One fluke and two dummies

Copyright: I don't own the characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and I do not intend to infringe any copyright, trade mark or patent. But the idea for the story was mine... :-)

Authors Note: I know I let you hanging a long, long time – I'm sorry for that. I won't bore you with lame excuses, instead I'll immediately continue the fanfic, so read on! -

Chapter 7 – Fears and Tears

He felt his pulse rush and his breath quickened with every second. He could barely see anything, because the storm clouds had dimmed the pale light of the moon. But he didn't need to see what he felt anyway... The water level had risen up more than half a meter just within the last... maybe ten minutes. And it had not even stopped raining.

Callenger shook his head and sobbed. Was this how his life was meant to end? Drowned and buried in a hole deep in a cavern where nobody would ever be able to find him? He still had so many plans, so many wishes he wanted to live. Should all that be robbed from him?
He kicked the water around him in anger and cried his rage out loud. His fists crashed against the stone walls again and again.

Finally, he stopped. He told himself that he had calmed down again, but deep inside he knew the cruel truth. He was old and he was weak and his powers were leaving him with every minute he was trapped in the icy water in that damned hole, and that was the only reason why he had had to stop.

He realized he was wet all over and that he was shivering, so he clutched his arms around his body, but he felt there was no use in trying to keep his body temperature. He'd fail, no matter what he tried.

Images of his wife and his sons passed his eyes. The first time he had seen her... the birth of his two sons... their smiling faced when he had brought them a present home... them all singing jolly songs under the christmas tree...
His eyes filled with tears, but he didn't even notice. All he felt was an unbearable pain cutting his heart into pieces. He had missed so many things...

All he wanted to do was to give up, to let go. Closing his eyes, he sank down onto his knees until the water reached his throat. He no longer feared to die.

Marguerite had started to cry. Standing there, in the middle of the tree house, with everything in chaos all around her, a strong feeling of helplessness streamed her body. She could feel the baby move, but now this didn't fill her with joy, but with fear. Deep fear.
Through a veil of tears she saw Veronica leaving her work at the tree house and rushing towards her. But how could she help? The men were gone. Roxton was gone – in the moment she needed him most. And her home in this jungle, the tree house, was apparently destroyed.

"Marguerite", Veronica asked and grabbed her arm, "are you sure?"

Marguerite nodded and sobbed. "The amnotic sac has burst. And my back is starting to ace."

"The labor pains..."

Marguerite covered her face with her hands and sobbed. "I don't know what to do! I'm not prepared!"

"Yes, you are." Veronica insisted. "You had about nine months to prepare yourself in your mind for this moment. I agree, the circumstances are certainly not what you have expected them to be, but we will make that!"

With these words, Veronica took a breath and looked around. Marguerite didn't care. She didn't care about anything. It was like she was wrapped in cotton batting, where nothing could reach her.
She felt grabbed and pulled through the room, but she didn't care for where they were going. There was just herself and the baby, who wanted to be born.

When Marguerite's mind cleared after a while she noticed where Veronica had brought her – into her bedroom. She was lying on the bed and a candle, which illuminated the room with its warm light stood on the bed table. A look around showed her, that someone - definitely Veronica - had managed to tighten the wooden fibre mats in front of the windows, so no rain or storm came inside - which did not mean she could not hear the storm rushing over the roof, trying to tear it off. But nevertheless she felt comfortable.

Just in that moment, the door opened with a loud bang – the storm had ripped it from Veronica's hand, who quickly stepped in and brought up all the power she had to close the door again, so strong did the wind push against it.
Marguerite shivered by the cold wind and the candle expired.

"Damn shit", Veronica sweared and though Marguerite could not see her, she heard how her friend finally closed the door. A moment later, she had set the candle on fire again and sat down on the bed next to Marguerite.

"How are you feeling?"

"A bit better, thank you." Marguerite replied, and it was true. She really felt better now she was here in this room, where everything was alright. "How did you manage to tighten the mats?"

Veronica shrugged her shoulders. "Somehow, I don't know. I was quite motivated, 'cause you were lying on the bed, not reacting to anything I said or asked..."

"I'm sorry... It was just like – like the whole world around me broke down." Suddenly Marguerite started to sob again. "I'm so afraid, not only of the birth, but also of John. And Ned" she added. "Are they still out there?"

Veronica nodded and her face reflected the anguish she felt inside. "Yes, they are." She answered. "But we have to concentrate on you, now. The men will be alright although they're not here, but we are and we have to prepare everything for your baby."

Marguerite wanted to veto, but in that moment a pang streamed her back downwarts to her tights and she made a grimace. Noticing Veronica's alarmed glance, she tried to smile.

"It's nothing. Just the labor pains."

"They're still coming in large intervals, aren't they?" Veronica asked and as Marguerite agreed, she went on: "Then we're still at the beginning – it might take hours until the baby's really born."

"Hours?", Marguerite asked – now she was really scared. She imagined herself, lying there on the bed for twelve hours, abandoning herself to her grief...

"Well" Veronica argued, "at least this means: the chance that John will be back in time is a lot bigger!"

But Marguerite did not really listen. All she could think of was one single word. Hours.

"Oh please kill me", she mumbled quitely and closed her eyes.

To be continued... soon, I hope! -
And I'm looking forward to your reviews...