"Resurrection Take Two"
by levelbluec/PJ
 

Roxton and Marguerite were lying in a tent about halfway up the far north face of one of the mountain ranges. He glances over at her, fully clothed, covered in a blanket, and sighed as once again she shivered.

"Let's face it, there are no ways off the Plateau in the mountains."

He had to agree with her on that point, but the fact that she was purposefully being annoying was beginning to grate on his nerves, "At least we got below the snowline."

He was right, she decided reluctantly. The tent in which they were housed was little more than an extra blanket against the cold and chill, "Fat lot of good that did us." She shivered again.

Roxton looked over at her and grinned, lifting his blanket, "Body heat?"

"I'm familiar with the concept." She tried to keep her voice neutral, but it was difficult. Being this close to him and trying to sleep was hard enough. Curled up with him, she couldn't imagine getting any sleep at all. She was, however, now out of options. If she didn't get warm soon, she was going to freeze to death. She grasped the edge of the blanket he was offering her and moved a little closer; flat on her back so as not to suggest anything at all in any way, shape or form beyond just using him for warmth. After she squirmed for several moments, she fell quiet and still again.

His leg strayed, touching hers, not a lot, but enough. She could feel the tingling touch of his body and it sent shivers of an entirely different kind through her body.

"Is that your leg?"

He pulled away and she was instantly sorry she had asked.

"Sorry."

Marguerite corrected, "No …no, it's fine. I'm beginning to feel a little warmer." Which was a grand understatement if ever there was one.

Roxton smiled and turned on his side so he could see her face when he was speaking, at least this is what he told himself, "Perhaps if I just shift …" As he moved closer his temperature rose, causing heat to crawl up her skin. She turned to face him, their bodies coming closer …ever closer. It made her tingle all over to have him this close, but she was warm …probably warmer that she should be.

"That's fine." He smiled, more softly this time. It was fine all right, it was lovely. His eyes fluttered closed, then open again and he simply stared at her beauty, "Perhaps if I just take my arm …" He moved again, reaching over her and laying his arm behind her head, pressing them up against one another.

Marguerite was sure she was going to go insane if he moved again. Despite herself, she smiled. They were now curled together, as she had imagined only moments before.

"Warmer?" His voice intruded on her thoughts, but the fact that she could feel his breath on her face nullified everything else in her brain. She opened her eyes and saw that his eyes were half closed, sparkling with humor. He leaned forward toward her and the humor left his face.

She had known it was going to happen. She'd known it since they'd pitched the tent, but somehow that time between then and right now stretched on forever. When his lips touched hers, she sighed into his mouth and found her arms searching for his shoulders. They strained up against one another and when the kiss broke away they were both breathless. They stared at one another, their hearts beating. His fingers touched her hair and he was momentarily lost, willingly lost, but unable to pull himself from the cocoon of warmth they had created. He gave in and kissed her again.

It was a subtle sound. A minor bump in the night, really, but Roxton was suddenly very much awake. He pulled back from the warmth and the feelings churning inside him, almost ran from them, as if should this happen, he might never recover.

"What was that?"

Marguerite had surrendered. Perhaps not the emotion John was looking for, but one he would nevertheless take at that moment. She touched his face, "I didn't hear anything." The touch of her fingers on his face melted him into submission. He kissed her again, sliding his lips lower along her neck. He wanted her in every way; it was pounding through him like a freight train and he didn't know how to stop it. If they made love, here, tonight, their lives would be changed forever. Not for her, perhaps, but his life. She had already changed so many things about his world, placing herself directly into the middle of his conscience without realizing she had done it. The kiss deepened, her fingers smoothed through his hair and she tasted musk, something so incredibly male, and yet completely him.

For a moment he gave up. Suddenly he did not care about tomorrow, about the consequences, about anything. He pulled her close to him and held her, breathing in her scent, feeling everything she had to offer, and it wasn't enough.

And there it was again. The sound that kept protruding into their space. This time he physically sat up.

"There it is again." Roxton was actually sure he had heard something, but pulling out of her arms was both the most relieving, and the most difficult thing he had ever done. The sound was much louder this time, and closer. If he hadn't been concerned before, he was now.

Marguerite entwined her fingers around his neck, "I didn't hear anything."

He struggled with is own desire, wanting nothing more than to melt back into her arms, but he couldn't. Someone or something was out there. He bolted out of the tent and could hear Marguerite's voice behind him, "The only sound I hear is the pattering of cold feet."

It twisted something inside his heart to hear her say that, as if she didn't believe he desired her. He almost turned, almost went back to correct her, but he never got the chance. Something bit into his chest. Something cold, something sharp, something painful. He was aware of Marguerite screaming his name, and the sound of absolute terror in her voice and then there was nothing.

He hovered in a peaceful haze for a moment, until the fear hit him. Fear the likes of which he had never known. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, it was an endless abyss of darkness that was stretching out before him. It was going to come and take him away, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"It doesn't have to be this way."

Roxton could feel himself drifting away, but somehow managed to turn his head enough to find a young boy standing over him. Strangely innocent looking, like a wolf in sheep's clothing, "I'm dying." Roxton was sure of nothing else but this one indisputable fact.

"I can save you." The boy appeared to be talking …but not exactly. Like he was talking to Roxton's soul or his mind, and not his ears. It was not a comforting feeling.

Roxton managed, "How?"

The boy laughed, "You can save your friend."

Roxton's heart began beating faster, his fear quadrupled, "Marguerite?"

"Do you agree?"

There was the darkness again, closing in on him, and he realized he would agree to almost anything, "Yes, whatever you like, whatever you want, I agree."

"If I am to save your life, another life must be taken in its place. A man, someone you don't know."

Roxton nodded, whatever he had to do to get to Marguerite would be worth it. The boy smiled and placed his hand on Roxton's chest. There was a burning sensation; it was almost unbearable, a sharp pain and then it was gone.

The boy too, had gone. Roxton sat up quickly; looking around for the child that was so out of place here and yet did not feel out of place. The boy was nowhere. He didn't have the time to consider, he was going to lose Marguerite and there was nothing right now more important than saving her life.

He ran through the jungle. He did not notice how good he felt, in face, he felt perfect in every way. He did not feel the familiar jag o pain in his knee from the fall into the mines now almost a year past. He could not feel any pain in the shoulder he had dislocated while trying desperately to save his brothers life. He was not short of breath, he did not stop and when he burst into the clearing where Marguerite lay bound, he wasted no time in knocking the sword out of the hands of the woman poised to take her life. He slapped the metal away as if it were weightless. Men came, and he knew they would for this woman was not an Amazon, and in this high of a position of power, she would have men to guard her. He dispatched them as quickly as he had relieved her of her weapon. Efficiently, and so fast …too fast. When he stopped, everything was silent.

Marguerite was watching him; the terror in her eyes was very real. This brought him back to himself. As he cut the bonds that held her, he was finally himself again. He cupped her face gently in his hands, "Are you okay?"

She reached out and touched his chest. How could it be? It wasn't possible, but here he was. He was alive.

"I saw you die."

Roxton pulled his hand away and cut the other ropes, helping her to her feet, "We should get out of here."

"John. How?"

His temper rose, "Does it matter? I'm here, I saved you. Okay?"

He was getting irritable and Marguerite thought it best to count her blessings and go with him. They ran, and they ran, they literally ran until Marguerite had to grab him and physically stop moving, "John!"

He stopped, several steps ahead of her, obviously annoyed and turned, "What?"

"We have to stop."

Roxton sighed heavily and looked around himself, "I suppose we can stop here for a moment." Marguerite was hot, tired and beginning to get pissed off, "You SUPPOSE? We've been running for two hours."

"We have to get as far away as possible."

Marguerite grabbed his arm, "John. Look at me. What is wrong with you?"

He whirled and almost spit into her face, "Nothing. Okay? Forget it."

The argument that was beginning didn't last long. A child was standing near their path staring at them, "I have kept my end of the bargain John Roxton, it is time you kept yours."

Both Marguerite and Roxton stopped yelling at one another to look at him, "What is he talking about?"

Roxton glared at the child, "It's nothing."

"You promised to kill a man for her life."

Roxton cringed inside. He had promised nothing of the sort. He had known someone would have to die in his place, but not anyone he knew, "I didn't. I'm not a murderer."

The boy stood defiant, "You promised."

"I did not promise to murder anyone." Roxton was screaming, but the boy remained quietly pleasant.

"Not even your brother?"

Marguerite stared from one to the other as the reality of what John had done for her pressed down on her conscience, "Did you sell your soul for me?"

Roxton rounded on her, his eyes wild with fear, "Does it matter? You're alive."

He wheeled around and stormed off through the jungle. Marguerite stood there staring for several moments and then followed. The boy once again disappeared. She tried to wrap her mind around the enormity of that statement. Had he really bargained away his own soul for her? The depth of his feelings she had never really doubted, but this …this was another plane entirely, "John! Please."

Perhaps it was the `please' that made him stop and turn around. He looked less sure now, less angry, burdened. Marguerite looked up at him with concern, "Are you sorry you saved me?"

His heart wept. No, of course he wasn't. He didn't know that he'd be able to go on without her in this life, "No. No, of course not."

"Please tell me what's going on."

He sighed, "I was so afraid."

She put her arms around him, offering her own warmth and courage and he accepted gratefully, pulling her closer as if she were the last breath of air in a dying world, "You don't understand, Marguerite."

She pulled back, not away, but back just enough to see his face. He traced her cheek with one finger, "I wish I could say it was just about you, but I was terrified of dying. I was more afraid than I have ever been in my life."

Marguerite touched his face and smiled, "You are the bravest man I know."

He shook his head, "I'm not."

She turned his face to he was looking at her, "Everyone is afraid to die, John."

"I sold my soul to prevent it, Marguerite." He started to say more but she kissed him. He kissed her back, almost afraid to let go. For a moment they clung to one another. When the broke apart she smiled, "I'm not sure anyone has ever been given that choice before."

"How do we know that? What if I'm just weak?"

She shook her head, "You're not. I know how strong you are."

"I won't kill anyone, Marguerite. I can't."

She smiled, "I know."

He cupped her face in his hands, "Even if it means everything goes back?"

She considered this. She didn't know if she could live on the Plateau without him, but she also knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he killed someone in cold blood. It would destroy him, "Even if."

John pulled her closer to him, "What on earth did I do to deserve you?"

Marguerite laughed, "I don't know, Lord Roxton, but here I am and I'm not going anywhere."

Roxton was suddenly seized with panic, "No, you're right. You're not. Let's keep moving." He took her hand and at a slower pace, they walked through the jungle. More together in the silence than they ever were at home. They walked until they came into a clearing.

A hut sat to one side, decorated in animal skins. Both Marguerite and Roxton were tired, hungry and cold. While they were both wary, they decided to take their chances. A man with waist length white hair emerged, smiling. His eyes were a peculiar color, they were silver, and it was striking in his deeply tanned brown face. He wore white robes, which was unusual, even on the Plateau.

He nodded as they came closer, "Marguerite Krux, Lord John Roxton, I have been expecting you."

The pair glanced at one another and back at the man before them. He laughed, "Oh, no. You've nothing to fear from me. I am Fate."

John was the one who finally said what they were both thinking, "Fate?"

"Yes. Manipulator of the strings of time, an incarnation if you will. Please, come inside."

"Whatever you say, pal." Roxton reached for Marguerite to pull her away but Fate raised a hand.

"Please don't go. I would speak with you. Your own destinies have led you here to me."

"Really." Roxton looked completely unconvinced.

Fate smiled, "Nothing happens by chance, Lord Roxton, you will find this out. I know you have both met my son."

Roxton looked surprised, "You're son?"

"He came to you as a boy, did he not? A child in the jungle, an innocent in a world filled with danger? He saved your life."

"Oh. So you're going to tell me that he is Time or Space or something and I have to murder someone?"

The old man laughed and shook his head, "Certainly not. My son is known by many names …Seth, Set, Setesh …"

"The Egyptian god of chaos and destruction." Marguerite was not entirely sure she wanted to be here anymore.

Fate nodded, "Among other things, but yes. That will do."

Roxton was growing weary, "What does that mean?"

"Nothing." Fate sat down and motioned for them to do the same, "Let me explain. First, he did not save your life. I did. It was not fated that you die on this day. He constructed the problem to help deal with his own."

Roxton actually began to relax for the first time since the day had started, "Which is?"

"He is trapped here, on this Plateau, out of time with the rest of the world. I had hoped he would not interfere with others here. I should have known better. As you have probably surmised, he would like nothing more than to see me dead."

Marguerite shook her head, "I don't understand. As your son, is he not destined to become Fate after you die?"

"Only if the true chosen one is not there to take his place in the great order."

Roxton sighed, "I'm confused."

Fate smiled, "Should I die before I am supposed to, Set would indeed take my place. But there is another child, yet to be born, that is chosen for this specific purpose. It is meant to be …" Fate paused and looked at the pair of them sitting there staring at him, "As you and Ms. Krux were also meant to be."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You are soul mates, a match. You have lived many lives; the two of you, but always you have lived them together in some way. As you continue on your journey, you will discover these paths, but I cannot simply give you the answers, you must walk the path and find them yourselves. The two of you were meant to be here, on this Plateau, now. That is all I can say."

Marguerite and Roxton shifted almost simultaneously; they were both uncomfortable now. Soul mates? Surely not. They fought all the time, wouldn't soul mates be in harmony or something? Fate must be wrong, and even if he spoke the truth, perhaps they were too different this time around to be together. What could possibly be so important that they would end up together on a Plateau that had been removed from time?

Roxton stood up, "Okay. Let's just move along now and go …follow our path or whatever."

Marguerite stood as well, "It was delightful meeting you, Fate."

Fate smiled at them, they were almost there …but not quite. Soon, very soon, "There is more."

They both turned and spoke in unison, "MORE?"

Fate looked at Roxton, his silver eyes gentle, "You are fated to kill me Lord Roxton."

A look of understanding crossed Roxton's face, "You're the man. The one I don't know?"

Fate nodded, "Yes."

"But I know you now. The contract is void."

"There was never a contract, Lord Roxton, it simply is your fate."

Roxton shook his head, "I won't."

"Yes you will. But not today. Not anytime soon. Go on your way, you've nothing to fear. We all have our place in the fabric of time."

Roxton reached for Marguerite, "Let's go." The look he gave the old man was not a friendly one.

Fate simply continued to smile, "You can run away from your destiny, but you cannot escape it. No more than you could escape one another."

Roxton and Marguerite left Fate's house and continued on. They were headed for the tree house, but they waked slowly, hand in hand. Somehow defeated and elated at the same time. If felt like those two emotions should be mutually exclusive, but they weren't. As afternoon bled into evening, they stopped, lit a fire and cooked dinner. They had both been eerily silent since speaking with the old man and it was Roxton who finally broke, "Do you think I'm going to kill that man?"

Marguerite broke at exactly the same time, "Do you actually think we're soul mates? It's ridiculous."

The both stopped and stared at one another. Finally, they started laughing. The tension of the day collapsed and Roxton moved to sit next to her, "I think it's highly possible."

"That you're going to kill that man?" Marguerite looked at him sideways and grinned. Roxton started laughing again, "No. That's not what I meant. I think it's possible that you and I are …"

She cut him off, "Don't."

It was an easy thing to say, sitting on a blanket next to a fire in the darkness of the jungle. But later, back at the tree house, something entirely different would unfold. She was not at all sure she could deal with this now, but he wasn't about to let it drop, "Don't what? Don't say I have feelings? Don't express my love for you? Don't act on those feelings?" I'm sorry, Marguerite, I may be strong, but I'm not that strong."

She stared; in fact she was literally stunned into silence. Had he just said he loved her? No. Surely not. But he had, hadn't he? How was that possible? How could he love her? He barely knew her, "There are things about me that you don't know."

He shrugged, "There are things about me that you don't know either, we'll learn, but we must stop running."

She stood and moved over to a log that was on the other side of the fire, "What do you want from me, John?"

He stood and moved around to where she was now seated, "Do you really want to know?"

There was something raw in his face, but she nodded.

He knelt in front of her, "I want us to go back to the moment we were interrupted, before all of this started. Back to tent, and let that scene play out. That is what I want."

He had never really been this open before, and for some reason she found it comforting. More than that, it churned feelings inside of her that she believed she had successfully buried. She stared at him. She knew exactly what he was asking of her, "Even if I don't … if I can't …"

She wanted to say she loved him. She did love him, but she couldn't admit it, not to herself, and certainly not to him. It would be opening herself up to things she was not ready to give again. Not now, not yet.

Roxton took her hands in his, "Whatever you have to offer right now. Nothing more."

He pulled her to her feet and they embraced. The careful shields they put up to battle their attraction for one another came crashing down as he crushed her to his chest. The first kiss was gentle, soft, exploring, but the passion they both felt burst over them and the kiss deepened. He loved her with every fiber of his being, every last breath in his body and for now, that would be enough. He could love enough for them both.

As they pulled away, both breathless, he caressed her face gently, "Are you sure?"

He was giving her one last chance to stop before they had gone too far to come back. She looked up, into eyes that were so very familiar, eyes that had given her strength and solace since the day they met and nodded. She wanted him, and even knowing that tomorrow things would be different, changed forever, she couldn't bring herself to care, "Yes."

Nothing more was said. For John, it was enough. He had waited and watched and wanted far too long to throw this night away. No noises, no sounds, no coming disasters, just the two of them, wrapped together in the darkness. His head dipped and claimed her mouth, but this time there was nothing gentle about it. Marguerite wrapped her arms around him, pulling him as close as she possibly could and it wasn't enough. His hat had been lost somewhere in the darkness outside the circle of firelight so she ran her fingers through his hair. It was thick, silky, almost too long, and she spent several moments engaged in a through inspection of that hair until her fingertips were playing along the hair curling at the nape of his neck.

Roxton made a sound deep in his throat, somewhere between human and animal, and pulled her closer. The kiss deepened; there was more desperation in it now. Trying to taste things within one another that were far lower on their bodies. When his fingers began pulling at the buttons on her shirt she came back to herself briefly, almost told him to stop, almost convinced herself that this was a mistake, but he pulled the shirt aside, tossed it to the ground and played his fingers along the sides of her breast through her bodice.

Marguerite gasped and was lost again. Of their own free will her hands were pulling at his shirt, wanting, needing to feel the soft warmth of his skin pressed against her own. He had successfully unlaced the bodice and it fell away, leaving her exposed on many levels. Not only physically, but mentally. Should he turn away now …she didn't have the chance to finish the thought. His lips covered hers again and his fingers touched her gently. He was not going to turn away, not this time.

John couldn't think clearly. He was certain he wanted his shirt off, and also certain that only a moment ago his fingers had been working fine, but somehow they now could not manage to get the buttons to come undone. Marguerite was helping, but she enjoyed exposing his skin slowly, and then tasting that which she had uncovered until he thought he was going to lose his mind.

He finally gave up, reached into the hole she had opened up and pulled. The sound of fabric ripping away from his body split through the night, his suspenders fell off his shoulders as he wadded the shirt up and tossed it away. Marguerite opened her eyes and simply stared him. Perhaps it was a trick of the firelight, but he seemed to glow, his beauty was breathtaking.

For barely a moment, she wasn't sure what to do. Slowly, tentatively, she reached toward him and when her fingers touched his chest it was like warmth and electricity shot up her arm. She ran her fingers down his chest and he sighed, pulling her close to him again. Their bodies pressed together and he couldn't breath. He wanted every inch of her skin to be touching him. She was so very warm, almost as if she had a fever. He reached for the button of her skirt and popped it, letting the material fall down in a pool around her feet.

Roxton dropped to his knees, following the skirt with his mouth until Marguerite couldn't do anything but try to remain standing. Her legs started to give way as he pulled panties down her hips and kissed her again. His breath was coming in hot gasps against her skin and as she fell, he pulled her securely into the safety of his arms. He was her rock …she paused, how long had she known that?

"John …"

"Shhh …"

He held her like a child, curled in his arms and kissed her again. There was no reservation left, no patience. He lay her down on the blanket next to the fire and stretched out beside her. Marguerite's mouth went dry as he kicked off his boots. Somehow, watching a man pull of his shoes should not be so damn sexy, but it was. He gazed over at her lying there and a grin spread across his face. It was that kind of smile that said he knew exactly what he was doing to her, and exactly how much she wanted him.

He rose to his knees and moved over her. He paused, barely for a second, over her hips and then continued. His breath brushed her ankles and Marguerite tried to pull away. His hands caught her. It was too much, too much pleasure all at once. He pulled her boots off and then began working his way back up. Slowly, patiently, as if he had all the time in the world, "John …please."

She reached out and pulled his pants open, touching him for the first time and as he gasped and paused, she suddenly realized how much power she had over him. She pushed them down, almost frantically trying to get them off, but his warm hands covered hers. She hadn't realized he had moved until he was hovering over her. Didn't notice how close he was until his breath brushed against her neck, "We have all the time in the world."

His lips touched her neck, trailing down her shoulder until they finally closed over her breast. John couldn't think anymore, the pleasure had overcome any reason he'd had left. He caressed her until he heard her whispering his name over, and over. It was too much; he had never before experienced something like this. Her fingers found him again and he gasped, covering her mouth with his own and kissing her with all the overwhelming need that was raging though him. He had thought he had a great deal of patience when it came to women …but with this particular woman, his restraint was waning …fast. She sat up, pulling him with her, and slowly removed his pants and whatever else was under them.

They stared at one another, caught in the light of the fire, and it took their breath away. He pulled her against him and she had no more thoughts at all. There was nothing left but pleasure as the full length of his naked body pressed against hers. He laid her back on the blanket and pressed down, catching her breath with his mouth, moving against her until she was writhing with a combination of pleasure and need.

Their mouths were still locked together when he finally lost control. He pressed himself into her, slowly, gently, almost carefully until she pushed up against him and closed what space was left between them. He was fully inside her, and his eyes rolled back as she moved under him, pushing, gasping and clutching at his shoulders, "John …"

She had intended to add "please" but the one word was all he needed. He moved inside of her as if he couldn't get close enough. Passion melded into need until they were simply clinging to one another, unable to do anything but ride the passion to its inevitable end. There was a brief moment, where they were unsure where their bodies started or ended, as if in that second they were truly one person. Marguerite cried out as the orgasm rocked through her. It was sudden, unexpected and bowed her spine, made her rake her fingernails down his back.

John couldn't hold on any longer. He let go, let the feelings and pleasures washed over him as he burst inside her. He called her name as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through them both. He didn't know what perfection was …but this had to be damn close.

They collapsed into a sweaty heap of limbs, both gasping and either unwilling or unable to move. When finally he could raise his head, he turned, hoping to see anything in her eyes besides regret. She was smiling, radiant, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and her eyes held, not regret, but acceptance. As if she had come to some decision she was not sharing with him. For now, it was enough. He turned enough to pull her into the circle of his arms, resting his head in the crook of her neck, listening to the sound of her breathing. They didn't say anything, for no words could come close to expressing what they were feeling.

Marguerite drifted off to sleep on a wave of happiness she had not known existed until tonight. A moment later, John joined her. For whatever might come tomorrow, whatever might be in the future, he realized it didn't matter anymore. Tonight, they belonged to one another, and it was all he needed.


The end

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Page Last Update:  03/07/2005