A/N: Well, because everyone has been so great and reviewed my story *is chuffed*, I'm going to go ahead and give you chapter 3 now. Just a warning though, don't expect all chapters this quick, it's just cuz I'm so enthusiastic right now. Let's see if we can't keep it that way, huh? :) You Tom angst fans will be pleased ;)
Doctor Henry Jekyll passed some of the time on their journey to France by reacquainting himself with the language. It really was a beautiful dialect, and he was quite fluent in it after spending some time there. The rest of the time that had passed so far was spent in study. He read quite an impressive amount of a book Nemo had offered him. It really was quite intriguing.
He ignored the grumbling voice in his head that nagged him almost constantly, and turned the page in the enchanting book. Hyde relentlessly tried to distract him and lure him to the elixir when it wasn't needed, but Jekyll's resolve had been stronger of late. He was getting much better at resisting, aided along of course by the fact that Hyde was growing more accustomed to the notion that he wasn't let out whenever he felt like it... he had to be called on, needed as it were.
Henry didn't want him out unless he needed to be, and that was sporadically of late. They had need of his services here and there, and reluctantly, he let the monster out.
He supposed he shouldn't call his other identity a monster; he had saved the entire crew of the Nautilus before, not to mention resisting maiming and killing on several occassions. Hyde appeared to be making quite good progress from the mindless killing machine he had once been. It was almost enough to bring a smile to Henry's face.
The Nautilus broke the surface of the water some ten minutes later, and not long after this Jekyll had taken it upon himself to stroll the decks of the submarine, smiling politely in his usual manner at the faces he saw. The crew acknowledged him in return, and one even jumped when a loud bang was heard from somewhere way above them.
Henry's eyes looked up, as though he had the ability to see through the deck-plating overhead. He raised an eyebrow. He knew that noise.
Tom called out again, and the familiar noise of the target launching was heard, shortly before his green eyes saw the red sphere fly over the water, landing some measurable distance from the side of the Nautilus.
He had seized the nearest oppurtunity to practise his skills, and had taken advantage of Nemo's offer of one of his loyal crew to help him do so. The other man did not speak to Tom, simply fired the targets for him when asked.
Tom aimed the Winchester easily, compensating for the wind and their speed, his eyes narrowing in concentration, his finger lightly squeezing the trigger, slowly at first, a millimetre at a time, until his brain registered, and the gun fired.
Off in the distance, the target exploded with the impact of the bullet, and Tom called for another almost instantly, readying the gun he favoured so much once more.
His ears heard the door open and close behind him, but he did not waver from his target as the gun lay perfectly steady on his left hand, his right curled respectively around the finger lever and the trigger, until after a few seconds, he squeezed all the way, and fired the rifle, watching with nonplussed satisfaction as the red sphere was destroyed again.
"If I may say so, you're getting very good at that," came the male voice from behind him, even as he readied the gun again, his eyes never leaving his weapon. He had practised as much as possible since Allan had died, and he was getting very accustomed to it. It was part of his regular routine. Skinner called it obsessive... Tom called it prepared.
Tom knew the voice belonged to Henry Jekyll, so even as he called for another target he lifted the gun. He didn't need to divert his eyes to confirm their identity. "What brings you up here?"
Jekyll came up beside him, but stood a foot or two off from him, so as not to be startled by the noise of the gun when it went off again. "I heard the noise, and recognised it to be your rifle."
This time though, Tom's eyes did meet Jekyll's, and he blinked once in query.
"I wondered how it was going... your practise that is," Jekyll informed him. "The last time I came, you were hitting two out of three... it seems you've improved somewhat." He paused. "But then again, you are up here as often as possible."
"Just trying to hone my skills," Tom said to him, gripping the rifle singularly in his right hand now, letting the barrel fall back onto his shoulder. He cocked his head at the doctor. Surely that wasn't all he was here for.
Jekyll glanced over the side of the submarine, turning his head to look to the front of the vessel. "Ah, I think I can make out land now. Nemo assured me it would not take long to reach France."
"Which part of France we headed for anyway?" Tom inquired, realising he did not know. He had neglected to ask.
"Nemo is directing us towards Paris, my old haunt." Jekyll smiled, and Tom returned it.
"You miss it?"
Jekyll sighed noticeably, his arms behind his back casually once more. "Sometimes. I do prefer London though." He looked Tom in the eye. "But our informant assures us that Evans has fled to Paris, and so we are to follow. I must admit that this man is giving us quite the run around."
Why did the English have to speak so... so... properly? There was always something to Mina and Jekyll's accents that gnawed at Tom sometimes, and he realised now what it was. They were so prim in their speech. They never cut corners.
"What do you think he's trying to do in Paris?" Tom asked of his companion, calling for another target afterwards. He lowered and levelled the rifle as the sphere sailed out into the water.
Jekyll turned to watch as he replied, "I am not sure. Perhaps he had a backup plan in case we discovered his secret meeting place. You did say he seemed to know of us."
"Yeah, but he might have just heard of us," Tom said quietly, concentrating on his target. "We are building up quite a reputation."
Jekyll chuckled and nodded to the side of him. "I suppose you're right... I just hope we aren't being played for fools again."
Tom fired too soon, and the bullet ripped into the water some five feet to the right of the target. He cursed under his breath, and lowered his gaze. He couldn't recall missing in a while. Why now?
"I'm sorry," Jekyll murmured apologetically, "I didn't mean to-"
"No, it's okay," Tom assured him with a shake of the head, "everyone misses from time to time, right?"
Even though he was slightly put off by his own miscalculation, Tom smiled at the doctor, reassuring the man. He didn't want him blaming himself for something that couldn't possibly have been his fault.
"Yes," Jekyll agreed, "I suppose they do."
The door opened partially to reveal the wizened face of Captain Nemo, and he said, "We will be submerging soon. We are drawing up on our destination."
"Okay, thanks" Tom acknowledged, and Jekyll nodded in a kind of half-bow to show Nemo he understood. The Captain disappeared, but left the door open for them.
"Down we go," Jekyll quipped light-heartedly, and Tom laughed, following him into the doorway, his Winchester slung over his shoulder again.
The darkness that engulfed Paris to symbolise the end of another day came over them so quickly, they didn't even realise it was there until Skinner pointed it out from his place to Sawyer's left at the end of the ramp to the Nautilus whilst they waited for Jekyll and Mina to return from their reconnaissance.
Nemo stood at the head of the ramp with his crew all around him, even as running and the fluttering of wings could be heard together, swiftly approaching. Out of the shadows came Jekyll, and appearing in a shroud of bats before them was Mina. She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, before she met the gaze of Nemo and nodded.
"We found him," she reported.
"Great, where is he?" Sawyer demanded, spinning his Winchester around once so that it was ready to fire. He held it in both hands now, eyes staring intently at Mina.
What was his problem lately? That was all that Skinner could ponder. Ever since Allan had died a little over six months ago, the young man had seemed distant.
Mina replied in her usual pensive manner, her words music to Skinner's ears, "He is in the depths of the city. He appears to be conversing with someone, quite possibly our burly friend from before."
Sawyer made a noise not too dissimilar to a grunt, and nodded, about to head off. Jekyll stood before him. "We need to go in as a team, Tom," he told the young agent, who raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"You got a plan?" Sawyer inquired curiously, perhaps even with interest.
Jekyll smiled up at Nemo, who nodded. "The Captain and I have been puzzling over how to snare this man after his most recent escape. We can't very well have him running off again, can we?"
Sawyer nodded.
Skinner buried his gloved hands deep in his pockets, and sighed. "So what's this master plan then, Doctor, or are we to be surprised?"
"We will place ourselves at strategic positions around where Mr Evans has decided to place himself," Nemo informed them upon descending the ramp. They turned to listen attentively. "But not like before. He managed to slip through our grasp. This time we need to have our eyes and ears open and we need our signals ready. This must be perfect if we are to succeed."
They nodded in agreement. Needless to say, their last plan had been quite the flop. Skinner made sure to pay attention this time, not letting his attention slip for a second.
His green eyes surveyed the quiet streets around him, as he stood leaned back against the wall behind him. His favoured Winchester had been left at the Nautilus, much to his chagrin. He was told his two sidearm pistols would be more subtle and appropriate. If Evans passed him by without paying attention, he wouldn't immediately know the identity of the shadowy figure.
Tom had donned his long coat again, his hat covering his blonde hair once more. His hands were in his pockets, and he seemed to the casual onlooker as innocent and harmless as could be.
Sighing, he looked up. He could see the stars and the waning moon, but nothing of his companions. He hoped it would go better this time.
He heard footsteps, and looked discreetly to his right. It was Evans, coming up the street with his crony at his side. He didn't look anywhere near as hairy now, instead like a normal man. Tom frowned. Had he imagined it before?
Just your eyes playing tricks on you, his subconscious chattered. He shrugged it off, and watched from beneath the lowered peak of his hat as they passed him by unawares. He couldn't stop the cheeky grin that crossed his face, and after checking the streets once again, took off after them.
Tom travelled at a walk some fifteen feet behind them, making sure to be as stealthy as he could. They had decided against the use of Skinner for this task, as the last time his stealth had been required, he had managed to attract attention within minutes.
As the two walked ahead of him, Tom picked out their conversation.
"We must be on the alert, Jacques," murmured Evans, and Tom smiled.
So this was the same man as before. The name was identical anyway. Tom doubted it was a coincidence.
When the man named Jacques spoke in response, it was with a thick French accent, "How can we tell that this League is not following us?"
"We can't, and that is precisely my point, old friend," Evans reminded him. "They could be lurking around the next corner, waiting for us. Have your wits about you."
Forget the next corner, Tom thought, try right behind you.
They turned a bend, and Tom kept close, but not right behind them. He didn't want this Jacques to hear him... he seemed to be good at that.
But even as Tom turned the corner, something struck him hard in the back of the head, and he fell to his knees, dazed, trying to fight the blackness that threatened him.