The Guardians of Treasures Untold

Part One: 8/10.

Author: Nefret24

Disclaimers and notes, see part 1.

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Marguerite awoke in a panic. As her eyes became accustomed to the dimness of the room and the blood rushing through her ears had calmed to a dull roar, she exhaled loudly. Wiping the hair from her face, she disentangled herself from Roxton's embrace and sat up, grateful he was asleep.

She had had a nightmare, quite unlike any she had had before. It wasn't just that she had a nightmare: she'd had them before, she remembered having them. Anxiety dreams, painful memories of Paris, of the war

This was something different altogether. And what made it more unsettling was how real it had seemed less like a dream and more like a vision

She ran her hands over her face and her fingertips came to rest at her temples, gently massaging up and down. She glanced over at her sleeping companion and her stomach flip-flopped disconcertingly.

That development was unsettling too. From the subtle and not so subtle hints dropped by the various inhabitants of the treehouse, she gathered that Roxton must be close to her in some fashion. The real question remained: how close?

In the past twenty-four hours, he had frustrated her to no end and managed to raise her considerable temper more than once. He had provoked her in the most precise ways possible and proceeded to give as good as he got– impervious to scathing remarks or steely glares– a fact which, of course, only enraged her even more.

And yet, almost simultaneously, he had managed to be charming, discrete, gentlemanly, tender and affectionate beyond all measure – almost looking at her as if she was the light of his life! How was that possible?

He knew some of her secrets – that was amazing in and of itself – but that he should still like her (love her?) in spite of them well, if that were true, then he wasn't a man, he was a miracle.

Whatever he did know, he certainly couldn't know everything, and that was a mercy. I doubt if he'd be so quick to share my bed then, she mused ruefully, as a hand reached out to smooth the hair away from his brow. She stopped herself mid-movement and upbraided herself again.

Oh she really was losing it now, wasn't she? Three years of her life gone, murderous invisible men lurking in the jungle, a handsome kind-hearted man in love with her (and she with him??) surely, a small white room loomed in her future.

She decided she needed a glass of water. Slowly climbing out of bed, taking care not to disturb him, she found a silk robe and tying it loosely, padded out into the common room space. Noiselessly she made her way to the kitchen and poured herself a glass. She greedily drank until most was finished and moved back out into the living room. She walked up and down, scanning the walls, lit with moonlight. It was familiar but how?

She started as she saw a figure on the balcony and almost dropped her glass. The figure turned at her gasp.

"It's just me Veronica," the figure clarified, returning to the balcony railing.

Setting her glass down on a table, Marguerite approached the open doorway. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," the jungle girl replied abstractly. Her hands were at her throat, fiddling with a triangular-shaped amulet, a far away expression on her face.

With the quickness that made her prized as both thief and spy, Marguerite deduced what troubled the woman. "Who is that man in the drawings? I assume that they're yours, of course"

Veronica turned a wide-eyed expression to her. "It's One of our former companions Ned. Ned Malone. He was is! He is a journalist- part of your expedition."

"And where is he now?" Marguerite asked hesitantly, unsure about her use of tense.

"He went on a journey. By himself. A couple months ago."

"Was he supposed to have returned by now?"

"Yes. Er, no. I don't know!" Veronica said exasperatedly, her fist hitting the rail. "He didn't say where he was going," she added in a calmer voice.

"Oh," Marguerite said softly. "Do you always keep watch for him?"

"Always." A grim smile played on her lips as her hands returned to her throat.

"And Ned he's your friend?" Marguerite ventured, self-conscious. For some reason, she felt like she was treading on thin ice with her inquiries, that something intense bound the jungle girl to the missing man, something that was apparent or maybe it wasn't apparent to all parties involvedwell, she wasn't sure. Were she and Roxton apparent? (And why the hell should she bother to think of him now?)

"Yes," she said with conviction. And more softly, "He is my best friend."

"Well, you know what they say – 'absence makes the heart grow fonder,' " Marguerite said in a light tone, suddenly desperate for neutral ground.

"Yeah," she replied, unconvinced. After a few intense moments of silence, she seemed to shake whatever black mood washed over her, she turned and addressed Marguerite in a more conversational tone. "You okay? Finn said you had some sort of shock."

"Between invisible men, raptors, and an hour in a frigid lake, I think I was entitled to a bit of a breakdown," Marguerite said with a forced laugh. "I'm alright now- just a bit thirsty," she gestured to the other room, elaborating her presence.

"You're okay, and that's the important thing. Roxton always did take good care of you," Veronica said with a chuckle.

"Always?" The question came out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop it.

Veronica raised an amused eyebrow at Marguerite. "The last three years I've seen you two come inches away from murdering each other with your bare hands. But without fail, you manage to save each other's skins time and time again. I used to think it was so ridiculous that you two could be in love."

"What! Who says we are NOT" she broke off as her voice rose to unacceptable decibels, "in love!" Marguerite finished in a harsh whisper.

Veronica grinned like the Cheshire cat, Marguerite thought, watching the blond smile knowingly back at her. "How do you know? You can't remember the past three years."

"Whatever I remember or don't remember is inconsequential!" she said, crossing her arms defensively. "That me and him? That's, that's just preposterous!"

"You're not making a very good argument. I doubt you've managed to even convince yourself. Otherwise what's Roxton's doing in your bedroom?"

"We --! I --! Nothing but sleeping, thank you very much!" Marguerite replied indignantly, feeling her ears turn puce.

Veronica laughed. "Why is that so horrible, Marguerite? Roxton is a good man-"

"I know, I know," she replied with a sigh. "I can't think clearly anymore. Everything's so jumbled up– I can't tell what's real anymore, what to trust. Who to trust."

"You can trust us, Marguerite. For better or for worse, we're a sort of family now. And you can definitely trust Roxton- he knows you better that any of us."

Marguerite willed tears away. "I know," she managed in a weak voice. "I can't make sense of it, but I know."

"That scares you, doesn't it? Having people care about you that much?" Veronica said softly, her eyes searching Marguerite's face.

"People don't tend to last long around me," she mumbled enigmatically.

"Well, we've brazened it out this far, I think we can handle a few more days!"

They laughed and Veronica impulsively gave her an unexpected, but oddly enough, not unwanted, hug. Marguerite made motions to leave but stopped before going inside to turn back. Veronica had resumed her earlier stance and stood sadly looking out into the jungle.

"About what I said earlier that 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' nonsense it's not true. Mostly absence just breeds regret. What you might have done, or said Look: I know I'm out of my head but I'd wager that he feels just as silly, if not more so, trying to find something he already has."

Now it was Veronica's turn to have her eyes mist over. "You think?"

"I guess, really. For whatever else I've lost, I still have a woman's intuition. He's out there somewhere. He'll come back. He'd be a fool not to. Well. I-- good night."

"Good night, Marguerite."

Odd, this having a sister business, both women thought, both disconcerted with how reassuring the other had been.

Marguerite reclaimed her glass and deposited back into the kitchen. She was on her way back to her room when she stopped and returned to the balcony.

"More advice?" Veronica asked with a smirk before noting Marguerite's serious expression. "What is it?"

"There's a man lying unconscious in the hallway."

For one wild irrational moment, Veronica thought it was Ned, bludgeoned again. Then the realization hit her: "Oh no! The patient!"

Both women rushed back to the man's side and each taking an arm, restored him to his bed.

"What did you think you were doing?" Veronica scolded him, arranging his legs on the bed after he had regained consciousness.

"Marguerite," he said thickly and took hold of the brunette's hand with an iron grip. "I need to speak with you. Time is running out"

"Do you need to call Challenger?" Marguerite asked as Veronica assessed if damages on his bandages.

"No, no harm done. But that was still pretty stupid of you --"

"Marguerite, please," he said forcefully. "I must"

"I'll just be outside if you need me," Veronica said to Marguerite and exited the room.

Marguerite tried to twist her hand free from his but he held on as if she were a lifeline. Sighing in defeat, she pulled a nearby chair closer to his bed and sat down.

"Alright. I'm here. What do you want to talk about? The weather or politics?"

"Your destiny can wait no longer."

"My destiny? I suppose you figured that out with your crystal ball and some tea leaves," she replied ascerbically.

"The ouroborus has been reawakened."

"How can a medallion be ' reawakened' ?"

"It has been removed from its resting place. It has been reunited. It has been used to cross time and space," he explained as if he were speaking to a small child.

"Newsflash, pal. It was destroyed." How the hell did she know that??

"In this space, in this time, perhaps. Come closer, child," he said, raising a hand to her cheek. "Do you remember when you helped us before?"

Almost simultaneously as his fingertips touched her cheek, a series of events flooded her mind: quicksand, yelling at Roxton, those invisible things, Ned?, and emeralds

"I thought I had saved you. I thought you went back to Stonehenge," she said in an awed voice.

"We did, my dear. We did. But the emeralds were taken history changed its course The ouroborus was the key and it was used against us"

"A key?"

"Between worlds. A back door which never should have been opened," he shook his head and grunted at the pain. "A door back to the plateau."

"Wait- 'back to the plateau?' Back from where?"

"Did you honestly think that all these mythical creatures and bizarre phenomena could occur in one place without a logical explanation?"

"I'm a bit fuzzy on my current events but I'll take your word for it," she replied wryly. "So what then? So what if the ouroborus was a key? What does it matter?"

His hand dropped away from her face. "It matters a great deal. We shall be destroyed. You, your friends, the plateau, will be destroyed if you do not help us."

She exhaled loudly. "Let's say, for the sake of argument, that I believe you. What would I have to do?"

"You must go back to my time. You must stop the men from entering the temple"

"Go back to your time? How? In my time machine? You're bloody insane!"

"You must decide, Marguerite. I cannot force you to go. I tell you only what must be done. You must choose to do it. It is a burden no one else can carry, a path no one else can walk. But if it is any consolation, you were born for this battle."

"My destiny?" she asked softly.

He nodded and let loose her hand, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Deep in thought, Marguerite returned to her own room in a haze. Roxton was sitting up in bed and pulled back the covers for her to join him.

"Do you want me to" he began but she placed a finger on his lips and settled back into his arms.

"Not really. Unless you want to"

"Not really," he returned with a smile. "Where'd you go?"

"To get a glass of water. All this excitement makes a girl thirsty."

"Well, I'll do my best to be boring and dull for the rest of the night."

She laughed soundlessly against his chest and felt absurdly happy. Happy and confused to no end. Her destiny? Yeah right. But she would have never imagined that she could have opened her heart to anyone and here she was with Lord John Roxton, repressing the urge to giggle like a giddy schoolgirl.

"Did you mean it back there, when you said you hated me?" he asked softly.

"Yes. At the time. I think I've shown that I could be open to persuasion."

"Hmmm You wouldn't be flattering me because I threatened to get up just now, would you?"

"Me? Do a devious thing like that? Never!"

"Yeah, devious isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" he replied in the same, light mocking tone.

"Oh, shut up and go to sleep," she said, swatting his arm.

"Yes, milady."

Minutes later she felt him drift off and was alone with her thoughts.

Her destiny

TBC.