DiabloCat: Yes, I admit it. I have this thing for filling in unseen scenes. Especially ones that involve Skinner. Ah well, what can you do?
LOST SENSES (There's a small story behind this title. Remember this little scene?
Quatermain: Skinner, I didn't know you were such a barefaced liar. All this time pretending you weren't a hero?
Skinner: Well shut up or I'll come to my senses.
There you have it. Now, please enjoy.)
It was hard walking quietly around the Nautilus. The metal walls tended to catch any sound and echo it ten times as loud. But Rodney Skinner had had plenty of practise walking quietly. He WAS a thief after all. Being inaudible was a necessity.
Especially now, when the entire League thought he was a traitor. A traitor? Him? As if. He may be a thief, but he had his honour. Not much, yet still a bit. But they'd never believe him if he tried to tell them that. Once a thief, always a thief. So, in the meantime, he'd just watch and wait, and see if his guesses were correct.
Footsteps clunked behind him. Skinner flattened himself against the wall just in time as Dorian Grey strode past. Instantly curiosity and suspicion flared up. What was Dorian doing here? Last he'd heard, the League was off saving Venice. So why was Grey back?
Skinner padded swiftly up behind Grey. He was holding something, but the invisible man couldn't see what it was. Grey turned a corner, then went through a doorway. Skinner waited outside, listening. He couldn't hear everything, but some of the words reached him.
"...first...hopefully not the last...bastard Skinner...lot to answer for." Skinner gritted his teeth. It sounded like Ishmael, Nemo's first mate, believed he was a traitor too. The whole ship was against him!
"Skinner?" Grey's voice, cold and imperious, carried clearly. "No. Me!" There was a gasp, then a couple of shots. Skinner stiffened in shock. That object Grey had been carrying was a gun! He pressed himself even further into the wall.
It was Grey! He should have known. Only that stuck-up, self-righteous snob would be unfeeling enough to betray his team-mates. Skinner cursed the man under his breath, using every swear word he knew. Which happened to be quite a lot.
What should he do? He COULD run out and tackle Grey...no. For one thing, the man was immortal. For another, he had a gun. Skinner wasn't stupid. Should he tell the League? No. They thought HE was the traitor. They'd never believe him if he told them it was Grey.
A choking gasp caught the thief's attention. He cautiously poked his head into the doorway, and saw Ishmael struggling to get up. The man had been shot at least twice, and he was still trying to stand. There was no sign of Grey.
Skinner darted over to Ishmael's side. "Ishmael! It's me, Skinner."
"S-skinner? It – it was Grey!" The man coughed, and a fleck of blood flew from his mouth. Skinner could see the man was dying.
"Yeah, I know." Inside he burned with rage. That scummy bastard! The gentleman thief didn't get too worked up as a rule, but this really pissed him off. "We'll get him. The League will get him."
The man struggled to say something. "He's going...going to s-steal the N-nautiloid."
Skinner was baffled. "The what?"
"Exploration pod," gasped Ishmael. "He'll escape."
Skinner cursed again. The League weren't back yet. Someone had to stay with Grey, to try and let the others know where he was, so they could track him...
"I'm going after him," he said at last. "Stay here, don't move." With that, the invisible man was up on his feet and moving fast. He had to get aboard the Nautiloid with Grey. They'd never find him otherwise. Skinner hadn't seen Grey come out past him, so that left only one way for the immortal to go. Through the opposite door.
Skinner dashed along the narrow hallway. Thankfully it was straight, not branching off or anything. He'd have gotten totally lost. Eventually he came to three doorways, one on his right, the other two on the left. He hesitated, not sure which led to his destination. A clanking sound came from the one on his right. He took a deep breath – and slowly opened the door.
No one saw him slip inside. No one saw him slink into the Nautiloid. No one saw him find a comfortable corner to sit and watch. Ah, the beauty of being invisible.
Skinner learnt a good deal just by crouching in that corner. Too much, in fact. He nearly blew his cover when he saw 'M'. Thankfully, at the same time he swore, a spanner fell off a table and hit the ground with a nice, loud clunk which covered his curse.
The thief wasn't happy. Everything was going wrong. The same guy who had created the League was bent on its destruction. One of the members was tossing them in. And they were talking about bombs. Bombs aboard the Nautilus...
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It had been a long night. A long, dull night in which he couldn't rest in case he was caught. A long night spent in one of the most uncomfortable positions imaginable. He'd been forced to evacuate his corner because someone had decided to plant a box there. He'd only just dived out of the way in time. So now he was crammed between a filing cabinet thing and the wall.
'What am I doing here?' he thought, then gave a low sigh. That was number thirteen. Thirteen times he'd had that exact same thought. This was getting irritating. You know a guy is going crazy once he starts to have the same thought thirteen times. And actually counts them!
That was it. He was moving, even if it meant getting caught. Anything was better that sitting in a twisted position counting thoughts.
He padded along, careful not to make any noise. Despite what he'd thought about not caring if he was caught, the reality was he'd rather stay alive.
Pad, pad, pad. The ship thing wasn't very big, and cluttered with strange objects. Skinner amused himself by investigating them, all the time keeping one eye open for Grey or 'M'.
He finally found his way to a thing that looked vaguely familiar. He'd seen it aboard the Nautilus. What did the sailor say it was again? Something you could use to communicate...Morse code! That's right, it sent Morse code! Skinner's face cracked into a grin. Perfect! He even knew Morse code. When he'd been a petty thief, he'd used it to send messages to his mates.
Skinner cast a furtive look around. Grey was piloting the ship, and 'M' was in the tiny bedroom, gloating over his apparent triumph. He bent down over the communicator, suppressing the urge to cackle maniacally. Luck was finally giving him a glance.
Now, what message to send? Not something too obvious. He didn't want just anyone to be able to understand it. But not anything too complicated either. He wasn't trying to send a riddle.
'Hello...' he began. Hello what? He had to let them know it was him, but preferably without saying his name. What was something only he would say? Suddenly he grinned. 'Hello my freaky darlings.' If they didn't work it out, they were stupider than he gave them credit for.
'Hiding aboard...' What did Ishmael say this thing was again? He sighed with frustration. It was no use, he couldn't remember. 'Hiding aboard little fish with Grey and 'M'.' Well, the Nautilus was like a big fish, so this would be the little one.
He gave some co-ordinates, having snuck a glimpse at the map Grey was using. Now, to end it in a fitting way. Allan Quatermain came to mind, and his trademark phrase. 'Follow my lead.' There. Message sent, hopefully received. Now, all he could do was sit back and wait.
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Skinner slumped against a wall in 'M's fortress. His mind was reeling with the sights and sounds he'd just witnessed. The captive women and children, the enslaved men – and what they were working on. It was vital he got this information to the League. He just hoped they'd survived the bombs Grey and 'M' had been talking about. It would be extremely annoying if he'd gone to all this trouble, only to find they were all dead.
At least he was warm again. Following Grey and 'M' through the snow hadn't been fun. But inside the fortress huge fires burned. He'd spent a couple of minutes getting the feeling back into his limbs before going on his scouting trip. And now it was time to go outside again.
Skinner cast the double doors an evil look. He hated the cold. But there was nothing for it.
"Great," he muttered to himself. "One frozen gentleman thief, coming right up."
With that, he gritted his teeth and walked out into the cold.
DiabloCat: Tada! If you like, you can add this onto the beginning of my other fic, Why Naked? They slot together nicely.