Author's Note/Disclaimer: I'd like to give a big thanks to all my reviewers for chapter 1, anonymous and known! I hadn't expected so many reviews so quickly. Thanks for all the lovely tips on improving this little nugget of LXG fiction. Hope I'm managing to keep your interest peaked and spread some suspense.
Once again, I own nothing say for the village, its inhabitants, the twins and (later) Celine. Now, onto the next installment:
Chapter 2: The Smell of Denmark; The Call of Heroes
Henry shared a silent, worried look with Tom and Mina. Tom's face was screwed up in concentration as he pondered the boy's statement; while Mina's may have been carved from stone were it not for the troubled glimmer in her ice-blue eyes.
"What's wrong with you lot?"
A black leather duster sporting some sporadically placed bandages had waltzed into the medical ward. Skinner's glasses—the only sign that he wasn't headless—turned toward each of the three league members.
"Somebody die?" The question wasn't as lighthearted as one would expect from the invisible jokester, given the recent tragedy that had befallen them.
Though he'd never know for sure, Tom would have bet his Colt pistols those unseen eyes were looking at him.
"Not quite," Mina answered, crisp as the fall air on the conning tower. Her eyes were on the tiny patients while her sensitive ears listened to the steadying "thump-thump" of their hearts with relief.
The three extraordinary gentlemen followed suit, feeling that paradoxical sense of something large and sinister as the children slept on in peace.
"What should we do?" It was Jekyll who asked the question, his pale blue eyes looking to Tom for answers.
In fact, it seemed all were quietly awaiting the plucky American's call.
Damn, even that guy's waitin', Sawyer glanced over at a crewman that was arbitrarily turning knobs, making it look like he was really doing something, so he could listen in. The sharp-shooting Southern son rubbed the back of his neck in thought.
"We need to have a meetin'."
They sat there at the long table in the Captain's planning room. The remains of a rag-tag team of unique men and women now looked to their new leader. It was quiet, say for the hum and whir of Nemo's navigation equipment.
Tom sat in his usual chair, leaving Allan's empty. It just…hadn't felt right to move it like they had with Dorian's.
Captain Nemo broke the silence that had fallen after the recent update of their young wards' condition.
"My question on this whole affair is this: Can we take the words of mere children seriously? Surely there are too many variables within this equation to take action."
"Yeah," the now painted face of Skinner chimed in. "But what if the little tike wasn't making it up? There could be some kid-killing nutter runnin' around out there!"
"Honestly, Mr. Skinner," Jekyll argued in his timorous tone of voice. "The Captain's point is valid. The children were a step away from death when Mrs. Harker brought them onboard. So, it's logical if either of them were to—"
"Mention attempted murder?" Rodney snorted, earning a look of disapproval from Nemo on the good doctor's behalf. The invisible thief then added with a bit of chagrin, "I mean, can we risk not checking things out a bit?" He turned his empty eyes on the American who sat across from him.
Tom glanced up, seeing his teammates' faces, but gaining encouragement only from one. She offered him a small quirk of the lips—a genuine smile.
"The way I see it, we've got some 'reasonable doubt' on our hands," he began, the familiar brightness gleaming in his eyes. "That calls for a little snoopin', don't it?"
"I'd have to agree with agent Sawyer," Mina said, lacing her fingers together on the table before her.
"Yeah," Tom went on, confidence building. "They couldn't have been driftin' too far, right? Otherwise they'd be shark food. Question is, where to look first?"
Nemo shifted in his seat, apparently fighting the urge to correct Sawyer on the specific habitats of sea creatures.
"The island we are approaching has a port," Nemo said, and then added, almost thoughtfully, "It had a few vessels docked there; skiffs resembling the wreckage we pulled the young ones from."
Tom raised his eyebrows, leaning back with crossed arms.
"Well, if that ain't a clue, then I'll eat my badge." He looked out through a near porthole, noting the height of the sun: Early afternoon. "How soon can we make port?"
The older man gave him a wry grin.
"My Lady is being secured to the dock as we speak," he raised his own brow. "How soon will you be ready to 'snoop', Mr. Sawyer?"
The young man's face broke into a beam of admiration, and Tom stood up to clap the austere captain on the back good-naturedly, coming close to knocking the turban askew.
"Alright, fellas, and lady," Tom's face became stern. "Let's see if we can't figure out this mess."
" 'Ow's that for 'inconspicuous'?" Skinner looked up at the massive submersible, whose looming shadow encompassed the whole of the harbor and its boats. Shaking his head at the absurdity of their troupe crossing this rustic, splintering wooden dock, bearing everything from old elephant guns to grease-painted faces.
Still, something didn't smell right in Denmark—to loosely following the saying—and they had an obligation to uphold. Not one necessarily from the Crown (as if that'd be reason enough after Mongolia), but as heroes.
That is what we are now, right? Unconventional ones, but heroes nonetheless, Rodney mused to himself, gloved hands shoved deep into the pockets of his buttoned-up duster as he walked alongside Jekyll.
The mousy doctor's expression was one of deep thought and, perhaps, annoyance.
"Tuppence for your thoughts?"
Jekyll glanced up, startled at the sudden question, and stared at his addresser as though seeing him for the first time.
"Pardon?"
"Easy, doc," Rodney chuckled, holding up his hands in mock-defense. "You looked so far away, just 'ad to make sure you could still 'ear us." He lowered his hands, sobering a little.
"'Ey, sorry if I seemed like I was knockin' your…er, diagnosis or whatever earlier. I just thought—"
"Skinner," Jekyll put up a hand to stop his apology, though not unkindly. "I understand. In fact, I'd go so far as to say I agreed with you in the first place, but one cannot throw out any other possibilities in my profession."
Yet, Henry still had a distinctly ruffled countenance the moment he turned to face the lush hill they were climbing. Curious as ever, Skinner pried some more while trying not to slip on the dew-slicked grass.
"So, Hyde got a bee in 'is bonnet or something then?"
"Something," Jekyll answered vaguely, pausing to catch his breath at the knoll's top, and giving the thief a somewhat steady hand. "He…doesn't particularly like this place."
"Oh?"
"Yes, but then again, there isn't much Hyde does like," Jekyll gazed over the tiny cluster of buildings and pastures that made up the village before them. Most of the foundations were houses—each identical in its simplicity—while two larger ones seemed to be a town hall of sorts, and a quaint church.
"Nothing good, at least."
Ouch, Harry, Hyde growled, his sarcasm spilling through Jekyll's mind like oil on water. It hurts when you belittle me so.
"Do y'all hear that?" Tom interjected, momentarily distracting both Jekyll and Hyde.
The League listened carefully, catching a panicked, mournful sound on the wind blowing out from the parish towards the sea at their back. One could only just make out a gathering crowd of figures at the town's edge.
"Voices," Mina murmured, setting them even further on edge with her clarification.
Wasting no time, the heroes rushed down the slope, hoping they weren't too late after all.
