My Lost World Fanfiction Center
After The Games

By Leahna

The long trek home had gone without incident.  Tribune had offered them lodging for the night, but they  had all agreed that the further away from the lizard city the better. Arriving at the tree-house, the tired explorers sat down, had a much needed drink, and traded stories of the past few, very long, days.  The only hold-out was Marguerite. She had been treated like a pariah by all except Roxton,  and she wasn't anxious to unburden. She'd gone out to the balcony to be alone, although still close enough to hear all, while the others told their tales.

"So,"  Veronica asked, "what was Marguerite doing during all this?"

"Oh, doing what she does best," Roxton joked,  "watching out for her own neck."

Usually, she would have responded with something quick and witty, to dull the sting of his words, but tonight she was just too tired.  Everyone was laughing at her expense and they expected her to laugh as well.
 
"It's not as if I could trust any of you to do it,"  she spat in a tone so venomous that she cringed inside, but she could not stop herself.  "You are always too busy saving someone more deserving than me.  Since when is self preservation wrong?  You're just too self-righteous for me."  She turned and stalked from the room, leaving a heavy silence behind her.

Why couldn't they see that everything she'd done was in attempt to save them all?  She certainly hadn't wanted Roxton in the gladiator ring, but it had bought time. It had nearly ripped her heart out to see him fighting for his life.  But then, her fellow explorers doubted that she even had a heart.

Roxton recovered from the verbal attack first.  He slammed his cup on the table and stormed after her.  He barged into her room, and without preamble began to rant. "How dare you speak like that to people who have never been anything but good to you?!"

She didn't move, just stood with her back to him in stony silence.

The tall hunter stalked over and grabbed her arm, turning her to face him. "Don't go silent on me now, Marguerite.  You always have something to say."  He waited, but she said nothing, just stared straight ahead as if seeing right through him.  At last, he demanded,  "You are coming back in there with me right now, and you are going to apologise.  And, being the people they are, they'll forgive you.  They always do."

Her head jerked up, grey eyes flashing as they met his."Forgive what?"  she demanded. "Everything I did was to help you.... all of us get out of there alive.  You are all so quick, eager even, to think the worst of me.  And, all right, sometimes I deserve it, but can't you just once try believing in me?" 
 
She pulled her arm from  his grasp and walked across the room.  "I pushed Centuria as far as I could trying to save you.  Do you know how dangerous it was going to the dungeon?  If she'd found out I .... '  she stopped and shook her head,  "It doesn't matter.  What ever I do, all any of you ever see is 'greedy, self-serving, bitchy Marguerite.' "
"Marguerite,"  he said, beginning to regret his own outburst, "stop."  He took a step toward her.

"Don't," she warned, her voice began to waver, anger giving way to despair. "I am so tired of trying and trying, and still having you think the absolute worst."

She was right.  They did always jump to conclude the worst about her. His mind ran back over the experience at the lizard city.  Looking at it objectively, he knew that she really hadn't had any other choices. She had done her best to save them all.  Why hadn't he seen it before? The answer hit him like a shower of ice cubes:  because he loved her.

Why hadn't he realised it before?  He desired her, that was no secret, but loving her... he only brought death and grief to everyone he loved:  his brother, his father, his mother. He'd been subconsciously pushing her away to protect her.  Maybe it could be different?
"I'm sorry," he began.

"No,"  she interrupted,  the momentary softness gone from her voice,  "I'm sorry.  Sorry that I ever started to trust you."  She pushed past him and grabbed up her rucksack.  "I am such an idiot,"  she continued as she began to fill the pack haphazardly.  "I even thought that I ....that you and I.... it just doesn't matter anymore."

He watched her lithe, angry movements, and suddenly realised that she was packing.
"What are you doing?"  he asked as his voice took on that low, gravely quality that usually melted her very bones.

"What does it look like, John?"  she replied sarcastically,  "I am tired of
only being tolerated."
She grabbed up her hat and defiantly shoved it on.  She looked up into his dark green eyes and said simply, "I'm leaving."

Roxton's hand reached out to cover hers, "You can't leave."

"Actually, Lord Roxton, I can do whatever I like."

He took hold of her hat's brim, and with a flick of his wrist, sent it sailing across the room.  "I don't want you to leave,"  he amended.  Pulling her into his strong arms, he whispered, "Please don't leave,"  then his lips claimed hers.

The heiress pushed away.  Breathlessly, she said, "That's a pretty underhanded way to coerce me to stay."

"Oh,  it's much more than that,"  he promised.  Smiling broadly, he pulled her back into his arms.

Her rucksack hit the floor.  Her arms snaked up and around his neck, "It had better be," she warned as their lips met again.


*****

"It sure got quiet down there," Malone said.  "You don't suppose..."

"Well I am not going down to find out,"  Veronica replied,  "after the way Marguerite hung you out to dry, I am not eager to see her anytime soon."

Challenger spoke up, "I think there may be more to the story than we know."

"I know enough,"  she retorted.

"We should listen to her side of the story,"  the reported

"You're defending her?"  the jungle girl was incredulous.

"Let's say I'm keeping an open mind,"  was Malone's reply.

Veronica shook her head, "I don't know why you even try.  She will never change.  She has probably killed Roxton by now."

He stood and started toward the stairs, "I'd better go check."

The end

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