Warnings: Pre-Slash, UST. NOTE: This is an amateur translation of the original Russian fanfic 'Черный тигр, белый орел' authored by Kerisa (wtf_jules_verne). It has been translated with Kerisa's permission. Some minimal wording has been changed for the benefit of ease of reading for English readers however, I hope that I have done this marvelous fic justice in my translation.

Chapter 1:

It's strange, but I hardly remember the journey from Le Havre to Paris. I cannot recall the faces of my fellow travellers, the towns we passed, nor the stations where we stopped. I was completely immersed in my thoughts and almost completely detached from what was happening around me.

My whole previous life was lying empty and turned inside out in front of me, like the shed skin from a shimmering snake. Two weeks ago, I was travelling to Le Havre as Professor Aronnax of the Paris Museum of Natural History, and I was returning to Paris as a member of the Nautilus crew to settle my affairs on land. Just a few words spoken by Captain Nemo had changed my destiny completely.

"You can stay on the Nautilus in you want," he'd told me.

Two years ago, such a proposal would have made me hesitate, but now I made my decision the minute I heard it. The year that had passed, in which I believed that I would never again see the submarine or it's captain, had taught me a lot. I was unhappy, and I realised, like being stabbed with a knife, but really it was more gradual – that my life lacked joy and meaning, I passed my days mechanically one after the other. I have already experienced this emptiness, and it seemed to me too much like death. To refuse Captain Nemo's proposal meant for me to die again.

I remembered the warmth of his palm when he extended his hand to me and said: "Come back, Monsieur Aronnax."

"I will wait for your letter, Mister Dakkar," I had replied.

And so, I went to Paris to finish my earthly affairs.

As it turned out there were fewer of them than I had thought. I had to finish the book detailing our underwater journey, dispose of my property and take care of the fate of Conseil. It was Conseil and how I would explain things to him that consumed my thoughts as the train approached Paris.

I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I almost ordered the cab driver to my address. Remembering myself, I dismissed the annoyed little man, left my luggage at the station and, taking an obscure route, entered my home through the back door.

I was tormented with a vague anxiety. I felt that I had made a mistake somewhere, but I could not think when and where.


Unlocking the door, Conseil shone so clearly with happiness that it prickled me with guilt.

"Monsieur Professor!" He exclaimed, taking my hat. "You're back!"

"Of course, I came back," I replied. "How are you? Were there many visitors?"

Conseil opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something else, but he immediately took his usual calm look, brought a letter holder and started telling me who came, and when, to check on my health. Among the many letters from my friends and colleagues, including the director himself, I found letters from the literary editor, polishing the text of my novel, from a doctor whose services I occasionally used, and a couple of particularly annoying journalists, and several other people whose names I did not recognise.

"Everyone is very worried about the health of the professor," continued Conseil. "Monsieur Bonnet, Monsieur's doctor, insisted that I let him examine Monsieur. I'm afraid he found me impolite."

I took a deep breath.

"Thank-you, Conseil. And I'm sorry I made you lie."

"Let Monsieur not be anxious or worry," my servant replied. And then asked: "Is Mademoiselle Ishwari ok?"

"Sick, but will be ok, I took care of it."

Conseil looked questioningly at me, and I felt my heart weighed down with guilt. I had never kept secrets from Conseil and trusted him completely, but knowing that Captain Nemo's daughter was with d'Orbigny could be too risky for him.

Conseil lowered his eyes. Of course, he understood, he was a clever fellow.

Trying to dissipate the silence, I began to give orders – to warm the water so I could bathe and change clothes, then to collect my luggage from Saint-Lazare Station. While Conseil was filling the pot in the kitchen, I went into my office and collapsed at my desk. The feeling of detachment that accompanied me on my way to Paris came back with vengeance: this room was familiar to me to the last detail, to the slightest crack in the ceiling, but I no longer felt it was mine.

"The bath will be ready in twenty minutes," said my servant, peering into the office.

"Thank you, Conseil," I replied.

He clearly avoided looking at me, and I again felt another pang of guilt and regret. I did not want to part with him like this. All the past years, he did not just serve me – he became a reliable and loyal friend. He was entitled to my frankness.

"Don't go," I said. "We need to talk."

"Whatever pleases Monsieur," Conseil answered in a shaking voice.

I fiddled with a paperweight, collecting my thoughts.

"Perhaps in a few months, Captain Nemo will write to me. And if that happens, I will leave and will not return. You've been my servant and good friend for twelve years, and I will make sure your life is as good as possible and that need does not force you into the service of someone else. Think, what would you like to do? I won't need money on the Nautilus, so I can transfer at your disposal enough money to buy a house in the suburbs of Paris or even start your own business. Or, if you wish, I will recommend you to the Director of the Museum of Natural History as an assistant to any of the professors. You are well versed in the classification of marine organisms, you are attentive and careful, and I am certain you will do a great job in this line of work. If you do not want office work, I will write to Mister Leicester, the organiser of our expedition to Nebraska, and ask him to take you as an assistant. He spoke about you very commendably, and I am sure he will be glad to work with you again."

Somewhere in the middle of my speech, Conseil raised his head and now looked me straight in the eye.

"I'd like to continue to accompany Monsieur," he said firmly. "…but if that is not possible, then I would prefer to stay in Paris and work in the Museum. And to keep Monsieur's apartment intact. Perhaps the day will come when Monsieur will want to return."

It was apparent to me that Conseil had thought about this a lot in my absence – he gave his answer too quickly and he was too detailed.

"It is unlikely I will wish to return," I said, pushing the inkwell closer to the paperweight.

I suddenly realised that I didn't know how to explain to Conseil my desire to stay on the Nautilus without giving myself away. I did not want to lie to him, but to tell him the truth was unthinkable for me.

There was an awkward silence for a few minutes.

"You see…" I finally said, and then fell silent again.

"Monsieur, there is no need to explain anything," Conseil suddenly interrupted the prolonged pause. "I understand."

"What do you understand?" I asked sharply.

"Monsieur from the very beginning wanted to stay on the Nautilus. Monsieur would never have left if it were not for Ned Land…and if Captain Nemo had not sunk that ship, the Bristol. Monsieur has never cried, not once in twelve years, but when he heard about the death of the family of Captain Nemo – he cried. Over the past year, Monsieur has not smiled five times. I understand."

I looked at my servant, anxiously waiting for him to continue, but he did not delve into a dangerous topic.

"However, even Monsieur professor cannot predict all the turns of fate. I would prefer to keep the apartment of Monsieur intact," he stubbornly finished.

Suddenly a new thought painfully struck me.

"Well, so be it," I said slowly. "Captain Nemo only suggested that I complete my round-the-word underwater journey. Probably, when we have visited all the oceans of the Earth, he will wish to convey through me the information collected to world science. And then I, of course, will be back. It is unlikely that our journey will take too much time. A year and a half or two."

"Yes, Mister Dakkar no longer has to worry about keeping his secret," said Conseil, clearly cheering up. "And it would be very kind of him to share with the world the scientific discoveries he has made."

I took a deep breath.

"Well, it's decided. Tomorrow I will start receiving visitors again, and when I return to the Museum, I will talk with the director about an assistant's place for you. You are more than worthy to hold this position."

Monsieur is very kind," murmured Conseil, and I realised that he was pleased.


The next few days I had a very tedious task – portraying a man who had barely recovered from a serious illness. Conseil laid me on the sofa in the living room, and I received visitors, dressed in a bathrobe. The curtains on the windows had to be drawn tight, otherwise I would not be able to hide my healthy look from visitors.

The rumour that I was recovering spread quickly and in two days I had received over a dozen visitors. I assured everyone that I was already much better and there was no danger to my life. On the third day I was examined by my doctor, Monsieur Jean-Baptiste Bonnet, who concluded that I was completely recovered.

I returned to the Museum of Natural History and spent several days attending to matters that had accumulated over the two weeks of my absence. I then asked for a meeting with the director of the Museum and said that in connection with my poor health, I wanted to leave Paris and live in the Countryside for a year or so while I worked on a new book. I recommended Conseil for an assistant's position, vouching for his accuracy, hard work and excellent knowledge of the classification of marine organisms. I promised to finish 'Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea' before my departure.

In short, I made all the mistakes I could make.