Author's Note: Well… my apologies for this one taking so long. I had a bit of a memory problem with the scripting of this one, and I sat there with my hands hovering over the keyboard for ages before I remembered the wording… that and the novelisation suddenly came in very handy. This one will have quite a bit of original content, so I hope you're not all too disappointed with my rendition of what Tommy-Boy did with his time off-screen ; )
Scene: From Mina's shooting Tom down on his offer to assist her, up until the target practise.
Shout outs:
drowchild: Sounded as though you weren't very impressed there… hope this one pleases you more. : S
Beck2: Yup… Jekyll and Skinner… gotta love 'em. They do try, bless their little hearts. *cough* Anyway… I figured, if I were Tom, I'd feel rather plain with all that supernatural/famous company… wouldn't you?
sugaricing: Adorable? Cool :D I think I might have been aiming for that, but it's good to hear it anyway. Many times when I first saw it, with the looks on his face I wondered what he was thinking and just wanted to hug the poor guy! And you are correct… Jekyll's expression does scream, "Hug me!" As for the update notices, you're perfectly welcome *bows*
*listens to Shane West's band, and then remembers what she was doing* D'oh!
Silent Bob 546: Don't worry… you'll get more of Jekyll in all his fumbling glory… when he's in a scene with Tom next ; ) He features ever so briefly in this one.
Raven Silvers: I make him out to be sweet? Dear Raven, he is sweet! Look at him! *cough* Okay… I'm calm now. You should try this sometime, writing out the film again… you get to replay one scene through your mind over and over, and over, and over, and over… *is washing off confetti*
Panzergal: *is scared by her Underworld CD* Ack! *pause* Sorry… that scared me for a minute. It was a bit heavy for a second. Thank you kindly! I do try…
Sethoz: *watches you with the pom poms* Ah yes, *sigh* THE hat part. How I love it. Should have made more of that brilliant moment actually… ah well. I do wonder where Hyde got that though : S The thoughts are just spur of the moment, and I try to get in his head. Being a performer, I should be able to do that… despite the gender difference. It's still a character, right? ; )
RogueSparrow: Personalised Tom? That's one way of putting it, yeah. Quite a good way actually. Cool. Ah yes… "I'm not a child"… hehe. That was an impulse. Apparently quite a funny one : D Keep an eye out for it again, maybe.
Tom was still a little tired when he woke and dragged himself out of the bed the following morning. Though for once he had had quite a comfortable night's sleep, he was still somewhat groggy upon waking. It just seemed time to rise… though he far from shone. He looked a mess, and really didn't have the energy to do anything about that. One look in the mirror and he seriously contemplated retreating back under the covers… and he would have done, were it not for the knock on his door from one of Nemo's many crewmen offering him breakfast.
Tom threw on a robe from a hook by his bathroom, and tried to clear his blonde hair from his eyes as he opened the door. The shaft of light that assaulted his eyes made him squint immediately, and it took him a moment to regard the crewman. He didn't know any of their names, and suddenly felt a little guilty for not being able to address him politely by at least a title of some kind.
Might want to look into that, he thought. He regarded the crewman curiously, and then noticed the tray of food he had in his hands. The man smiled, and half-bowed his head.
I wish they'd stop doing that.
"Thanks," he muttered, and accepted the tray. He had already made a royal mess of his cabin, and didn't want the man to come in and set it down for him. Whatever it was, it smelt damn good though. "Um…" he mumbled, looking up and down the corridor, seeing quite a bustle of sporadic activity, "do you know what the time is?"
"It is roughly nine o'clock, sir," the man replied, bowed again, and walked away.
Tom watched him go, blinked once, and then retreated back into his room, having the presence of mind to activate a lamp. He set his breakfast down on the table, and groaned.
I wonder what Aunt Polly would have thought about me sleeping in so late on a weekday. Tom smiled, and moved about getting dressed before settling into his morning meal. He had to admit, he was pretty hungry. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten a solid meal… another fact that would have driven poor old Aunt Polly right up the wall if she'd known… if she were still alive.
With a sigh, Tom Sawyer got dressed.
With the apparent fair weather outside, Tom had taken it upon himself to visit the conning tower to get a little fresh air. Something about being submerged for hours at a time unsettled him, and he knew that if he didn't see the sky or the sun soon then he might lose his breakfast. So it was that he pushed open the door to the tower, and stepped out, taking a lungful of the fresh sea air and smiling gratefully, glancing this way and that to take in his surroundings.
Quatermain was to his left, and Tom took it upon himself to hover around the man. There was an aura around him that seemed to call to Tom and pull him over, and he closed the door behind him. He stepped up beside Quatermain, and said, "Morning."
The old adventurer was sighting down the barrel of the elephant gun he treasured, and did not speak for many long moments, but when he did, it was quiet, "That it is."
Tom frowned. O-kay, he thought, what's all that about? Did I do something wrong now?
Quatermain gave him a sidelong glance, and half-smiled at the edge of his mouth. "Sleep well, Sawyer?"
At least he didn't call me boy this time. Tom nodded, saying, "Fine. Pretty good actually." He scratched his head subconsciously, disturbing his already dishevelled locks as they tumbled about his head in the light breeze. "Just takes a little getting used to." He sighed contently, and turned his back on the railing, leaning on it with his elbows and putting his body in a casual slouch. Quatermain smiled, but did not speak.
Slowly, the conning tower attracted more and more members of the League, and they filed out of the doorway sporadically here and there, floating off to their spots around the railing's edge. Doctor Jekyll -for he had divulged this title after calming himself from his transformation from Hyde- was the first of said people to arrive, dressed primly in -what looked like- a dinner suit, hair tidied and slicked to one side. He disappeared around the other side of the tower out of view after nodding his greeting to Tom, who smiled.
Next to appear was Captain Nemo, looking alert and regal as always, and he too glanced around mysteriously and then vanished behind the tower where Jekyll had disappeared not long before. Tom watched them curiously, trying not to look as if he was prying too much. He didn't want it to appear as though he were staring.
Last thing I want is for people to start hating me because I'm nosy too, Tom thought without humour, even as Mina Harker came into view. She glanced at him, gave him a half-hearted smile of greeting, and then proceeded to the thrust off to Tom's left, watching everything disappear behind the Nautilus. Tom watched her, transfixed. He didn't even notice Skinner's arrival until the door clanged shut noisily, making him start slightly. Tom shook his head, and went back to watching Mina discreetly. Even though her back was turned, Tom thought she might be able to sense his eyes on her.
Then something struck him, a sudden thought, and he furrowed his brow deeply in confusion. Mina was a vampire… it was morning… the sun was out. From what Tom knew of vampires, sunlight was fatal to them. They could only come out at night.
Well bang goes that theory. Tom frowned, a little piece of his childhood belief shattered.
Tom didn't even notice Quatermain giving him another sideways glance as he popped open the barrel of the elephant gun, peering down it to check for blockages. It was only when he spoke that Tom remembered the other man was even there; "She's out of your league."
Very funny, Tom thought, still staring, league… I wonder if that was an intentional witticism. Tom shrugged it off for his own thoughts, looking into the matter too much, and almost grimaced when none other than Dorian Gray came on the scene. The suited man was strutting over to Mina without a care in the world, and he spoke her name to grab her attention… and it succeeded.
Why didn't I think of that? Tom cursed his lack of initiative and sighed, watching the two figures, trying to make out their words. The wind tore their voices away from his ears, and he heard nothing, much to his chagrin.
Of course, his spirits lifted considerably when he heard Mina speak, and it was to Dorian in a cool voice, "Don't flatter yourself, Dorian."
Tom smiled, and shoved off the rail with his elbows as Mina made to retreat from the conning tower. As he moved away, he spoke to Quatermain almost cheerily, saying, "Fortune rewards the bold." Quatermain gave him a calm glance, and Tom grinned, moving over to intercept the woman before she reached to door.
"If you require any assistance during the voyage, Mrs. Harker," Tom began in his best confident tones, trying not to sound too cocky after she'd shot Dorian down, "just ask." He smiled at her.
Okay… she's looking at me. She hasn't told me to get lost, so that's a good thing… but now she's taking a little too long to reply, and she's staring right at me… a little unnerving.
"I'm curious, Agent Sawyer," she said at last, and Tom was a little wary about her tone, " as to how you think you'll assist me."
Okay… think of something quickly, Sawyer. Tom glanced about in search of something to use as an example, and his eyes rested on the locking mechanism of the door leading out of the conning tower, a spherical wheel. "Heavy lifting," he offered, and moved to open the door for her. The wheel was a little stiffer than he'd imagined it would be, and at first he had trouble even turning it. Then it came free with a jerk, and he turned it, and pulled it open wide enough for her to enter, persisting as he did so, "light banter." He grinned at her, the grin that he had used thousands of times in his youth to disarm poor old Aunt Polly. "I'm a useful kinda guy." He realised only then how thick his accent had become for a moment. He almost flushed at the thought of it; glad it had softened over the years.
Mina cocked her head at him with a smile.
That's a good sign.
"You're sweet," she told him softly. Then her smile fell slightly.
Wait… not so good.
"And you're young," she added, her voice harder, more matter-of-fact. "Neither are traits that I hold in high regard."
Pardon? How can sweet and young be bad compared to slimy and cocky?
With that though, even as Tom's smile fell and he frowned pensively, Mina pushed her way through the door and was gone. Tom looked on after her longingly, and sighed.
Dorian had turned from his place of observation by the table that held a bowl of fruits, and popped a grape into his mouth delicately with a smile. As he chewed on the fruit, he walked towards the open door, and patted Tom on the shoulder. The look -feigned sympathy- made Tom's fist clench. Dorian walked through the doorway.
I wasn't holding it open for you, Tom thought, and he wished he had said it. So far, he'd let Gray trample all over him… and he regretted it. It made Tom feel small, and it probably made him look it too. Why didn't I just kick him on his way through?
Nemo was in front of him before he could think further or the matter, and Tom looked the captain in the face. The man spoke, confidently and clearly, announcing, "The solar panels are fully charged. We'll be diving in a moment."
With a resigned sigh, Tom shook his head discreetly, and then walked on through the door he had been holding open. He started descending the steps back into the belly of the Nautilus. He wished he hadn't said anything to Mrs. Harker… that he had just kept his mouth shut instead of trying to impress her. He should have guessed, after being involved with a man like Dorian Gray -for that was the only conclusion he could come to- that he must have looked quite… insignificant in comparison. Maybe he was just too ordinary for her.
Thoroughly dejected, Tom took it upon himself to return to his cabin and make an attempt at cleaning his guns should they be needed in the near future. But before he could even get as far as five steps away from the steps, he heard conversation from the two oldest members of the League. Despite his best intentions not to pry, Tom found himself turning and listening.
It was Nemo and Quatermain, discussing the Phantom. Tom felt inclined to walk over, compelled to find out what it was they were talking about in detail. The two men noticed Tom standing close by, even as Jekyll and Skinner walked away, talking about something concerning potions… Tom didn't really pay attention to that conversation. It interested him little.
Tom looked between the two wise faces when they fell silent and regarded him, and he cleared his throat, "Sorry. Couldn't help but overhear."
Quatermain nodded slowly, and started to walk with Nemo down the corridor. Tom couldn't deny the urge to follow, hands in his pockets, and he trailed behind them like a third shadow.
Calm down… they'd say if they didn't want me tagging along, right? They wouldn't just let me follow after them like some lost dog. A pause. Tom frowned. Or maybe they would, just to see my reaction when they shoo me away. No… these people are more mature than that. Maybe Gray would do that, but not Quatermain… he seems to… what's the word… tolerate me, and for now, I'm perfectly happy with that much.
Tom followed right behind Quatermain into a formal room with pillars and white walls. It smelled of delicate fragrances, like perfumes once sampled on the night air in cities long forgotten to Tom's mind. But this was different… there was something soothing about the scents, and Tom felt a little more at ease, despite the talk of the Phantom.
Nemo walked right up to a door in the wall. A safe, Tom realised. Nemo blocked the view to the locking device when he put in the code to open it.
Safety conscious, that one. Tom walked slowly, further into the room with Quatermain beside him. The other man had picked up a file from somewhere, and handed over his prized hunting gun to one of Nemo's men to return to his room. Tom guessed that was also where the file folder had come from as well… there really wasn't any other way to explain it.
A crewman started clearing away some silverware off of a table with a tray, silently going about his work without a care in the world… other than keeping his captain happy. Nemo barely acknowledged the man as he drew a large black book from the safe's innards and held it aloft. "The plans the Phantom stole from the Bank of England," he announced in explanation. He lifted them slightly once again for emphasis. "These are copies."
Tom and Quatermain moved closer to get a better look. The crewman walked away, tray in hand, and disappeared from sight, even as Nemo laid the book on the vacated table. He flicked it open with care and delicate movements of his hands, and Tom nearly whistled in admiration at the drawings depicted within on yellowing pages, precision work that had surely taken one man many laborious hours.
"Da Vinci's blueprints of Venice," Nemo informed them, and Tom nodded his head slowly, though no one looked at him. He felt better for showing acknowledgement anyway. "Its foundations," Nemo pressed on as he turned pages, "and waterways."
A thought struck Tom then, and he decided it was time he spoke up; "So he'll attack the conference by sea."
They knew whom he was referring to. It was hard to confuse the matter. Neither spoke though, simply exchanged glances over the illustrated leafs in the book. Nemo gave a subtle nod that Quatermain and Tom both noticed.
At least we're all on the same track, Tom thought. Maybe now we'll start getting somewhere, instead of waiting around whilst the Phantom plans a world war. The thought made Tom shudder, though he suppressed it as much as possible. He didn't want to show he was afraid… he wanted to show he was ready for action.
Quatermain seemed to catch his expression, and regarded him for a moment. Tom did not shift, simply glanced to the old adventurer momentarily, and sighed.
The rest of the day passed without much incident. No one was willing to eat together, it seemed, and everyone took dinner in his or her cabin… Tom included. He didn't want to be antisocial, but he wasn't going to sit in the somewhat grand dining area on his own… even if Nemo or Quatermain did show up. He thought he had pestered them enough for one day, and they needed their privacy to talk about League matters between themselves.
Sighing, Tom stabbed at the seafood plate, sitting at the desk in his cabin, and leaned his head on his hand, elbow on the immaculate wooden surface. Suddenly he didn't feel so hungry.
I just want to get this over with, he thought suddenly, and puzzled over his reasoning for this for a while, until coming to the inevitable conclusion that he felt badly out of place. He seemed incredibly ordinary and inconsequential around the others. An invisible man; something similar to an immortal in the form of Dorian Gray -Quatermain had explained, though Tom cared very little-; a famous adventurer; a sea captain; a man with a monster inside of him; and a vampire.
What am I compared to all that? Tom's frown deepened, and he put the fork down, no longer interested. He stood from the desk, and walked over to the neat bed… one of Nemo's crew had come in and tidied during his absence, which Tom wasn't entirely comfortable with. But considering the hospitality he had been greeted with, he thought it best not to quibble about it. How can I even begin to compete with their… individuality? I'm just some brash American who jumped into all of this with a few guns… they have Quatermain for that. Sighing, he lay back heavily, rubbing his eyes with his hand. He groaned quietly.
Now what do I do? No appetite… everyone is doing their own thing. I need something to occupy my time. He cast his eyes about upon sitting up again, and let them rest on the prized Winchester he had had in his possession since joining the Secret Service. He and Huck had both had identical pieces. He cocked his head. Why not?
So he took it upon himself, in his thorough boredom and feelings of inadequacy, to clean the gun as much as possible without the worry of jamming it or overdoing the job.
The next morning, Tom was awoken by much the same ordeal from the day before. A crewman of Nemo's knocked on his cabin door with breakfast in hand, and took away the tray from the previous evening whereas Tom had forgotten all about it. There was little he could do about preventing the polite man from coming in that morning. Tom simply hadn't answered the door in time, and had called for the person to come in.
A bit stupid of me really, he realised. At least he had been mostly dressed at the time, in the process of buttoning his white shirt.
When the man was gone and the breakfast eaten, Tom went about dressing himself properly. He pulled on his black waistcoat, leaving it unfastened. The shirt was not done all the way up either, only to his chest. Tom yawned, ensuring his pants were done up all the way… the last thing he needed was embarrassment in general. Satisfied, he paused a moment at the braces hanging unused at his belt.
Why do I bother with these things anyway? I never use them. Tom furrowed his brow, shrugged and made his way from the cabin. Nemo's crew would take the tray away… he didn't have a clue what to do with it himself anyway, so there was no point in trying to return it to the kitchens… wherever they were.
Tom sighed, and wandered the corridors blindly, yawning slightly here and there and thinking seriously about going back to bed, for what little good it would do him. His Aunt Polly had always warned him about getting too much sleep. Apparently it was bad for him. With a shrug, he made his way in the general direction of the bridge. Maybe he could find out from Nemo how far off they were from Venice. Tom was getting itchy for action.
But before he could even enter the brain of the Nautilus, there came a booming crack of a sound from above on the tower. Tom paused at the door of the bridge, and glanced to the ceiling as if it would provide answers. A pause, and then another muffled explosion.
For a moment, Tom was concerned, and his mind ran in feverish circles for an explanation. Then he grinned.
Might have told me he was going to do that…
Smile still on his face, he turned to go to the stairs to the tower, when Nemo poked his head out of the bridge door behind him. "Is that Quatermain?" he inquired with a knowing light in his eye.
Tom nodded, turning back, hands in pockets.
"I thought as much," Nemo pressed on, nodding himself. "I gave him the use of a projectile targeting device, though I did not expect it to be so loud. I assume you are going to join him?"
Is it that obvious? Again, Tom simply nodded.
"One thing to keep in mind, Agent Sawyer," Nemo warned, and something dark came over his face, as if a warning brewed within him, "take care how you address Mr. Quatermain. He is a very secretive man… he hates the British Empire, and I have no doubt there is a grave reason behind it."
Tom's brow furrowed. "You don't know why?"
Nemo shook his head back and forth. "I do not, and thought it not my place to ask. Good day, Agent Sawyer." The door closed before Tom could ask about their arrival in Venice. He cocked his head, and turned to go to the stairs again.
He climbed them with cautious haste, and pushed open the door upon completing his short journey. The sun shone down beautifully again, and there was very little breeze. The first sight to greet Tom's green eyes was one of Nemo's men standing beside a very peculiar device indeed. He couldn't fathom its origins, or its design, though Nemo had explained its purpose. 'A projectile targeting device', he had called it.
Well that's one way of putting it.
Quatermain was aiming over the side of the tower's railing, as he had done the day before, but with the gun fully loaded now, Tom knew. The sound had told him that much. Squinting out to sea, Tom noticed a bobbing red buoy with a flag on its top. Tom raised an eyebrow… Quatermain was planning on shooting that?
"Did you want something?"
Tom looked to Quatermain, seeing nothing but the back of his head. He must have heard the door close. Tom shrugged, shaking his head. "No," he said, lying through his teeth. Quatermain didn't need to know that though. "I was just wondering why you signed up for all this."
There we go… the truth never hurt anyone… apart from Aunt Polly, Becky Thatcher-
The deafening crack of the elephant gun being fired completely shattered the remains of Tom's train of thought, and he covered one of his ears from the resonance.
Now that was loud!
Trying to ignore the ringing in his ear, Tom pushed the matter further, as far as he dare, "Nemo told me you hate the British Empire."
"They called and I answered," came the bland reply of Allan Quatermain and he looked out at the space where the red buoy had been. Tom was impressed he had managed to hit it… at his age.
"Yeah, but that ain't all of it though, is it?" Tom inquired, just trying to get some answers out of the adventurer, if that was possible. Quatermain seemed intent on dodging the subject.
He also seemed determined to ignore Tom now too, as he called to the crewman.
Instead of the tradition 'pull' Tom was accustomed to, the word came out in a foreign language that the American guessed was Nemo's native tongue.
"Salau!" Quatermain urged, and there was loud clunk, and a fresh flagged buoy soared over the waves and crashed down in the distance, hundreds of yards off. Tom raised an eyebrow, and then frowned when the silence descended.
"Sorry I asked." Tom started walking towards the railing now, realising he had intruded on Quatermain's apparent need for peace and quiet during his target practise. He leaned on the cool metal, arms crossed, glancing out at the soothing waters below as they cut through them with ease. 'Sword' really was an accurate name for the Nautilus.
There was a delicate clang as the barrel of Quatermain's gun came down to rest on the railing, and the other man sighed heavily. His need for peace and quiet seemed lost, as he said, "A few years ago…" he paused thoughtfully, "the Empire approached me with a mission for Queen and country."
Tom smiled.
Finally… now we're getting somewhere.
"Well that's like the morning ride to work for you, I'd imagine," he said, turning to lean his back and elbows on the railing instead, head turned to Quatermain. Tom was surprised the other man had decided to divulge information… personal information at that. He had always seemed so secretive before. Why the sudden change?
Quatermain ignored Tom's comment, it seemed, and continued on his own track of thought, "I signed on without hesitation." He was still staring out, almost in a trance, at the waves. There was a slight waver in his expression as he said, "I even took my son along."
Son? That's new…
"I led… he followed."
Tom noticed the shadow come over Quatermain's face. Uh oh…I don't like this.
"He died in my arms."
Dammit! Tom looked down at his boots, suddenly feeling very small and stupid. Quatermain had a veiled sense of sorrow about him now, and it penetrated Tom's exterior, making him feel even worse. He couldn't help but feel guilty for bringing something so melancholy up. Huck flashed into his conscious mind then, and the sorrowful feeling grew intensely.
"After that," Quatermain persisted, "I washed my hands of England, the Empire… and the legend of Allan bloody Quatermain."
Why did I push it? Why?
Silence fell upon the two men then, Nemo's sailor looking out over the water in his moment of freedom from launching targets. Tom was surprised when Quatermain spoke again, and it wasn't a stern 'go away'.
"Now," he began, and he lifted the elephant gun from the railing. When he continued, Tom could have sworn he was mocking him by trying on an American accent; "Would you like to learn how to shoot?"
Tom narrowed his eyes, smiling slightly, and took a moment before he said, looking back at Quatermain, "I can already."
At least you think you can, Sawyer. Tom tried to shut off his brain again, and failed miserably. It was too busy processing everything he had learned since getting out of bed.
"Oh, I saw," began Quatermain with a measured smile, and he held the gun in an almost mocking fashion as he said, "it was very American. Fire enough bullets and hope to hit the target."
Now that's not exactly fair… I hit them, don't I? At least I don't outright, plain old miss them!
"Sawyer," Quatermain said in continuation, and he hefted the gun to his shoulder in a firing position, sighting off into the distance at a non-existent target as he continued, "I'm talking about pipping the ace at nine hundred yards!" There was an air of excitement about the old man now that intrigued Tom.
Tom turned to face Quatermain, arms crossed over his chest as he raised an eyebrow curiously.
Quatermain lowered the gun, and offered it two-handed to Tom, a gentle motion of encouragement. "Try."
Sighing, Tom thought, What the heck… why not?
So it was that Tom strode forward with as much confidence as he could muster, and took the gun in his hands. Apparently, Quatermain cared perhaps a little too deeply for the gun as he said, "Easy!" Tom lightened up his grip, and Quatermain released the gun to the American, waving a hand at it with a light in his eyes. "Easy."
I wonder why the sudden interest in my marksmanship, Tom couldn't help but think, and he had an odd feeling about the whole situation, even as the gun was raised to his shoulder and gripped appropriately. It weighed considerably more than his Winchester, and it took him a measured moment to become accustomed to the change, before he was comfortable with its feel. The absence of the finger lever for reloading threw him off for only a few seconds. He sighted down the barrel, even as Quatermain called, "Salau!"
A new target soared high over the waters, launched on command, and splashed down in the distance. Tom felt a little anxious all of a sudden. That was a long way off.
"Now…" Quatermain was standing right behind him, hand raised near Tom's shoulder, he noticed, perhaps for support, "aim."
"That's easy." Tom knew how to aim; after all… he couldn't remember how many of the Phantom's men he had knocked out with a quick yet precise moment of aiming. Intense training with Huck had taught him that much.
"Allow for wind and target movement," Quatermain continued calmly, meaning to guide.
"That's easy too," Tom told him, perhaps a little too confident.
Don't get cocky. He's trying to be friendly… appreciate it, and shut up.
"Now this is the part that's not," Quatermain cut in, a little more insistent now.
Tom nodded only once to show he was listening, and wanted to learn. Quatermain had quite a record, after all, and he was bound to know something that Tom didn't.
"You've got to feel the shot," Quatermain informed him sincerely. "Take your time with it. You have all the time you need… all the time in the world."
Tom wasn't sure quite what he was getting at, but his trigger finger was starting to get a little itchy. The cool feel of the metal appealed to him, and he just wanted to let off the shot.
Just pay attention… he must have a point… he knows what he's talking about after all.
"Take… your…"
Tom fired, cursing his impatience when the shot fell short, cutting into the water about ten feet short of its target. The bullet was lost in the waves, and Quatermain took the gun from him quickly, as if chidingly.
"Too soon!" It wasn't shouted, but he was warning Tom, in a gentle fashion. Tom half-turned to the man, feeling a little sheepish for missing. He had already claimed he knew how to shoot, and look where that had gotten him… plain old failure.
"But that was bloody close!" Quatermain encouraged, and waved out at the water, drawing Tom's eyes to his meaning. "And at five hundred yards too."
Five hundred? Didn't he say nine hundred a little while ago? Tom paused. Well now I feel even worse! An old 'retired' adventurer can hit nine hundred without so much as glasses to help him, and one of the best Secret Service agents can't even hit five hundred. Nice going…
"Again," Quatermain insisted, and the gun was back in Tom's grasp, much to the American's surprise. He had thought the lesson might be over after that fumble before. But still, he did not turn down the chance for a second shot. He had to admit… the gun felt good in his hands… he felt powerful.
Before hefting it into position, he looked over to Nemo's crewman, and called, "Salau!" He had already picked up the word, and the man launched a new target for them.
Tom raised the gun, and sighted down the barrel again, really trying to take his time with this one. He needed to redeem himself… even though this wasn't the field, he needed to improve. It he couldn't hit a stationary buoy, then he was going to have trouble with a moving target, and he had no doubt that this skill would certainly come in handy… someday.
A question burned eagerly in his mind to pass out of him and become verbal, but he wasn't sure about it. He tried to keep it held in, in case it was too personal, but try as he might, he failed to keep it inside, and it came out, "Did you teach your son to shoot like this?"
Not that it matters, he thought after a moment, and then realised the silence.
The clang of the door brought him back to reality, and he looked to his left. "Quatermain?" He was gone.
He turned his head to look over his right shoulder, just in time to see the door close.
Too far…
Tom sighed, feeling stupid and ashamed once again, bringing the gun down even as his spirits sank. He wished with all his heart and soul that he had kept the question inside. He had just ruined a perfectly good moment of friendship between Quatermain and himself… who knew if he would get the oppurtunity again?
Tom rested the stock of the elephant gun on the metal floor of the conning tower below him, and he clasped his hands over the barrel's mouth, staring out towards the approaching clouds that meant to end the sunshine, a sense of foreboding overcoming him suddenly as he stood regretting his brashness.
Why can't I just keep my mouth shut?
A/N2: Yipes! That's a long one, huh? Jeez… didn't think I had it in me. Anyway, so sorry this one took so long in coming, I had a bit of trouble with the scripting, and was sitting here with my novelisation in hand, cursing the original draft of the script for being different : D Had a bit of trouble. But anyway, that may explain any inconsistencies you may have found, such as the order being slightly different as to the running of the film. I used the book for the most part, my memory running overtime to try and replay the scene over and over in my head. I did my best… hope it satisfies.
