It wasn't the first time he had seen her, and it wouldn't be the last. She was in his blood. She was his other half. She was his soul mate. It had been that way seven hundred years before, and it would be that way for the rest of eternity. Fate, in all its cruelty, had brought them together only to tear them apart, but soon she would remember their former life as he had, and soon they could be together.
He watched fondly as she pushed through the dense underbrush of the jungle, panting and cursing at each and every turn. She had never been a very patient woman, and in a way, it was good to know that even her faults had been preserved within that soul of hers to be reincarnated when the time was right. And that time was now. Soon, he would reveal himself and all would fall into place. Then, they would fulfill their purpose...together.
"The time has come, Marguerite." he promised in a low whisper. "Now we can be together again."
"Of course, Roxton. Go ahead and barter off my necklace to appease those jungle men. It’s not like I like jewels. It’s not like that necklace meant anything to me. Just go ahead and give it away without so much as a thought to how I might feel." Marguerite fumed aloud to herself, not caring what she was trampling in her mad rampage through the jungle. "No one else does. Why should you be any different?"
"Marguerite, wait!" she could hear Roxton calling from behind her.
Anger festering inside of her, Marguerite was turning to head in the other direction when her sleeve caught on a thorn-covered tree branch. "Of course!" Marguerite cried, her irritation mounting by the moment. She looked up to the sky, addressing anyone who might be willing to hear her. "Like I need this right now!"
Roxton spotted her and jogged over, out of breath and flushed as he approached her. "Marguerite, what do you think you're doing? You know how dangerous it is to wander through the jungle alone. Especially so close to sunset."
"Funny," Marguerite replied smartly, "I didn't think you cared what happened to me."
Roxton furrowed his brow. "What makes you say a stupid thing like that?"
Marguerite rolled her eyes. The man was utterly hopeless. He didn't even understand what he had done wrong. "You gave away my necklace to those barbarians, Roxton. My very expensive necklace."
It was Roxton’s turn to roll his eyes. He should have known that this dramatic display was over something as trivial as that. "Marguerite, I did not give your necklace away. Those men were going to kill us. I had to do something to change their minds."
Marguerite shook her head. "There are three things that are very sacred to women, John: diamonds, chocolate, and shoes. Out here on the plateau, I don't get chocolate and my shoes are ruined beyond repair, but at least I still had my diamonds. Emphasis on the 'had' since you were feeling so darn charitable today."
Roxton shook his head. "Marguerite, you still have plenty of diamonds. And are some stupid little stones worth more than your life?"
Marguerite’s eyes widened with outrage. "Stupid? Little? Did you see those diamonds, Roxton? They were huge and incredibly valuable."
"Yes, well, the jungle men seemed to think so, too." Roxton returned. "Hence why we're still alive."
Marguerite let out a breath of disgust. "You just don't get it, Roxton." Hastily, without thinking, she reached up to grab the branch that held her to the tree.
The thorns pierced her flesh and sent rivers of blood streaming down her palm. Marguerite cried out in pain and instantly released the small twig. Roxton stared in horror at the dark contrast between the white of her skin and the dark crimson of the blood. "Marguerite, are you all right?" he inquired, his face concerned.
If Marguerite had noticed Roxton’s obvious worry, she would have been touched, but as it was, she was far too angry with herself to notice. "Perfect. It certainly seems that Providence has it in for me today, doesn't it?"
Roxton took her by the arm and gently turned her in the opposite direction. "Come on, Marguerite. Let’s get you back to the tree house so someone can patch that up for you."
Marguerite laughed bitterly. "Yes, well...with my luck, the thorns are poisoned and I'll end up dying some horribly wretched death during the night."
Roxton shook his head in wonder. "You certainly do have a unique sense of whimsy, Miss Krux..."
Summerlee gingerly patched up the wound on Marguerite’s hand. "There you are, my dear." he said, smiling sweetly at her. "Good as new."
"Thank you, Summerlee." Marguerite returned, favoring the older man with a smile. "It’s nice to know that someone cares." She shot a scowl in Roxton’s direction. He rolled his eyes and shook his head in response.
Malone and Veronica emerged from the elevator. "We gathered those roots you needed, Challenger." Malone informed the older man, then spotted the bandages on Marguerite’s hand. "What happened to you?"
"Marguerite had a little run in with a branch." Roxton explained, giving an amused grin.
Marguerite tossed her head. "A thorn covered branch, thank you very much. And it was quite severe. I was bleeding enough to feed a whole horde of mosquitoes."
"Drama queen." Roxton accused. "It was a little scratch." He declined to mention how worried he had been about the ‘little scratch’, nor did he tell of how he had brought the branch along to have Challenger examine the thorns for any sign of poison.
"On a happier note, we ran into Assai." Veronica informed them with a smile gracing her usually solemn face. "She’s going to have a baby."
"How wonderful!" Summerlee exclaimed. "There’s nothing like the joy of a little child to bring happiness to a home."
"Not to mention diapers and screaming." Marguerite returned wryly.
"Why, Marguerite," Roxton drawled, "you make it sound as though you don't like children."
"I like them well enough." Marguerite replied evenly. "As long as they leave me alone."
Malone shook his head, face filled with mirth. "Spoken like a true future mother. I predict that you'll have a whole bundle of children."
Marguerite couldn‘t help but smile in return. "That would be a pleasant enough irony, wouldn't it? Yes, well, as funny as that would be, I highly doubt it."
"You never know, Marguerite." Veronica spoke up. "Sometimes, fate can surprise you."
The elevator door opened suddenly, and a tall, dark-haired man stepped into the tree house. He smiled at all of them, and it seemed to most of them that there was something vaguely familiar about him, though none for the life of them could remember who he was.
Roxton reached for his holster and eyed the stranger warily. "Can we help you?"
The man grinned in return. "Roxton, good to see you." His eyes landed upon Marguerite, and she felt a chill run through her spine. "Marguerite." And before anyone could think to say or do anything, he crossed the room in one swift motion and kissed her passionately on the lips.
For a moment, the others looked on in stunned silence, and then Roxton took action. He angrily grabbed the stranger’s arm and pushed him backward. "Hey!" he cried, for lack of anything better to say, and squarely placed himself between the dark stranger and Marguerite.
To his surprise, the stranger merely laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "John Roxton--still serving as Marguerite’s protector, I see." Roxton frowned, puzzled. Strange--had he heard that laugh somewhere before?
Veronica placed herself beside Roxton, preparing herself for combat. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice guarded.
The man let out a whoop of joy and pulled Veronica into his embrace, then quickly swung her around. The blonde woman was visibly stunned when he set her down again. "Veronica, is that really you? I should have known that you‘d still be the warrior. It was always in your blood." He gave her a quick look-over. "And what is this ridiculous costume that they have you wearing? Never mind-- I'll hear the whole story later, I'm sure." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Gosh, I've missed you."
It was Malone’s turn to intervene. "Strange how you seem to remember everyone but no one can remember you."
The stranger turned and gave him a puzzled look. "Well, I remember almost everyone...but not you. You must be new to the group."
Malone furrowed his brow. "New to the group? What are you talking about? I've been with these people for two years. You just got here."
The stranger gave him a placating smile. "All in due time, my friend. Just give me a moment to take this all in. I can't believe that we're all together again." He looked around the room. "Roxton, Challenger, Arthur, Veronica..." he swallowed heavily, "...my Marguerite."
Roxton was about to say something to that, but Challenger placed a warning hand on his arm and inquired, "If you don't mind my asking, who are you? And what do you mean by all of us being together again when none of us can seem to remember who you are?"
The stranger smiled. "Well, it’s a bit confusing and overwhelming, but I think that you'll all come to remember the truth, as I have. My name is Warren Price. And there is a reason that all of you were kept together. You see, Marguerite is the Chosen One, the special spirit, and we have all been selected as her guardians in order to help her fulfill her destiny."
Marguerite tensed and exchanged a glance with Roxton. He, too, seemed to remember how she had been called the Chosen One before. She wondered if it was coincidence or if her destiny was finally catching up to her.
"Seven hundred years ago, Marguerite was the queen of a kingdom called Spheria, and I was her husband." Warren continued, and Marguerite could not help but remember how familiar it had felt when he had kissed her in the tree house. "Arthur was her father, Challenger was her advisor, Roxton was her chief protector, and Veronica was one of her guards and was also Roxton’s wife." Veronica and Roxton both exchanged a puzzled glance, and Malone tensed at the statement. "We were the five closest people to Marguerite, and so she selected us as her guardians.
"It was Marguerite’s destiny and calling as the Chosen One to bring peace and prosperity to Spheria and to be the greatest ruler that ever lived. For a while, it seemed as though she would accomplish just that." Warren was silent for a moment. "But she was betrayed. By our son, Phillip."
"That would explain Marguerite’s wariness toward children." Malone muttered to Veronica.
"Though Marguerite did everything that she could to prevent it, the kingdom was eventually taken over. As a last hope for Spheria, our spirits were preserved until a later day to return to Spheria and to restore it to all of its glory. Seven hundred years have passed, and finally, fate has seen fit to bring us all together again." Warren said, eyes shining with fire. "For some reason, I was separated from the rest of you, but it is no coincidence that the five of you are all here together. It is our destiny to return and to rule Spheria as it once was."
Everyone was silent, overwhelmed by this story and all that it implied. Challenger was the first to speak. "As a man of science, I find this whole thing very difficult to believe. If there were some way that you could prove to us..."
Warren smiled. "You always were the logical thinker, Challenger. But I'm afraid that there’s no real physical proof that I can give. Your souls are the same, but you've lived different lives, had different experiences. The best I can hope to do is to try to get you to remember."
"This whole thing sounds a little absurd, you have to admit." Roxton spoke up. "Why are you the only one that can remember? And why is Malone with us if it was only supposed to be the six of us that were working together on this?"
"I don't know." Warren replied simply. "At first, I didn't remember, either. I lived a normal life, just as you do. But then memories began to come back. They came in bits and pieces, in dreams at first, but then I began to remember large chunks of the life that I lived before. I thought that I was imagining the whole thing until I saw an article in the newspaper with four of the five people that I had been dreaming about-- Roxton, Marguerite, Arthur, and Challenger-- saying that you were coming to this plateau on some sort of adventure. So I came after you, trying to find you. I've been searching for quite some time." He ran his gaze over all of them once more, cherishing the picture they made as though he was still in disbelief that he had found them. "Now that I've returned, everything should fall into place. The rest of you will soon remember...and then our destinies can be fulfilled."
It was night-time. A cool breeze was rustling through the tree house, carrying with it the familiar smells of the jungle. It was darker than most nights; the moon was carefully tucked away behind some heavy clouds, and the tree house produced the only light that could be seen for miles.
Roxton leaned forward on his elbows and looked grimly at his companions. "I don't like him." he said finally. "There’s something that I just don't trust about the man."
Warren had retired to bed for the night, leaving the other adventurers to discuss the heavy load that he had dropped on them earlier that afternoon.
"His story does seem a little fantastic." Challenger agreed. "To think that we could really be the reincarnated spirits of a royal court, preserved to bring about justice after all these years...it’s a little overwhelming."
"Why would anyone make up a story like that, though?" Summerlee wondered. "It is rather strange, I agree, but he seemed so certain when he told it. Perhaps a little too certain to have just made it all up."
"Weirder things have happened, Summerlee." Roxton pointed out. "The whole thing just doesn't ring true. Why is he the only one that remembers about all of this? And besides, if Veronica and I were really married, wouldn't we remember at least something about that? Some feeling, some trace of our former life? And Marguerite certainly didn't recognize Warren, though he was supposedly the man that she was married to--"
Marguerite looked up, embarrassed. "Actually, when he kissed me it felt...familiar. Almost as if it had happened before." She was pained to say it and knew that Roxton was probably pained to hear it, but she couldn't lie. What if Warren was telling the truth and it really was her destiny to be here with all of these people? What did that mean?
She looked up to find Roxton studying her intently and quickly looked away. What does it matter to you, anyway? she thought, but knew at the same time that it did matter and that she was afraid to think of what Roxton was feeling right now.
"Well, at least all of you were mentioned, whether it was a story or not." Malone spoke up. "I'm just the wild card out, I suppose."
Marguerite suspected that the real reason he was upset was because Warren had said that Veronica and Roxton were married before, but she kindly neglected to point that out. It was late and she was tired and she didn't really want to own up to the fact that she had been jealous when Warren said it, too.
"Well, we might as well find out for ourselves if this is true, or not." Marguerite asserted. "If it’s all the rantings of a crazed lunatic, then at least it was an adventure. And if we really are some chosen group of people..."
But she didn't know what would happen then. Would she become queen of Spheria? Would she and Warren be married? Would she lose Roxton? It was something she didn't really want to think about at the moment...or ever, if it could be helped.
"I suggest that we get some sleep." Summerlee said softly. "We have a long day ahead of us."
Marguerite stopped in her doorway, surprised to see Warren standing in her bedroom. His back was turned to her, and she couldn't help but reflect on what an attractive man he was. He was tall and broad shouldered, with short dark hair and reflective gray eyes. He wasn't nearly so rugged as Roxton, but there was something about him...
She cleared her throat and stepped into the room. "Can I help you with something?"
Warren turned, startled at first, and then gave her a guilty smile. "Actually, I was hoping to speak with you. I figured that if anyone would remember me, it would be you."
He took a step closer to her, and unexpectedly, her heart began to race. Who was this man that could stir such emotions in her after she had only just met him? She looked at him doubtfully, not certain of how she felt.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Price." Marguerite said coolly. "But I don't remember you. Not as well as you remember me, anyhow."
Warren grinned at this. "That’s my girl. Always so cautious, always so proud. I've missed you, Marguerite." He swallowed at the emotions that surfaced within him.
Marguerite was unexpectedly touched by this. She searched for something to change the subject. "So, how did you remember us, anyway?"
"You were the first thing I remembered." Warren informed her, advancing closer to her. She didn't move back. "I had these dreams...and your face haunted me. It was the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen." He reached up and gingerly stroked her cheek with one hand. "How I've longed to touch that sweet face once more..."
Roxton cleared his throat from the doorway. Marguerite turned and quickly stepped away from her visitor, a gesture that was not lost on Warren. "Roxton," she said guiltily, wondering how long he had been there, "what are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same question." Roxton replied, coldly glaring at Warren. "It’s getting late, don't you think?"
Warren reluctantly began to move away from Marguerite. "Yes, of course. Good night Roxton... Marguerite."
Roxton waited until Warren had left the room and then gave Marguerite a long, searching look before he turned and retreated to his own quarters.
Breakfast was unusually tense the following morning. Warren was among them now, and with him he had brought awkwardness and self-consciousness to the small band of explorers. The day before, Roxton would have thought nothing of discussing hunting tactics with Veronica or of teasing Marguerite about her cooking. But knowing that Veronica had once been his wife made addressing her suddenly very embarrassing. Not to mention speaking to Marguerite. Warren had been watching him carefully since the night before, and Roxton could very easily guess why.
Marguerite was one of the only ones still attempting to make conversation, but Roxton could tell that it was a cover for the anxiety that she was feeling. He could sympathize with her. It made him sick to his stomach every time Warren looked at her-- which was often enough--and it made him even sicker to think of the way that Warren’s hand had caressed Marguerite’s face the night before. Had he done that when they were married? Had they kissed? Had they made love?
Of course, Roxton knew they had, but the thought still disturbed him more than he cared to admit. There was something between him and Marguerite, he knew, but did that matter now? Warren, her supposed husband, had returned. They were destined to be together-- weren't they? Discouraged by the thought, Roxton returned his attention once more to the conversation.
Summerlee was currently debating Challenger, a rather familiar sight. "I must contest, George, that dancing is the most romantic and exhilarating form of courting."
Warren turned to Marguerite and with shining eyes inquired, "Do you dance, Marguerite?" Seeing the surprised look on her face, he added, "You were an extraordinary dancer in the last life. I was just wondering if that was another lovely attribute that you had retained."
Roxton rolled his eyes.
"I have been known to dance now and then," Marguerite replied coyly, "when the opportunity presents itself." She wondered if Roxton remembered that summer night when they had been all alone and the phonograph had been obliging enough to play a Schumann piece for them to enjoy...
"Well," Warren said smoothly, "I'll have to see to it that the opportunity presents itself rather soon."
Roxton laughed uneasily for lack of anything better to do. "I don't know about that, Warren. Marguerite isn't as light on her feet as she claims to be."
Warren narrowed his eyes and studied Roxton suspiciously. "Have the two of you danced before?"
Marguerite was far too outraged by Roxton’s comment to notice what Warren was implying. "Trodged about the room is more like it. Lord Roxton has two left feet."
"Yes, well-- you didn't seem to mind at the time." Roxton reminded her. "In fact, if I remember correctly, you complimented me on my grace and skill."
"Two words you've never heard before, I'm sure." Marguerite spat contemptuously. "Besides, we're all entitled to our little white lies every now and then, aren't we--" she suddenly felt very dizzy, "--John."
Suddenly, she was in what appeared to be a ballroom of some sort of Medieval castle. The room was crowded with hordes of people wearing all sorts of lavish costumes, and sweet, beautiful music filtered through the night.
In the middle of the room, Marguerite could see herself dancing with Warren. A breathtakingly stunning crown was upon her head, and the rest of the room seemed lost to the two of them. Even from the distance, she could see the deep love reflecting in his eyes...
And then she was back in the tree house. She gasped and looked around, stunned by what she had seen.
Roxton and Warren were both at her side, steadying her. "Marguerite," Roxton inquired, voice concerned, "are you all right?"
Marguerite blinked and shook her head, trying to regain a sense of her bearings. "I'm fine, I just..." She looked over at Warren in wonder. "I remember."
Marguerite stared at the water of the lake, transfixed by its cool, clear water. Her mind was in tumult. On one hand, it was thrilling to finally know of her destiny, and yet at the same time she was painfully aware that Roxton was not part of that destiny. At least, not the part that she had always imagined he would be.
"Marguerite." came a soft voice from behind her. She turned to see Warren standing there, holding a handpicked bouquet. The sight unexpectedly touched her heart. "Do you mind if I join you?"
"Be my guest." Marguerite said, motioning for him to sit beside her. He did so, and she was suddenly very aware of his eyes upon her. "Don't do that."
Warren frowned a bit. "Do what?"
"Don't look at me like that." Marguerite said softly. "It makes me nervous."
Warren smiled. "How can I help but stare at such beauty?"
Marguerite laughed. "Well, it’s been a good while since anyone’s fed me a line like that."
Warren laughed with her, and then was silent for a long moment. "It isn't, you know." he said after a moment. Seeing the confused look on her face, he added, "A line, I mean. It isn't a line. You're the most exquisite thing I've ever seen."
And before Marguerite could even think to react, he was kissing her, softly at first, and then more intensely. Marguerite felt her mind spinning out of control. Her heart was beating to the point of nearly bursting out of her chest.
She pulled back abruptly and turned her face away. "Warren, I can't."
Warren took a moment to catch his breath. He was trembling, obviously as affected by the intensity of the kiss as she had been. He stared at her for a long moment. "Is it because of Roxton?"
Marguerite’s eyes widened incredulously. "What? What are you talking about?"
But she couldn't fool him. He had known her too long, had loved her too long. "Marguerite, you have to know that your feelings for Roxton are only temporary. They're something created by this life to sustain you until I found you again."
Marguerite shook her head. "I don't think it’s that simple, Warren."
Warren was silent for a long moment. "Does he love you? Can he possibly love you as I do?"
Marguerite frowned, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. She wasn't really sure of how Roxton felt about her. She knew that she loved him, though she had fought the sentiment long enough, but she wasn't sure of how he felt about her. His love had been every day implied, but never spoken. As far as she knew, she was just some temporary fling for him. Perhaps Warren was right. Maybe Roxton’s feelings for her were only created to keep her sustained until she found Warren again. And now that she had found Warren, maybe Roxton would realize that he was truly meant to be with Veronica.
But she couldn't believe that. It was too painful to even comprehend. She had to believe that he loved her, had to believe that this was more than just some foolish whimsy. Still, she couldn't be certain. Roxton and Veronica had grown rather close as of late...
Warren saw the confusion in her eyes. "Marguerite, come with me to Spheria. There, at our home, you'll remember everything-- not just bits and pieces. We'll be able to start our new life together and fulfill our destinies."
"I don't know." Marguerite said softly. "I'm going to have to think about it, Warren."
Warren nodded, accepting this. "Take all the time you need, my love." He gently took her palm in his own and placed it to his lips. "I'll wait for you forever, if I have to."
Marguerite nodded numbly and rose to her feet, her mind in more chaos than it had been when she had first arrived at the tranquil waters.
Roxton slowly advanced through the ballroom, Veronica on his arm. She was particularly beautiful that night, with her golden hair swept upward and her warrior’s uniform replaced with a stunning lavender gown. She was one of the strongest, fiercest warriors that he knew, and it was odd to see her so relaxed and dignified.
She was a wonderful dance partner, easily slipping into the music and allowing it to control her movements and rhythm. He could feel the envy of the other men as they circled about the dance floor, though she seemed blissfully unaware of it. She wasn't the type to notice that other men were watching. Her focus was always centered entirely on him.
"What are you thinking?" she inquired softly, smiling up at him.
"Only of how beautiful you are." he said quickly. "And of how lucky I am to have such divinity in my presence."
She was glowing now, smiling up at him invitingly, and he had never been one to resist such enticements...
Roxton awoke with a start, fazed by the dream. Or was it a memory? He wasn't really certain.
"Roxton." Roxton looked up at the doorway to see the dark silhouette of a woman. He recognized the voice to be that of Veronica. He sat up a bit and tried to cover himself with his blanket, suddenly very aware of his bare chest. "Veronica-- what are you doing in here? Is something wrong?"
Veronica advanced into the room, her light nightgown billowing around her. She hesitated, then came closer to his bed. It wasn't like her to be so shy and hesitant, but obviously she was feeling the same embarrassment that he did. "Roxton, I needed to talk to you. I think I remember something from the past. I...had a dream about it."
Roxton stared at her in wonder. "So did I. Was your dream in a ballroom?"
"No, it was in a bedroom." Veronica said, and blushed as the whole implication of what she had said reached him. He felt his own cheeks darkening.
"Oh." he stammered, and tried not to conjure any mental pictures of that. "What do you think it means?"
"I'm not sure." Veronica said truthfully, seating herself on the corner of Roxton’s bed. "Only that Warren was right and that at one time we were married." She looked at the ground and was silent for a long moment. "Roxton, maybe it isn't a coincidence that you and I both had dreams tonight, right now. Maybe we're supposed to remember these things because...we're supposed to be together."
Roxton would be lying if he said that he hadn't ever found Veronica attractive. She was a beautiful woman and was admirably agile and clever, as well. But he had never really thought of her in this light. He had been too busy falling in love with Marguerite, but now it seemed that she was being pulled from his grasp. The thought of how she had looked at Warren after seeing her vision...
He shook his head. If Marguerite could forget about him so easily, than he certainly wasn't going to sit around and mope for her. "Well, I suppose there’s only one way to find out." He replied, and leaned in to kiss her. She readily complied.
There was a startled gasp. Roxton pulled back to see Marguerite standing in the doorway, her face shocked and hurt. For a long moment, she could merely stare at them. Roxton felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him.
"Marguerite, I--" But she didn't bother to listen. She turned and ran.
Roxton was about to get up and go after her when Veronica placed a hand on his chest. "Roxton, give her some time. She'll learn to accept it. We all will."
But Roxton wasn't sure whether he wanted to accept it or not. He had never been more confused in his life.
Marguerite slipped into the room where Warren was sleeping and gently but firmly shook his shoulder. "Warren," she whispered, then more insistently repeated, "Warren!"
Warren stirred and looked up at her in surprise. "Marguerite-- what is it? You look as though you've seen a ghost."
"Never mind that." Marguerite snapped, tossing her head a bit. "I'm ready to go with you to Spheria." She paused and swallowed heavily. "And I'm ready to love you again."
End Part One