SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST
By Susan Griffith
Disclaimers: See Chapter One
Chapter Eleven
"An Excellent Find"
Roxton eased his way up the stairs, Marguerite at his side offering her balance and strength and carrying his crutches. His wounds were healing thanks to Summerlee's precise doctoring and Veronica's miraculous honey. Both had gone a long way in preventing blood loss and infection. The tears in his flesh still hurt like blazes but at least he would keep the leg.
Truth be told he was more concerned over their ammunition or lack of it. Their stores had now been rapidly depleted on just one fruitless hunting trip. It didn't sit well with him. He'd have to spend the next few days reloading what he could, which wasn't much. Eventually, they'd have to return to the far hunting ground to collect the spent shells. But only after the sabertooths had departed or the rest of the game returned to satisfy their hunger, which could take weeks. And with the number of dangers that inundated the plateau that was far too long to be down on important life-saving ammunition.
Marguerite noted the dour expression of the hunter. She knew precisely what the problem was. Poor thing. He really was worried. She grinned like a Cheshire cat as she gently directed him to a chair by the table. The remainder of the expedition and Veronica were all gathered upstairs as well.
Roxton couldn't help but notice her good mood. It made him slightly nervous. Marguerite's knowing smiles rarely meant anything good. "I don't find our present dire situation amusing. Neither should you."
"Oh, I was sure you could handle a few tabby cats," she said in her normal teasing voice.
"London tabby cats don't have six inch canines and come up to my shoulders."
"You do make an irresistible cat toy, that's for sure." She practically purred at him.
He almost smiled. He knew her game. It was one they played often. "I leave that pleasure for you, my dear," he said quietly.
"See that you do." She sat beside him and cast a quick glance at the professor. "We have something to make you happy though, don't we, George?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, we do! Great news." He gestured to a huge pile on the table, draped with a heavy tarp.
The hunter eyed the pile in front of him warily, his fingers playing with the tarp. "Well?" encouraged Roxton, easing his bruised frame into a more comfortable position, namely leaning slightly against the soft cushion of Marguerite. She didn't seem interested in pulling away.
"Go ahead, George. You tell him," insisted Marguerite.
"Oh, no! That pleasure belongs to you, my dear. After all it was your discovery."
Roxton rubbed his face with exasperation. "I hate to interrupt such a fine example of mutual admiration, but I wish one of you would just tell me before I keel over."
Challenger inclined his head toward Marguerite. She nodded, beaming as she leaned close to him.
"I've found a new cache of ammunition."
Roxton's mood improved immediately. Invigorated by the news, he immediately began asking questions. "Where is it? How much? What caliber?"
"Easy, man," Challenger soothed with a low chuckle. "All will be revealed." With a flourish that put to shame any carnival barker back home, he whipped off the tarp and revealed four crates of ammunition.
"Well, what do you think?" Marguerite procured a rather sizable handful of bullets from her prize and held them out to the hunter.
Like a jeweler eyeing the Hope of India, Roxton fingered a large rifle bullet. Marguerite beamed at how eager he was like, a child with a new toy or herself drooling over a cache of gems. It was surprising how delighted she was at the fact that she had made him so happy.
"There are crates of it," she whispered like a seductive imp on his shoulder.
"Are they the right caliber?" Malone asked, leaning over to take a look at the treasure in front of them. Challenger and he had spent the better of four days hauling the crates back to the treehouse until it was all safe within the perimeter of the electric fence.
"These are." Roxton thumbed two of the larger rifle shells. "We're desperately low on these." The rest, on the other hand, though for a different caliber, could be reloaded for some of their other weapons. Over half of it was usable. A bounty that made him practically giddy.
There had been other expeditions to this plateau, which was the only reason they had lasted this long. The leftover ammo from those groups who had died trying to find a way off the plateau had left behind some of their stores. With luck on occasion they would find some ammo; with greater luck it would match their own weapons. But lately their good fortune had been wearing thinner and thinner. And such battles as the ones with the sabertooths wore on their supplies heavily. But it was either that or be a meal for some prehistoric beast. In Roxton's mind the latter was out of the question.
The hunter regarded the heiress. "An excellent find, Marguerite, an excellent find indeed. Well done."
Marguerite beamed. "I have my moments." Then her lashes lowered, as did her smile. "Just think of it as, um, you know, my way of saying...well you know. I was cross with you when you had every right to be cross with me."
Roxton couldn't help but be shocked. She had almost apologized to him. Not directly so, but he could tell what was in her heart. He reached for her hand and held it for a moment. Delight coursed through him when she didn't pull away.
Marguerite could only stare at how her small hand nearly disappeared inside his broad palm. Her throat went dry. When he reluctantly let go, there in her own hand was an emerald, still rough and encased in sulpher deposits, but the size of the emerald was magnificent, far larger than the one she had doubled back for the other week.
Her eyes burned and she lifted them to Roxton, whose own eyes danced with sheer pleasure at seeing how delighted she was at his present. It wasn't the jewel that had affected her emotions, it was the fact that he thought about her even when she wasn't around. He cared. The gesture was everything to Marguerite. For that she treasured him. And that he could elicit that response in her was dangerous, very dangerous indeed.
She coughed and turned back to the stone, covering her emotions as best she could. "I can't tell how pure it is until I clean it up and polish it, but it could be worth something."
"Good. It looked like something you'd want."
Suddenly, she was frightened. Maybe he would take this whole thing the wrong way. Maybe the gift was more than a gift. Maybe accepting it gave him the wrong idea. She set the emerald roughly down on the table, though her hands didn't quite shift very far away from it.
Her voice was very low and she couldn't bring herself to look at him, only the emerald that seemed to dance with the same light as his eyes. "I'm still searching."
Roxton leaned down a little toward her, so that he could see her face. The pain and anxiety he saw there broke his heart. "Well, maybe I'll search a little while with you," he said gently.
Marguerite closed her eyes as pure elation ran through her like one of Challenger's live wires. She bit her lip in order to regain some control of it. John Roxton was like no other man she had ever known. He never seemed to push her. It was always a gentle nudge and nothing more, a gentle request never a demand. Strange how she found she didn't seem to mind which direction she went so long as they both went there together.
Her cool eyes found his and she swallowed against the dryness in her throat as she stared into the green warmth of his. "I'd like that. I'd like that very much."
His hand found hers again and squeezed. Roxton looked up to find the two of them alone.
Oddly enough, the rest of the treehouse inhabitants lately seemed to drift away whenever the two of them made an effort to draw closer to each other. Summerlee and Challenger departed for the lower bowels to the laboratory to examine their new fauna, while Veronica and Malone took the elevator to the jungle floor.
"It's so odd to see them flirt," Malone commented as he stepped out. "He's the only person that Marguerite will even tolerate at times. I get nothing but sarcasm and grief."
Veronica shrugged. "It's all in the delivery, I guess."
Malone watched her as she went about her chores, securing ropes, checking the fence, keeping the main path to the gate clear. Everything seemed so natural to her. It was obvious that she was accustomed to this life and felt no need to seek out anything else. Malone was just beginning to realize that maybe Roxton's approach to Marguerite could be applied to Veronica as well.
He couldn't make Veronica see that London was something she needed to see, so maybe he should help her solve the one mystery that continued to keep her here. Her parents. If he could help her find out what their fate was, perhaps then she would be willing to come with him, even for a little while, back to the wonderful world he knew and loved.
It gave him an incredible feeling of satisfaction. Even if he it took a hundred years, he would be willing to help her look. After all, the time would be spent at her side. He couldn't imagine a better place than that for the time being.
He ran over and assisted her with one of the heavy plant samples she was carrying. Surprised, she almost balked and told him she could handle it, but then she just smiled. Her hand brushed against his.
Then together they worked rearranging their life.
The End
AUTHOR NOTES: The first few chapters involving Roxton, Malone and Veronica were actually the beginning of the official Lost World novels that hubby and I had started writing for the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Estate and New Line before the contract fell through. I thought them too good to just throw away without ever seeing the light of day, so I placed them in the middle of a fanfic. I hope they still hold up. It's actually just a small slice of what was going to be in the novel, and I hope someday to bring you the rest of it (which at this stage is still only a synopsis) in another story.
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