A/N: I'm glad to see you're all enjoying this story. I don't know how long it will be either, so I can't tell you that yet. I do know, however, that it is intriguing to write. As I said, I'm happy you're all able to get into it. I wasn't sure at first, but you've all reassured me :) This chapter is a bit more... unusual, and a tad violent maybe. Then again, maybe not. A few acknowledgements, I think, are in order...
Naitriab: Sorry to hear you're not a big Sawyer fan. I, unfortunately, am. Don't mean to disappoint, but you're going to be seeing a lot of Tommy boy in chapters to come. Hope you'll still find enough about the story to stick with us though.
A. L. Nowicki: That means an awful lot to me. Thanks so much! You should have seen my smile when I got your review!
angelic katty: Hope the suspense isn't too bad. I'm trying to keep a sense of... intrigue about the story. Not a very good explanation, but I hope it consoles you a little.
Sethoz: Please don't O-D... remember what you're doing to me ;) This isn't payback, this is just... okay, maybe it is payback :D Muahahaha! No, really though, love your story, and I'm happy you like mine. All will become clear soon.
LotRseer3350: Hello again. People obviously love to see Tom in angst stories... odd that. Hope to see you more in the future!
Graymoon74: You shall see soon enough, my friend... you shall see!
* * *
Only a couple of hours after encountering her most primal urges, -with a certain sense of dread too- Mina Harker felt much better for having asked for Nemo's help, and had retired to the library for a spot of light reading. This was where she encountered Dr. Jekyll with his nose in a book at one of the corner tables in a comfortable chair.
Mina raised a delicate feminine eyebrow, and paced over to him gracefully, her skirts trailing behind her. When standing over him, she craned her neck to see the cover of the book; soon realising there was no title. She frowned and furrowed her brow.
"Oh, Mrs. Harker, you startled me," Jekyll said all of a sudden, having noticed her presence. He smiled nervously and gave off a stuttering laugh. "I didn't even hear you come in."
"My apologies, Doctor," Mina said to him, even as he gestured to the available chair opposite him, which looked equally as comfortable. She took it, and realised with a certain sense of satisfaction that it was indeed a place of comfort. "I did not mean to intrude."
"No, no, not at all," Jekyll fumbled, and slipped a tassel hanging from the spine of the book into his place so he could resume later. He placed the book on the small round table between them. "I just didn't expect company so late. It is, after all, almost midnight."
"Yes, well," Mina began, clearing her throat, and neatening her red cloth tie around her neck and on her chest, "the later hours are often where I feel more... myself, unfortunately, at times."
Jekyll nodded and mumbled, "Ah, I see."
Mina sat there; legs crossed neatly one over the other, and looked down at the book. It appeared Jekyll was looking at her, but she dismissed this, chose not to inquire after it. She quite often caught Jekyll, Skinner or Tom Sawyer 'subtlely' watching her, but after Dorian Gray, she was quite content to let them be with their desires.
"If I may be so bold, Doctor," Mina said lightly, her voice carrying around the shelving about them, "as to inquire on the identity of this book? I see no title or author name on it." She nodded to it with her head, and looked to the somewhat mousy man patiently.
Jekyll ran a hand over his copper hair, perhaps to flatten it, or maybe to stall for time, she did not know. His forever-wide eyes took in her face, and he smiled. "It is my own. A collection of notes I have accumulated over the years in my line of work. I was merely looking them over to pass the time when you came in."
"I see," Mina added with a smile, intrigued. She thought about asking to take a look, but then decided that would be akin to inquiring about reading someone's diaries. Surely this was a very private thing.
So it was no surprise when Jekyll took his book in his hand, and laid it safely on his lap, as if protecting it from Mina. He cleared his throat quietly and hurriedly, and asked, "Where are we meeting Agent Sawyer?" A clear change of subject.
"New York docks," Mina replied, still eyeing his book for a moment before meeting his gaze. "This time tomorrow evening. I expect he'll be quite eager to get back."
"Yes, he didn't exactly seem thrilled when he got that message, did he?"
"No," Mina agreed, dragging out the word somewhat as she stared at the floor. "It seems he is growing quite fond of the League. I suppose he feels as though he belongs here."
Jekyll considered her seriously and pensively for a moment, before asking, "And do you think he does? Belong, that is..."
Mina looked up to him with a grim smile. "Don't we all, Doctor?"
Jekyll stared for a moment, and then uttered a slight laugh, nodding. "Of course." He sighed wearily. "If you will excuse me, Mrs. Harker, I can feel my bed calling for me."
"Goodnight, Doctor," Mina said to him as he stood, and she watched him half-bow politely, leaving the room shortly thereafter. With a sigh of her own, Mina perused the titles of the books about her at length from her chair, and then stood to inspect them closer.
* * *
The stiletto had ended up being the least of his troubles, he had soon found out. It turned out that Wright had no real intention of doing him serious harm with the blade, but still; it served its purpose nevertheless. Not only did it cause him to flinch every time he saw it flash dangerously in the wan light, Wright seemed to have experience in using such a weapon without causing too much permanent damage.
Tom Sawyer hung from his restraints, now free of his shirt, waistcoat and jacket, which had been placed on a small table on the other side of the room, where he could just make out the shapes of his holsters and pistols. He didn't have a hope of reaching them.
Juliana Shaw still stood before him, rewarding him with a painful reminder of her presence whenever he so much as looked her in the eye. She didn't seem very fond of eye contact in the slightest. So it was that Tom avoided meeting her gaze whenever possible. Her punishment was just as bad as what Wright had been working at.
Amelia was long gone from the room, having disappeared some two hours previous to perhaps tend to her young daughter, or rest. Tom didn't know, and right now, it was difficult to concentrate on anything other than the agony.
He let out a short cry as Wright found another delicate area across his bare back, and shallowly ran the blade along it a little way. Tom felt the running of warm blood down his skin, and hissed through clenched teeth, clamping his eyes shut.
Wright chuckled dryly, and Tom opened his eyes, realising one of his knees had given way. He slowly regained his footing, and stood again, clenching his fists. He waited for another attack with the knife, but none came, for the first time since Wright had revealed his weapon. Tom had to have at least a dozen shallow cuts over his chest and back now. That, on top of Juliana's mental attacks had almost driven him into unconsciousness several times, but he had managed to fight it each time... though he was unsure why he bothered.
Tom avoided Wright's penetrating gaze at first when he came round before him, stained stiletto in his right hand. He waited for a blow from a fist or something similar, but that didn't come either.
Tom raised his head, looking Gregory Wright right in the eye. The other man stared right into Tom, his brown eyes dark and sinister, boring into the young American deeper and deeper with every unbearable second that passed.
Still ignorant as to the reason for any of this, Tom saw Wright raise his left hand; palm exposed, and reach for his face. Tom flinched subconsciously without thinking, and glanced momentarily, perhaps accidentally, to Juliana. She did nothing, merely watched.
Wright's hand made contact almost tenderly against Tom's neck and bottom jaw, clasping slightly to keep him still, fingers pressing gently against the back of Tom's head.
Before Tom could move his head to free himself of Wright's grip, vivid images flashed in his vision, so suddenly it made him inhale sharply with shock.
He was running with Huckleberry along the river, shouting about something he had just seen that he wanted to show his friend.
Flash...
He was watching Becky Thatcher talk with the other kids, Huck standing beside him, talking unheard to his friend, who couldn't take his eyes off the pretty young girl.
Flash...
Being recruited into the American Secret Service.
Flash...
Partnered with Huck Finn and running, almost a mirror of when they had been children, except this time with fully loaded guns in their grasp, the innocence and childhood happiness gone, replaced with urgency and determination.
Flash!
The Phantom... cackling maniacally, seeing the two Agents somewhat at his mercy. A gunshot.
Flash!
Huck lay dying on the floor, bleeding from a fatal wound to his chest, gasping for breath, trying desperately to stay alive. Tom was by his side, trying not to show his distress, having let the Phantom escape, too worried about his best friend and partner to move.
Flash!
Huck... dead, in his arms.
"No!" Tom screamed, wrenching his head out of Wright's grip when he realised it was all in his mind, and he wasn't reliving it, though the terrible pain at having his childhood friend die in his arms was suddenly very fresh in his mind.
Tears stung in his vision, and he breathed rapidly, in shock, and closed his eyes, remembering just what was going on, and whom he had before him.
"Well," Wright was saying, voice filled with mirth, "that was interesting."