Chapter Thirteen: Brief Encounters

A/N: Thanks to leener, tethys, E-or, RoxtonsChick, Mid-Nite2787, Hope, and ParsifalinHeels for their reviews. I know I've been terrible about updating but I didn't realize that there were that many people still interested in this fic.

Mainly a filler chapter, I admit, but I'm struggling with the incredibly complicated chapters that must come next. Anyone willing to beta or co-write is more than welcome. I've added a bit more M/R, of a slightly different flavor.


"NO!" Ned screamed, rushing forward at breakneck speed though a small part of him knew that he would never reach her in time. The taxi cab's breaks squealed loudly and Ned prayed—prayed—but the cruel metal slammed into Veronica, toppling the blonde as bright blood bloomed on her white lace dress. "NO!"

"Ned!" A strong, familiar hand was on his shoulder, shaking him urgently. "Wake up!" Blue eyes flew open as Ned lurched forward in bed, gasping.

"Veronica?"

She smiled at him reassuringly and his body lost some of its tension at her very real touch. "I'm right here, Ned," Veronica said softly. "We're in Avalon. Safe."

Avalon.

Safe.

The ideas permeated his tired brain slowly. Veronica was still observing him worriedly.

Veronica.

That one thought shot straight to his head and Ned collapsed back into his pillows with a sigh, blonde head falling back.

"Come on, sleepyhead, get up," Veronica needled, shaking his shoulder gently. "My mom wants to see us soon."

Ned shot up in bed, nearly shoving Veronica off in the process. "Your mother?"

"Hey!" Veronica exclaimed, smothered beneath his sheets. "Watch it!"

"Sorry," Ned said sheepishly, pulling down the covers and shrugging. Suddenly his eyes lit and he turned to face her sharply. "Your mother?"

Veronica smiled happily. "Yes." Her voice was so lively, so full of joy, that it left no space in the room for Ned's earlier anxiety. Ned waited another moment, but Veronica said nothing, simply beaming at him. Silently.

"Well?"

"Well what?" she repeated, brow furrowing slightly in confusion though her smile barely dimmed.

"You met your mother?"

Veronica nodded happily. "And?" Ned prompted again, a slight smile hovering about his lips at her obvious enchantment.

"And she's very eager to meet you, Mr. Malone," another voice answered in amusement.


Abigail nearly burst into laughter as the boy whipped around to face her. "I…Mrs. Layton…it's wonderful to meet you. Veronica's told us so much about you," he finished awkwardly, clearly aggravated by his stammering.

Abigail smiled openly. "The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Malone. Veronica's told me quite a bit about you, too."

"Some of it good, I hope," Malone joked, his face still slightly red.

"All of it good," Abigail replied, her smile widening as she observed the surprise and sudden uncertainty of the young man before her.

Malone swallowed and licked his lips unconsciously while Veronica hid a smile. Abigail greatly resembled the cat who had just caught the canary.

"Err…is there something I can for you, Mrs. Layton?"

Abigail's lips quirked. You could ask my permission to marry my daughter and spend the rest of your life making her happy, she thought. It was best not to frighten off the boy too soon, though. "I thought that you two might prefer having breakfast here," she said, "but I would appreciate it if you meet me in the Council Chamber afterwards. There are some matters concerning the Plateau that we need to discuss."

Veronica's face darkened and she looked up at her mother worriedly. "What issues?"

Abigail shook her head. "Later, darling. I'll go check and see how your friends are doing." Seeing Veronica's worry lines deepen, Abigail hastily reassured her daughter. "They're just fine, Veronica. A little shaken, perhaps, but they're all right. I'll see you two in an hour, then?"

"Of course, Mom," Veronica replied automatically. Abigail nodded, wished them a pleasant meal, and headed out but hesitated at the door. "Mom?"

The elder blonde woman spun around suddenly and crossed the room in a few strides, engulfing Veronica in her arms. "I'm so glad you're finally here," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. "I love you, my girl."

"Love you too, Mom," Veronica choked out after a moment. Abigail hugged her daughter hard—her beloved, beautiful, grown-up little girl—and then released her gently. "I'll see you soon." Then, with a tearful smile, Abigail left the room.

Halfway down the hall, her ears caught Veronica's delighted exclamation: "Crêpes!" Abigail smiled sadly. Her daughter had not eaten her favorite food in eleven years.


Surprisingly, Marguerite woke first. As always, she remained absolutely still until memory returned and she recognized her surroundings.

Avalon.

Safe.

Her…John stirred beside her, and Marguerite forced herself to relax lest she wake him.

John.

Even in his sleep, however, he somehow sensed her unease, and his arms tightened around her.

Marguerite sighed softly. They had slept together like this far too many times for her liking.

No matter how they fell asleep, they always ended up in the same position on mornings like these.

One of his arms was around her shoulders; the other covered the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. Her arms were around his waist, pulling him into her. Her cheek was pressed against his chest; his face was nestled in her hair. They were as close as they could get without actually becoming one, both so terrified of losing the other that they required constant physical reassurance of their presence, at least for now.

This was how they woke together, on the mornings after they had both cheated Death again. They woke slightly differently when it was only Roxton who had beaten Death or only Marguerite who had cheated it. Today, however, they woke together.

"Marguerite?" Roxton croaked hoarsely, his voice still sluggish with sleep.

"Yes?" Ever a man of few words, Roxton simply rolled over and kissed her deeply. Their caresses grew more skillful, more unbearable, and in no time they were both fully awake. As usual, however, a knock on the door precluded further activity. Roxton groaned loudly and Marguerite hastily readjusted her nightgown.

"Coming!" he shouted.

Roxton stumbled out of bed and moved towards the door slowly. He cracked it open and looked out, then stepped back to allow an indecently cheerful Elaine and amused Gavin in.

"Morning, Marguerite," Elaine said brightly, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. "Hello, Roxton."

"Good morning, Elaine," Marguerite replied cordially, squashing her frustration. "What brings you here so early?"

Standing a few feet behind Elaine, Gavin's eyes widened fractionally as he looked at Marguerite. Roxton looked at him sharply, his message a warning. Gavin nodded towards Elaine; Roxton inclined his head. The men were in agreement. Marguerite resisted the urge to roll her eyes at their antics.

"Aunt Abigail asked us to see if you were up yet—she's gone to get Professor Challenger. She'd like us to meet her in the Council Chamber at noon."

Marguerite frowned slightly. "What for?"

Elaine shrugged. "I don't know. It didn't…" The girl bit her lip and then looked up at Marguerite, gray eyes troubled. "…whatever it is, it's not good news." A brief shadow flitted across Marguerite's face and her eyes lost some of their light as she nodded solemnly.

"How do you know?" Roxton asked, brow furrowed slightly. "Did she say anything?"

Elaine shook her head. "No, she didn't. It was just—" Again, the girl broke off to look at Marguerite. I know, Marguerite thought, mildly impressed that Elaine was willing to share the information "There's something wrong," the girl said helplessly. "I don't know what it is, but something bad is coming. Soon."

Roxton looked over at Gavin, eyebrow raised, as Elaine bristled slightly. The young man shrugged. "I've learned to trust her instincts," he said simply, earning a bright smile from his sister. The two looked at each grinned at each other, clearly recalling other times and places.

Marguerite herself could recall a number of times—far too many, actually—when only some odd instinct had saved her life. Here on the Plateau, she had worried for some time that she'd lost the skill—until just a few short months after their arrival, it had returned in full force. She'd never quite been able to explain those odd twinges of hers, but like Gavin, had learned long ago not to question them.

"She's right," Marguerite said shortly, her tone indicating that he should drop the subject now. After all, her odd instincts had saved his life enough times that he could at least accept her word, if not Elaine's.

Roxton sighed. "I guess we'll find out soon enough," he said.

Thank you, Marguerite told him silently.

Roxton nodded in acknowledgement, a mischievous smile upon his lips. He raised an eyebrow suggestively. You'll thank me later?

Marguerite's sultry smile was meant for one man alone. Of course. Her smile widened at his sharp intake of breath.

"We'll meet you there, all right?" Elaine said suddenly, her voice unusually loud.

Marguerite nodded, still staring at Roxton. "Half an hour," he said sharply. She raised an eyebrow at him and his dark eyes narrowed.

"Right," Gavin said briskly. Marguerite's eyes flickered over them as they left the room hurriedly, Gavin smiling slightly, Elaine slightly flushed.

After the door closed behind them, Marguerite looked up at Roxton, a clear challenge in her eyes. "Half an hour?"

"Half an hour," he confirmed, rising to meet her.

They were ten minutes late to the meeting.

Marguerite admitted to no one that it was mainly her fault.


A/N: I know that my style's changed drastically since the start of this fic; I hope that it doesn't interfere with the narrative. Next chapter (ideally) we get to the crux of the problem and more long explanations.

Please review!

Oh, and if anyone would like to beta this fic (well, the upcoming chapters anyway), please let me know. It also gives me a more concrete deadline for writing.