The Guardians of Treasures Untold
Part One: 7/10.
Author: Nefret24
Disclaimers and notes, see part 1.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Her hand hovered over her pistol holster but she knew she would be too late. She never claimed to be a quick draw but even if she managed to whip out the gun with lightning speed, she only had two bullets: she hadn't reloaded the gun.
So she stood, paralyzed by fear, one foot inching backwards away from the slowly advancing beasts. She would have considered screaming if she didn't think it would be pointless, not to mention undignified.
She felt her eyes slowly squint close in anticipation of the onslaught, the beasts shrieking amplified by her enforced blindness.
She imagined the disgusting creatures inches from striking when the shots rang out. Rapid fire, shrieks, and loud pounding footsteps… she experienced one bizarre moment of nostalgia for the war. One of the dinosaurs fell twisted to the ground, howling in death while the other out of fury and defense charged her.
Her numb fingers fumbled on the pistol and she managed one shot that blended with others- the noise of gunfire reverberating in her ears, she almost didn't believe that the shots had come only from behind her, from one man.
The second beast, wounded, deserted its comrade and fled for its life.
He approached her, out of breath from his dash to the rescue, and holstered his pistols with more anger than care. She squared her shoulders as she turned to face him.
His countenance was twisted with ire and when he spoke his voice was indignant and loud.
"What the blazes were you thinking! Dammit, Marguerite, you could have been killed!"
She placed her hands on her hips and looked down her nose at him. I'll be damned if I let him know how frightened I was, she thought. "Why if it isn't the scout master, come to lecture the impudent runaway," she quipped, curling her lip offensively.
His eyes hardened. "If I hadn't come to my senses in time, you would have been dinosaur food!"
"I can handle myself just fine on my own, thank you!"
"Is that why your tracks of the last twenty minutes are in circles? Why you didn't see the raptors until it was too late? Why you didn't shoot them point blank when they advanced?"
"I shot one of them!" she shouted back, her temper slowly building. She had been stupid, so stupid to think that she could handle herself out here without any bearings on where "here" was. She was furious with herself for not thinking her plan through more thoroughly and even more furious that Roxton had called her on it.
"A bit late," he drawled nastily. "What did you think you were doing, running off like that? Did you really think you were going to get anywhere?"
"I don't need to explain myself to you," she replied haughtily.
"That's right, you don't- because you don't need to. You forget, Marguerite, that I know you pretty well. You're looking for the ouroborus, aren't you?"
Marguerite went rigid. How did he know? Did she tell him? Had he found out somehow? Maybe he was blackmailing her… maybe he had found the other half. She didn't know how to respond without giving away that she had remembered part of who she was. So she denied it. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Come off it. I don't know what you remember and what you don't, but you remember that. You've been looking for it. That's why the house was in shambles this morning. What, did you think you buried it outside in one of your little treasure holes?"
She couldn't help it, her mouth opened slightly at his remark. If she hadn't possessed so much self control, it would have dropped wide-open. How, how did he know?
"What a nice little theory you have, Lord Roxton. You could tell tales for a living."
"You won't find it," he said in a low arrogant voice, each consonant clipped with repressed anger. Every negative emotion he had for her was bubbling to the surface and he sailed happily into the fray, baring his teeth at her. "It's gone. Back to Xian with its other half."
Her eyes widened and then her lips hardened into a thin line. "You lie."
"Why don't you check the heel of your boot then? That's where you hid it. Open it up- see if it's there," he taunted her.
Marguerite for her own part refused to give him the satisfaction of looking. She sat down on a rock away from the fallen beast and felt a slight wave of nausea come over her. She remembered… buying the shoe. Its special specifications. Damn. She shot a glance at Roxton out of the corner of her eye. From his behavior up to this point, he had been nothing but gentlemanly, trustworthy, caring. A real boy scout. Something told her that he was speaking the truth, that through whatever chance of events, that he knew about Xian's bargain.
But if it were true…! Everything she had worked so hard to find, lost, gone, again. She had nothing now- no memory of this place and these people with whom she was stranded. And what of that which she actually did remember? Did that happen? Were those true or some nightmare accompaniment of her amnesia and her twisted psyche?
Nothing and no one… she felt ill. Her senses were swimming, her headache returned and all she could smell was dead raptor… She turned away from him and began to vomit into a nearby bush. As the bile rose in her throat, her sole thought was concentrated on emptying herself- nothing left outside, nothing left inside…
As her body shook with retching, she hardly became aware of his presence beside her, of his gentle touch on her back, rubbing up and down with callused fingertips, her hair carefully pulled out of the way and reined in behind her shoulders.
Roxton watched her silently, repenting his outburst. Her world was topsy-turvy; of course she didn't know what she was doing, she didn't know who her friends were. To wake up in a strange place with your only memory being men like Xian… well, he should have known that she would do something foolhardy like try to "escape." Though she had been less than truthful with him, he felt certain that she didn't remember the plateau yet; the shock she experienced when she faced those raptors reminded him of her first encounter with a T-Rex. He had saved her life then, too, even though she snapped and yelled and made life bloody miserable. Now he knew that wasn't the real her- or at least, it wasn't the only side to her- that she had just as much capacity to be caring and compassionate… when she wanted to.
He wished he could just take her into his arms and kiss the top of her hair and tell her it would all turn out fine. Yet he felt like he was starting over, as if he had three years of screaming and heartache in front of him before he could do what he had come to think of as the most natural of movements. He felt at a complete loss at how to comfort her, this remarkable woman who had claimed his heart. So he massaged her back and held her hair and waited for the convulsions to cease.
"We should go back," he said softly, half to himself. "Challenger should take a look at you- see if you're alright."
"I'm fine," she murmured back firmly, trying to regain some semblance of composure before she would dare to turn around and look at him.
"Marguerite…" he sighed and stood up. "Come on, let's go home."
"That place is not my home," she said in the same firm tone.
"Funny- because that's what you've called it these past three years."
"And you and those idiots back there are my family? One mad scientist, two blond and very immodest jungle tarts, one gun-happy aristocrat and an evil stepsister? Some family tree."
"Yes," he said, the edge creeping back into his voice. "We are a family. And like any family, we look out for our own- even when they're too stupid to look out for themselves," he finished pointedly. As he helped her rise from her seat (well, more pulled than supported, truth be told), he noticed she had a funny expression on her face. Was it possible she was remembering something? She had worn the same faraway expression several times that day, each time missing a comeback quip. After walking for a few minutes, he decided to take the plunge; if they were going to argue, they might as well have one of their tried and true shouting matches over this.
"What is it? What do you remember?"
"Pardon?" She blinked twice and then affixed a quizzical expression on her face.
"You're remembering something, aren't you?"
"I'm not--" Seeing his face darken, she sighed and began to trudge forward. Apparently, when he said he knew her well, he wasn't exaggerating. "Not really, anyhow. It's like something is on the tip of my tongue but I just can't find the word…"
Roxton then stumbled forward, cursing loudly. He scrambled to his feet and whirled around. "I thought we had been through this!"
"Been through what?" Marguerite asked, stopping as well.
"You hit me again!" he pointed an accusing finger at her, the other hand holding the back of his head.
"I did no such thing!" she yelled back.
"Marguerite, stop playing these stupid bloody games- I don't have the patience anymore!"
"Not even the saints have enough patience to deal with you!" she countered. "I didn't come anywhere near you!"
"So what knocked me down- the wind perhaps?" he asked furiously.
"Your own bloody arrogan--" she was cut off as something connected with her stomach. Winded but not unconscious, she slowly got to her feet and glared at him.
"Fine kind of gentleman you are, to punch a lady!" She prepared herself to attack but he seemed preoccupied.
"I didn't hit you- something else did," he muttered through clenched teeth.
"What the hell are you talking about? Who's the one playing games now?" she screamed at him as she approached his side.
"Listen- do you hear that?"
She waited a beat before she replied. "I don't hear anything, you daft imbecile--"
"Exactly- absolute silence," he interrupted her, lowering his hand from his neck and flexing his fingers. "It was like that before when--"
He didn't finish. He stumbled backwards as his pistols flew out of their holsters. When his head reeled back, Marguerite was shocked to find that his lip was split and bleeding.
She hadn't moved. She hadn't seen it strike but she had felt it brush past her arm. They weren't alone.
She was about to speak when hands- was it hands? grabbed her waist and arms. She lashed out in all directions, guessing where her opponents stood. "Roxton!"
His eyes grew wide with surprise and fear as he saw her, grappling with unseen opponents that half held her suspended in air. He heard her foot connect with one of them and saw the leaves on the jungle floor jostle as if the thing had fallen to the ground.
"Marguerite!" he called out before he was promptly punched in the face again.
Realizing that she would never get far with these transparent foes, she tried to toss dirt on them to make them visible by kicking up the jungle floor. The dry, coarse soil refused to adhere and the two attackers were slowly getting the upper hand.
Meanwhile, Roxton was warily circling where he suspected his opponent stood. Boxing became very difficult when you can't see your opponent he thought, trying to judge how to fashion an assault against an invisible creature. Wherever had his guns got to?
"A little… oof, help… would be NICE!"
Roxton looked over to see Marguerite being dragged away and made a dash for her. He could sense his opponent on his heels as he ran towards her and began pummeling the air that seemed to support her.
Needless to say, they dropped her on the ground rather unceremoniously. "I didn't mean that kind of help," she said through gritted teeth and began to kick out and presumed legs. Unholstering her pistol and shrugging off one of them that tugged at her arm, she fired across Roxton's shoulder, who promptly flinched.
The invisible man fell to the ground with a dull thud, materialized for a brief moment before liquefying into nothingness.
"Well, that was odd," Marguerite commented blithely, and then frustrated with the one at her side, fired into the air again. The same behavior occurred.
Roxton managed to knock the last remaining one unconscious before he turned to her. "No, that was close," he said, gesturing at his shoulder.
"Oh, don't be such a big baby, that bullet came nowhere close. I happen to be a very good shot," she sniffed.
"Oh, I know. But I've had enough near-misses with you to make me uneasy on principle. Common, let's make tracks before they find friends," he said and tugged her in the opposite direction, refusing to answer her questions as to what he meant by that remark.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Did we lose them?" Marguerite asked breathlessly, some time later.
"Let's hope so," Roxton said, dropping down onto a fallen tree branch.
"Why the long face? Don't you get attacked by invisible men everyday?" she asked before passing a canteen to him.
"That is not an everyday occurrence, no. And they've got my pistols," he added sheepishly, before taking a hearty swig.
"Well, isn't that a shame," she said without sympathy. "Can't we go home now? I'm hungry, I'm tired, my feet hurt and it's getting dark. Haven't we lead them far enough astray?"
Roxton merely sat still, his brow deeply furrowed with thought.
"Roxton? Are you listening to me? Can't we go home so I can make passionate love to you in a bed instead of on a leafy pile of dirt?"
His head jerked up. "What did you say?"
"Men," she muttered, shaking her head and unable to control a small smile at his reaction.
"Can. We. Go. Home. Now?"
"Yes. We ought to be behind the fence before nightfall… I think we might have just wasted the afternoon," he said thoughtfully, then regretted it when he saw her face.
"Wasted the afternoon… You mean that was all for nothing? The circles, the false trails, the pain in my feet… and they still know where we live, don't they? They still know how to get to that treehouse," she fumed, her eyes bright with anger. "Have they been there before?" she asked with false sweetness.
"They might have been," he admitted grudgingly.
"They MIGHT have been! Oh lovely. Can this day get any better!" she asked the trees, stomping away.
"Marguerite."
"What now?" she snapped, whirling her head around.
"Treehouse is that way," he said with a grin, pointing in the opposite direction.
"I hate you."
Roxton spied a tree branch very similar to the one he presumed she had bludgeoned him with earlier in the day and was seized with the impulse to try the remedy on her amnesia. As tempting as it was a quick way to restore Marguerite to her less hostile old self, it was terrifying to think what she could inflict upon him if he hit her and it didn't work.
He let the branch remain where it was and quickly caught up with her. It wasn't until a few minutes later that he realized he didn't hear the birds.
"I think our friends are back," he whispered.
"How can you tell?" she whispered back, her eyes darting from one side of the path to the other.
"It got quiet again. Come on, I have an idea." With that, he began to walk away from the cleared path and Marguerite followed behind. They could hear the rustling of the bushes as the invisible men followed and they picked up the pace.
"Do you remember how to swim?" he asked her, breathless and still running.
"Yes- why?"
"Good," he scooped her up in his arms and ran through several thorny bushes before falling almost face-first in the lake, tossing her further into the water as he skidded into the bank. He swam out to meet her, sputtering and cursing as she came to the surface.
"You bloody bastard," she said, pulling wet hair away from her eyes and mouth.
"Save your thanks for later," he said, pulling the gun from her belt. At her expostulations, he then decided to ask her for the extra ammo instead of getting it himself. "And hope this works."
"Why are we in the lake?" she asked, her teeth beginning to chatter.
"Because if any of them try to get close to us, they'll be seen. They'll have to come into the water- we'd spot them immediately."
"They could attack from the shore- throw spears or knives or--"
"I don't think so. When they attacked us, they didn't have any weapons. Hit me with bare hands."
"But they have your guns."
"I don't know if they know how to use them. If they did, and their main goal was to kill us, why didn't they do that on the road? No, something else is going on here," he said, beginning to feel cold himself. It had gotten darker; soon, Challenger and Veronica would be worried, if they weren't already. Finn, of course, would have wanted to form a search party hours ago just to be able to brandish her crossbow outdoors for a while, he thought fondly.
Marguerite was mentally listing off every horrid thing about her life at present and getting into a more sour disposition with each passing minute. Tired, cold, helpless, memoryless and soaking wet again… where did that "again" come from?
"Roxton, I c-can't stand much m-more of this," she said, clenching her teeth to muffle the clattering of her molars.
"Marguerite not enjoying a nightly swim? I shall have to make a note of it in my journal," he quipped fondly and rubbed her shoulders.
"Water's too cold," she mumbled.
Roxton extended the arm that had been holding the pistol out of the water and fired into the trees. Shrieking birds flew out of its branches and over their heads. "I guess we can try."
They swam to the water's edge and warily stepped out onto the shore. Roxton looked at Marguerite, waterlogged and tired, illuminated by the reflection of moonlight and thought he could die happy if that was the last sight he'd see. Without a word, he nodded and she nodded back. They ran all the way to the treehouse.
When they emerged, dripping, from the elevator, Finn raced into the living room. "What happened to you guys? The professor and Vee went out to look for you!"
"We ran into some very interesting characters who apparently don't like us very much," Roxton said by way of explanation, and helped Marguerite to sit down in a chair.
"Who?"
"Don't know. They're invisible."
"Cool! I mean, man, that's terrible. How did you get away?"
"I'm not sure we did…" he said beginning to head off to his room, when he shot a glance at Marguerite who remained sitting where he had left her.
She was ghostly pale and her teeth were still chattering. Her hands had been clenched into fists while she was running and remained in that position, resting on her thighs.
"Oh God, she's in shock," he said, running to the brunette's side. "Finn, get some blankets- warm up some water on the stove."
He lifted her into his arms and carried her towards her room where he placed her down on the bed. "Second time this week I've had to carry you in here. Don't make a habit of this."
Finn promptly appeared with the blankets. "Stove's on- I think. I'm not sure if me and Vee put it back together properly…" she said, watching as Roxton began to remove Marguerite's wet shirt.
"Keep a lookout on the balcony- make sure you can hear the birds. If it gets real quiet…"
"Those invisible men might come back here? I'm on it," she said resolutely, and rushed off to find her cross-bow.
"Marguerite, talk to me. Common, it's not time to go to sleep yet," he said, vigorously rubbing her arms as he wrapped a warm blanket around her shoulders.
"So… tired."
"That's it…" he said, taking off her boots. "Keep talking."
"Soaking wet … again," she said in an odd voice, her whole body shaking as a chill passed over her.
"Yes. Very wet. And I'm going to make sure you get dry, okay? Just keep talking to me," he pleaded, taking off her belt and beginning to undo her skirt.
"So cold. So… very cold," she whimpered, moving a finger to clutch at the corner of a blanket.
He had managed to remove her wet clothing, save her camisole and underwear, and had wrapped several blankets around her. No hot water, no more blankets and still she shivered; he could feel the tremors pass through her.
"Body heat," he remembered aloud, and stripped off his shirt and shoes. Getting into the bed with her, he wrapped her in a tight embrace. "I'll warm you up."
"Body heat," she repeated, nodding and burying her face into his shoulder.
He held her close and contented himself with the feel of the rise and fall of her chest. After all that had happened today, after all that had happened this week! she was still alive. That was his Marguerite. Whether she remembered the cave or not, whether she gave a damn about him now or ever, that was what mattered. That she survived.
Marguerite was slowly regaining her senses and became immediately hyper-aware of the half-naked man in whose embrace she lay. Roxton again. Yet instead of struggling or shrieking out of indignity, she continued to lay, content, in his arms. There was a familiarity in it, the touch, the smell… had they been lovers? From where she now lay, she would like to think so. Nevertheless, part of her mind refused to accept it: that this man who had risked so much over the course of the day for her safety, could ever love her. (Love? Where did that come from?)
Men were men were men. Lust, she had dealt with extensively. And obligations out of contracts and unwritten moral codes of thieves. And maybe this was simply the boy scout method of relieving shock and had nothing to do with tender feelings of any kind- not the love of a sibling or lover, or whatever it was that she was to him.
"John," she said experimentally, her voice somewhat breathy.
"Hmm?"
"That's your name isn't it?" He nodded. "Just trying it out. John," she said again to his shoulder.
He smiled. "How does it sound?"
"Fitting. You know, you're very warm," she commented, burrowing deeper into covers and closer to him.
"Hmm. All the better for you, my dear."
"Lucky me- to have such a knight in shining armor," she smiled back as that weird familiar sense pricked up again.
His face sobered and he sighed into her hair. "You warm now?"
"Hmmm… very."
"Then I'd better get going- Challenger and Veronica are going to be back pretty soon and they'll need to know about those things out there…" he began to shift away from her.
"Please," she whispered, her lips brushing his neck. "Please don' t go. Not- not yet."
He looked down at her, her eyes wide and her thin fingers splayed out on his chest. She spoke again, "Please."
He didn't particularly feel like getting up anyway and gathered her back in.
TBC…
