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Disclaimer: Yada, yada, yada, not mine, never have been, never will be, unless Sir Doyle left them to me in his will hehehehe. Um, non-Doyle characters belong to uh, well, uh...whatever studio has the rights.
Category: Marguerite/Roxton (is there any other??) and, if you look closely, slight hint of Ned/Veronica
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Post-ep "True Spirit" (Season 3)
Author's Notes: I know there are a few other stories out there dealing with this, I've only read one and I know this isn't overly similar (though, with this idea there really are only so many ways to go)... anyway, hope this isn't overly close to what someone else may have written but, if it is, my apologies, no infringement intended..thus the reason I didn't read any of the others yet ;)
Feedback always welcomed at traci_ann@yahoo.com
A young boy of about age twelve stopped and silently watched the young, raven-haired girl crawling around the Standing Stones, remnants of the Druid era. He became entranced with the way she would run her fingers gently along ancient glyphs, almost as if she was reading them through touch.
"What are you looking for?" he finally asked.
The girl, who could not have been more than seven or eight years old, turned suddenly towards him, startled out of her thoughts.
His breath caught at the site of her. The color of her eyes were as if they had been filled with liquid from the sea itself. Tight ringlets hung around her face, though she had pulled her hair back.
She smiled at him. "Reading," she plainly stated.
When she made no sign of wanting him gone, he sat upon a rock near her. "But how can you? No one has understood this language since the Druids disappeared."
Turning her attention back to the writings, she shrugged. "I just can."
He continued to watch quietly while she continued to 'read.' "What do they say?"
"Nothing too helpful." She turned her face towards him once again. "Just some ritual chants and such. No real history."
Just then a distance voice called out and the young girl got up, brushing the dirt from her skirt. "That would be my mum calling."
The boy stood up and reached for her arm, stopping her. "Maybe you could teach me how to read them sometime?"
Her eyes met with his. Her smile shone through them. "Maybe." With that, she was off running down the hill.
Lord John Roxton sat up in his bed with a start. "Marguerite," he whispered.
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"How did I get stuck with this job?" Marguerite Krux mumbled as she continued washing clothes. Her long, dark hair was not cooperating today and that only made her mood worse. She knew she shouldn't be complaining. It was only the day before that their teammate, their friend, Ned Malone had been returned to them through some supernatural force, but she couldn't help it. She was just in a mood. Though, a smile did manage to reach her lips as familiar footsteps approached from behind.
"Come to help, Lord Roxton?" she asked without turning around. Concerned when he didn't reply, she looked at him. "John?"
"It was you," he said.
"Look, whatever I am being accused of this time, I didn't..."
"Avebury." He held his breath waiting.
"Yes," she responded slowly. "I already told you I spent a year or so there as a child. So what?"
"You were going to tell me about the writings on the Standing Stones."
Marguerite placed her hand on his forehead. "Are you feeling alright? Maybe it's..."
But Roxton grabbed her wrist. "When I was twelve, I went out to the stones to think. I saw a girl there one time. She didn't know I had been watching her for awhile until I made my presence known."
When Marguerite made no attempt to speak, he continued. "At first I thought she was looking for something in the dirt but when I asked her, she told me she was reading the writings. She didn't know how she did it, but she understood them."
Marguerite's eyes began to water. "That was you?" she softly asked.
Roxton nodded. "You promised to tell me what they said, but you never came back. I went there every day waiting for you."
"We moved that afternoon. I didn't know we were. I fought and fought with my parents. I had finally found a friend and they were taking me away from you," she whispered. "John..."
He pulled her into a hug. "I never stopped thinking about you. I regretted never getting your name."
Nuzzling his neck, Marguerite added, "And it took us traveling halfway around the world, getting stuck on this plateau, and nearly killing each other at times to find each other again."
John pulled back. He allowed himself to lose himself in her eyes, in her smile, before saying, "And I'm never going to lose you again."
Smiling through her tears, Marguerite stood on her tiptoes and softly pressed her lips to his. "Nor I you."
They held each other beneath the shade of the tree house unaware that their three friends were looking on.
"Wonder how Roxton figured it out," Veronica commented.
But Professor George Challenger smiled. He knew. "I believe, in an indirect way, Ned, you are to thank."
"Me?" Ned looked between the Professor and Veronica, who was as clueless as he was.
"Yes, my boy. Your drawings in the fields caused me to explain to Roxton about a phenomenon back in England. That reminded him of his days spent on his family's estate in Avebury." Then Challenger shrugged. "Maybe Marguerite said something to him that made the pieces come together or maybe he just figured it out himself, but either way..." He looked back down at the two, still locked in an embrace. "Either way, it all worked out." Turning back toward the interior of the tree house, he took an arm of the other two and led them away from the deck. "Let's leave them be for now. Besides, we've got quite a mess to clean up in here."
Ned and Veronica passed a glance to each other behind his back and smiled. Their 'family' was together once again.
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