Author's Note: Ooh… people like it! They really like it! Which means they like me! I think… I hope anyway. *laughs* Okay… enough of that. Thanks SO much to you guys who reviewed. Welcome to new people. I hope this pleases. I hope you don't mind that you're basically reliving the movie through Tommy-Boy's eyes. I hope you enjoyed the length of Chapter 2, as well. With any luck most of them will be this length. So anyway, I sat here at my computer, watched the film, and jotted down the bits I need : ) Such as, which bits I'm going to do, and notes. I cannot take credit for writing this one from memory I am afraid… sadly enough. Maybe it's a good thing though ; )

Scene: With this title, need you ask?

Shout outs:

drowchild: Ouch… oh, thanks : ) *takes uber-cookie* Thanks for the compliment, and the cookie of course. It's fun getting into Thomas' pretty head : D

Sethoz: Clezy? Hehehehe. Well, with all that was going on, can you blame him turning his brain off? *hands Sethoz some pom-poms* There ya go, buddy : D

Raven Silvers: *is covered in confetti* Wow… cool. I'm guessing I can't eat this stuff right? Hehe. Only kidding. Thank you muchly for your kind words and generous praise as always. *brushes confetti out of her hair and laughs*

American-Agent: Can't say the idea is entirely mine. I'm reading the book 'A Walk To Remember', and after reading a fic of the film where… oh you get the idea : ) Glad you like.

sugaricing: I agree with you on the whole Dorian thing. He's a bit… evil. But he's a cool character, and by writing this fic, I finally get to write for him! Kinda… I have also shut off my brain quite a few times : |

RogueSparrow: Definitely continuing, as you can see. Hehe. Guess I needn't have said that… on with the show!


                They were stopping alongside Paris, even as Tom walked through the belly of the Nautilus. Allan Quatermain had instructed him not to bring his Winchester along… apparently one rifle was enough. Tom had been told the basics, but not enough information to satisfy his curiousity. He was eager for more of the facts, but he knew that pressing the matter would only earn him glares. Only Tom and Quatermain were to go ashore, and the former knew he would be glad for the chance of fresh air. It was getting a little stuffy on the submarine.

                I wish Quatermain had described this thing we're hunting more though… how do I know what to expect? How does he think I'll know exactly what to do? Tom sighed, and met Quatermain at the ramp down out of the Nautilus. The old adventurer was grinning ear-to-ear.

                "Well, boy, ready for a good old fashion hunt?"

                I wish people would stop calling me 'boy'. I'm almost twenty-six already! I am not a child.

                Tom nodded. "Sure. You gonna tell me what it is we're hunting?"

                "All I can tell you is that Dupin will be very appreciative for us to take it off his hands." Quatermain smiled that same knowing smile. It was starting to grate… not knowing everything. It was like the League was holding back on him. Didn't they trust him?

                "And Dupin is the Inspector, right?" Tom attempted to confirm as they strode out of the vast submersible. Some of Nemo's men saw them off, and started to close the vessel up even as they made their way into Paris' inner streets.

                Quatermain nodded his affirmation. "He's been trying to catch our quarry for quite some time… with very little success."

                "And what exactly is it that this thing is doing to cause such a hunt? Is it dangerous?"

                "Only if you're alive," Quatermain commented, and pressed on ahead. Tom halted for a moment, drawing his twin six-shooters all of a sudden, on the alert now.

                Okay… I wish he'd included that in the briefing.

                Tom pursued Quatermain, noticing the way the man's posture had changed drastically. He was truly in his element, every sense tuned finely for this kind of situation. His head jerked to one side, and he pointed with his free hand, saying, "This way, Sawyer."

                Tom followed without question, trusting to the man's apparent instincts. He had used the time during the journey to brush up on the team. Quatermain was one of the world's most -apparently- famous adventurers. Mrs. Harker, or Mina as she sometimes preferred in casual conversation, was indeed a vampire; she had been married once, but her husband had died in the battle against the Count, Dracula. Nemo had built many wonders, including the Nautilus and the automobile Tom yearned to drive; he was a puzzling man with a dark past, most of which eluded Tom and the history books he had submerged himself in. Skinner… Skinner was a mystery in himself. He had stolen a formula for invisibility, and used it to heighten his skills in the trade of theft. Not very honourable, but it was keeping him alive… and now he was stuck that way until the British Empire rewarded him with a cure for helping out. And finally, Gray… Tom didn't want to dig too deep for fear of what he might find, but he had barely been able to scratch the surface. He had found -to be brutally honest- very little, even in the official files Quatermain had been granted.

                "Come on," Quatermain called quietly over his shoulder, and that was when Tom first heard it. It was before he even saw it. He cast his eyes about wildly in a searching fashion to locate the owner of the roar.

                His eyes widened drastically when he saw the source.

                He can't be serious…

                Tom swallowed dryly at the sight of the monstrosity. It was impossible that this thing was natural… but then again, as he had previously mused, he had already encountered a vampire and an invisible man. What else was possible… this creature was real, tangible and running about the rooftops of Paris as though it was perfectly natural to do so. Of course, the monster was about eight feet tall from the looks of it, if not higher, and… was that a top hat? And a cane?

                What the… is this a joke?

                Sure enough, when the light of the moon shone down fully upon the creature, a mass of bulging muscles and sinewy limbs -save for its legs, which actually seemed at first glance too weak to hold up the mass-, it was dressed in tight-fitting black pants that seemed to be splitting at the seams from the strain, black formal shoes, a shredded dress-shirt, the tattered remains of a waistcoat or dinner jacket, and a gigantic top hat. He also carried a cane in his meaty left hand.

                It truly looked like a hideous parody of a travelling fair attraction… like the carnivals Tom had visited as a child, where he had seen gorillas and bears.

                Tom pressed on after a moment's musing, and called out to Quatermain, "I don't see what we need a big monkey for."

                It was the only way to describe it in his eyes… the title seemed quite fitting.

                Quatermain called back without turning his head, his voice loud and clear, "Well this 'big monkey' had terrorised the Rue Morgue for months." Tom caught up to Quatermain, and the older man looked him in the face, an eager light in his wise eyes. "Imagine the mayhem he'll give the enemy!

                Okay… so he's got a point. But what does he expect us to do? Tame it? It sure doesn't look friendly.

                Overhead, the monster leaped a giant gap in the street. Tom gaped at it, astounded. Quatermain took aim swiftly with his rifle, and let off a shot. A chunk of the roof exploded out from beneath their target.

                Tom frowned. "You missed!"

                "I'm not trying to hit him," Quatermain snapped back, as if chiding Tom for not knowing any better. Tom glanced to the hunter, and furrowed his brow. Well how did he expect them to catch it?

                Next thing he'll tell me, he's got a net!

                The monster kept on running, its speed impressive but downright annoying. Tom and Quatermain pressed on in their hot-footed pursuit. For his apparent age, Quatermain could certainly keep up a good pace.

                Quatermain took a brief aim again, and popped off a quick precise shot. "Turn left, Mr. Hyde."

                Mr. Hyde? This thing has a name?

                Surprisingly enough, in an instinctual reaction to the shot, 'Mr.' Hyde turned left. Tom was impressed, but did not voice it, else he slow them down in their hunt. Quatermain had already started off at a run again when Tom realised they were still in motion. He cursed his slack approach, and remembered that that had been the exact reason for many of his prior mistakes.

                The last thing I want is to be ripped apart by this thing for not paying attention. I'll avenge Huck if it's the last thing I do… until then, I'm not taking any risks. With this new sense of determination filling every fibre, he pulled around the corner, seeing the urging look on Quatermain's face. He gave a subtle nod to the left with his head, and gestured at Tom's drawn pistols.

                Here goes…

                Tom raised the guns, still running, and started shooting, each bullet crashing against the guttering beneath Mr. Hyde as the pursuit continued.

                C'mon, you son of a b-

                "Make him turn left, boy!" Quatermain called to him from a little way back.

                Tom kept on pulling the triggers, one after the other. It's not like I'm not trying!

                Finally, it seemed -just before Tom ran out of bullets- that Quatermain had tired of the lack of progress in the American's attempt, and he pushed Tom's right arm down. The firing stopped at once as a reaction, even as he heard the older man chide, "If you can't do it with one bullet, don't do it at all!"

                Tom was disheartened by that comment, but refused to show it. He didn't want to give off the wrong impression. If Quatermain had a plan, then let him carry it out, why not? He seemed confident enough, and Tom was curious to see what had made the man such a legend.

                He lifted the Winchester, and squeezed the trigger. Half of a chimney block erupted in Mr. Hyde's face, and he growled, turning away from the shot and its aftermath.

                Tom watched in dismay. "He's doubled back!" He stopped, half-raising a gun in emphasis as to the problem.

                "Precisely," Quatermain confirmed with a sense of veiled triumph.

                Dammit… he planned that. Why didn't he tell me? Could have saved myself some trouble.

                "C'mon," the other man encouraged, and took off once more. Tom was astounded the old man had so much energy in him. People back in Missouri of the same age had had trouble making it to church on Sundays, let alone chase halfway around Paris after a mutated gorilla… or whatever it was.

                Tom groaned, and followed once again. Another bend in the street, and Tom levelled with Quatermain as they turned it. He raised his pistols in preparation, in case the beast had decided to bring the fight down to their territory, but before he could comprehend the situation, his companion had bodily thrown him aside; moving with him urgently, and a hurried call of, "Look out!"

                It was only when Tom and Quatermain came to shelter theirselves underneath a balconied rooftop sticking out from the second storey of a dark building that the Secret Service agent fully understood what had happened. Mr. Hyde had cast a whole half of a chimney aside in his flight, and caused it to crash to the street below… exactly where Tom had been standing. He would have been crushed.

                His heart racing, Tom cast his eyes about for their foe, catching sight of him watching them on a rooftop.

                Did he just laugh at me?

                "That was naughty…" Obviously, that hadn't been part of Quatermain's plan. That much was clear on his lined face.

                Tom, a little breathless now, and counting his lucky stars, turned to the more experienced adventurer. "Thanks," he said.

                Quatermain looked back to him, pointing to his face with his index and forefinger, a warning gesture, a helpful one it seemed. "Eyes open, boy," he said.

                Why does he keep calling me that…? Tom suppressed a groan of annoyance.

                "Can't protect you all the time."

                I beg your pardon? Protect me? Tom furrowed his brow. He hadn't realised that was part of the deal. There's more to this guy than meets the eye. Why does everyone on this mission have to be such an enigma?

                His attention back on their task, Quatermain eyed the rooftops, and then took a sniff on the night air. Tom narrowed his eyes, even as the other man said, with a smile, "He's afraid…"

                Then he was off round the corner again, even as Tom copied his actions, mumbling, "I can't smell anything."

                Tom cocked his head, and emerged on the next street behind Quatermain, who had his new gun at the ready. It was raised, and Tom caught sight of the monstrous Mr. Hyde on the rooftop across from them, glancing down menacingly as if daring them to fire at him.

                Which is exactly what Quatermain did. One shot caused Mr. Hyde to leap to 'safe' ground across the way, but the barrel of the Winchester followed him, and Tom watched as his companion let off another shot.

                Bricks and clay flew in all directions as Quatermain succeeded in striking areas close to their target, never hitting the beast himself. The next shot slammed full-force into the chimney Hyde gripped for stability, and with a snarl, he glared at his attackers.

                Go for his feet, Quatermain… his feet.

                As if on some unheard cue, that was precisely what the older man did. He lowered the barrel, and fired upon the slack guttering underneath Hyde's feet, where stacks of roof slates were dependant. In a mighty avalanche, the slates started to slide from underfoot, and Hyde roared in dismay as he went down with them, crashing to the ground in a heap of dust and growls.

                Tom let his jaw drop slightly at the sight. But Hyde was already making short work of regaining his footing. He was on his knees when Quatermain raised an arm to the sky, letting off a blinding flare. Tom followed it with his green eyes for a moment, and then heard the trap that Quatermain had been keeping secret as it sprung into swift and efficient action.

                Well… might have been nice to know about that too. It's all a guessing game with these people.

                Hyde was wrapped in a net before he could act against it, limbs flailing madly in a rage, roaring at the top of his lungs as a rope tightened suddenly, pulling all corners of the snare into the middle, and dragging it away as if on a winch.

                Tom took a single step back as the beast was dragged past them. He thought he heard a curse for a moment, but pushed it aside as his own mind playing tricks on him. After all he had seen recently, it was a wonder he hadn't gone mad. Tom watched the monster as it was dragged out of sight, and heard the subsequent slam of the Nautilus as it closed like a hungry mouth around the netted captive.

                "Perfect," Quatermain said with a sigh and smile, pocketing the flare gun again. "Welcome aboard, Mr. Hyde."

                Before he moved to follow, Tom caught sight of something at his feet, and the child inside made him reach down and pick it up curiously. He turned it this way and that, trying to fathom what sort of tailor made top hats so big!

                Maybe this is all a joke, he thought as he tossed the hat aside, shrugging. It was a convincing gag if it was one… something inside of him doubted that though.

                He jogged up behind Quatermain. "So now what're you gonna do with him?"

                "He's going to join the League, of course," Quatermain replied with a sly smirk.

                Okay… now I know he's kidding. No one in their right mind would make that… that thing part of a team. It'd kill us all!

                Of course, Tom didn't realise just how wrong he could be.


                Tom and Quatermain made it into the chilly ice room of the Nautilus roughly five minutes later. Their prize had already been restrained, and was making quite a show of displaying his rage and discomfort at the situation.

                Tom wrinkled his nose at the smell in the room. Fish hung from hooks in clusters, and the chill did nothing to stem the stench. He thought he caught a whiff of cheap perfume on the air as well… but brushed it aside.

                Now what? Try to talk to it? Doesn't look very intelligent… what is this thing anyway? No one's explained that to me yet.

                Tom and Quatermain came up beside Nemo, who held a rather intimidating spear in his hands. He brandished it as a weapon, along with about a dozen of his crew… who were slowly becoming nothing more than target practise for Hyde. He started slamming them aside with his great fists, sending them soaring through the air. Tom ducked underneath a hurtled crewman, and moved away from the armed Nemo. Quatermain took to pacing. Tom heard the previously airborne sailor hit the wall outside the room, through the door they had just used for an entrance.

                "Stay back," Quatermain was saying, and Tom glanced over his shoulder to see he was addressing the others, newly arrived, "if you value your life."

                Dorian was first to enter, still carrying his accursed cane, sword hidden neatly and cleverly within. He didn't look so smug all of a sudden, and Tom's spirits soared. So the man was capable of shock. Skinner followed right behind him, eyeing Hyde through pince-nez as usual, but Tom could still see the arching of both brows in amazement. Mina was the last to appear, and she ducked through the doorway without a second thought as to her safety… not that she needed much protecting.

                They heeded Quatermain's previous warning, and stayed back at a safe distance. Mina stood off to the side, hands in pockets to keep the chill out, and watched. Hyde made a new effort to bruise and batter, sending more men flying like they weighed next to nothing.

                There was a crash, and a glance told Tom that Skinner had fallen to the ground, probably knocked over by a careening sailor. Dorian helped him up, but Tom saw Skinner snatch his gloved hand away as if wounded.

                "Ow," he grumbled, and stared through the dark glasses at Dorian Gray. "You scratched me!"

                Okay… don't tell me this guy is a werewolf or something, or I'll really lose it. With a shrug, Tom turned to look at the thrashing Hyde again, but not before he heard Dorian's retort, "Better me than him."

                Tom would never admit to anyone, let alone himself, that the smug man did have a point. Skinner would have done more than merely complained if Hyde had gotten his hands on him, invisible or not.

                The way things have been going, it wouldn't surprise me if this brute can see Skinner.

                "Well this is nice," came the sarcastic drawl as Dorian noticed they were making little progress in 'taming' the beast. Tom rolled his eyes and sighed, thanking the crashing racket provided by Hyde for covering the subtle show of irritation.

                Quatermain took a step closer to the beast, and Tom nearly muttered a warning. Quatermain beat him to his voice, and said, commandingly, "Mr. Hyde." It was only meant to draw the monster's attention, and it succeeded first time. Clearly, the thing knew its title.

                Is this someone's pet, or…?

                Hyde started to pace, reminding Tom of a wild animal he had seen once in a cage. He almost smiled.

                Quatermain pressed on; "You've done terrible things in England."

                Add another item to the list of unmentioned facts. This is starting to annoy. Would it hurt to share the information around here?

                "So terrible," Quatermain continued, voice carrying around the room with startling clarity, "that you fled the country." There was a pause, where Tom noticed Hyde was actually listening. Was it capable of comprehending human speech? It did look frighteningly human.

                "And I'm ashamed to say that her Majesty's government is willing to offer you amnesty," Quatermain persisted, and this was where it appeared that Hyde's interest was peaked. The beady eyes met Quatermain as he concluded, "In return for you services."

                Tom glanced between monster and hunter, seeing something there that resembled understanding.

                "You want to go home," Quatermain said, and it was not a question.

                Tom waited, and waited with the others for something to happen. It was as if Quatermain expected a response.

                And he got one.

                "Home," Hyde growled, and Tom subdued the urge to jump back in shock. "Home's where the heart is, that's what they say."

                Tom's eyes widened slightly in astonishment. It wasn't only speaking… it was quoting now. It not only comprehended human speech, it was perfectly fluent. But it didn't stop there.

                The beast continued, "And I have been missing London so. Its sorrow, is as sweet to me as a rare wine."

                Tom couldn't stop staring. He swallowed again. Okay… now I've seen everything.

                Hyde loomed towards Quatermain, but the hunter did not flinch as the monster growled, "I'm yours."

                Mina, off to the side of the room, raised a feminine brow and gave a small sound of surprise. The dark eyes of Hyde met the faces of the League, and he shook his head slowly.

                "Don't be afraid," he told them, and his voice was almost gentle.

                Don't say it, Sawyer… you'll regret it. He couldn't stop himself. "Who says I'm afraid?" he asked cheekily with the grin to match.

                Hyde roared, and the words, "You do!" could be made out, even as he wrenched one mighty arm around in a great arc. The chain ripped out of the wall with it, and Tom's eyes shot wide open as he realised its target.

                Duck!

                And he did, just in time to feel the heavy chain whip right over his head and clatter noisily against the wall to his right. Tom brought his head back up suddenly, thoroughly dishevelled and shaken, his hair in a great mess of locks on his head. He stared in shock at Hyde. He certainly hadn't expected that.

                "You stink of fear!" Hyde bellowed at him, and Tom made a mental note to never antagonise the beast again, for fear of losing something precious… like his head for one. He shrugged his coat back onto his shoulders, and kept his mouth shut. He didn't trust it to not utter something stupid that would cause him another near-decapitation.

                Dorian was smiling though, thoroughly amused. The urge to punch his smug face swelled in Tom again, even as Gray commented, "Quite the parlour trick."

                Typical, Tom thought when Hyde did not react violently, why does everybody always take a swing at me? Aunt Polly, the Phantom… Hyde. It's people like Gray who deserve it most of the time. Tom frowned, but tried to hide his disappointment.

                "You wait 'til you see my next one," Hyde said, but his voice was strained now, as though the effort of speaking at all was hurting him. His head was craned to one side, and the veins were showing clearly. He started to groan loudly, as if pained.

                Tom physically took a step backwards as Hyde convulsed, tossing this way and that in a great thrashing of agony, roaring and screaming. Tom watched in horrified fascination as Hyde started to mutate, great parts of him deforming and twisting. He started to visibly shrink back into himself, and he looked disgustingly out of proportion now. Tom grimaced.

                All around him the rest of the League reacted similarly. The look of surprise was back on Gray's face, but Tom took no gratitude at this point. He was too appalled, although he did try to hide it.

                Before long, the convulsions started to lessen, and with a final jerk and a scream, where Hyde once stood there was now a frail-looking man. He had chestnut hair, slicked back with sweat, and dark eyes that were saucer-wide in shock. He gasped loudly, and then collapsed to his hands and knees, panting audibly, his chest heaving.

                Now that… I didn't see coming. Tom's brain was starting to annoy him again, but he thought it best to keep it coherent in case the man decided to transform again, if that was possible.

                Before them on the ground, the man started to pick himself up, casting the useless chains -for they were now far too big- off of his lean frame, along with the scraps of the white shirt and black jacket. He had the presence of mind to snatch at the waist of his pants to keep them from falling, adding to his embarrassment.

                It came as no surprise when this man, this tangible, real man spoke, but it was with a quavering voice that he did so; "Doctor Jekyll…" he managed through the shaking, "at your service."

                Jekyll and Hyde, huh? Has kinda a ring to it. Tom almost smiled at his ridiculous thought, but he was still too preoccupied with trying to conceive how such a thing was possible. He wasn't getting very far with his reasoning.

                Quatermain turned to his fellow companions and smiled. Dorian Gray and Skinner returned the gesture. Tom just shrugged, and Mina cocked her head.

                "So…" Quatermain began satisfactorily, "the League is set."

                So it would seem, Tom thought wryly. Why do I suddenly feel awfully plain?

                A sharp bell and the clicking of a communication device on the wall behind Nemo interrupted his reflections on this subject. The captain turned to tear off the slim strip of paper protruding from the device, and his dark gaze cast over it for only a moment, before he announced, "And so is the date for the conference."

                Tom had almost forgotten about their goal. He felt a little sheepish.

                "We have three days," Nemo concluded, and he didn't seem in the slightest bit alarmed by this revelation.

                Tom however, was thinking on a different track, and he crossed his arms over his chest and laughed lightly. "Three days?" he repeated disbelievingly, and then eyed Nemo curiously. "Can this canoe do that?"

                Nemo stared.

                Okay… maybe it wasn't the best idea to call this thing a 'canoe'. He obviously didn't appreciate that wisecrack. He made up his mind to watch his references to the Nautilus carefully when around Nemo.

                "You underestimate the Nautilus, sir," Nemo informed him with a knowing smile, "you underestimate her greatly."

                It was with that shrewd comment that Nemo decided his presence was no longer needed. He departed the room, motioning for his men to return to their stations. They did so quickly, without hesitation. Mina raised a brow again, nodded to her associates and then left also, followed shortly by an all-too-eager Dorian Gray. Skinner shrugged heavily under his leather jacket, tipped his hat, and disappeared out of the door.

                Tom glanced to the remainder of his company, and smiled wanly. This was all getting far too confusing.

                Over the silence, Jekyll's voice took precedence, cutting through the atmosphere like a knife, drawing the eyes of the hunter and the spy to him.

                "May I have a glass of water?"


A/N2: Well… that took me a while. Another lengthy one too : D Excellent. Bodes well, doesn't it? Don't forget to leave your thoughts and opinions on the way out ; )