Guardians of Treasures Untold

Part One: 3/10.

Author: Nefret24

Disclaimers and notes, see parts 1 & 2.

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Marguerite Krux was at a loss for words. That occurred so rarely in her lifetime that if she wasn't already speechless, she should be rendered so out of sheer amazement. Here she was, in some wooden hut thing with apparently some very strange people. First there was that blond woman wearing next to nothing (thank goodness a look at her own attire afforded her with something half decent) and that scruffy looking individual just now. What in the blazes was going on?

It didn't help that her head hurt like hell. She gingerly fingered her temple and grimaced even at the contact between gauze and fingertip. It wasn't a hangover but she wished it was. She saw a mirror across the room and ever so slowly and carefully she made her way over to it.

"Oh. My. God," she said hollowly, looking at the bruised and slightly bloody temple underneath a corner of her bandage. She scanned the dressing table, recognizing her own things. "I don't have nearly enough make-up for this," she muttered, feeling her head swim again.

Shuffling awkwardly, she almost made it back to the bed.

Almost.

She felt as if the floor was moving erratically like a ship tossed by angry waves. Nausea overcame her and she suppressed the rising bile in her throat with an effort. Well, this is lovely, she thought, making no movements to get up.

"Marguerite?" she heard a voice call out, laced with concern, oddly distorted by her ringing ears. "Marguerite!"

"Marguerite!"

Lots of voices. Some male, some female. It just gets better and better, she thought, refusing to lift up her head from the floor. They all know me but who are they??

She felt herself being scooped up if she was a feather weight and through her hair and her mostly closed lids she could tell that it was the same man who had unceremoniously barged into her room before. He laid her down on the bed- very gently, Marguerite noted disconcerted, before stepping away and out of her limited field of vision.

A new man appeared, this one older with flaming red hair who began to move the hair out of her face and reassess the position of the bandage.

"How is she?" she heard a woman's voice ask.

"Well, her cut seems to be healing well enough but she'll need a few days rest before she can be fully active again."

So the older man was a doctor? She considered him through her lashes.

"Marguerite should enjoy breakfast in bed for a few days," a female voice chimed in- rather snidely, Marguerite thought.

"She- she didn't know me, George." It was the scruffy man talking. He sounded so forlorn. What am I to him? I've never met him before in my life, she thought, why the hell should I feel sorry for not knowing a stranger?

George, the doctor, replied in a murmur, "Two blows to the head, one after the other"

What the hell had happened to her? Her head began to throb more and more painfully as she waited for him to elaborate.

"So what? You're saying she has amnesia?" a different female's voice broke in.

"Head trauma has been known to lead to loss of memory" was all she heard before she passed out.

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"Man, I don't believe this!" Finn said, pacing the living room of the treehouse.

"Where is the implausibility?" Challenger said from his chair, flipping through one of Summerlee's medical journals. "Memory loss has been documented as a symptom"

"Yes, George, I believe we heard this before," sighed Veronica with a smile.

"I mean, like, stuff like this can't happen all the time here, can it?" Finn asked, stopping and putting her hands on her hips. "Crazy old men being attacked, people losing their minds"

"This is a first, on both counts, Finn," said Challenger with all seriousness, still scanning the book.

Roxton said nothing from his seat on the balcony, merely looking out over the jungle below, his face etched with worry.

"Roxton. Earth to Roxton?" a cup materialized in front of his face. He looked up at Finn. "Common, I've been standing here for, like, an hour. How 'bout some tea?"

Looking back at the cup waving under his nose, its contents coming precariously close to flowing out over the sides, he muttered a "no, thank you," before resuming his former position.

She removed the cup but didn't leave. Instead, she yelled across the room, "He doesn't want the tea!"

Soon Veronica and Challenger appeared at his side as well.

"Roxton? Would you ---"

"I don't want any bloody tea!" he bellowed harshly, whirling on them violently.

They recoiled, shocked but did not disperse. "Roxton, she's going to be okay," Veronica said in a soft voice. "All she needs is time."

Finn and Challenger nodded silently in agreement.

"She had no idea she, she practically jumped away from me with disgust " he held his head in his hands.

"I don't think it'll do anybody any good to hear what she called me," Veronica said, trying to keep her voice light. "It's not her well, it is her, just the old her."

"The old her?" Finn asked curiously.

"Another time, Finn," Veronica said in a sharp tone.

"I think it behooves us to find out exactly what happened out there and what that man, Bochra- did you say? has to do with all this," Challenger said firmly.

Roxton lifted his head up and sighed. "Alright. Here's what I know" He told them everything that Marguerite had recounted for him, omitting the birthmark issue. That little bit of information was not exactly presented to him with a lack of discretion and he felt behooved to give her some of her dignity.

"Let me see if I've got this straight," Finn said, scrunching up her face with concentration and counting on her fingers. "Marguerite's a Priestess and a Druid like the Old Guy whose name is Bochra who has a People that's in trouble with some Shadow Men who are responsible for the attacks?"

"Yes."

"I think you've got some more firsts, Professor," she said, flopping down into a chair, her eyes still wide with wonderment.

"I daresay you're right. Are you certain of these facts?" he asked, fiddling with his beard.

"I trust her implicity. And he just confirmed it before" Roxton choked off.

"Okay. Fine. Well, when he wakes up again, I think we better get some answers and fast. If these men are intent upon killing Marguerite, we must be on our guard- they could come back."

Roxton grimly looked out the window, seemingly seeing beyond the lush undergrowth. "We'll be ready," he said darkly. "Let them try. We'll be ready."

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TBC