Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction based on the story and characters that are the property of the creators and producers of "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World" syndicated television series.
I big thank you to my beta reader Jacqueline, thanks for taking care of those pesky grammatical errors.
Ok so I ripped the tittle from that George Clooney movie but that's as far as it goes. I think? I haven't seen it yet. Well I hope you enjoy it. Don't forget to review. Almost forgot, I want to take a few seconds to thank all those people who reviewed my stories. Thank you, Thank you, you know who you are. And to those who haven't; well you know what to do.
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Father, where art thou?
Morning bustling could be heard throughout the treehouse. Everyone was extremely cheerful that particular morning, including a certain brunette. Her delicate fingers held the saucer and cup in place as she made her way to the dinning table.
"You know Marguerite, you should really considered cutting back on that stuff." Lord John Roxton stood up to pull back the chair for her.
She ignored him and continued her daily morning routine.
"Now, who wanted the scrambled eggs?" George Challenger came out of the kitchen, skillet in hand, ready to serve his fellows explorers.
Journalist Ned Malone barely looked up; he had been far too engrossed in his own journal. "Oh! That would be me." He pushed his plate forward and waited for the Professor to fill it up.
"Now on to those eggs Florentine," Challenger said. He seemed extremely eager to get back to the kitchen. "And don't you go anywhere because I'm not throwing away two perfectly good eggs," he warned Marguerite as he returned to the kitchen.
"I see you got your appetite back," Roxton commented; the eggs Florentine were known to be a favourite of the brunette.
"I never lost it, I'm just tired of eating the same thing day in and day out," she retorted, spreading jam onto her toast.
Professor George Challenger watched his younger companions' daily antics. His eyes glimmered with the hope of one day returning home to his dear beloved wife. "Jessie!" he sighed. Melancholy was not a good way to start the day, he kept repeating to himself.
Let's concentrate on the thing you got here.His inner voice spoke almost in a soothing tone. Glancing towards his fellow explorer, a slight smile formed in his lips. Focusing on the young journalist, he began musing. Malone never lost a chance to spend time with his journal; he breathed, ate and drank the stuff. The journalist was obsessed with his writing as Challenger was with his inventions. Then again, everyone had his or her ambitions; Marguerite had bluntly pointed it out. She her jewels and the urge to find her parents. Who would have thought that Veronica and Marguerite would have much in common?
The steam of the strip of raptor meat filled his nostrils. "Almost done." He expressed his delight in an audible whisper.
He had woken up particularly early this morning. Bored out of his mind, he had ventured into the kitchen to find Veronica on her way out. Like a broken record, he had expressed his worry about her going out on her own. But he knew better; she was capable of taking care of herself, and she had done so long before they got here. Of course, she had laughed it off, as she would normally do. He had been repeating the same concern for the past two and a half years now. He still worried, though; he couldn't help it. Telling her not to be late for breakfast before she disappeared had brought a smile to her face. She had grown accustomed to them, to the point she considered them her family. He expressed the same sentiments. He worried for them like a dutiful father.
Slowly the elevator began to ascend. Within it a freshly bathed Veronica whistled a jolly tune. The fresh air had lifted her spirits up; usually she ran in the morning as part of daily exercise but today she had decided on a refreshing dip down in the lake. Standing in the lift's doorway she took the time to observe her family. She grown to love every one of them, even Marguerite, in spite of their differences.
"So what's for breakfast?" she asked, taking a seat next to Malone.
"Marguerite is having eggs Florentine but I can make you something else if you want," Challenger offered from the kitchen.
"No, that's fine," she said as she picked a piece of fruit from the bowl. "I was thinking...maybe later, we can go for a picnic."
"That sounds lovely," Challenger said as he handed Marguerite her plate.
"Thank you, George," she smiled gratefully. How she missed Paris' Nouvelle cuisine!
"Count me in." Eagerly Ned responded. It had been ages since they had a picnic; and he would not pass up an opportunity to spend time with the beautiful Veronica.
"Yes, I suppose so. We haven't had one of those for a while."
"Marguerite?" Veronica knew that if they could expect a rebuttal it was from dear Marguerite. But even she enjoyed a good picnic as long as it was on her terms.
Everyone's attention was on the brunette.
"What?" She had barely heard their conversation.
"A picnic," she repeated with the same enthusiasm.
"As long as I don't have to help with the food preparation." She was a disaster in the kitchen; she couldn't deny it.
"Then it's settled."
Everyone continued his or her morning activities, each one of them secretly awaiting the forthcoming picnic.
After a well-deserved picnic, the five explorers made their way back to the treehouse. They had held the picnic in a nice secluded area; dinosaurs never ventured that far and tribes considered the spot cursed. Everyone had been particular talkative and eager to enjoy themselves. They had all laughed and laughed at Malone's expense when he told them one of his childhood's stories involving him and a dreaded rat. Veronica could hardly restrain herself from bursting out with laughter, all over again.
Falling far behind them, Marguerite and Roxton were involved in a flirtatious game. Roxton, like all men, thought he had the upper hand on his precious Marguerite. And like all men, he was oblivious when it came to relationships. It was Marguerite who held the cards in this relationship.
"Whatever do you mean by that remark, Miss Krux?" He arched his eyebrow in that questionable way he always did.
"If you can't figured out that remark by yourself; then I'm talking to the wrong man," she smirked as she left him high and dry and sauntered ahead of the group.
Malone gave his friend a look of understanding; he had been in the same shoes a couple of days ago. He just didn't understand women. He would have hoped that talking with Challenger would have given him some insight. After all, Challenger was married, and he was bound to have something to say in that respect. But no! He was as much a baffled as he was. "Patience is the key," Lord John Roxton had told him, "that, and listening." But then again listening to Roxton might be his best shot. He had indeed managed to break part of Marguerite's barriers. Not once he had given up on her. Through thick and thin...
Nearing the treehouse they knew something was definitely wrong. The gate was wide open. Marguerite stopped dead in her tracks at Roxton's warning Veronica held her knives ready for the intruders.
Roxton, Malone and Challenger were the first to enter the perimeter. Once it had been cleared of any danger, they motioned for the girls to enter.
Being the stubborn man he was, Roxton ordered them to wait while he went to check upstairs; the trip up was over in seconds. Whoever had dared to enter there home had made a great mistake. Soon he was inspecting every inch of the treehouse. No sign of entrance was apparent, until...he heard the most estrange noise. Creeping towards the kitchen, he saw it.
"What on earth!" He set the gun on the counter and slowly entered the kitchen.
Crouching down on the opposite side of the counter, he disappeared out of view. As he came back into view, clinging to his arms was the sweetest little boy. Tears stained his rosy cheeks, his blond hair was tousled, and small whimpers escaped his wet lips. Roxton did all he could to calm down the child but the child was visibly frightened. Walking to the balcony he bellowed for his fellow explorers to come up.
Were they right? Had they seen a child in Roxton's arms? Malone, Veronica and Marguerite were the first to take up the lift.
On their way out, they were greeted with the sweetest child they had ever seen, or so Malone and Veronica thought. Marguerite seemed to back away to a corner of the room.
"What's that child doing here?" Veronica took they child from Roxton's arms and he slowly began to cease his crying.
"I don't know. I found him on the kitchen floor." They were now joined by Professor Challenger, who was wondering the same thing.
"There, there." Veronica patted the toddler's back.
" Look what I found!" Malone came back from the kitchen holding a note in his hands.
"What does it say?" Roxton urged Malone read it.
"I have no other choice but to leave our child in your care. Please take care of him." He finished reading the note.
"Our child!" The words stuck in his mind.
Visibly perplexed looks covered the explorers' faces.
"Whose child and who was the father?" were the questions that were in everyone's minds.
To be continued...
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