THE NIGHT OF THE WHITE HOUSE ASSASSINS
By Andamogirl
Author's notes: Season 2.
Episode-tag. This story takes place right after the end of "The night of the big blast".
Reference to the following episodes: "The night of the freebooters", "The night of the Murderous Spring", "The night of the big blast"
Baines: "West and Gordon: the unconquerable duo."
TNOT Burning Diamond
Lily: "I love you dearly, but no. I, I, couldn't live your kind of life. You'd always be disappearing or exploding. I'd never know if I was kissing you or some bomb."
Artie: "Well, try me!"
(Jim explosively opens a corked bottle)
Lily: "See what I mean."
TNOT Big Blast
Warning: graphic violence; gender swap and some nudity.
Many thanks to my beta reader Tripidydoodah.
WWW
TEASER
The Wanderer, New Orleans railroad yard
In the morning
Jim's nightmare:
Sitting at the writing table, sipping his coffee James West was reading his partner's report of their last mission when someone knocked at the door.
He stood, pivoted and opened it – revealing Ulysses S. Grant. He smiled broadly. "Mr. President! This is a surprise. Please do come on in, Sir."
The President entered the parlor car and the two men shook hands. "I wanted to congratulate you personally for having saved my life – and the lives of others once again – stopping that human-bomb, just in time."
Jim gestured toward the table covered with plates where different pastries were piled up. "Thank you, Sir. Can I offer you a cup of coffee and… some pastries?"
Grant stood at the table, eying hungrily a couple of strawberry tarts. "Yes, thank you. Did you invite people for breakfast Jim? Some lovely ladies perhaps?"
Holding the pot of fresh coffee Jim poured a cup and offered it to Grant. "No Sir, unfortunately. When Artie doesn't feel good, he spends hours in the galley cooking – he usually makes pastries, but he can make some jam too. It relaxes him."
President Grant took his place on a chair and frowned in alarm. "What? Was he injured in the explosion? I wasn't informed."
Jim sat down on a chair in his turn. "He wasn't injured, Sir, but he doesn't feel good, and he feels blue. You see he asked a lovely woman, Miss Lily Fortune, who's an actress he knew when he was a teenager – she was his girlfriend – and with whom he recently fell in love with again, to marry him last night, and she said no. She first broke his heart when she had to leave him when they were teenagers and she did it again last night. Since then, he's been in the galley cooking. He didn't even go to bed." He took a cream puff topped with a chocolate icing and a cherry. "He's going to be alright, Sir, eventually. It's not the first time that a woman broke his heart - but it's the first time he asked a woman to marry him and received a no for an answer… He'll recover, it will take some time. You know how sensitive and emotional he is."
Ulysses S. Grant nodded, stood and then headed toward the galley. Jim stayed where he was, eating his pastry. He knew that Grant – Artemus Gordon's surrogate father – would do everything to cheer his partner up. This was a private conversation which he was not invited to attend.
WWW
Grant discovered his other agent sitting on a stool beside a small table, peeling apples. He looked old and miserable – and exhausted. "Artemus?"
Gordon looked up and opened his eyes wide with surprise. "Mr. President?" He stood up and dropped knife and apple on the table. "Sir!" he said, standing at attention.
Grant pointed at the stool. "Sit down before you collapse to the floor, son." Artemus complied. "Jim told me what happened last night, and I'm sorry."
Lowering his eyes on the apples again Artemus nodded and sat. "Thank you, Sir. Well… one says that love makes a person blind, that's true. I should have known better than to think that any woman would love to live my kind of life, even indirectly...not knowing where I am, what I do, if I am injured or dead, with news from me only occasionally, seeing each other between assignments… It's better that way." He re-started peeling his abandoned apple. "I'll be fine, Sir, don't worry. It's just a bad moment. It will pass." He looked up at the other man with curiosity. "What brings you here, Sir?"
The President smiled. "I wanted to thank Jim and you for having saved my life and the lives of the members of the Government."
Smiling Artemus nodded. "Thank you, Sir. But unfortunately we weren't able to arrest Dr. Faustina and her accomplices." He stood and joined Grant. "Did Jim offer you some pastries, Sir? I know that you love strawberry tarts."
"That's a secret between you and me, Artemus," he said, before grinning playfully. "Yes he did, and I'm not going to resist that offer."
They entered the parlor car a couple of seconds later – just as someone was knocking at the door. It opened shortly after.
Lyle Peters took one step inside.
Grant smiled. "Mr. Peters! It's good to see you again, please come in, and join us." Then he gestured to an empty chair. "Artemus made * some * pastries, enough for a regiment."
Peters took another step forward, moving rigidly like an automaton – his face expressionless, his eyes dead. Jim and Artie exchanged a glance recognizing the 'symptoms' of one of Dr. Faustina's human-bombs. Then Artemus said, "Jim! Take the President to a safe place!" before leaping on the faux-Peters, pushing him outside, on the rear platform of the train.
The faux-Peters hit Artemus with a series of bone-crushing punches, effectively breaking two ribs of his opponent, but Artie, gritting his teeth, resisted the assault – knowing that he had to stop the faux-agent at all costs.
Artemus grabbed the other man by the collar of his jacket and, gathering his strength, propelled him down to the station's platform where he crashed.
The four agents present there for the President's protection immediately took their guns and pointed them at the two men.
The faux-Peters sent Gordon a right hook then, watching him collapsing to the ground like a dead weight; he pulled out a gun from his back and fired at Artemus. Two times. "He wanted to kill the President! He was an impostor!" he said in a dull tone to the agents who looked at each other, puzzled, as they didn't know what to do, in order to gain some time - before emptying his revolver on them.
He was climbing the steps leading to the rear platform of the Wanderer when Jim appeared on it and immediately fired.
The faux-Peters crumpled to the ground – dead, a bullet between his eyes.
Immediately after, Jim jumped on the station's platform, grabbed the body by his arm and hurried to move him to the end of the station platform, as far as possible from the train. Then he rushed in the opposite direction where his partner was lying – in a pool of his own blood, sprawled dead on the ground, with two bleeding holes in his heart.
The faux-Peters exploded.
Burning tears rolling down his ashen face, Jim barely registered it – as he sank to his knees beside the prone form of Artemus Gordon. "Artie, no…" With a trembling hand he closed Artie's gentle chocolate eyes, opened but not seeing anything anymore – lifeless. Then he buried his face in Artie's now immobile chest, drenched in blood, and let out loud chocking sobs.
He had lost his brother.
WWW
The Wanderer, New Orleans railroad yard
Morning
Reality:
Moaning Jim abruptly woke up and jerked upward on his bed, fresh tears on his cheeks and he looked around him: he recognized his sleeping compartment and sat up. "What an awful dream," he whispered.
He left his bunk, lifted the blind – letting the morning golden light illuminate the small room and then he headed toward the door.
He desperately needed a coffee, a big, strong coffee, he mused.
He entered the galley shortly after and found Artie there, preparing breakfast and coffee like he did each morning. He too was barefoot and wearing his pajamas. He spotted Marmalade rolled in a ball in a basket settled next to the stove, watching her master's movements. "Good morning Artie," he said reaching for the pot of fresh coffee sitting on the stove.
Stirring the ingredients for French crêpes in a large bowl, Artemus said, "Good morning Jim. You look like hell buddy. Bad dream?"
Jim nodded, noticing piles of French pastries on a plate. "I feel like hell. I had a nightmare. You were killed by a faux-Lyle Peters created by Dr. Faustina." He took a cup and poured himself a coffee. "He shot you on the station's platform. You were lying in a pool of your own blood with… with two bullets in your heart, I… I had to close your dead eyes. That was awful." He shivered. "I'm still pretty shaken."
Smiling Artemus poured the dough in a pan. "It's just a bad dream. Dr. Faustina is gone, her accomplices with her and Peters is gone with Mrs. Fortune – that poor man." He noticed that Jim was still haunted by his nightmare: he was pale and his eyes filled with pain. "I'm fine Jim, you didn't kill me…" He chuckled. "Well you did kill me once, but it was a hallucination."
Feeling suddenly drained, the younger man sat on a stool, took a sip of coffee and said, his face grave, "Promise me that you will never die, Artie."
Marmie left her basket and padded toward Jim. She walked across his bare foot, rubbing against his leg, demanding. Then she pawed at the human's pajama leg, claws needle-sharp and let out a meowing. Jim complied: he reached down and scooped the cat up by its middle, placing it on his lap, where the feline wanted to be. Marmalade stared up at Jim with a satisfied look on its face and settled down, snuggled against Jim, purring loudly in contentment and in victory.
Artemus shook his head as he made his first crêpe. "I can't make that promise Jim, everyone dies, that's life. But I can promise you I will always be prudent – and perhaps I'll die of old age in my bed."
Jim grinned and said, "Says the man who recklessly puts his life in danger to save his partner when said partner's life is in total jeopardy."
Artie chuckled softly. "I said perhaps."
Jim watched the pastries again and added, "I'm sorry about last night, you know, me opening the Champagne at a bad moment…"
The older agent shook his head, placing a third crêpe on top of the others. "It's not your fault; you did it at the wrong time, that's all. Besides she had already said no. We decided to stay best friends – and friends are important."
Jim patted his partner with brotherly affection. "You're right. Artie… I know you're hurting – hence the ton of pastries you made… tell me how I can help you."
Sliding a fifth crêpe from the pan on top of the other crêpes Artie shook his head. "Help me to eat all this… Don't worry, Jim, it will pass. What I need now is a new assignment to focus my mind on something else." Seeing Jim's concerned frown, he added, "I'm going to be okay – believe me. It's just a matter of time. Now James-my-boy, could you lay the table please, breakfast is almost ready."
Smiling, feeling reassured, Jim took the cat in his arms. "Good! I'm hungry." He perched it on Artemus's shoulder and left the galley for the parlor car.
Tbc.
