Hello there! This little piece was written for Of Kurtz as part of our fic exchange (hope you like it doll!) I relied on LXG Century: 1910 for the descriptions of Nemo's home as well as his demeanor, so blame Alan Moore for all the bitterness :)
She had expected to feel a deep sense of intimidation upon her arrival to Lincoln Island: an army of stationed sailors and war lords at their Master's beck and call; the Nautilus gleaming, primed for one more great rush to reclaim it's place in the nightmares of Europe's leaders; a sheen of silver and steel rising up from the coarse sands unnaturally situated within Antarctic waters. The reality did not live up to fantasy and Mina Harker was quite relieved. The reason behind her presence required the utmost of blank facades—not a hardship for the naturally stoic scientist, but Mina feared this particular trip was to test her will in ways heretofore unknown.
Nemo was dying.
His palace was a conflagration of cold metal and rusted accessories, a maze of bridges and corridors to rival even his beloved ship (of which Mina had seen naught) and teeming with clear-eyed midshipmen, too young to remember betrayals in Venetian canals or early voyages across the Atlantic. The uniformed men watched her pass in silence and she bestowed no smiles. This was not a pleasant happenstance and Mina was in no mood to exercise her usual curiosity; these men held none for her.
A half-dressed man by the entirely obvious name of Broad Arrow Jack led her through halls and down stairs until finally revealing a dark dilapidated room, not at all the sumptuous affair one would consider as the sleeping quarters of an Indian prince. Illuminated by candle light and eerie ocean glow from a small porthole, Captain Nemo lay propped on his wide beige bed, mementos of his former glory and a giant red 'N' hanging above the headboard. He was pale and wrinkled, his beard snow white and unkempt, his skin paper thin. She could see his hands—once mighty pieces of strength used to eviscerate with the grace of a hummingbird's wing—curve into skeletal claws upon the sheets, his wrists pointed and cruel.
"Madame."
"Captain."
They spoke English as Mina had no ear for languages and he would never teach something so sacred to a barbaric widow. Though he had never said so in such words, she had never asked throughout all their travels and he had never volunteered. It was a minor loss in her opinion once measured against what he had imparted.
"Was your journey. . .uneventful?"
There was a quirk to Mina's mouth as she perched upon the edge of his mattress, not reaching out for his withered fingers. It was humid and she unbuttoned her coat with an easy gesture.
"When are they ever?"
"Indeed."
"Truly Madame, if you wish to hide in darkened corners while we gentlemen rout the villains I assure you none would object. It would, in fact, be a relief of conscience to many on board."
As she stood before the regal pirate in prim starched white blouse and ankle skirt, Mina could imagine just how relieved her fellow conspirators would feel if she suddenly chose to remain behind, sequestered safely within the Nautilus to await the return of conquering men with all requisite simpering and feminine coquetry. Young Sawyer would be more than pleased, happy to play the role of dashing hero and unburden the 'little woman' of her torrid worries. And Mr. Q. . .well Allan hadn't wanted her on this most eventful expedition in the first place. He would be over the moon and she would never hear the end of it. The image was enough to make her expel her last repast.
In the Captain's turn of phrase, however, Mina swore she heard an edge of mockery that proclaimed his disgust at any dismissal of potential and thus gave her some hope for the male race in general. She could not, though, let his jibe against her particular sex slide and laced her hands behind her back, forcing her irritation aside into a veneer of aloof indifference even though the request had been of her own making.
"I believe I handled myself quite admirably Captain," Mina began to walk the perimeter of Nemo's state room, keeping a wide berth of his religious iconography and the ironic symbolism it created. The Captain retained his position. "London, Venice—" she could have added others but there was no need for misplaced pride or disturbance of memory. "There are none to dispute my prowess as dead men tell no tales." Mina stopped abruptly, heels clicking sharply as she turned to face the pirate. "Isn't that so? Captain."
"A masquerade Madame," Nemo made two long strides to the nearest wall, reaching out a sea-roughened brown hand to caress one of several sabers that decorated the room, an amused chuckle in his tone. "Your victims were caught unawares and you most definitely used that to your advantage." Oh yes, that goon of Moriarty's had not expected her peccadillo. Those participants in Venice's gauntlet had not either. Mina's mouth curved ever slightly in fond remembrance. "This cannot advance you in every situation. You forget Mrs. Harker: Mr. Grey is aware of what you are."
Nemo's eyes were hard despite the gentility reflected in his cultured voice and as the anger at such a critique rolled within, Mina snatched on to the thought that perhaps that was exactly what the Captain wanted—to see the demure Englishwoman surface with an emotional display of tears and blotchy features and run off to trouble him no longer. Mina swallowed her outrage at the mere mention of Dorian's name and responded correctly. It was all a test after all.
"Which is why I have come to humbly ask your assistance Captain," her nails bit red moons into her palm that disappeared like a puff of smoke. "Advise me. Teach me how a woman may protect herself in these uncivil times."
They approached each other until a mere two feet remained between, Nemo regarding her in a most serious manner.
"You will swear never to use my teachings," he began, "nor your own. . .habits. . .against those under my command."
It was not a negotiation and Mina did not offer her hand as such gestures were ultimately meaningless and a person's true worth could only be found in the weight of their word.
"Shall we begin?"
"I was told you had a daughter," Mina ventured. "I should like to speak with her." Nemo raised his bony hand in a surprisingly quick slashing gesture which Mina rightly took to mean that topic was closed to her. He opened his mouth to speak but instead began to cough, a rattling in his sunken chest which required Mina to assert her limited patience to wait upon his leisure. She had no desire to hear what he had to say, but loyalty had bid her come and loyalty made her stay.
"I am prepared to once again become a ghost upon the waves." The Captain's voice was akin to dead leaves rustling harshly in a winter forest and the lump of meat that Mina knew as her heart clenched painfully. "I wish—" another cough, "—I wish to leave this land and return to my oceans. I cannot do so as you see me now."
Mina's blue eyes stayed on Nemo's sickly countenance—to do otherwise would insult them both—but she allowed no warmth to seep through. She sis not swallow or sigh.
"They are no longer your oceans Captain. You have lived a respectfully long life—" There was a sharp hacking sound—incredulous—and Nemo's eyes bulged in defiance.
"Long—" that rattling cough made his limbs shake. "Madame! One cannot measure life in time!"
Mina's reply was stern.
"When one has been an unchanging clog in the wheel of time—Yes. One can." He was struggling now in an effort to rise, to reach out and demand, but Mina could not allow it—would not. She would not listen to his desperation. She stood. "I am glad to see you one last time friend, but I cannot give you what you want."
"You have not listened—"
"Do not ask this of me Nemo," Mina pulled together her coat with two hard tugs, her lips a tight line as she watched her friend struggle for breath while she popped large black buttons into their proper slots.
"You will not repay a debt?" he huffed angrily. "Dishonorable! Demon!"
And that was enough.
Mina rounded on the old man, eyes glazed a blood red and two rows of needle teeth shining through her lips drawn back in a snarl. His hand's flinched but nothing more.
"Is this what you desire pirate?!" she rested one knee on the mattress and then the other, crawling over the bed to stare the Captain down like a demented succubus revealed. "You wish to draw blood with more than sword and steel! You wish to see the world fall down around you and affect nothing of the grandeur you once imagined life to be?!" She could hear his weak heartbeat and was herself disgusted at how delicious it sounded. Mina immediately pulled back, snake-like, features washing away back to her normal tanned visage. Nemo's mouth was pinched, nostrils flaring at her audacity and her ugly truth.
"No," the vampire shook her head once more, running a hand over her thick mahogany hair. It would have to be changed soon and the thought was distasteful. "I have never before passed on this curse—And a curse it is Nemo, you know my feelings and you ask it of me anyway!" Her fists clenched at her sides but then Mina stopped. She made as if to step forward, as if to finally take the Captain's hand, but he drew back. It stung but Mina refused to let it show and simply added it to the other hurts she had collected these many years. She had let Abraham die when he came asking. There had been others.
"I wish you well my friend," she murmured. "Everyone is entitled to a good death and I would not take your reward away."
She grasped her ever present scarf and flipped it once more around her neck.
"Everyone but you," was Nemo's bitter farewell. Mina nodded once.
"Everyone but me. Goodbye Captain."