Disclaimer: wow, what a load of lovely reviews *blushes* Thank you all so much, here's the next part, I hope you all enjoy it.
Just a small side note, I don't know how long it took for the League to reach M's base. (I don't think it ever said.) So I'm making it quite a few days, after all M's wound healed before he fought again. ;)
Not much Tom owies yet, but his time will come. *evil laugh* I don't own LXG, Tom Sawyer, Allan Quatermain, Mina Hawker, Skinner, Captain Nemo, Dorian Gray, Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, M or anything else used in the fic.
Please read then review.
Black Pawn, White Pawn.
~~~
Part 1:- Undercurrents.
~~~
"I will tell you one thing: the moment I choose, I can be rid of Mr. Hyde. I give you my hand upon that; and I thank you again and again; and I will just add one little word, Utterson, that I'm sure you'll take in good part: this is a private matter, and I beg of you to let it sleep?"
~The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Chapter 3.
~By Robert Louis Stevenson.
Dr. Jekyll sat on the chair, flicking his watch open and shut, his nervous fingers scuttling over the gold cover. He shook his head slightly, refusing to look into any reflected surface. In the end though, he risked a quick, flashing look into a window, Mr. Hyde looking back at him.
"Don't be like that Edward, you have no proof." he pleaded. Behind him, Allan Quartermain entered, his footsteps too light to be heard by the preoccupied Doctor. Jekyll shook his head more violently, disagreeing with whatever Edward Hyde was saying. Dr. Jekyll slammed his watch shut again, this time without flicking it back open. The Doctor stood up and turned, right into Quartermain.
"Mr. Quartermain..." he stuttered. "You surprised me." Allan nodded and stepped to the side, letting Jekyll move past him. As he reached the door, Allan Quartermain stopped him with a single question.
"What does Mr. Hyde think about all of this?" Dr. Jekyll froze and carefully placed his watch back into his jacket pocket. He took a deep breath, beads of sweat gathering on his face.
"... He thinks Agent Sawyer betrayed us." he explained. What ever Allan had been expecting, this was not it. He felt the blood rush to his head, the pounding in his ears making it impossible to hear. After a few seconds the pounding lessened and he was able to think again.
"What?" he croaked, unable to put a coherent sentence together. Dr. Jekyll was giving him a worried look.
"He thinks that it is possible that Mr. Gray and Mr. Sawyer were working together. After all what do we know of Sawyer?"
"Skinner said he was in a bad way." Quartermain said gruffly, sitting down in one of the empty chairs. Dr. Jekyll looked away, then seemed to garter courage from somewhere and looked back. He nervously tried to tidy his hair with his hands.
"Skinner didn't specify what he meant." Jekyll said gently. "It's possible that what he meant 'bad way' as in injured, yet on Gray's side or that 'bad' meant betrayed."
"Don't be so absurd." snarled Quartermain. Jekyll's face went a deep red color.
"Your affection for the boy blinds you to the possibility that he's not on our side!" he yelled. Quartermain stood up, his gun slamming to the table top in a loud crash.
"Silence!" he roared. Jekyll stopped, just as shocked by his own out burst as Quartermain was. "What do you think?" he asked.
"I... I don't know. I don't want to believe it... but why would M kidnap Tom Sawyer out of all of us?"
"Maybe because young Mr. Sawyer as the only one of us inside the Nautilus at the time?" a female voice said behind them. Mina Hawker stood there, a hand on her neck, as if to protect it. "I noticed that he charged inside before any of us." Quartermain turned away again and sat back down, suddenly looking very old and tired.
"There you have it. Is Mr. Hyde satisfied? Are we still to try and save Sawyer?" he asked, his voice sounding weary. Jekyll glanced from Mina to Quartermain then back again.
"Mr. Hyde is never satisfied... but he will help save Sawyer." with that Jekyll bowed to Mina, then walked out of the room. For a few minutes there was quiet in the room as Quartermain stared at the table, seeming to have no energy to do anything else. Mina just stood there, not watching Quartermain but keeping an eye on him. Finally she broke the silence that had descended on them.
"You must not blame Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde for their uncertainty." she said softly. She glided forward and placed a conforming hand on the older man's shoulder. "We are afraid, all jumpy. The double blow of being betrayed by Gray and M, topped with the guilt that we blamed Skinner for it all, makes us all confused and jumpy. Can you blame Hyde for double guessing everything that has happened? We have to put this behind us, if we are to focus and work as one. There can be no doubt, no double guessing." she finished. In answer Quartermain reached inside his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a number of spent shell casings.
"These were found near Sawyer's gun. All of these..." he gestured to seven of the shell casings. "Belong to the gun we found. This one however." he held up the last one, it's color slightly different to the other's.
"This one was not fired by Sawyer's gun. Not only that, but a bullet that did not fire from any of Sawyer's gun was found." He held up a silver bullet, a faint brownish stain on it.
"Do you smell anything odd on it?" he asked, with a slightly twisted smile. Mina leaned forward and sniffed it with a puzzled expression. That faded to be replaced by horror, which was in turn, replaced by understanding.
"Blood." she said. Allan nodded, his eyes asking a question. Mina frowned, her mind traveling back. She had reached up and placed her finger on the cut Tom had gotten. There had been blood left on her fingers. Almost without thinking she had sniffed it, letting the tangy sent fill her nostrils.
"I can not tell if is Sawyer's blood. It certainly could be..."
"Guess." Allan pleaded. Mina leaned forward again and sniffed deeply. She shook her head in defeat.
"The stain is far too faint. It could be... I think it most probably is, if the bullet does not belong to any of his guns."
"You know what that means?" Allan Quartermain warned. Mina nodded, her eyes dark and foreboding.
"It means that young Mr. Sawyer was injured. Therefor he can not have left here of his own free will." Mina said. "Why did you not share this Mr. Quartermain?" she challenged.
"I'm not sure. I suppose I didn't want to believe it... it's hard to imagine anything stopping that boy."
"He would not enjoy being called a boy." Mina said, a hint of a smile on her normally somber features.
"That's what he is though, when all's said and done. That what he is." Allan said. Mina lowered her eyes and turned away.
"I'll leave you in peace Mr. Quartermain. Try not to brood." she said, knowing that now was a time that Allan needed to be alone. She had not doubt that he would indeed brood, as would she.
Her brooding would involve not only Tom Sawyer but Dorian Gray as well. But she had no time for brooding now, there were patients that needed seeing too and work that needed doing. There would be time for weakness later, time for regrets and fear.
Now was not that time.
~~~
Captain Nemo seemed to be everywhere at once. He might be working with his men in the engine room one minute, then, a few minutes later he might be in his cabin, pouring over blueprints to the Nautilus. A few minutes later he would be in yet a different part, doing a different job.
He matched into the conference room, a rolled up map under his arm. Allan Quartermain was still in the same position as he had been when Mina had left him, over two hours before. He looked up as the Indian entered the room, all traces of his worry smoothed from his face.
"Yes Captain?"
"We should be ready to move again in a few days." Nemo said, rolling out the map on the table. "The tracking system is up and running. Putting that with the coordinates Skinner sent us I believe I know where M will be."
"Good." Allan said, her gaze on the map, but his mind was not on it, it was far away, resting on a simple cross, a simple grave in Africa. Nemo bowed then walked back out of the room, leaving the map on the table.
~~~
Dorian surveyed M's base with something close to horror on his face. He glanced back to where M was stomping though the snow, one of his men following, the same man who had met them as they surfaced.
Attached to the man was a rope. Attached to the rope was Tom Sawyer. As the young American had yet to regain conciseness, he was simply being dragged through the snow by his feet, his arms trailing behind, leaving a clear, sharp line of blood in its wake. Dorian turned back to the base, the horror still visible on his face.
"Something bothering you?" M's voice asked him. Dorian raised a delicately sculpted eyebrow.
"This is your base?" he asked reaching in his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. "Rather drab isn't it?"
"Why should the wolf care what his home looks like as long as it has what he needs?" M answered before walking ahead. Dorian froze a faint smile lingering on his face.
"Growl." he mummured. "Wolves are dangerous, M, you should know that." he whispered. If Dorian had his way, he would never have been involved in the League or M's plans. But fate - or rather a burglar - had stepped in and changed the course of Dorian's life.
If he had one weakness, it was his painting.
A weakness that M had exploited with calculated ruthless. Dorian stood at the top of the hill, watching the other man as he scrambled down the hill. The faint smile on his face increased as he saw Sawyer's head being banged on loose rocks as he was dragged down the hill. It seemed M didn't really care what happened to Sawyer as long as he was still in one piece by the time they reached the inside of the base.
"Pity... I rather liked the boy. He... amused me, in more ways than one. Fancy imaging he really had a chance with the Vampiress." Dorian said to no one. He sighed dramatically and moved down the hill after the retreating figures.
"Oh well, such is life... for other people."
If he had looked behind him, he would have seen the impression of footprints in the snow, if he had listened he would have heard the soft cracking as snow was pressed by an invisible foot. Skinner reached the top of the hill and looked down, his expression - if it had been visible - was much the same as Dorian's had been. He gave a wince of sympathy as Tom's head was banged by a partially large rock, before going down the hill, shivering as he did so.
~~~
M entered his private quarters, Sawyer still being dragged after him by the other man.
"Lee, just leave him over there. Make sure he's secure." M rasped, without bothering to turn round to see if his order was being carried out. He climbed the stairs and moved to where his mirror and wash bowl were. His eyes darkened and became hard as he stared at the wound Quartermain had give him.
"Bring me that picture!" he yelled, his fingers clenched against the palms of his hands. They were held so tight that he could feel the blood seeping out. Behind him a man hurried in, a painting in a large wooden frame in front of him. M turned, his eyes on fire.
"Leave it over there." he said, picking up a discarded sword.
The painting had clearly been attacked many times with a sword and in one case a gun. It had also been repaired just as many times and in some cases, parts of it had been repainted. It depicted a tall, lean man sitting on a hard wooden chair, his intelligent eyes boring into who ever was looking at it. The eyes seemed to follow the viewer around the room. The man sitting in the chair was wearing a deerstalker hat, a wooden pipe between his lips. His nose was long and crooked, his fingers long and pale.
M held the sword tightly in both hands, his bright eyes fixed hatefully on the picture. Spit began to form in his mouth, the taste of anger. It built up inside of him, erupting in a loud, animal like scream as he slashed downwards, cutting the painting right down the middle. He slashed at it again and again, tearing at it.
The expression on the painting did not change which seemed to infuriate M even more. The sword fell from his tired fingers, but still M did not stop his mad attack, clawing at the painting with his hands, scratching at it, until, finally, he stopped, his laden arms simply too tired to attack the picture any longer.
The spittle in his mouth remained, a reminder of hate towards this man. M spat, the saliva flying out of his mouth and hitting the painting in the middle. M wiped his mouth with the side of his hand and stared in disgust at what remained of the once proud painting.
It was a pitiful sight.
The painting had been attacked so much and with such force that it was almost impossible to tell what it had originally been of. Strips of it lay on the floor, other parts hanging on to the painting by a mere thread. M felt his lips curl upwards as he looked at the damage. He wiped his hands together, trying in vain to wipe away the paint stains that had embedded themselves under his nails.
He moved back to his wash bowl and began to scrub his hands. Lee entered the room and stood rigidly to attention. M casually wiped his hands on a towel, all traces of his anger gone.
"Get it repaired."
"I... I don't think it can be..." Lee stuttered. The anger erupted from M as he grabbed Lee by the front of his sheet.
"They get me a painter who can repaint the whole thing!" he screamed, throwing Lee towards the door. Lee scrambled to his feet and rushed out. At the door frame he stopped and faced M, cowering.
"I-it may take a day or two..." he said, expecting another outburst. The silence in the room was so heavy it could be cut with a knife. Then, surprisingly, M laughed. Lee watched, unable to look away, inwardly wondering if his master had cracked. But then, M, was well known in the base for his sudden mood swings, a trait that made him all the more dangerous to work for.
"Not to worry... I have a substitute to use until it's repainted." M said, his gaze resting on the slightly moving form of Tom Sawyer. Lee gulped then fled the room, M's deranged laughter ringing in his ears...
TBC...
There you have it! Thank you to everyone who answered my question about Skinner, I've read the Invisible Man now and he most definitely isn't in the book. (Unless he was once a pub landlord.) Still, thank you for telling me where he did come from.
Please leave a review.
~Sethoz
Just a small side note, I don't know how long it took for the League to reach M's base. (I don't think it ever said.) So I'm making it quite a few days, after all M's wound healed before he fought again. ;)
Not much Tom owies yet, but his time will come. *evil laugh* I don't own LXG, Tom Sawyer, Allan Quatermain, Mina Hawker, Skinner, Captain Nemo, Dorian Gray, Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, M or anything else used in the fic.
Please read then review.
Black Pawn, White Pawn.
~~~
Part 1:- Undercurrents.
~~~
"I will tell you one thing: the moment I choose, I can be rid of Mr. Hyde. I give you my hand upon that; and I thank you again and again; and I will just add one little word, Utterson, that I'm sure you'll take in good part: this is a private matter, and I beg of you to let it sleep?"
~The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Chapter 3.
~By Robert Louis Stevenson.
Dr. Jekyll sat on the chair, flicking his watch open and shut, his nervous fingers scuttling over the gold cover. He shook his head slightly, refusing to look into any reflected surface. In the end though, he risked a quick, flashing look into a window, Mr. Hyde looking back at him.
"Don't be like that Edward, you have no proof." he pleaded. Behind him, Allan Quartermain entered, his footsteps too light to be heard by the preoccupied Doctor. Jekyll shook his head more violently, disagreeing with whatever Edward Hyde was saying. Dr. Jekyll slammed his watch shut again, this time without flicking it back open. The Doctor stood up and turned, right into Quartermain.
"Mr. Quartermain..." he stuttered. "You surprised me." Allan nodded and stepped to the side, letting Jekyll move past him. As he reached the door, Allan Quartermain stopped him with a single question.
"What does Mr. Hyde think about all of this?" Dr. Jekyll froze and carefully placed his watch back into his jacket pocket. He took a deep breath, beads of sweat gathering on his face.
"... He thinks Agent Sawyer betrayed us." he explained. What ever Allan had been expecting, this was not it. He felt the blood rush to his head, the pounding in his ears making it impossible to hear. After a few seconds the pounding lessened and he was able to think again.
"What?" he croaked, unable to put a coherent sentence together. Dr. Jekyll was giving him a worried look.
"He thinks that it is possible that Mr. Gray and Mr. Sawyer were working together. After all what do we know of Sawyer?"
"Skinner said he was in a bad way." Quartermain said gruffly, sitting down in one of the empty chairs. Dr. Jekyll looked away, then seemed to garter courage from somewhere and looked back. He nervously tried to tidy his hair with his hands.
"Skinner didn't specify what he meant." Jekyll said gently. "It's possible that what he meant 'bad way' as in injured, yet on Gray's side or that 'bad' meant betrayed."
"Don't be so absurd." snarled Quartermain. Jekyll's face went a deep red color.
"Your affection for the boy blinds you to the possibility that he's not on our side!" he yelled. Quartermain stood up, his gun slamming to the table top in a loud crash.
"Silence!" he roared. Jekyll stopped, just as shocked by his own out burst as Quartermain was. "What do you think?" he asked.
"I... I don't know. I don't want to believe it... but why would M kidnap Tom Sawyer out of all of us?"
"Maybe because young Mr. Sawyer as the only one of us inside the Nautilus at the time?" a female voice said behind them. Mina Hawker stood there, a hand on her neck, as if to protect it. "I noticed that he charged inside before any of us." Quartermain turned away again and sat back down, suddenly looking very old and tired.
"There you have it. Is Mr. Hyde satisfied? Are we still to try and save Sawyer?" he asked, his voice sounding weary. Jekyll glanced from Mina to Quartermain then back again.
"Mr. Hyde is never satisfied... but he will help save Sawyer." with that Jekyll bowed to Mina, then walked out of the room. For a few minutes there was quiet in the room as Quartermain stared at the table, seeming to have no energy to do anything else. Mina just stood there, not watching Quartermain but keeping an eye on him. Finally she broke the silence that had descended on them.
"You must not blame Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde for their uncertainty." she said softly. She glided forward and placed a conforming hand on the older man's shoulder. "We are afraid, all jumpy. The double blow of being betrayed by Gray and M, topped with the guilt that we blamed Skinner for it all, makes us all confused and jumpy. Can you blame Hyde for double guessing everything that has happened? We have to put this behind us, if we are to focus and work as one. There can be no doubt, no double guessing." she finished. In answer Quartermain reached inside his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a number of spent shell casings.
"These were found near Sawyer's gun. All of these..." he gestured to seven of the shell casings. "Belong to the gun we found. This one however." he held up the last one, it's color slightly different to the other's.
"This one was not fired by Sawyer's gun. Not only that, but a bullet that did not fire from any of Sawyer's gun was found." He held up a silver bullet, a faint brownish stain on it.
"Do you smell anything odd on it?" he asked, with a slightly twisted smile. Mina leaned forward and sniffed it with a puzzled expression. That faded to be replaced by horror, which was in turn, replaced by understanding.
"Blood." she said. Allan nodded, his eyes asking a question. Mina frowned, her mind traveling back. She had reached up and placed her finger on the cut Tom had gotten. There had been blood left on her fingers. Almost without thinking she had sniffed it, letting the tangy sent fill her nostrils.
"I can not tell if is Sawyer's blood. It certainly could be..."
"Guess." Allan pleaded. Mina leaned forward again and sniffed deeply. She shook her head in defeat.
"The stain is far too faint. It could be... I think it most probably is, if the bullet does not belong to any of his guns."
"You know what that means?" Allan Quartermain warned. Mina nodded, her eyes dark and foreboding.
"It means that young Mr. Sawyer was injured. Therefor he can not have left here of his own free will." Mina said. "Why did you not share this Mr. Quartermain?" she challenged.
"I'm not sure. I suppose I didn't want to believe it... it's hard to imagine anything stopping that boy."
"He would not enjoy being called a boy." Mina said, a hint of a smile on her normally somber features.
"That's what he is though, when all's said and done. That what he is." Allan said. Mina lowered her eyes and turned away.
"I'll leave you in peace Mr. Quartermain. Try not to brood." she said, knowing that now was a time that Allan needed to be alone. She had not doubt that he would indeed brood, as would she.
Her brooding would involve not only Tom Sawyer but Dorian Gray as well. But she had no time for brooding now, there were patients that needed seeing too and work that needed doing. There would be time for weakness later, time for regrets and fear.
Now was not that time.
~~~
Captain Nemo seemed to be everywhere at once. He might be working with his men in the engine room one minute, then, a few minutes later he might be in his cabin, pouring over blueprints to the Nautilus. A few minutes later he would be in yet a different part, doing a different job.
He matched into the conference room, a rolled up map under his arm. Allan Quartermain was still in the same position as he had been when Mina had left him, over two hours before. He looked up as the Indian entered the room, all traces of his worry smoothed from his face.
"Yes Captain?"
"We should be ready to move again in a few days." Nemo said, rolling out the map on the table. "The tracking system is up and running. Putting that with the coordinates Skinner sent us I believe I know where M will be."
"Good." Allan said, her gaze on the map, but his mind was not on it, it was far away, resting on a simple cross, a simple grave in Africa. Nemo bowed then walked back out of the room, leaving the map on the table.
~~~
Dorian surveyed M's base with something close to horror on his face. He glanced back to where M was stomping though the snow, one of his men following, the same man who had met them as they surfaced.
Attached to the man was a rope. Attached to the rope was Tom Sawyer. As the young American had yet to regain conciseness, he was simply being dragged through the snow by his feet, his arms trailing behind, leaving a clear, sharp line of blood in its wake. Dorian turned back to the base, the horror still visible on his face.
"Something bothering you?" M's voice asked him. Dorian raised a delicately sculpted eyebrow.
"This is your base?" he asked reaching in his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. "Rather drab isn't it?"
"Why should the wolf care what his home looks like as long as it has what he needs?" M answered before walking ahead. Dorian froze a faint smile lingering on his face.
"Growl." he mummured. "Wolves are dangerous, M, you should know that." he whispered. If Dorian had his way, he would never have been involved in the League or M's plans. But fate - or rather a burglar - had stepped in and changed the course of Dorian's life.
If he had one weakness, it was his painting.
A weakness that M had exploited with calculated ruthless. Dorian stood at the top of the hill, watching the other man as he scrambled down the hill. The faint smile on his face increased as he saw Sawyer's head being banged on loose rocks as he was dragged down the hill. It seemed M didn't really care what happened to Sawyer as long as he was still in one piece by the time they reached the inside of the base.
"Pity... I rather liked the boy. He... amused me, in more ways than one. Fancy imaging he really had a chance with the Vampiress." Dorian said to no one. He sighed dramatically and moved down the hill after the retreating figures.
"Oh well, such is life... for other people."
If he had looked behind him, he would have seen the impression of footprints in the snow, if he had listened he would have heard the soft cracking as snow was pressed by an invisible foot. Skinner reached the top of the hill and looked down, his expression - if it had been visible - was much the same as Dorian's had been. He gave a wince of sympathy as Tom's head was banged by a partially large rock, before going down the hill, shivering as he did so.
~~~
M entered his private quarters, Sawyer still being dragged after him by the other man.
"Lee, just leave him over there. Make sure he's secure." M rasped, without bothering to turn round to see if his order was being carried out. He climbed the stairs and moved to where his mirror and wash bowl were. His eyes darkened and became hard as he stared at the wound Quartermain had give him.
"Bring me that picture!" he yelled, his fingers clenched against the palms of his hands. They were held so tight that he could feel the blood seeping out. Behind him a man hurried in, a painting in a large wooden frame in front of him. M turned, his eyes on fire.
"Leave it over there." he said, picking up a discarded sword.
The painting had clearly been attacked many times with a sword and in one case a gun. It had also been repaired just as many times and in some cases, parts of it had been repainted. It depicted a tall, lean man sitting on a hard wooden chair, his intelligent eyes boring into who ever was looking at it. The eyes seemed to follow the viewer around the room. The man sitting in the chair was wearing a deerstalker hat, a wooden pipe between his lips. His nose was long and crooked, his fingers long and pale.
M held the sword tightly in both hands, his bright eyes fixed hatefully on the picture. Spit began to form in his mouth, the taste of anger. It built up inside of him, erupting in a loud, animal like scream as he slashed downwards, cutting the painting right down the middle. He slashed at it again and again, tearing at it.
The expression on the painting did not change which seemed to infuriate M even more. The sword fell from his tired fingers, but still M did not stop his mad attack, clawing at the painting with his hands, scratching at it, until, finally, he stopped, his laden arms simply too tired to attack the picture any longer.
The spittle in his mouth remained, a reminder of hate towards this man. M spat, the saliva flying out of his mouth and hitting the painting in the middle. M wiped his mouth with the side of his hand and stared in disgust at what remained of the once proud painting.
It was a pitiful sight.
The painting had been attacked so much and with such force that it was almost impossible to tell what it had originally been of. Strips of it lay on the floor, other parts hanging on to the painting by a mere thread. M felt his lips curl upwards as he looked at the damage. He wiped his hands together, trying in vain to wipe away the paint stains that had embedded themselves under his nails.
He moved back to his wash bowl and began to scrub his hands. Lee entered the room and stood rigidly to attention. M casually wiped his hands on a towel, all traces of his anger gone.
"Get it repaired."
"I... I don't think it can be..." Lee stuttered. The anger erupted from M as he grabbed Lee by the front of his sheet.
"They get me a painter who can repaint the whole thing!" he screamed, throwing Lee towards the door. Lee scrambled to his feet and rushed out. At the door frame he stopped and faced M, cowering.
"I-it may take a day or two..." he said, expecting another outburst. The silence in the room was so heavy it could be cut with a knife. Then, surprisingly, M laughed. Lee watched, unable to look away, inwardly wondering if his master had cracked. But then, M, was well known in the base for his sudden mood swings, a trait that made him all the more dangerous to work for.
"Not to worry... I have a substitute to use until it's repainted." M said, his gaze resting on the slightly moving form of Tom Sawyer. Lee gulped then fled the room, M's deranged laughter ringing in his ears...
TBC...
There you have it! Thank you to everyone who answered my question about Skinner, I've read the Invisible Man now and he most definitely isn't in the book. (Unless he was once a pub landlord.) Still, thank you for telling me where he did come from.
Please leave a review.
~Sethoz