In response to one of the reviews (and I do appreciate it, mind): its more
fun to have Skinner not take the antidote (which really exists *wink*) and
stay invisible and also to have the League go their separate ways after
Venice. Thank you all for the reviews! (Especially Wolf-of-Black-Dawn,
Vulcaine7 and TheInvisibleStef!)
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NAUTIPOD
SOMEWHERE IN THE OCEAN
Mina looked out the large porthole of the Nautipod, squinting in the bright sunlight. In the new and improved version of the Nautipod, there was space for several men to sit or stand. Skinner, Mina, Tom, and Allan were on the pod, with Nemo having given Tom a crash course on how to steer it.
She was thinking deep. *Dorian Gray* she mused. *The man after Jonathan, my late husband. The man who would live forever, like me. The only one who could truly understand the meaning of being lonely. My love.*
She sighed, crossed her arms across her chest. *He truly was a good man, somewhere deep inside. There was good inside that soul.* she thought of the portrait that hung in her cabin. Dorian's portrait. She had found it in the ashes of the factory in Mongolia, and had kept it as a memoir. Every so often, she would take it out and just gaze at his handsome features, remembering the times that they had had...
*But he was the turncoat.* she thought bitterly. *He killed Ishmael, nearly killed us all with that explosive gimmick of his. His interests always came first.*
Then she wondered what had drawn her to him. His looks? Not likely. His charm? Perhaps. She knew, the very first time she met him, that they had something in common: immortality. While his weakness was his damnable portrait, hers was a stake through her heart. But that hadn't mattered, not at first. *I loved him like I loved Jonathan. Maybe even more.* Then she chided herself for thinking like that. Jonathan Harker had been a good man.
She sensed, rather than saw, Skinner come up to her, totally invisible.
"Don't try and fool me, Skinner," she said.
A chuckle from him. "Heh. Thought I had you there." A pause. "You miss him, don't you?"
She looked at where she thought he stood. "What makes you say that?"
"Well, Mina, love," he shifted his weight to one foot, although she couldn't see it. "You have that look on your face. The one that means you're either thinking about some chemical thing or Dorian. Pick one. Me, I'm going with Dorian."
She sighed. Since when had Skinner become so smart? "He's... hard to forget."
Skinner snorted. "In more than one way, to be sure." He touched his waist, where he had been burned by a seven-foot guy in armor and welding a flame thrower; the burns were still there. He flinched at the memory of the pain. "Scar's all the reminder I need. His picture is with you, innit?"
"Yes." She swallowed. How did he know? Only she knew that the picture hadn't been destroyed in the explosion. "Were you in my room?"
"No, I followed you when you went scouting at the factory. Was Jekyll mad, I tell you!" he mimicked Jekyll's voice. "'You shouldn't be out of bed! The burn's haven't healed yet!'"
A faint touch of a smile touches Mina's lips. "He cares for his patients."
"True." Skinner leaned against the glass. "And he likes a...certain...ah, female doctor."
An elegant brow lifted. "What do you mean?"
Skinner didn't answer at first, but pulled on his trenchcoat, which had been resting on the floor. Then the greasepaint can came out, and slowly, Skinner's physiography could be seen. Only then did he reply. "Not telling."
He had seen the way Jekyll looked at Mina, and had confronted him the day before. Stammering, Jekyll had admitted that he was in love with Mina, much to Skinner's (hidden) distress and delight for his friend. Except, the doctor was too terrified to tell Mina about his feelings for her. See, Skinner was also in love with Mina. And so was Sawyer, although he didn't say anything.
At Mina's withering glance, Skinner shrugged. "Don't you notice the way he looks at you?" Mina shook her head and Skinner brought the palm of his gloved hand to his forehead. "You haven't noticed! Oh god, is everyone so stupid around here?" He was going for melodramatic. "Mina, the way he looks at you! He likes you so much, although he's too chicken to say anything about it."
"He's in love with you, Mina!"
She was genuinely shocked. Henry Jekyll was in love with her? She thought back to what a fortune teller had once told her: "A man with many demons lusts after you."
*Many demons indeed.* she thought, thinking of Hyde. A small smile escaped her luscious lips.
"What's so funny?" Skinner asked.
"Nothing," she replied. "Although I suggest that you keep this information to yourself in future, Skinner. One never knows when a friendship might crumble."
"Like cookies?"
Mina rolled her eyes and turned and walked away.
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LONDON, ENGLAND
DEEP IN THE CITY
Dorian Gray stepped out onto the wet cobblestone street, feeling the rain pattering down on the rags that he called clothes. The past few months, the rain was his bathwater. After the sheer miracle of returning to civilization, Dorian had been so poor (his house had been seized by the bank after his "death") that he had joined the tramps of the city.
*And to think that I lived in a mansion for so long.*
Life was ironic, cruelly so. Dorian was hungry and cold, but he was flat broke. Besides, if he didn't eat, he wouldn't die anyway. *Such is the benefits of immortality.* Dorian opened his eyes and looked around, looking for some scrap of food or something. It was almost midnight, and he wasn't exactly expecting a morsel of food. Suddenly, he heard the clanking of gears and the sound of metal against stone. Turning, he saw a tank coming towards him! Jumping out of the way, he watched in awe as a procession of tanks filed past him, soundlessly. His mouth fell open. They were moving faster than planned. Moving the weapons to the safehouse...Then he saw what truly shocked him to the core, even though he had lived long enough to see many shocking things.
A tank half the size of Buckingham Palace.
"Oh my god..."
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NAUTIPOD
THE THAMES, LONDON
The pod surfaced in the middle of Thames, causing gentle ripples on the surface of the calm water. It had stopped raining abut an hour ago, and the air smelt like fresh grass. The sky was clear; the moon was like a swollen melon against black velvet dotted with gleaming diamonds. As the pod moved slowly to shore, Allan looked out at the scene and sighed.
"Brings back old memories, doesn't it?" Tom came up to stand next to his mentor.
"Indeed." There was silence between the two friends. "You know," Allan said, looking at his protégée. "What's its like to be a leader now, don't you?"
Tom smiled and looked out the porthole. "I learned from the best."
"The best?" Allan smiled.
"The best," Tom confirmed. "He was a real leader, this guy I learned from. In more than one way."
Allan knew who Tom was referring to. "Tom...you yourself is now a leader. The one who is supervising the League. When I saw you a few days ago, after these years, I thought... 'Tom has become a man. Even a leader of men.' You make your decisions, you walk your own path, and yet you shoulder your burden alone. You were a boy when we first met; now, you are truly a man."
Tom was moved by that vote of confidence more than he could say. "Thank you."
The pod stopped moving, and both men could see that they had reached shore. Allan hefted his replacement Matilda and was leaving when Tom called him.
"What is it, boy?"
"I thought you said I wasn't a boy anymore," Tom grinned.
"You're still younger than me, I can still call you a boy!"
Tom laughed and threw the second Winchester at his friend. "Figured you would want it."
Allan caught it with expert and surprising grace, examined it, then dropped the replacement. "Good taste, boy. Now, shall we move?"
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NAUTIPOD
SOMEWHERE IN THE OCEAN
Mina looked out the large porthole of the Nautipod, squinting in the bright sunlight. In the new and improved version of the Nautipod, there was space for several men to sit or stand. Skinner, Mina, Tom, and Allan were on the pod, with Nemo having given Tom a crash course on how to steer it.
She was thinking deep. *Dorian Gray* she mused. *The man after Jonathan, my late husband. The man who would live forever, like me. The only one who could truly understand the meaning of being lonely. My love.*
She sighed, crossed her arms across her chest. *He truly was a good man, somewhere deep inside. There was good inside that soul.* she thought of the portrait that hung in her cabin. Dorian's portrait. She had found it in the ashes of the factory in Mongolia, and had kept it as a memoir. Every so often, she would take it out and just gaze at his handsome features, remembering the times that they had had...
*But he was the turncoat.* she thought bitterly. *He killed Ishmael, nearly killed us all with that explosive gimmick of his. His interests always came first.*
Then she wondered what had drawn her to him. His looks? Not likely. His charm? Perhaps. She knew, the very first time she met him, that they had something in common: immortality. While his weakness was his damnable portrait, hers was a stake through her heart. But that hadn't mattered, not at first. *I loved him like I loved Jonathan. Maybe even more.* Then she chided herself for thinking like that. Jonathan Harker had been a good man.
She sensed, rather than saw, Skinner come up to her, totally invisible.
"Don't try and fool me, Skinner," she said.
A chuckle from him. "Heh. Thought I had you there." A pause. "You miss him, don't you?"
She looked at where she thought he stood. "What makes you say that?"
"Well, Mina, love," he shifted his weight to one foot, although she couldn't see it. "You have that look on your face. The one that means you're either thinking about some chemical thing or Dorian. Pick one. Me, I'm going with Dorian."
She sighed. Since when had Skinner become so smart? "He's... hard to forget."
Skinner snorted. "In more than one way, to be sure." He touched his waist, where he had been burned by a seven-foot guy in armor and welding a flame thrower; the burns were still there. He flinched at the memory of the pain. "Scar's all the reminder I need. His picture is with you, innit?"
"Yes." She swallowed. How did he know? Only she knew that the picture hadn't been destroyed in the explosion. "Were you in my room?"
"No, I followed you when you went scouting at the factory. Was Jekyll mad, I tell you!" he mimicked Jekyll's voice. "'You shouldn't be out of bed! The burn's haven't healed yet!'"
A faint touch of a smile touches Mina's lips. "He cares for his patients."
"True." Skinner leaned against the glass. "And he likes a...certain...ah, female doctor."
An elegant brow lifted. "What do you mean?"
Skinner didn't answer at first, but pulled on his trenchcoat, which had been resting on the floor. Then the greasepaint can came out, and slowly, Skinner's physiography could be seen. Only then did he reply. "Not telling."
He had seen the way Jekyll looked at Mina, and had confronted him the day before. Stammering, Jekyll had admitted that he was in love with Mina, much to Skinner's (hidden) distress and delight for his friend. Except, the doctor was too terrified to tell Mina about his feelings for her. See, Skinner was also in love with Mina. And so was Sawyer, although he didn't say anything.
At Mina's withering glance, Skinner shrugged. "Don't you notice the way he looks at you?" Mina shook her head and Skinner brought the palm of his gloved hand to his forehead. "You haven't noticed! Oh god, is everyone so stupid around here?" He was going for melodramatic. "Mina, the way he looks at you! He likes you so much, although he's too chicken to say anything about it."
"He's in love with you, Mina!"
She was genuinely shocked. Henry Jekyll was in love with her? She thought back to what a fortune teller had once told her: "A man with many demons lusts after you."
*Many demons indeed.* she thought, thinking of Hyde. A small smile escaped her luscious lips.
"What's so funny?" Skinner asked.
"Nothing," she replied. "Although I suggest that you keep this information to yourself in future, Skinner. One never knows when a friendship might crumble."
"Like cookies?"
Mina rolled her eyes and turned and walked away.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------
LONDON, ENGLAND
DEEP IN THE CITY
Dorian Gray stepped out onto the wet cobblestone street, feeling the rain pattering down on the rags that he called clothes. The past few months, the rain was his bathwater. After the sheer miracle of returning to civilization, Dorian had been so poor (his house had been seized by the bank after his "death") that he had joined the tramps of the city.
*And to think that I lived in a mansion for so long.*
Life was ironic, cruelly so. Dorian was hungry and cold, but he was flat broke. Besides, if he didn't eat, he wouldn't die anyway. *Such is the benefits of immortality.* Dorian opened his eyes and looked around, looking for some scrap of food or something. It was almost midnight, and he wasn't exactly expecting a morsel of food. Suddenly, he heard the clanking of gears and the sound of metal against stone. Turning, he saw a tank coming towards him! Jumping out of the way, he watched in awe as a procession of tanks filed past him, soundlessly. His mouth fell open. They were moving faster than planned. Moving the weapons to the safehouse...Then he saw what truly shocked him to the core, even though he had lived long enough to see many shocking things.
A tank half the size of Buckingham Palace.
"Oh my god..."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------
NAUTIPOD
THE THAMES, LONDON
The pod surfaced in the middle of Thames, causing gentle ripples on the surface of the calm water. It had stopped raining abut an hour ago, and the air smelt like fresh grass. The sky was clear; the moon was like a swollen melon against black velvet dotted with gleaming diamonds. As the pod moved slowly to shore, Allan looked out at the scene and sighed.
"Brings back old memories, doesn't it?" Tom came up to stand next to his mentor.
"Indeed." There was silence between the two friends. "You know," Allan said, looking at his protégée. "What's its like to be a leader now, don't you?"
Tom smiled and looked out the porthole. "I learned from the best."
"The best?" Allan smiled.
"The best," Tom confirmed. "He was a real leader, this guy I learned from. In more than one way."
Allan knew who Tom was referring to. "Tom...you yourself is now a leader. The one who is supervising the League. When I saw you a few days ago, after these years, I thought... 'Tom has become a man. Even a leader of men.' You make your decisions, you walk your own path, and yet you shoulder your burden alone. You were a boy when we first met; now, you are truly a man."
Tom was moved by that vote of confidence more than he could say. "Thank you."
The pod stopped moving, and both men could see that they had reached shore. Allan hefted his replacement Matilda and was leaving when Tom called him.
"What is it, boy?"
"I thought you said I wasn't a boy anymore," Tom grinned.
"You're still younger than me, I can still call you a boy!"
Tom laughed and threw the second Winchester at his friend. "Figured you would want it."
Allan caught it with expert and surprising grace, examined it, then dropped the replacement. "Good taste, boy. Now, shall we move?"