wouldn't do for anyone to think she cared.
Marguerite yawned, automatically covering her mouth. At the very least, the stone had done no harm and it looked like Roxton would sleep the night through. It was time for her to return to her own bed.
In his bed the expedition's protector shifted again, the loss of his self appointed guardian seeping into his awareness even as his dream continued…..
"We can't, you know." Her words made Roxton prop himself up on one elbow. Their clothes and the leaves had made for a relatively comfortable bed. He studied the beautiful woman who leaned in against him, smoothing the damp strands of hair from her cheek, letting his fingers tangle in her hair. He his lips caressed her neck where the evidence of the whisker burn still lingered.
"Why not?" Roxton knew she meant they couldn't continue their relationship. He placed a kiss on her eyelids, knowing the tears she wouldn't let fall were there.
"It's not like London. When it's over we can't go our separate ways. We can't meet at a cocktail party, and one of us makes a polite excuse so as not to be an embarrassment."
Roxton studied her face and nodded, bending his head he took the kiss that was going to have to last them. One thing he decided as they ended the kiss and she buried her face against his bare chest, it isn't over; it's just delayed.
The sounds of the jungle night gave way to those of morning in the jungle mingling in with the steps and easy clatter of dishes as his housemates began their morning. Atypically the hunter lay in his bed absorbing the sounds around the treehouse, unwilling to let the remnants of his dream fall from him.
Veronica's voice talking to Summerlee about painting and working on artistic techniques today reached him. Challenger's voice intermingled as he began a discussion about taking Malone and Marguerite with him to continue some mapping. Roxton reluctantly left his bed. He knew where his responsibility fell, protect the expedition. But somehow the duty didn't seem as onerous anymore. He knew he had the support of all his friends. And if he needed it, Marguerite would be at his side wielding her gun, taunting him, and easing his guilt.
Finished – This time for sure!
Author's Notes
In Tribute a German pilot, Dieter, lands on the plateau, his plane in need of repair. He knows Marguerite from before and is obviously an enemy from her past. He threatens to kill her and she is saved by Summerlee's interference.
Roxton, Challenger and Veronica end up helping a group of villagers, the Tintas, rebel against their oppressors, the Hikari. While the first battle is won, the village now has assumed responsibility for their own protection, no longer dependent on the Hikari.
In Paradise Found the fruit of a tree caused personality shifts and gave youth to those who consumed it. The tree absorbed the essence of those sacrificed to it, leaving them old and withered.