This story is set between Mongolia and the burial of Allan Quartermain in Kenya. It focuses around Rodney Skinner and his recovery (because he was well enough by the time they arrived in Kenya). I'm forcing myself to write a small story because I'm infamous for starting things and not finishing them. Hope you enjoy it and please leave some reviews!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen characters. They belong to their respective owners.
The Infirmary
Skinner lay in bed. He stared up towards the ceiling of the infirmary. He had been there for a total of 3 days so far. He was wrapped from head to toe in bandages. He didn't look so much like an invisible man as so much a badly injured man.
It would be another twenty minutes before the doctor came and checked up on and would determine if his bandages needed changing. Having his bandages changed hurt almost as much as when he was initially burned. His wounds oozed and that stuck to the bandages. He did not look forward to having his bandages changed. Maybe the Doctor wouldn't have to do it just yet? More like wishful thinking.
The doctor was always concerned about infection. He had to keep the infection away, for Skinner to make a good recovery. A good recovery meant that he would be able to accompany the rest of the league when Allan Quartermain was laid to rest.
Why couldn't have he been a selfish bastard and high tailed it with his life and skin intact? No, he had to be the hero, for once and save the life of Tom Sawyer. Not that he really regretted it. Besides the Doctor, the boy had been in the most times to visit him. Good bloke he was, sneaking him in some brandy. Surely the Doctor would have not approved of his brandy consumption while he was infirmed.
Pain returned to the right side of his body. He let out a small mutter and curse. To think just a few days ago when he was initially brought back aboard the Nautilus, he had been shrieking with all the pain that was coursing through his body. He felt relieved when he thought about passing out after he had told Sawyer to go after M. Passing out saved him from the agony that the burns caused him. Thank goodness for small favors.
He stared back up towards the ceiling. It seems that over the past three days he had memorized the ceiling. All the little nuances, cracks, and discolorations he could point out individually. When one's wrapped head to toe in bandages, it doesn't let one do a whole lot of moving. All he had was the Doctor, the company that visited from time to time and his own mind.
His mind is what seemed to fill most of his time, more so than the infrequent visitors, save the doctor. The Doctor wasn't really a conversationalist but for the obligatory medical questions. Now, he was smarter than most people gave him credit for. Just because he had his low class cockney accent and sometimes crass manners didn't mean he was some ill bred oaf. Well, maybe ill bred, but at least he wasn't an oaf. It wasn't without a great deal of smarts that one became a master gentleman thief.
The first day he didn't really have much time to think. He was just mostly in pain. That tends to dispel most everything from your mind. When he wasn't in pain, the doctor had just given him some anesthesia and that dulled the pain with all his other senses. Being doped up just isn't conducive to clear thinking.
Only ten more minutes till the doctor came back. He figured he could ask for some more morphine for his pain. Pain was definitely creeping back into his right side with a vengeance. He had to close his eyes for a moment and wince. Another mutter and curse escaped his lips. And the worse was only yet to come. He had a sinking feeling that the Doctor would want to change his bandages.
He had to be well enough in nine more days. The captain had said that it would take twelve to make that journey from Mongolia to Kenya. He had to be well enough to give a proper send off to old Allan Quartermain. Currently, the former great white hunter resided in the deep freeze. The location was bit undignified for such a figure such as Allan. Such steps had to be taken for the preservation of his body for his burial in Africa. What would have become of me if I had been the one to make the ultimate sacrifice?
Skinner snorted when thinking about that scenario. There was that slim chance that the League would have given a proper burial also, if he had died a hero, going out in a flame of glory. HA! That's funny, a flame of glory. Maybe they would have laid him to rest in his native England, just as they were doing with Quartermain, returning him to his land. The captain would be solemn faced wishing him a good send off and best of luck in his next life. Maybe the old bloke Skinner would return as a rat for all the karma he'd accumulated over the years. Heh, heh. Tom Sawyer would be giving him a proper salute for one who gave his life for his own. Yeah, he'd make such a gesture as maybe even leaving his gun behind to commemorate his noble sacrifice. Lets see, the Doctor would be a gentleman such befitting his background and say a few words. Oh, how I misjudged the poor man. He'd bow and look somber. Flowers would be nice too. Mina would be wearing something revealing, like a low cut blouse with her bosoms practically spilling out. She'd be going on how she had secretly loved Mr. Skinner but never had the courage to tell him that when he was alive. Her weeping would carry on for hours. Oh, and mustn't' forget Quartermain. If Skinner was dead, then surely he must be alive. Allan Quartermain would be treating him well, for once. Yes, he'd have a toast in honor of his departed League member. To Rodney Skinner, who really put the gentleman in gentleman thief. His honor, valor, courage will live on in legend.
"Excuse me Mr. Skinner, but I must attend to your wounds", Doctor Jekyll said politely after clearing his throat a few times.
Skinner blinked. How long had he been standing there, waiting for him to come out of his own little imaginings? He hadn't even heard the Doctor enter the room. I guess he had been too caught up in his own little dreams to even notice that there was someone else there.