It took three days aboard before they started driving each other insane.
The worst of the lot actually seemed to be the new policeman, Tellman. Henry was all right in his eyes, if a bit bumbling, and he had grudging respect for Nemo. But he had stated publicly that he didn't see any use for Dorian, had cringed and moved to the other side of the hall whenever Sebastian walked through the ship (always in the custody of Abberline), and was downright terrified of Skinner. The invisible man, of course, found this all very amusing. Dorian seemed to have decided to keep to his cabin whenever possible after the first day.
Tom and Huck ran around either in blissful ignorance or tactfully overlooking everyone's quirks and foibles. It was probably a good thing, giving everyone at least two people around whom they could act normally without fear of reprisal or retreat. After three days a routine had tentatively been established. The League clustered together, moving in and out of rooms regardless of each other's presence. Abberline would only permit Sebastian into areas where the League was. Pitt moved freely between groups, although the conversation seemed to become stilted and delicate in his presence. Tellman, for the most part, was avoided by nearly everyone; his prickly personality and conservatism had made everyone wary of talking to him.
Even among the League there were tensions, but they managed to suppress most of them in favor of not being left totally alone. Except, perhaps, for Nemo, who seemed to take everything in his impassive stride.
Henry Jekyll sat in the dining room (it was just the opulent side of being called a 'mess'), twisting his fingers together and fiddling with his pocket watch. His courage and quiet strength seemed to be diminishing with every mile they sailed away from London.
"You keep doing that, you'll tie your fingers in a knot," came a voice at his elbow. Henry jumped.
"Skinner, would you please put some clothes on?" he retorted in a higher pitch than he would have liked. "It's not... right." Proper, had been what he had meant to say, but he had just the other day been teased by Dorian in passing about his rigidness and propriety, and was reluctant to put himself forward as a result.
"Sorry, mate," Skinner chuckled, but his voice did hold a note of apology. He pulled his coat off the chair; evidently he had been in the room before Henry had entered. A compact of white cream floated into the air and began to spread itself on a face. "Better?"
But Henry wasn't done with him. "I don't see why you have to run around ... unclothed..." he muttered.
"Well, it's the only way I can really be invisible. I mean, if I'm invisible but there's a lot of clothes walking around, that's not very stealthy, is it? Wouldn't be much use to the League, then."
There wasn't much Henry could say to refute that, so he acknowledged it with a nod and pushed it aside. "But do you have to do it around the children?"
The coat sat down, Skinner's face mostly formed in the white paint. He seemed to have no expression, though, carefully keeping a blank stare on his face. "I don't do it often around the children, mate. But if you think something's going on and you want to send in a spy, or if you're worried about Marie and you don't want her to know about it, you're going to want me invisible. And that means no clothes."
That effectively ended the argument. Henry returned to playing with his watch, and Skinner poured himself a drink. The ship listed slightly to one side, or seemed to. Perhaps it was just the doctor's nervousness.
"You'll want to settle down, Henry," Skinner said finally. "It's bad enough without you worrying like someone's grandmother. What's got your knickers in a twist?"
"The assignment," Henry said with dry candor. Skinner shrugged, wiping his hands on a handkerchief before pulling his gloves on.
"It's got everyone spooked, mate. But you seem more ..." he thought briefly about phrasing it as 'incompetent' and then tossed the word aside. "I don't know... you seem more wrecked than usual."
Jekyll was quiet.
"Is it the orphanage?"
Henry shook his head. His hands moved faster over the pocket watch.
"Is it the survivors?"
The pocket watch slipped from Henry's hands and dropped to the floor with a clatter that sounded strangely loud in the room. His eyes flashed electric blue, then settled back to their normal faded color. For a second it looked as though Hyde would burst from his skin on his own, without the help of the formula. The moment passed.
"They were all placed years ago, all but the oldest. Gordie, he went to a family in Salisbury. George went up north. Another went to a colleague of mine, I can't remember the poor lad's name. Even Katherine Stoker took a boy in."
"So, they're safe. They're well cared for. We've got two ourselves, what's the problem?"
"The problem is that whoever is taking the children again is going to want to take them back. We've stolen property from them, and they're going to want it back." Henry shuddered. "And I left Marie and Mina alone... the other parents, they have no way of knowing... the other children... young men and woman they'd be, now. There's no way of telling them, unless we telegraph each and every one... I don't even know where they are now..." The watch spun around and around in his hands.
"Marie can take care of herself better than you think," Skinner said quietly.
Henry looked up at him with almost enough ferocity to be called a glare.
"That's who your really worried about, isn't it?"
"That's no business of yours, Skinner."
"Henry, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but if that girl is going to make you so crazy you're not going to be able to help, it's League business. You need to focus. You can't let her distract you." He moved around the table and leaned forward, hands flat, almost looming over Henry. "You need to stop thinking about her."
Henry hunched over for a second, shaking. Then he turned and looked up at Skinner almost hatefully, startling the invisible man into taking a step back. "As though you haven't been thinking about her from the moment you stepped on board," he said, in a voice that was low, gravely, and sounded of Hyde.
"Whether I have or not, that's not anyone's concern. I'm not the one who's been a nervous wreck over the girl for the past three days."
"Yet you think of her as more than just the little sister or foster daughter that everyone else in the League sees her as."
Skinner frowned. That was hitting too close to the mark. "And if I fancy her, what business is that of yours either? She's a grown woman, she's perfectly capable of telling me to naff off if she wants to. And before you get all huffy about intentions..."
"Is she?" Henry overrode Skinner in a voice that was still Hyde-like and starting to unnerve the other man. "Is she really? You know what she is, how she thinks. She still suffers attacks of hysteria and panic if she so much as sets foot outside her door without a League member present. Do you really think she is capable of turning you down?"
Skinner's frown slid into a scowl, not liking the way this conversation was going. Apart from the sheer annoyance of Henry telling him to go stuff himself when he was pretty sure Henry fancied the girl himself, there was also the slight fear that Henry was right. That he did have feelings for the girl, feelings that she would not be capable of rejecting. Especially him; he remembered that night very vividly, although he was not so sure that Henry did. And he remembered that he had been the one to carry Marie out of the tunnels. Would that earn him a special place in her heart that would not have otherwise been there? He didn't know, and the thought was sickening.
-
-
-
Nemo was bent over the maps and stacks of files with the biggest headache he had had since the Ireland assignment. Between the trouble among his passengers, the trouble with the assignment, and various problems on, in, and around his ship, he was starting to consider if maybe early retirement might not be a bad idea. To make matters worse, he shared Henry's suspicions that the kidnappers might not try for the group that had been snatched from their lair previously, seven years ago. Although Percy was safe aboard his ship, the Captain couldn't help the nagging fear that something would happen...
Which, of course, only made him more irritable. He pushed the thoughts away, trying to concentrate on their course and their future investigations. At least some of the new guests were well behaved. Pitt seemed a little unnerved by the League but willing enough to put differences in body and personality aside. Huck, perhaps influenced by Tom, treated everything as though it was perfectly normal and expected. And Abberline... well, Abberline was most likely too occupied with keeping the homicidal maniac from getting lose to worry about whether Skinner was listening in or if Henry was going to snap.
The door creaked open, but Nemo was too preoccupied to really take notice or turn around.
"Permission to come in, Captain?"
Nemo glanced over his shoulder. Percy, thank god, with a tray and cups of... was that... "Yes... thank you." Decorum barely kept him from pouncing on the boy and tray with the speed of a mad tiger. "The tea smells wonderful."
"You've been locked up in here for several hours, I thought you might like something to drink. There's some chicken coming along a bit later."
"Thank you," Nemo wrapped his hands around the cup of warm, thick tea, and sat back down in his chair. "This is exactly what I needed."
The young man beamed with pleasure, practically hopping from one foot to the other in the doorway. Nemo briefly thought about dismissing him, then sighed and decided that he had been staring at the maps long enough. Perhaps it was time for a little rest. "Please... join me."
Percy nodded solemnly, although it didn't wipe the smile from his face or the spring from his step. He took the chair opposite the Captain. "Thank you, sir."
For some reason the 'sir' grated on his nerves. Probably it was the reminder of his responsibilities. Nemo rubbed his forehead again... it was just too much. "Nemo. For the moment, I am Nemo. Not Captain, not sir... just..." Dakkar? No. "Nemo."
If the boy smiled any bigger he was going to crack his head in two. "All right."
They drank their tea in companionable silence, interrupted only by the arrival of a crew member with a tray of chicken curry. As hungry as he was and as good as the food smelled, Nemo took the plates down from the shelves as Percy pushed the maps aside and laid out the place settings, all with perfect decorum and not a hint of hurry. Percy said words over the meal, and they started to eat.
"Mm.." Nemo hadn't realized he'd been so hungry. "This is quite good."
"Food usually tastes good when you haven't eaten in a day or so," Percy replied with unusual tartness. Nemo blinked.
"Has it been that long?" He hadn't been keeping track. And they weren't that long out of port... was this what it was going to be like for the rest of the voyage? He shuddered.
"Nearly. Twenty hours since your last meal. I checked." Percy's tone was still very dry and pointed, and Nemo had the distinct impression that he was being rebuked for something. "Dare I ask, if you collapse of hunger, who's going to run the ship? Not to mention all the other inventions you've brought along on the trip."
"I am not going to collapse of hunger..." Nemo retorted indignantly.
"You haven't eaten in nearly a day, and you've barely had anything to drink. I don't think you sleep, you just stay in here all day and all night planning. That is, when you're not pacing up and down the halls or asking strange questions of our new guests."
"I do not ask strange questions... And there are certain things I need to know to facilitate the investigation."
"The only thing you're going to be facilitating is a trip to the infirmary and an early grave." Percy stabbed a finger at the air in front of the Captain, his vehemence startling and unexpected. "If you don't start taking better care of yourself we will force you to."
"We?"
"The crew. And, more importantly, the League. I'll have Skinner keep an eye on you," Percy smirked. "Is that what you want?"
Nemo shuddered at the idea of the invisible thief coming any closer to his private quarters than was absolutely necessary. "No, thank you. I will endeavor to get the proper amount of sleep and take at least one meal a day. I will even do it in the public area, where you can watch me."
"You'll bloody well do it, none of this endeavoring to do anything. Or ..." Percy tried and failed to come up with a threat that was worse than having Skinner poke around.
Nemo knew it, and smiled. "Your concern for my welfare is overwhelming."
Percy actually blushed. "'s nothing."
They ate in silence for a little while longer. Nemo, in accordance with Percy's demand that he take a little time to himself at least, let his thoughts wander.
-
-
-
Tom and Huck dashed out onto the deck and promptly doubled over, breathing heavily. They were already in trouble with Abberline for baiting Sebastian like that, and they didn't need trouble with Nemo as well, so they had decided to come out on deck. But 'walking out' on deck had turned into 'running for their lives' when they had encountered Sebastian in the hallway... alone. Having heard more about the mysterious prisoner's past in their days on board they had fled for their lives... and ended up crashing directly into Dorian Gray.
"Sorry... didn't realize this was a free-for-all zone," he remarked. Huck stared at him as though he hadn't expected Dorian to be quite so nasty. Tom, used to Dorian by now, ignored the man.
"Come on, Huck..." he grabbed his friend by the arm and dragged him over to the rail. "We haven't been up on deck yet... you've got to see the view. It's amazing out here."
Tom and Huck leaned over the rail and stared out at the ocean as it sped past. Tom's face went blank, thinking of years past and Quatermain teaching him to shoot over the rail of the Nautilus. Huck's eyes stared out over the ocean, wondering at the vast expanse of it, and how fast it was traveling past them. Dorian watched them both, jealous and annoyed.
"So," Dorian drawled, moving up to lean on the rail beside Huck, "What hideous sin did you commit to get dragooned into the League?"
Huck glanced over "Hideous..." he blinked. "Tom's fault, really. It was his recommendation that I come over and sign up when it seemed as though you fellows needed more manpower."
"You mean the League," Tom interjected, turning around to face them both. "Dorian's not part of it."
Dorian scowled. "They readmitted me, Sawyer, and I'll thank you to remember that when it comes time to check the roster and see who isn't there."
"Skinner didn't sell us out, you did."
Huck looked from one to the other, afraid to be caught in the middle. Tom was looming over him protectively, and Dorian was staring at them both as though he could stripe the hide from their bones with the force of his hatred. There was a long, awkward silence.
"So, Mr. Finn..." Dorian drawled, looking away. "What exactly has Sawyer told you about the League?"
Huck exchanged a nervous glance with Tom before turning back to Dorian and trying to be as friendly as possible with his reply. "That it's a collection of men... and woman... with... unique abilities. That we are given assignments where we are the only force standing between a group, a country... the world... and total destruction." He sounded particularly proud of that part.
Dorian, on the other hand, rolled his eyes. "Please. Mr. Finn, the only thing standing between this world and total destruction are the forces of nature. We pitiful human beings, no matter how extraordinary, will ultimately have no effect on the outcome of the world." He paused. "'We' are given assignments? I wasn't aware that you were possessed of any particular unique abilities."
Huck looked down at the deck at Dorian's first words; by the end of the reply he was hunched over, downcast and degraded. "I'm not. I'm just an agent of the United States government."
If looks could kill, Tom's glare would have ripped the immortal to shreds. "You don't have any abilities either... not without your portrait."
Dorian nearly lunged forward as if to strike Tom; fortunately Huck was in the way, and intercepted him. "Whoa... whoa, whoa, easy now..." he restrained Dorian, eyes wide at the sudden display of temper. "What's all this about a portrait?"
The two men glared at each other. "Nothing."
"Never mind, Huck."
Huck glanced back at Tom, frowning, startled that his lifelong friend would keep a secret from him that was obviously big, integral, important. Tom waved it away with a look that Huck hoped indicated he would be told later. He looked back at Dorian, but the other man had walked to the other side of the deck and was staring out at the other end of the boat, watching the sea go by.
Huck sighed. This wasn't going to work, not with them being decent to everyone on board except Dorian. And it really didn't make sense for Tom to be acting this way, although if what Tom said was true about Dorian selling the League out ... out to whom, Huck wondered? He would try and make peace anyway. Carefully, tentatively, he walked over to the other man and leaned on the rail next to him.
"Sorry about Tom," he started. It was a decent start, anyway, not a great one but it would do for now. "It's been hard, being on the ship with Tellman and Sebastian and Abberline... and all the kids in danger."
Dorian glanced sideways at Huck and seemed about to refute his apology, then rethought it and turned back around to face him. "Sawyer always was one to speak first and think afterwards," he murmured.
Huck would have retorted but really, it was true. He shrugged instead. "Tom's a good man. He's got a good heart, he's just protective of me."
Dorian ... almost leered. "And with good reason. Friends like you don't come around every day of the week." His voice was soft, suggestive. Huck drew back for a second, embarrassed, wondering what it was that Dorian thought, or knew, or thought he knew. Just wondering, really, what was going on.
"Tom and I have known each other since we were kids in Hannibal," Huck shrugged, staring at the sea rather than at the man's confusing, old-young face. "We grew up together, joined the Service together..."
"How touching."
Huck stared at Dorian as though the man was a snake that had tried to strike him. There had been no reason... not that Huck could see anyway... for the snappish hostility and venom. Was it just that Dorian was being poorly treated by the rest of the League members on the ship? Or was there some sort of deeper, more embedded rivalry between him and Tom that was bleeding over into Huck, guilt by association? He didn't know, but he thought he wanted to find out.
"Sir, if we've offended you in some way..."
"Then good. Because it's about time we returned the favor." Tom sauntered up and stood by Huck, still protective, almost possessive. Huck glanced at his friend with a little annoyance, wondering why it was that he had to be so snappish all the time, at least with this man.
"Tom..." Huck laid a hand on his friend's arm, but it didn't help.
"What? He's a traitor and a murderer. We don't owe him a damn thing."
"And you're an upstart little boy who couldn't even learn to pit the ace properly..." Dorian snarled. Tom's eyes went very dark, his hands clenching into white-knuckle fists.
"You think you've got the others fooled," he said quietly. "But I'm keeping my eye on you..."
"I'm petrified."
"... you can't be trusted to save your own life, much less anyone else's. Why do you think they sent you out here with us, instead of keeping you at home base with the children?"
Dorian had no answer to that, and from the look on his face it was a question that bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Tom, satisfied at finally getting the upper hand, decided it was safe enough to try and run around below decks. He reached out and grabbed Huck's arm, dragging him with. Huck threw a sympathetic, almost worried glance at Dorian before the door closed on them both. Dorian stared at the door for a long while before turning back and leaning on the rail.
You can't be trusted to save your own life...
Was it true? Could he not even trust himself now? He wanted to know...
But at the same time, he was deathly afraid of the answer.
The worst of the lot actually seemed to be the new policeman, Tellman. Henry was all right in his eyes, if a bit bumbling, and he had grudging respect for Nemo. But he had stated publicly that he didn't see any use for Dorian, had cringed and moved to the other side of the hall whenever Sebastian walked through the ship (always in the custody of Abberline), and was downright terrified of Skinner. The invisible man, of course, found this all very amusing. Dorian seemed to have decided to keep to his cabin whenever possible after the first day.
Tom and Huck ran around either in blissful ignorance or tactfully overlooking everyone's quirks and foibles. It was probably a good thing, giving everyone at least two people around whom they could act normally without fear of reprisal or retreat. After three days a routine had tentatively been established. The League clustered together, moving in and out of rooms regardless of each other's presence. Abberline would only permit Sebastian into areas where the League was. Pitt moved freely between groups, although the conversation seemed to become stilted and delicate in his presence. Tellman, for the most part, was avoided by nearly everyone; his prickly personality and conservatism had made everyone wary of talking to him.
Even among the League there were tensions, but they managed to suppress most of them in favor of not being left totally alone. Except, perhaps, for Nemo, who seemed to take everything in his impassive stride.
Henry Jekyll sat in the dining room (it was just the opulent side of being called a 'mess'), twisting his fingers together and fiddling with his pocket watch. His courage and quiet strength seemed to be diminishing with every mile they sailed away from London.
"You keep doing that, you'll tie your fingers in a knot," came a voice at his elbow. Henry jumped.
"Skinner, would you please put some clothes on?" he retorted in a higher pitch than he would have liked. "It's not... right." Proper, had been what he had meant to say, but he had just the other day been teased by Dorian in passing about his rigidness and propriety, and was reluctant to put himself forward as a result.
"Sorry, mate," Skinner chuckled, but his voice did hold a note of apology. He pulled his coat off the chair; evidently he had been in the room before Henry had entered. A compact of white cream floated into the air and began to spread itself on a face. "Better?"
But Henry wasn't done with him. "I don't see why you have to run around ... unclothed..." he muttered.
"Well, it's the only way I can really be invisible. I mean, if I'm invisible but there's a lot of clothes walking around, that's not very stealthy, is it? Wouldn't be much use to the League, then."
There wasn't much Henry could say to refute that, so he acknowledged it with a nod and pushed it aside. "But do you have to do it around the children?"
The coat sat down, Skinner's face mostly formed in the white paint. He seemed to have no expression, though, carefully keeping a blank stare on his face. "I don't do it often around the children, mate. But if you think something's going on and you want to send in a spy, or if you're worried about Marie and you don't want her to know about it, you're going to want me invisible. And that means no clothes."
That effectively ended the argument. Henry returned to playing with his watch, and Skinner poured himself a drink. The ship listed slightly to one side, or seemed to. Perhaps it was just the doctor's nervousness.
"You'll want to settle down, Henry," Skinner said finally. "It's bad enough without you worrying like someone's grandmother. What's got your knickers in a twist?"
"The assignment," Henry said with dry candor. Skinner shrugged, wiping his hands on a handkerchief before pulling his gloves on.
"It's got everyone spooked, mate. But you seem more ..." he thought briefly about phrasing it as 'incompetent' and then tossed the word aside. "I don't know... you seem more wrecked than usual."
Jekyll was quiet.
"Is it the orphanage?"
Henry shook his head. His hands moved faster over the pocket watch.
"Is it the survivors?"
The pocket watch slipped from Henry's hands and dropped to the floor with a clatter that sounded strangely loud in the room. His eyes flashed electric blue, then settled back to their normal faded color. For a second it looked as though Hyde would burst from his skin on his own, without the help of the formula. The moment passed.
"They were all placed years ago, all but the oldest. Gordie, he went to a family in Salisbury. George went up north. Another went to a colleague of mine, I can't remember the poor lad's name. Even Katherine Stoker took a boy in."
"So, they're safe. They're well cared for. We've got two ourselves, what's the problem?"
"The problem is that whoever is taking the children again is going to want to take them back. We've stolen property from them, and they're going to want it back." Henry shuddered. "And I left Marie and Mina alone... the other parents, they have no way of knowing... the other children... young men and woman they'd be, now. There's no way of telling them, unless we telegraph each and every one... I don't even know where they are now..." The watch spun around and around in his hands.
"Marie can take care of herself better than you think," Skinner said quietly.
Henry looked up at him with almost enough ferocity to be called a glare.
"That's who your really worried about, isn't it?"
"That's no business of yours, Skinner."
"Henry, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but if that girl is going to make you so crazy you're not going to be able to help, it's League business. You need to focus. You can't let her distract you." He moved around the table and leaned forward, hands flat, almost looming over Henry. "You need to stop thinking about her."
Henry hunched over for a second, shaking. Then he turned and looked up at Skinner almost hatefully, startling the invisible man into taking a step back. "As though you haven't been thinking about her from the moment you stepped on board," he said, in a voice that was low, gravely, and sounded of Hyde.
"Whether I have or not, that's not anyone's concern. I'm not the one who's been a nervous wreck over the girl for the past three days."
"Yet you think of her as more than just the little sister or foster daughter that everyone else in the League sees her as."
Skinner frowned. That was hitting too close to the mark. "And if I fancy her, what business is that of yours either? She's a grown woman, she's perfectly capable of telling me to naff off if she wants to. And before you get all huffy about intentions..."
"Is she?" Henry overrode Skinner in a voice that was still Hyde-like and starting to unnerve the other man. "Is she really? You know what she is, how she thinks. She still suffers attacks of hysteria and panic if she so much as sets foot outside her door without a League member present. Do you really think she is capable of turning you down?"
Skinner's frown slid into a scowl, not liking the way this conversation was going. Apart from the sheer annoyance of Henry telling him to go stuff himself when he was pretty sure Henry fancied the girl himself, there was also the slight fear that Henry was right. That he did have feelings for the girl, feelings that she would not be capable of rejecting. Especially him; he remembered that night very vividly, although he was not so sure that Henry did. And he remembered that he had been the one to carry Marie out of the tunnels. Would that earn him a special place in her heart that would not have otherwise been there? He didn't know, and the thought was sickening.
-
-
-
Nemo was bent over the maps and stacks of files with the biggest headache he had had since the Ireland assignment. Between the trouble among his passengers, the trouble with the assignment, and various problems on, in, and around his ship, he was starting to consider if maybe early retirement might not be a bad idea. To make matters worse, he shared Henry's suspicions that the kidnappers might not try for the group that had been snatched from their lair previously, seven years ago. Although Percy was safe aboard his ship, the Captain couldn't help the nagging fear that something would happen...
Which, of course, only made him more irritable. He pushed the thoughts away, trying to concentrate on their course and their future investigations. At least some of the new guests were well behaved. Pitt seemed a little unnerved by the League but willing enough to put differences in body and personality aside. Huck, perhaps influenced by Tom, treated everything as though it was perfectly normal and expected. And Abberline... well, Abberline was most likely too occupied with keeping the homicidal maniac from getting lose to worry about whether Skinner was listening in or if Henry was going to snap.
The door creaked open, but Nemo was too preoccupied to really take notice or turn around.
"Permission to come in, Captain?"
Nemo glanced over his shoulder. Percy, thank god, with a tray and cups of... was that... "Yes... thank you." Decorum barely kept him from pouncing on the boy and tray with the speed of a mad tiger. "The tea smells wonderful."
"You've been locked up in here for several hours, I thought you might like something to drink. There's some chicken coming along a bit later."
"Thank you," Nemo wrapped his hands around the cup of warm, thick tea, and sat back down in his chair. "This is exactly what I needed."
The young man beamed with pleasure, practically hopping from one foot to the other in the doorway. Nemo briefly thought about dismissing him, then sighed and decided that he had been staring at the maps long enough. Perhaps it was time for a little rest. "Please... join me."
Percy nodded solemnly, although it didn't wipe the smile from his face or the spring from his step. He took the chair opposite the Captain. "Thank you, sir."
For some reason the 'sir' grated on his nerves. Probably it was the reminder of his responsibilities. Nemo rubbed his forehead again... it was just too much. "Nemo. For the moment, I am Nemo. Not Captain, not sir... just..." Dakkar? No. "Nemo."
If the boy smiled any bigger he was going to crack his head in two. "All right."
They drank their tea in companionable silence, interrupted only by the arrival of a crew member with a tray of chicken curry. As hungry as he was and as good as the food smelled, Nemo took the plates down from the shelves as Percy pushed the maps aside and laid out the place settings, all with perfect decorum and not a hint of hurry. Percy said words over the meal, and they started to eat.
"Mm.." Nemo hadn't realized he'd been so hungry. "This is quite good."
"Food usually tastes good when you haven't eaten in a day or so," Percy replied with unusual tartness. Nemo blinked.
"Has it been that long?" He hadn't been keeping track. And they weren't that long out of port... was this what it was going to be like for the rest of the voyage? He shuddered.
"Nearly. Twenty hours since your last meal. I checked." Percy's tone was still very dry and pointed, and Nemo had the distinct impression that he was being rebuked for something. "Dare I ask, if you collapse of hunger, who's going to run the ship? Not to mention all the other inventions you've brought along on the trip."
"I am not going to collapse of hunger..." Nemo retorted indignantly.
"You haven't eaten in nearly a day, and you've barely had anything to drink. I don't think you sleep, you just stay in here all day and all night planning. That is, when you're not pacing up and down the halls or asking strange questions of our new guests."
"I do not ask strange questions... And there are certain things I need to know to facilitate the investigation."
"The only thing you're going to be facilitating is a trip to the infirmary and an early grave." Percy stabbed a finger at the air in front of the Captain, his vehemence startling and unexpected. "If you don't start taking better care of yourself we will force you to."
"We?"
"The crew. And, more importantly, the League. I'll have Skinner keep an eye on you," Percy smirked. "Is that what you want?"
Nemo shuddered at the idea of the invisible thief coming any closer to his private quarters than was absolutely necessary. "No, thank you. I will endeavor to get the proper amount of sleep and take at least one meal a day. I will even do it in the public area, where you can watch me."
"You'll bloody well do it, none of this endeavoring to do anything. Or ..." Percy tried and failed to come up with a threat that was worse than having Skinner poke around.
Nemo knew it, and smiled. "Your concern for my welfare is overwhelming."
Percy actually blushed. "'s nothing."
They ate in silence for a little while longer. Nemo, in accordance with Percy's demand that he take a little time to himself at least, let his thoughts wander.
-
-
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Tom and Huck dashed out onto the deck and promptly doubled over, breathing heavily. They were already in trouble with Abberline for baiting Sebastian like that, and they didn't need trouble with Nemo as well, so they had decided to come out on deck. But 'walking out' on deck had turned into 'running for their lives' when they had encountered Sebastian in the hallway... alone. Having heard more about the mysterious prisoner's past in their days on board they had fled for their lives... and ended up crashing directly into Dorian Gray.
"Sorry... didn't realize this was a free-for-all zone," he remarked. Huck stared at him as though he hadn't expected Dorian to be quite so nasty. Tom, used to Dorian by now, ignored the man.
"Come on, Huck..." he grabbed his friend by the arm and dragged him over to the rail. "We haven't been up on deck yet... you've got to see the view. It's amazing out here."
Tom and Huck leaned over the rail and stared out at the ocean as it sped past. Tom's face went blank, thinking of years past and Quatermain teaching him to shoot over the rail of the Nautilus. Huck's eyes stared out over the ocean, wondering at the vast expanse of it, and how fast it was traveling past them. Dorian watched them both, jealous and annoyed.
"So," Dorian drawled, moving up to lean on the rail beside Huck, "What hideous sin did you commit to get dragooned into the League?"
Huck glanced over "Hideous..." he blinked. "Tom's fault, really. It was his recommendation that I come over and sign up when it seemed as though you fellows needed more manpower."
"You mean the League," Tom interjected, turning around to face them both. "Dorian's not part of it."
Dorian scowled. "They readmitted me, Sawyer, and I'll thank you to remember that when it comes time to check the roster and see who isn't there."
"Skinner didn't sell us out, you did."
Huck looked from one to the other, afraid to be caught in the middle. Tom was looming over him protectively, and Dorian was staring at them both as though he could stripe the hide from their bones with the force of his hatred. There was a long, awkward silence.
"So, Mr. Finn..." Dorian drawled, looking away. "What exactly has Sawyer told you about the League?"
Huck exchanged a nervous glance with Tom before turning back to Dorian and trying to be as friendly as possible with his reply. "That it's a collection of men... and woman... with... unique abilities. That we are given assignments where we are the only force standing between a group, a country... the world... and total destruction." He sounded particularly proud of that part.
Dorian, on the other hand, rolled his eyes. "Please. Mr. Finn, the only thing standing between this world and total destruction are the forces of nature. We pitiful human beings, no matter how extraordinary, will ultimately have no effect on the outcome of the world." He paused. "'We' are given assignments? I wasn't aware that you were possessed of any particular unique abilities."
Huck looked down at the deck at Dorian's first words; by the end of the reply he was hunched over, downcast and degraded. "I'm not. I'm just an agent of the United States government."
If looks could kill, Tom's glare would have ripped the immortal to shreds. "You don't have any abilities either... not without your portrait."
Dorian nearly lunged forward as if to strike Tom; fortunately Huck was in the way, and intercepted him. "Whoa... whoa, whoa, easy now..." he restrained Dorian, eyes wide at the sudden display of temper. "What's all this about a portrait?"
The two men glared at each other. "Nothing."
"Never mind, Huck."
Huck glanced back at Tom, frowning, startled that his lifelong friend would keep a secret from him that was obviously big, integral, important. Tom waved it away with a look that Huck hoped indicated he would be told later. He looked back at Dorian, but the other man had walked to the other side of the deck and was staring out at the other end of the boat, watching the sea go by.
Huck sighed. This wasn't going to work, not with them being decent to everyone on board except Dorian. And it really didn't make sense for Tom to be acting this way, although if what Tom said was true about Dorian selling the League out ... out to whom, Huck wondered? He would try and make peace anyway. Carefully, tentatively, he walked over to the other man and leaned on the rail next to him.
"Sorry about Tom," he started. It was a decent start, anyway, not a great one but it would do for now. "It's been hard, being on the ship with Tellman and Sebastian and Abberline... and all the kids in danger."
Dorian glanced sideways at Huck and seemed about to refute his apology, then rethought it and turned back around to face him. "Sawyer always was one to speak first and think afterwards," he murmured.
Huck would have retorted but really, it was true. He shrugged instead. "Tom's a good man. He's got a good heart, he's just protective of me."
Dorian ... almost leered. "And with good reason. Friends like you don't come around every day of the week." His voice was soft, suggestive. Huck drew back for a second, embarrassed, wondering what it was that Dorian thought, or knew, or thought he knew. Just wondering, really, what was going on.
"Tom and I have known each other since we were kids in Hannibal," Huck shrugged, staring at the sea rather than at the man's confusing, old-young face. "We grew up together, joined the Service together..."
"How touching."
Huck stared at Dorian as though the man was a snake that had tried to strike him. There had been no reason... not that Huck could see anyway... for the snappish hostility and venom. Was it just that Dorian was being poorly treated by the rest of the League members on the ship? Or was there some sort of deeper, more embedded rivalry between him and Tom that was bleeding over into Huck, guilt by association? He didn't know, but he thought he wanted to find out.
"Sir, if we've offended you in some way..."
"Then good. Because it's about time we returned the favor." Tom sauntered up and stood by Huck, still protective, almost possessive. Huck glanced at his friend with a little annoyance, wondering why it was that he had to be so snappish all the time, at least with this man.
"Tom..." Huck laid a hand on his friend's arm, but it didn't help.
"What? He's a traitor and a murderer. We don't owe him a damn thing."
"And you're an upstart little boy who couldn't even learn to pit the ace properly..." Dorian snarled. Tom's eyes went very dark, his hands clenching into white-knuckle fists.
"You think you've got the others fooled," he said quietly. "But I'm keeping my eye on you..."
"I'm petrified."
"... you can't be trusted to save your own life, much less anyone else's. Why do you think they sent you out here with us, instead of keeping you at home base with the children?"
Dorian had no answer to that, and from the look on his face it was a question that bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Tom, satisfied at finally getting the upper hand, decided it was safe enough to try and run around below decks. He reached out and grabbed Huck's arm, dragging him with. Huck threw a sympathetic, almost worried glance at Dorian before the door closed on them both. Dorian stared at the door for a long while before turning back and leaning on the rail.
You can't be trusted to save your own life...
Was it true? Could he not even trust himself now? He wanted to know...
But at the same time, he was deathly afraid of the answer.