Disclaimer: I don't own anything of the Lost World, but boy oh boy, do I wish I did! This story is purely for entertainment, absolutely no profit, except for the enjoyment of others, is being made.

Rating: PG

Authors note: After being inspired by Lady P's wonderful video The Rose, I whipped out this little vignette, so hopefully it's not too bad! It is, as most of my things are, a M/R piece. It's set just a bit before "Trapped," so Marguerite's feelings are still hidden. And I apologize in advance for shamelessly using the lyrics to The Rose in this piece in a strange way.

Roxton heard the laughter and soft retorts echoing in the main room as he entered from the elevator. Wondering what was so amusing to his fellow explorers, he quickly set down his pack, hung his rifle and hat, and made his way into the room.

Veronica, Finn, Challenger, and Marguerite were seated around the table, laughing at what had apparently been Challenger's remark, because his face held a rather sour expression at the moment. He waved his arms and exclaimed, "I didn't mean it that way, Veronica! I just meant that-" He broke off in disgust as a fresh peal of laughter burst forth from the women, and turned and noticed Roxton standing across the room. He gestured for the man to come forward.

"What's so amusing?" Roxton asked.

Challenger sighed. "We were just discussing what kind of flowers we reminded each other of. So far these three are in agreement that I remind them of a dandelion, always willing to dispense its information to the nearest wind." He threw a look at the women; apparently their impression was not that favorable to him. They stifled giggles.

"We decided that Veronica is most like sunflower, because of her hair and because sunflowers are big, strong flowers and can provide food, the seeds, like Veronica is strong and provides food for us." Finn jumped in, eager to add to the conversation. She smiled back at Veronica. Her adoration of her new "big sister" was obvious to the group.

Veronica grinned at Challenger as she picked up the conversation. "And then Challenger said that Finn was most like a daisy, because it is a simple little flower. And then Finn argued that she wasn't simple, and Challenger said she was complexingly simple. We all started laughing then."

Challenger rolled his eyes and said, "What I meant was that Finn does have a lot of complexity to her, but her motivations and actions are very simple and straightforward. That's all!" The women by then were under control and merely smiled at him. Challenger turned to look Marguerite over, and she returned his gaze with a lifted eyebrow. He looked at Roxton.

"So, Roxton, what flower would you say Marguerite is most like?"

Roxton suddenly felt every eye on him, especially Marguerite's. He gulped. After the events of a few days ago, when his feelings had been rebuffed by the woman he loved, he had been very careful with his words around her. However, as he felt the pressure mount, he blurted out, "I don't think shes a flower, but still just a seed." Immediately hearing the words echo in his mind, he realized that he had said it wrong. That impression was immediately reinforced by Marguerite's gasp, and the stricken look on her lovely face. She glared at him for a moment, her eyes becoming shiny with angry tears, then she whirled and stomped out of the main room and into her own bedroom.

In the silence that followed, Veronica and Finn exchanged glances with Challenger, then all three turned to look at Roxton. Challenger seemed most irate with him. Roxton had noticed that he and Marguerite had become very close, and Challenger was gazing at him the way a father would if someone had insulted his daughter.

Roxton sighed. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I meant that Marguerite is-well, she's still very wary, you know-its just that when I think about her I-it wasn't supposed to be an insult, I would never-oh, bloody hell! I'll just explain it to her myself." With that, Roxton stepped in the direction of Marguerite's room. The other three silently wished him luck. Even Finn, with as little experience as she had with the true extent of Marguerites temper, wouldn't have traded places with him for anything.

Roxton approached the entrance to Marguerite's room with no small amount of trepidation. He knew how angry she could get, and especially now that he had told her how he really felt about her, she was even more sensitive to his comments. He hoped that she would allow him to explain what he had meant, without throwing anything at him first.

"Marguerite?" he called. It was silent. He took that as a sign of acquiescence, and stepped into her room. She was standing by her dressing table, seemingly idly running one of her colorful scarves through her hands, but Roxton could see the tension in the line of her back and she way she tightly clenched the scarf. He took a step closer, and her hands stilled, then she placed the scarf on the table.

"Yes, Lord Roxton?" she said, placing a chillingly sarcastic emphasis on the title. He tightened his jaw. His title hadn't been brought up in quite a while, and he knew she was doing it to tell him that she saw a gulf between their respective social standings. He hated it when that happened. He wanted her to know that being a Lord only meant that he owned a lot of land, not that he thought she was any less of a person than he was.

"Would you please look at me?" he countered. She refused, resolutely facing the wall, and he walked over and took her shoulders in his hands, turning her to face him. Her eyes darted everywhere, avoiding his face, and she crossed her arms protectively. He dropped his arms and started to speak.

"Marguerite, I need to explain what I meant. I don't know what you thought I meant, but it wasn't anything bad, I promise. I-"

"A seed?" she interrupted, her eyes finally fixing on his. "A seed? Not even good enough to be a flower yet? I was under the mistaken impression that you thought better of me."

"I do think better of you, much better. I-" He bit off his comment as her eyes widened in the beginnings of panic. Though he wanted to tell her over and over that he loved her, until she believed it, he knew she still wasn't quite ready to hear it again. He took a deep breath and continued.

"Please listen to me, Marguerite. Listen until I'm done explaining, please. It's not that I don't think you're good enough to be thought of as a flower, not that you aren't at the level of Veronica or Finn. In fact, I think you will someday be like a rose, the most beautiful flower of them all. Of course, roses do have thorns."

He placed his hand over her mouth as the surprise he had generated by saying she would be a rose descended into anger at the thorn comment, and she started to protest. He waited until she had calmed down, and continued with his explanation.

"Thorns are to protect, Marguerite, so that only someone very determined can get to the flower. Someone who is willing to brave the danger and risk being scratched, but someone who knows the rewards of patience and perseverance. And someone who wants to enjoy the rare beauty of a perfect rose."

Roxton smiled a little as her face softened at his words. He would never want her to think that he thought badly of her, not after all that they had been through.

"Now, the reason I said you were still a seed, Marguerite, is because I don't think youre quite ready to let anyone see the beautiful flower that you are, just yet. I think you're still a little afraid that your petals will be bruised and trampled by someone who doesn't care. I know it's hard to believe that there are people out there who won't try and hurt you, who will appreciate the beauty you can bring to the world. But there are, Marguerite, there are. All of us here, all of us can see the potential in you, and all of us are just waiting until you're ready to bloom."

He took another step until he was right in front of her, and cupped her face in his hands. His thumb gently wiped away the one tear that had escaped, and he smiled down at her. Her shimmering gray-green eyes stared into his, soft hope alive on her delicate features. His voice dropped a little in volume and tone as he spoke again.

"And I want you to remember, Marguerite, that even though you sometimes see the world as a cold and bitter place, where you're buried underneath the snow of cruelty from others, there's still spring. And that seed buried there will, with the warmth of the sun, with the love of your friends, bloom. If you just trust in our caring, Marguerite, in all of our love, youll see that the seed becomes the rose. And I, for one, can't wait for the spring."

She let out a shaky breath, and he gently drew her to him and dropped a light kiss on her trembling mouth. She pressed closer to him, and he tucked her head under his chin and wrapped his arms around her, just holding her and listening to her breathe. She felt so good in his arms, so warm and alive, and he felt his love for her tug at his heart.

Yes, he couldn't wait for the spring, to see the rose bloom.