Time:  Very late Season 1, after 'Resurrection'

This trek through the plateau jungle was no different than any other.  Veronica and Roxton led the group along the fern-lined track.  Every few minutes their companions could hear the 'thwack' of a knife cutting through overhanging twigs and branches as they cleared the disused passage.

They had just finished a trading expedition to the Kopi village, a day's hike from the Treehouse.  The Zanga had told them about this tribe – friendly but reserved, and not too trusting of strangers.  It had only been through Marguerite's linguistic ability and an offering from the Zanga on their behalf that they had been accepted at all.  In the end, everyone had emerged satisfied – Challenger had more copper, already coiled into thin wire, for use around the Treehouse; and Roxton was extremely pleased with the amount of sulfur he'd gained to replenish their stash of gunpowder.  Even Marguerite seemed quite happy with the result of her efforts – not only did she now have tucked away some of the most exquisite gems she'd ever seen, but she'd wheedled their source out of her hosts as well.

Arthur Summerlee, who was returning with nothing more than a notebook overflowing with botanical knowledge, glanced over at Marguerite.  She walked alert beside him, her rifle in her hand, but seemed to be forcing herself to maintain his pace.  Although she constantly complained about the long tramps through the jungle, she was always the first one to take his part when he fell behind.  Something seemed to be amiss; exactly what it could be eluded him. 

As if to remind him of his advanced age, his hip, the cause of his slow pace, struck out with an especially stinging twinge.  He stopped short at the pain, breaking stride with Marguerite.

What now? Not another thought-to-be-extinct plant he just has to dig up!  The heiress looked back, surprised that the first thought through her mind was to chastise him for wasting their time.  Concern quickly replaced impatience when she caught his grimace.  He would have stumbled if she hadn't jumped back to take his arm and lead him to a nearby tree. 

"Are you all right, Arthur?"  Each word seemed to irritate her throat, as if it were scraping the sides of her vocal chords.  It only made her more aware of other little aches that had sprung up during their hike.  Come on, Marguerite, you're not allowed to get sick.  And even if, heaven forbid, you do, there's no point taking it out on Summerlee.   Nevertheless, she hoped silently that this delay wouldn't be too long – a quiet corner of the Treehouse where she could recover unhindered was looking very attractive from this standpoint.

"Just fine, my dear."  The expedition's senior member leaned against the tree, relaxing as he let the momentary respite ease the discomfort.  "I just need a moment to catch my breath."

Marguerite smiled back at him, laying a sympathetic hand briefly on his shoulder before turning her eyes back to the jungle and lifting her canteen.  Even the soothing water didn’t relieve the dryness in her throat.  Nor did it do anything to ease the growing discomfort she felt in her stomach. 

Even Summerlee saw her face crinkle in a wince as she swallowed hard.  "Marguerite?  Are you all right?"

She turned back.  "Of course."  But she didn't quite meet his eyes.

"Marguerite."  In his turn, he took her arm, ready to chide the often recalcitrant woman.  "You haven't seemed quite yourself since we left the Kopi this morning."

"I have to agree, Professor."  Lord Roxton, self-proclaimed protector of the expedition, came striding back down the path toward them.  "I haven't heard a single complaint for the whole trip."

Marguerite huffed and ignored him.  Even though their relationship had mellowed somewhat since the pair returned from an exploratory trip into the mountains, Arthur knew she was still fighting what seemed like growing feelings for the nobleman.  He had interrupted their conversations on one or two occasions himself, the last time inadvertently disturbing a tender scene on a hidden balcony, that might have been a turning point in their relationship had it been allowed to continue.  He still regretted that moment, but it seemed Fate had decreed that was not the time for such revelations.  So the couple continued striking sparks from each other, much as they had since the Challenger Expedition had set out from London almost a year before.

"I'm fine, Roxton!"  The tart comment sounded rather hoarse to Arthur's ears.  Roxton didn't seem to notice.

"Fine!"  The hunter didn’t bother hiding his impatience.  Miss Krux was quite often the most irritating, exasperating woman he had ever met, but she was a member of the Challenger Expedition, and as such, under his protection, whether she liked it or not.   Sometimes he wondered just what he found so intriguing and alluring about her. This was not one of those times.

Leaving her to stew in peace, he turned a completely different expression toward Summerlee.  "And you, Professor?  Having a little trouble keeping up?"  They did all take special care of the old botanist, though at the same time wondering why on earth the Zoological Society had elected to send him, bad leg and all, on what had promised to be, from his experienced point of view, a physically challenging expedition.  But Summerlee deserved just as much protection as Marguerite, if not more.  At times the only way Roxton could describe him was naïve – not in a negative sense, but he didn't seem attuned to the dangers of the plateau until they were almost upon him.  Behind his concerned face, he calculated the extra time it would take to get home.

"It's this bothersome hip again, I'm afraid." Arthur pushed himself away from the tree, not wanting to hold them up any longer.  He'd joined this expedition for better or worse – and at the beginning he didn't think it could get any worse.   He had to keep his end up, if only to prove to Challenger that he could.  "I'm all right now.  Go on, John.  We'll be right behind you."

With a nod to both of them, Roxton turned back to the trail.  But he didn't venture too far ahead of the straggling pair.

As they started along the path again, Summerlee quietly reprised his demand.  "I know something's wrong, Marguerite.  Even your voice isn't quite as it should be, and-"

"All right, Arthur.  Since you insist.  My throat is scratchy, that's all.  I'm probably headed for a cold.  After all," she glared at the hunter up ahead and raised her now raspy voice, "we were caught in that rainstorm a few days ago, no thanks to his Lordship!"

Her steely glower was returned full force as Roxton turned briefly at the sound of his title.  Arthur hid a smile as the younger man pushed his hat more securely onto his head, whirled and strode off.  Squabbling like a married couple again.  Taking Marguerite's arm, he urged her onward.  "Best to get you back to the Treehouse then."

****

An hour later, the sun was just reaching its zenith and the jungle began to exude the cloying taste and smell of trapped humidity.  Now that they’d left the trail to the Kopi village and she was on familiar ground, Veronica led the small party to a clearing by a small brook, where a light breeze blew the worst of the moisture-laden air away.

"Time to take a break," Veronica said as the group gathered around her.  "The Treehouse is only a few hours' walk away.  And we could use the rest."  Arthur returned her smile, appreciating the chance to relax his weary body.  She usually kept up a strong pace, with laudable reasons, but his old bones didn't share her energy.  It often took almost as long to recover as to make the trip itself.

Veronica and Malone took the canteens to the stream to refill them.  Roxton and his rifle had disappeared to scout the area for signs of predators or hostile tribes, and Challenger had found something of interest nearby.  He was completely engrossed, busily hunting through his backpack until he unearthed a specimen jar.

Summerlee, who had been bidden to rest, was seated on a large log, with Marguerite beside him.  About to offer to help Marguerite search the packs for food for their impromptu lunch, he stopped short at the distress he caught in her face and the stiff way she held herself, arms wrapped about her middle.

"Marguerite?"

"I hate to spoil the picnic, Arthur, but I really don't feel well."  She sounded like a very sick young girl, pleading for someone to take the pain away.  Not at all the independent soul they'd come to know during this year together.

"Marguerite?" His eyes narrowed as he peered into her wan face.  "What's wrong?"  Taking her hand in what comfort he could offer, Summerlee raised distraught eyes to search the clearing for help. 

"Challenger!"  The ginger-haired scientist seemed barely to notice his call.  "George!  Get over here!  Marguerite's ill!"  Challenger dropped the jar back into his open pack and abandoned it all.

Even before Challenger arrived, Roxton's tall shadow fell across Summerlee and his ailing charge.

"What's wrong?  What's happened?"  He knelt in front of Marguerite, cupping a hand around her cheek to look into her eyes.  She didn't flinch at his touch – something that raised his concern to new heights.  She didn't even make an effort to comment on him being on his knees before her.  Another sure sign that something was seriously wrong.  He was aware of increasing anxiety as his eyes searched her face. "Summerlee?"

"This is more than just a cold."

"Could it be something she ate?"  Challenger looked from one to the other of his companions, including Veronica and Malone.  The pair had just raced across the clearing, canteens still in their hands.

"She didn't have anything different from the rest of us…" Roxton said, to stop as Marguerite shook her head.

Loosening one hand from its grip on her waist, she reached into a pocket in her skirt, pulled out a small leather pouch and handed it to Roxton.  "The chief's wife gave me these…just some nuts and seeds, she said…"

Challenger grabbed the tiny bag and upended it into Summerlee's palm.  "All right, Arthur.  You're the botanist."

Pushing the small kernels around with a finger, he identified the harmless foods they'd all eaten many times before.  But there was something else…

"Oh, my goodness!"  His mind began to race as he tried to dredge some long-buried knowledge from the depths of his memory.

"What?"  Roxton and Challenger chorused when he said no more.

Summerlee picked up a reddish piece, the size of a coffee bean, with a dark spot on one end.  Carefully, he held it out to Marguerite.  "Did you eat any of these?"  Marguerite squinted at it through pain-laden eyes, and nodded.  "How many?"

"Just one."

"That's a consolation."  He rose to his full height, ignoring the way his hip complained at the movement.  "But not much of one."  Arthur swallowed hard before continuing.  "This is Abrus precatorius, commonly known as the Rosary Pea.  These seeds are not only toxic, but, eaten raw, like this, can be fatal."

"Fatal?"  Roxton's heart began to pound in his ears, and he found it impossible to move as he locked gazes with Marguerite.  He had no idea why the prospect of not hearing her caustic tongue every day, or seeing the emeralds flashing in her eyes, was causing this almost frantic reaction – goodness knows, he'd wished for that often enough.  He had no more time to ponder, as she literally fell into his arms, moaning in pain.

"Summerlee!  Challenger!"

That was the last thing Marguerite heard.

****

"She couldn't possibly have been more careful!"  Veronica's boots crushed the tiny new growth along the jungle path.  Ned Malone fought to keep up, holding a protective hand in front of his face to avoid being slapped by the low twigs she uncaringly pushed out of her way.

"Come on, Veronica!  You can't really blame her…"

Summerlee had sent the pair in search of salt, lots of salt, necessary to his treatment.  The Zanga had been mining rock salt from one very large cavern for as long as Veronica could remember; she had gone there herself to restock the Treehouse supply on many occasions.  It was a good hike out of their way, and one she didn't relish having to make.  One part of her had wanted to leave the selfish heiress to the consequences of her actions, but the sight of Marguerite, barely conscious and writhing in pain, had brought back memories of her own childhood illnesses.  Professor Summerlee's urgent request that they 'get a move on' was the only impetus she needed.  But that didn't mean she wasn't frustrated at this latest turn of events.

"Why not?  I've told all of you, especially Miss Know-It-All, how many times about knowing what something is before you eat it?"

This tirade was becoming quite tiresome.  "Hey!  Give her a break, will you?  Don't tell me you recognized everything the Kopi fed us in the past two days.  I sure didn't."

"I've had to survive on my own long enough to know what's safe…"

"And Marguerite didn't have any reason to doubt the Kopi chief's wife."

Veronica whirled on him so suddenly he almost ran flat into her.  "Why are you suddenly defending her?  She doesn't deserve it."

Ned shrugged and gave the jungle a brief scan before resting his eyes back on her angry face.  "Why?  Because I would have done exactly the same thing."

Veronica stood speechless for a moment, seeing Malone in Marguerite's place and suddenly feeling quite ill herself.  Now inwardly angry that she hadn't considered the possibility, she turned back to the path.  "Come on; we're almost there."

****