Disclaimer: See first chapter.
Author's Note: Thank you for reviewing. I'm not exactly sure when the explorers get to the Plateau, but I've centered my fic, as if they arrived in the year 1919.
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The deathly silence that descended on the occupants of the tree house was palpable. No one said a word. Yet they all resisted the urge to so much as shift to look Marguerite – they all wanted to, but they all knew better than to put the heiress on the spot. She tended to be rather volatile when feeling uncomfortable.
"What?" Roxton choked out a few moments later, his eyes wide as he sought Marguerite's gaze again. He didn't find it though, she was looking down at her lap, her hands clenched, her posture stiff.
The girl eyed him strangely before a light of awareness filled her eyes, she turned an amused gaze to her mother, "You and Dad aren't together yet?" she asked, but it was a question that needed no answer.
The shell-shocked expressions on everyone's faces were more than enough.
"What year is this?" She asked the room in general, her eyes twinkling.
"1920," Challenger said softly, as he gave in to the urge and looked between Roxton and Marguerite, the others followed suit, looking at one and then the other as if they'd grown extra limbs.
The amusement in Izzie's eyes fled when she heard Challenger's answer, her gaze swung to her brother. He too looked suddenly tenser.
"1920?" Will questioned.
They all nodded and watched as the girl moved closer to her brother. She looked up at him with semi-frightened eyes.
"This is really bad, Will, nothing's happened yet. Nothing."
"We need to head back out to that are of the jungle." He said after a moment, "Maybe we can find something…" He turned, intent on retrieving his rifle.
"You're my children?" Marguerite asked suddenly, standing and taking a step towards them.
They both swung around to face her, and nodded, the wary expression on their faces still there.
"That isn't possible." Marguerite stated, her voice cold.
Will smirked a little; looking so much like Roxton that Marguerite had to grit her teeth to keep herself from looking at the man.
"We may not always be the brightest people – evidenced by our presence here – but I assure you Ma'am, we know our own mother." He said, a small smile touching his lips.
"And you are it." The girl added, she too was smiling a little.
"No, it isn't possible," She repeated, "… because I don't plan on ever having children. I've survived four marriages without doing so and highly doubt that I fail in the fifth."
The explorers winced at her chilling tone, they knew from experience that Marguerite was at this moment unreachable.
"You can't just keep yourself from having children." Veronica said softly.
"Actually, Veronica, you can." Marguerite answered.
The implication of her statement caused a few gasps to go around the room.
Izzie's eyes widened, "You'd nev-"
"Remember the stories, Izzie," Will interrupted her with an elbow to the side. His eyes were dark and guarded but not filled with shock. He and his mother were very close, and he knew about this stage of her life, had heard it told from his mother's lips. He'd never thought them exaggerated as his sister had; instead, he'd known instinctively that they were understated. That their mother spared them from many of the details, that she made light of many things that simply weren't.
"But…" his sister began.
"That isn't Mum yet…" he whispered.
Izzie shot her brother a glare, before tilting her chin defiantly and transferring the glare to her mother, "Well, you will be our mother. And you will love us. And you will love our father. And you will love every one in this room. And nothing you say right now is going to change that, so don't be nasty about it and just… deal with it."
Will grinned suddenly, "In other words, Mum: behold your future."
Izzie shot him a look, "Idiot." She whispered.
Then looked back at her mother, "Forgive him, he believes himself a writer."
"I am a writer, brat."
"Uncle Ned just doesn't want to hurt your feelings – truth is you're horrid!" She stated, but did so as she moved well beyond his range.
"Don't remind me," the boy growled, "I should be in New York."
"Why would you want to be in New York for a crummy writer's conference when you could be in the past quoting your parents to themselves."
That pulled a grin out of the boy, he looked around at the still shocked expressions of his family, "Deal with it, is one of Mum's pet expressions."
"I am not your Mother!" Marguerite stated heatedly, and whirled around intent on leaving the room.
"What bothers you more Marguerite," Roxton's sardonic voice, tainted with something more, stopped her, "That they are your children or that they are your children with me."
"What is that supposed to mean!" She hissed as she turned to face him where he now stood, "I am not afraid of you Lord Roxton – and indeed it's rather gratifying to know that I catch myself such a wondrous fifth husband." She drawled as she headed towards him, "After all -- you are certainly rich…" She ran a hand across his chest, ignoring the way his dark eyes were boring into her, "And exceptionally well titled, your estates are beyond compare, and you're not so bad to look at…" she smirked at him, her eyes cold, her mask firmly in place, "… why you're the perfect fit for getting me closer to that half dozen mark…"
He grabbed her wrist suddenly from where it had been trailing its way up to his face, and roughly pulled her closer to him, "I will be your last husband, Marguerite."
"I don't take well to threats Roxton." She hissed, trying to pull her arm free.
"That was a promise." He answered her firmly.
Her struggling stopped and they just stared at each other, saying nothing, forgetting everything but each other.
"I think what we need to do is sit down and sort all this out." Challenger said after a moment.
"I agree, we've got a lot things to talk about." Summerlee stated.
"Yeah, like did you say Uncle Ned…"
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Please Reveiw!
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