A/N: Wow... wrote this on the same day I wrote chapter eighteen... I think it's all starting to come back to me now! Hooray! There's still hope. About halfway, it hits a depressing note, but can you blame me? Realism! *calms down* Thanks for reading eighteen... here's the next instalment...
drowchild: Ah yes... twitching. Not good that... maybe you should see a doctor about it? Maybe Jekyll? Lol. Don't worry... here's some more Tom for you... kind of.
Naitriab: Sorry you didn't really like the characters of 'Silver Bullet'. Oh well. Thank you for the portrayal comment.
Sethoz: Sorry I missed you online buddy! Lack of Tom? My god... you're right. Evil bugger... last one in this chapter. I can't believe I killed them all off in two chapters. Wow. Not BUTTONS! That's just mean, trying to antagonise me with those lovely chocolaty treats! *sticks tongue out at you* :D Hope this part was up quick enough for you, and one other thing... I need more of Bodyguard!
RogueSparrow: You weren't gonna say what I think you were gonna say... were you? Lol. Naughty, naughty. And yes, Amelia did kind of deserve that. She kinda went the wrong way about avenging her family's deaths though, don't you agree... hence the two holes in her neck. A soul? I wouldn't quite go that far : )
Nathan-Daystorm: I can't blame her for losing control. I know I wouldn't be able to... if vampires existed. Thank you for the keeping people in character comment, I appreciate it. I try really hard not to take them out of character, so it feels good to know someone thinks they're like they should be. *hands you an ice pack* There's a wall there, by the way...
Capt. Cow: Yay! Sugar! As for the giving up, if you strived and strived for something, had seen two of your family members die, realised you will never see your psycho daughter again, and you've been cornered by something you can't beat... what would you do?
Niani: Heartless? Me? Not sure what to make of that... lol. Ah thank you. And no, for some reason I wasn't afraid to write it... don't know why. I probably just got sick of her.
angelic katty: You heard me correctly. Sister-fic! Yes... sad but true. She was a rather misguided villain.
Leigh S. Durron: Thank you! And welcome to... the end of the story. :D
Skinner practically fell into the room, and almost tumbled right off balance at the sight that awaited him. His eyes widened, not too dissimilar to Jekyll's normal expression, and his jaw dropped.
"Mina!" he yelled, trying to stop the vampire from her... the only word for it was gorging. She was tearing into the oldest woman's neck with a sickening ferocity, and Skinner's stomach gave a lurch. He completely forgot about the woman behind him, but he soon heard her heels come to a stop as she too took in the hideous sight before her.
The woman halted immediately in her tracks, and her own eyes widened slightly. Skinner took in the unusual expression, and tilted his head in confusion. So she was capable of feeling.
That was when Mina started screaming, and lurched back from her feeding, letting the unmistakably dead body of the first woman fall limply to the ground. Skinner swallowed dryly, but a fresh scream from Mina brought him back to his senses. He quickly looked to the vampire, seeing her clutching her head and collapsing to one knee in agony.
His eyes searched the room, locking for a moment on the concentration on Juliana's face, before -determination having taken a firm hold of him- he located something sticking out of the wall. He grinned somewhat manically, and ran over to it, gripping it safely with both hands and pulling with all his might.
Henry gasped when the transformation took its toll, and the doctor stood once more in pride of place, a contrast to the previous mass that was Edward Hyde. Henry Jekyll let his wide eyes glance over the banister from his kneeling position, and he gulped. There, lying very still on the ground, bloodied and bruised, was the man who had... Henry remembered the knife, and suddenly gave a shout as the pain hit him.
He looked to his right arm, where the knife protruded, and grumbled when he realised Edward could have at least removed it for him to save him the pain and trouble.
"I had my hands full," was Edward's way of explanation, and after that, Henry shut him out entirely. True, he may have saved their lives, but he had killed... again. But then again, this man had been sadistic and cruel... far from human himself. He tried not to think about it, and pulled the knife from his upper arm, stifling the cry. He threw the blade aside, and stood. His trousers decided to stay up around his waist, and he walked barefoot down the corridor, taking care to step over and around the rubble. The last thing he needed was to cut his foot open.
"Now..." he mumbled, "where did everyone else go?"
It felt as though a thousand hot knives were cutting her skull to pieces from the inside, and unconsciousness was beginning to look very welcoming indeed. It threatened just around the corner, and beckoned to her. She almost gave in.
And then, almost as suddenly as it had started... the pain stopped. Her blue eyes rose from the floor, and she took in the skewered form of another woman standing not five feet from her.
The sword Amelia had been using now protruded rather noticeably through the woman's abdomen, right through from the back, where the hilt was barely visible. A sniff on the air confirmed her suspicions, even as the woman gave a choked sound, and fell on her side to floor, blood seeping from around the edges of the blade. Mina no longer hungered for it.
"Mina!" came a shout, and she felt Skinner's presence at her side.
She panted and gasped with the shock of it all, and unable to form words, she simply nodded. Her blue eyes cast over to where she had been... feeding. Amelia lay crumpled against the wall, pale and dead. Mina had killed her... though she felt no joy from it whatsoever. She closed her eyes.
"C'mon," Skinner urged, and she felt his gentle hand under her arm helping her to her feet, "let's get out of here. We need to help Sawyer."
"Oh god," Mina gasped, looking to where she imagined the thief's head was, "Tom!"
Coming across the only metal door in the building had puzzled Henry, and he had taken it upon himself to try and open it, mostly out of curiousity. It would not budge. He would have tried shunting it with his shoulder, but his arm ached something vicious.
The sound of running footsteps behind him caused him to turn, and he saw Mina Harker coming right for him, though her attention was focused on the door. Behind her came the impressions in the dusty carpet that suggested Rodney Skinner. When he came to a halt, he was panting for breath.
"We have to get the door open," Mina said at once, and she started trying to budge it herself, though it was clear most of her strength was gone. "It's locked!" she growled in frustration.
"I suppose you wouldn't appreciate if I said 'I told you so'?" Skinner mumbled, and Mina did not even reward him with a glare. Her attention was elsewhere.
"We need Captain Nemo," Henry told them, "he'll be able to get this blasted thing down."
"Yeah," Skinner agreed, though it was a level of cynicism that he did so, "but he's quite a way off, mate. You don't look in any condition to be runnin' about New York yourself, and Mina here just had a bit of a run-in with someone intent on ripping her brain apart from the inside-out."
Henry widened his eyes after Skinner's proclamation, but he was right.
"I have my methods of transportation, gentlemen," Mina grumbled, and began to turn and head for the exit.
She only got five steps down the hall -rather unsteadily at that- when the clatter of someone else approaching made everyone freeze, even stop breathing. They stared, anxious and curious to the corner up ahead, and were relieved when a familiar face came into being.
"Ah," Nemo called to them, "at last. Thankfully, a 'giant monkey' is not hard to track with so many people out at night, Dr. Jekyll."
Henry cleared his throat, a little embarrassed, and nodded, thankful himself.
"Where is Agent Sawyer?" Captain Nemo came up beside them, a dozen of his armed crewmen behind him.
A little late for those weapons... could have used those a while ago though, Henry thought to himself, having no doubt Edward heard him. He thought he felt the chuckle from his alter ego.
Mina looked back to the door. "Behind here," she told their newly arrived companion. "It's locked, from the inside. And I am ashamed to say I do not have the strength to open it myself." She blushed, as if ashamed.
Henry felt a pang of sympathy, but tried to ignore it for the other pressing matter that should take precedence, he knew. "What do we do?"
Nemo did not smile, but there was a light in his eyes as he held out a hand to one of his crewmen. The sailor handed him a pouch at his side, and as a group, they all stepped away, leaving the members of the League standing before the door. Henry narrowed his eyes, and looked at the pouch.
"I will soon have the door open, do not worry," Nemo assured them, and removed something from the pouch. The League -bar Nemo- exchanged looks of confusion.
Mina had covered her ears when the explosion had taken place, shaking the walls around her only very slightly, but still troubling her hearing. Sometimes, she regretted having sensitive senses. As one, the four members of the League stepped around the corner where they had been taking cover, and took in the sight of the rather dilapidated door.
It had completely lost its locking and handle mechanism in the small but powerful blast. A rather length dent had become apparent, making it look as though Hyde himself had pounded with all his might against the door. Needless to say, they would have very little trouble getting inside the room now.
"What did you say that stuff was again?" Skinner asked, now wearing one of the sailor's spare jackets. Jekyll was attired similarly. The sleeve of Skinner's borrowed jacket rose as if he were sticking a finger in his ear from the sound of loud blast.
"I didn't, but it is something I have been developing," was all Nemo divulged on the matter, and they let it drop. They all looked to one another, before Mina and Jekyll pushed forward ahead of them all, and tried the door. It creaked inward, collapsing onto one hinge miserably, and still smoked. The smell was rather unappealing, but when Mina's eyes adjusted to the light, she charged in without hesitation.
"Jekyll!" she called urgently, and after he had checked the body of Amelia's daughter just inside the doorway, he was crouched next to her.
Tom lay on his side in the middle of the floor, unconscious and looking very pale. His skin was clammy, and he felt a little too cold for Mina's liking.
Jekyll checked for a pulse, waited a moment... a very long, tense moment, before he gave a sigh of relief, and nodded. "He's alive, but in a bad way."
Skinner was standing beside them now, and he crouched after a moment, scooping up Tom's dropped Winchester rifle. He collected the Colt pistols as well, perhaps feeling it wrong to leave them behind. He handed them to one of Nemo's sailors, who accepted the burden without question.
The invisible man came up beside Jekyll and Mina once more, and asked, "Is he all right?"
"He has quite a few injuries, from what I can tell," Jekyll divulged, having rolled the American over gently onto his back, and was now checking him as much as possible without the use of the infirmary facilities on the Nautilus. An injury on the doctor's own right arm was hindering his progress as well. "I can't check him properly here... Captain?"
Nemo nodded, and his men set about helping Jekyll.
Rodney Skinner opened the door to the infirmary, and peeked inside tentatively. Wearing a hat indoors was no strange tactic to him when he wanted to be seen, and right now, he thought it best. So it was that the 'gentleman thief' was attired in long leather coat, trilby, pince-nez and greasepaint. He wore gloves on his hands, and he stepped inside the door on bare feet.
He caught sight of Henry Jekyll talking to one of Nemo's medical staff, and waited until the two were finished conversing to wander over, clearing his throat quietly to announce his presence gently. Jekyll turned his gaze upon Skinner.
Jekyll nodded once to Skinner, and the latter returned the gesture politely. "So," he began softly, and looked to the drawn curtain around one of the beds, "how's he holding up?"
Jekyll sighed, and rubbed his eyes, scratching the back of his head afterwards, all with his left hand. His right arm hung in a slack sling around his neck, a bandage visible through the thin fabric of the doctor's white shirt. Skinner had to admire the man's dedication in the face of injury. He had barely taken a break, only to check on his own wound, and change his own dressing.
Jekyll shook his head with a light shrug. "It's hard to tell." He walked away from the curtain, as if afraid either Sawyer would hear them, or he would wake him if sleeping. "When he's awake, he'll barely say more than two words to anyone, least of all Mrs. Harker."
Skinner frowned. Not a good sign.
"The injuries... he'll get over them. I found more than a dozen lacerations across his back."
Skinner let out a sigh, and hung his head, closing his eyes for a moment. He had expected the American had been through quite an ordeal, but nothing quite so extensive. He stayed silent to let the doctor finish his explanation.
"The stab wound on his right shoulder was deep, much worse than my own. Someone put a lot of force behind that," Jekyll divulged. "There's bruising on his ribs, and he was lucky to escape internal bleeding. Someone gave Agent Sawyer quite a beating... though, not surprisingly, none of it shows on his face or hands... anything we would have seen whilst he was under the control of the woman."
"So when you said about the gunshot... that wasn't a mistake after all," Skinner said plainly, glancing to the curtain through the shade of his dark glasses.
Jekyll shook his head. "I'm guessing he broke free of the control, and was trying to attract attention... though unfortunately, I arrived a little too late."
"But you still sensed somethin' was up, and that was enough," Skinner told the man, meeting his gaze. Jekyll stared at Skinner for a long time, and then nodded as if in acknowledgement. He sighed, looking to his arm.
"Time to change my dressing," he breathed softly, as if with regret.
Skinner nodded. He thought back over the thorough search he had helped with back at that maze of a house. All four of the -Nemo had called them psychics, as had Jekyll and Mina- bodies had been checked for any sign of life. The man had been found in the foyer, body broken, far from the land of the living. Hyde had made sure of that. There was the young woman, a rifle shot to the stomach having claimed her life. The oldest woman had been drained of blood by Mina, who still spent most of her own time in her cabin reliving the event in nightmares and suffering in silence for her act. And finally, the woman Skinner had run through with the sword he had retrieved -and not without great effort- from the wall.
There had been no one else in the house, and after leaving an anonymous tip with the police; the League had cleared out of New York altogether. They had sailed out and were heading to England now. Skinner, for one, would be glad to have a bit of the London life around him again. The hustle and bustle of America hadn't been quite to his liking.
Skinner glanced now, back at the curtain before calling softly over to Jekyll, "Can I?" He gestured to the secluded area, and after a moment of consideration as he removed his shirt one-handed, Jekyll nodded, but not before he had thrown Skinner a look that said 'be careful what you say'.
Skinner understood. No doubt Sawyer was in a bit of a mess... both physically and mentally.
So it was no surprise when he slipped inside the curtain, to find the young man laying on his left side, curled up under the sheet, making himself as small as possible it seemed. Skinner's frown deepened, and he swelled with pity. He sighed gently, and moved over to the chair that rested beside Sawyer's bed. He sat in it softly, and heard it creak anyway. He cursed the piece of furniture silently, and looked over at the -was he sleeping?- form of the American. His breathing was gentle, and still slightly irregular.
Skinner ran through the list of injuries Jekyll had relayed to him, and looked away, ashamed to stare at his unfortunate friend. Sawyer and Skinner were more alike than either of them realised... perhaps internally they both knew it, and that was why they argued a lot less than any of the others, but it was as though anyone in the League was frightened to call one another friend for fear of what would happen were it revealed to anyone outside of their small -some would call it elite- circle.
And look at what happened when someone found out, Skinner thought sadly, glancing at the unmoving form again. The blonde hair was a tousled mess, far more dishevelled than it normally was, and it was rather limp, lifeless. Someone took advantage of it... to hurt one of us. I don't know how they found out about the League, but they certainly attacked where it hurt.
Sawyer was the youngest, and by far the most vulnerable, and not just because of his age. Mina's instincts protected her most of the time; Jekyll had his Hyde; Nemo rarely left his ship alone and was trained in martial arts; and Skinner had his stealth and instant invisibility with a simple casting off of personal clothing items. What did Sawyer have? Guns, bravado, a lot of enthusiasm and optimism. Those weren't very good weapons unless your enemy kept his distance. Sawyer had fallen victim to something terrible, and it had hurt him far more than any of the others could understand... and for that, Skinner had never felt so useless.
"What do you want, Skinner?"
At first, Rodney Skinner did not register the voice. It was weak and hoarse, barely above a whisper, and filled with... on reflection, it was nothing. The tone was dead. Skinner felt awkward all of a sudden. "Just thought I'd drop by and give you some company."
Who am I kidding? The kid doesn't want sympathy... he wants to be alone.
There was the visible rise and fall in Sawyer's body as the young man took a deep breath, though it might have pained him. Then he rolled over, careful not to jar his heavily bandaged shoulder as he came to rest on his back. He sat himself up a little, and Skinner could clearly see the American's green eyes now. They weren't bright so much anymore... something was missing, and that was heartbreaking.
"I can leave if you want," Skinner told him sincerely.
Tom Sawyer stared down at his hands on top of the blankets for a long time, and then he simply shook his head once to each side. His limp blonde locks shifted with the movement, hanging on his brow. "No... it's okay."
"Are you sure? I wasn't sure whether you wanted to sleep."
Another shake of the head. "I don't want to sleep."
Skinner nodded. Can't blame him... can't have been a very pleasant sensation, from what Mina tells me about the mind control. Too much like drowning for my tastes...
"How's Mina?" came the small question, the American's voice as distant as his eyes.
Skinner considered the man before replying, "She's fine." He paused, and then took a shot in the dark; "She doesn't blame you, you know."
The eyes met his face then, but only for a second. A wry smile flickered into being, and then faded away. "Sure she does... why shouldn't she?"
"Look," Skinner sighed, "how could she blame you for something so obviously out of your control?"
"It wasn't out of my control," Sawyer retorted, though with far less vigour than he normally would have. "I could have fought Amelia... I could have kept her out."
"Mina couldn't."
Another brief locking of their gazes, before Sawyer sighed as much as he dare. "I stabbed her... that's why. She was weak."
"You didn't stab her... that Amelia did... she just used you to do it."
"Exactly."
Bad wording, Rodney. Skinner took his trilby off, resting it on an unused tray nearby. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. Look... no one blames you. That wouldn't be fair. We were all at risk from these people."
Sawyer chuckled, void of humour or happiness, eyes still staring straight ahead. Then he sighed again, and frowned deeply.
"You can't blame yourself just because you..." Skinner took a moment, and then continued, "what they did to you... none of us could have endured."
The look that came over Sawyer's face said it all; 'you don't understand'.
"You're right if you're thinking I don't understand... I can't. How could I? I've never been through anything like that... and I hope I never have to... no one should have to go through that. It's barbaric, and inhumane." Skinner paused for a pensive moment, carefully considering how to go on; "The natural thing to do is blame yourself because a dear friend got hurt... if it were me, I'd probably do the same thing. I don't even know if I'd have made it through all of that... I'm built for evasion, not for plain old survival, Sawyer... that's what people like you are for. You're strong, and that's why you're still here... and they're not."
His young friend shifted slightly, and then glanced over at Skinner. He sighed once again... but perhaps it wasn't a sigh, maybe he was struggling to breathe normally. Who knew?
But when he opened his mouth to speak, the words that came forth were not in retaliation or debate... they were something Skinner never thought he would hear... they were words of defeat.
"I want to leave."