Author's Note: Okay… so the title kind of sucks. When you've read the whole chapter, you'll know why I said that. It doesn't quite fit, but… *shrug*… I'm ill. Cut me a break, lol. Also, I'm going away for a couple of days to London. I won't be back until Sunday evening or Monday I'm afraid, so don't expect an update before then, cuz sadly it ain't gonna happen. Don't give me puppy-dog eyes… please… stop it… and to make it worse, I don't think this one will be as long as the last one… sorry.
Sethoz: Ack! Not the chipmunks! Glad you thought that chapter was cool. I had a lot of fun writing that, Bwahaha! And as for Allan… ah yes… now the only character I need to resurrect is Dorian… and I doubt that will be happening.
nobleblue: As far as I know… no, there is no cure. As Anise said in 'Silver Bullet': once a werewolf, always a werewolf. Now, now… don't be sad… it can't be all that terrible.
RogueSparrow: You've been watching 'Underworld' haven't you? *hands you a glass of water*
Rayne: I'm glad you liked it. The fight, though abrupt and only a foreshadow of what is to come *cough*, was quite fun to work out. Couldn't have anyone getting killed now, could I? Quatermain's back? *looks at notes* Oh yes… so he is.
Raven Silvers: Don't worry about the review in the other account thing. I was only kidding. Yes, yes, everyone's favourite great white hunter is back. I scared you? Bwahaha! Excellent! Only gonna get worse, my friend.
LotRseer3350: Ah, clever Seer. Knew it was coming, did you? Muahahaha!
Graymoon74: Curses… reread your review and I had a mouthful of tea… not a smart thing to do! Poopy bag?! Oh dear, Graymoon. Silly you. D'oh! Nearly sprayed my beverage everywhere, and that would have been most unfortunate *cheers cuz she just read your new chapter*. Good ol' Mina, 'eh? What would we do without her? Hmmm… all of this wouldn't be happening for one. Ah yes, Quatermain… couldn't resist. Father figure indeed. He'll have a hell of a time dealing with all that's happened though I should imagine. *buys Allan a ticket to Africa, just in case*
Leigh S. Durron: Thanks! I like using a lot of emotion in my work, because, as humans, we never stop feeling, do we?
MJ: Hi! Wondered where you'd popped off to! Haven't seen you in ages! But I'm sure you've been busy, so I'll let you off… this time. You love me? Wow… flattery goes a long way with me. Lol.
angelic katty: *hands you a glass of water as well* You okay now? Calmed down enough to read this new instalment? Poor Tom? Who knows? He may grow to like his new lycanthropy… yeah, I know… didn't convince myself either.
Niani: Welcome to the story. Thanks for your kind words. Hope you enjoy this new part too.
Stepping out of the gloom of the shadows, Allan Quatermain chuckled dryly at the astounded faces of his previous companions, the remaining members of the League. He couldn't stop his grin, and he removed his hat as he emerged into the wan light of the Paris docks, stopping some six feet from Mina Harker, Captain Nemo, Rodney Skinner, and Henry Jekyll, all of whom he had never seen so shocked.
It was Mina Harker who spoke first, much to Allan's surprise. The way she carried herself once she regained her composure spoke of the mantle of leadership, and he raised a brow as she said, "Mr. Q… you… but you died." She was smiling only slightly, as though this amused her and perhaps she thought she might have been dreaming.
"Yes, Mrs. Harker, I did die," Allan responded dryly, but still with a note of humour to his thick accent, "but, not for long. That witch doctor's blessings were stronger than I could have thought."
"What do you mean? How on Earth did you come back from the dead? Did someone spike my drink without telling me?" Skinner's coat turned in all directions as he rambled off his questions, and Allan laughed at the sight.
"I was resurrected," Allan revealed, turning his wide-brimmed hat in his hands, "by a witch doctor. That blessing… well, let's just say I'm glad I saved that particular village, or I wouldn't be standing before you now."
Jekyll swallowed visibly, his face drawn with clear concern. His dark eyes turned to Nemo and Mina, and then on Allan. He said nothing though, whereas Quatermain had thought he was going to welcome him. Something was bothering the doctor… as usual.
Mina lowered her gaze, before glancing over her shoulder at the Nautilus behind them. Her head turned back to Allan, her blue eyes piercing and bright in the gloom. "We have a problem."
Allan had noted, on his approach, that the League had been in conversation before he'd announced his presence. Though his senses were still as keen as they had been before his death, he had been unable to make out any of their words. His eyes picked out the faces of the group, seeing the concern in their expressions, save for Skinner. The man was without his greasepaint, and therefore, an enigma when it came to emotions.
Then it struck him… he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before. One of their number was missing. He turned his gaze solely upon Mina, and simply said, "Sawyer."
She nodded, somewhat gravely.
Did he die? No… he's young, but he's not careless. He can take care of himself… perhaps he is only injured, Allan thought, and allowed himself to be led into the belly of the Nautilus. Mina Harker – or anyone else for that matter – did not divulge any details on the situation. They simply walked, a train of silence and pensive considerations, faces grave and expressions foreboding to say the least. It did nothing to lift Allan's suddenly dampened spirits.
It was when they were coming upon the ice room, about three corridors away from it in fact, that the racket became evident, reaching Allan's ears and causing him to furrow his already lined brow. His eyes floated to the faces of his fellows, but none betrayed the situation. It sounded like… he tilted his head slightly… was that roaring? No… not roaring… as they got closer, he realised it sounded like growling, deep and menacing, and very loud.
Mina Harker led the way into the room, lifting her coat over the threshold so she would not stumble on the leather, and moved to one side to allow her companions entry. Nemo was next, and he strode to the other side of the doorway. Jekyll and Skinner followed, with Allan bringing up the rear. He reached a foot over the slight step, and froze halfway through the door as his eyes met the origin of the disturbance.
What on Earth is that thing? What his eyes saw did nothing to stir his brain into recollection. He had never seen anything like it in his life. It was huge, not far off the height of Mr. Hyde when released from Jekyll's internal prison. Thick, dark – almost black – hair covered its entire body, coarse yet carrying a soft shine in the light. Great, menacing claws – more like talons – protruded from the hands and feet, like paws rather than anything else. It was muscular, strong and threatening. Silvery slits of eyes regarded the League and Allan, and a bellow of a growl was the response they gained from it. Its maw opened wide, and sharp fangs of teeth were revealed as the jowls drew back in a snarl, its tall ears flattening against its skull… an instinctual animal warning, Allan knew. It was telling them to keep back.
Not that it would have mattered… the beast was well and truly contained. Thick chains were locked – much like in the original incident with Hyde – around its ankles, wrists, and there was even something very similar to a collar about its large neck. It fought futilely against the restraints, and roared again, jaws opening wide, and then snapping shut ferociously. Several of Nemo's men stood at a safe distance with wicked looking weapons, not too dissimilar to spears.
Mina Harker came up beside Allan, eyes never leaving the creature.
The old adventurer came to the only conclusion available to him, and he waved a hand loosely in the direction of the monstrous beast. "So you're telling me that this thing did something to Sawyer?"
The blue eyes left the form of the creature, and met Allan's gaze. Rather coolly, she said, "No."
Allan's brow furrowed deeper, if such a thing was possible. He looked to the chained animal as it started up in its struggles again, and then to Mina again.
She persisted, arching an eyebrow, "That 'thing' is Sawyer."
Allan visibly reeled from the revelation, and his looked disbelievingly to the thrashing beast, as it snapped at a crewman. The sailor jumped back. How could that be Sawyer… young Tom Sawyer, who had been so normal and 'innocent' when Allan had last seen him? It was impossible… what was this thing anyway? It certainly wasn't anything like what he had ever seen in his hunting days.
Allan looked to the others. Skinner's hands were in his pockets; that much was obvious from the bulge in the leather, and the way his sleeves hovered at odd angles. Jekyll was shivering, and eyeing both Allan and the monster alternatively, and he frowned. Nemo however, was looking to the adventurer, and he nodded once to confirm what Mina had said to him.
"How…" was all he could manage, looking to the huge beast again as it grumbled low in its throat, silvery eyes fixed on him now. It bared its teeth again.
"Not long ago, we encountered many of these creatures. Werewolves. Agent Sawyer was captured, and we discovered a man called Charles Evans intended to infiltrate the American government, and learn all their secrets in turning Sawyer into one of his team. We arrived before Tom's 'siring' could take place… however, he must have been wounded by one of the creatures… otherwise this wouldn't be happening."
Allan completely ignored the fact that Mina Harker had called Sawyer by his first name. It mattered very little to him at that moment. "You're telling me that this is a werewolf?" He paused. "Aren't they just a myth?"
"As with vampires, you mean?" The blue eyes stared.
Allan hesitated, and then nodded. "Point taken." He looked to the creature again. "And… Sawyer… is a werewolf now?"
"So it would seem." Skinner's voice cut through the chill of the ice room, standing near to a hook filled with fish tied together in a bundle. "Lucky Mina realised before she stabbed him though."
Mina Harker chose to relay the tale to him, taking time to embellish on every detail lest she miss something important. Allan listened, his eyes never leaving the form of the werewolf chained before him. Even if he had only – until today – thought them to be a myth, he would never have expected them to be so… huge.
"I suspect that, at least to our knowledge, since this is his first transformation, he is unable to change back, confused by what is happening to him… hence the volatile behaviour."
Allan looked to Mina as she concluded her tale. "I thought that these things only came out on the full moon. I don't know whether you noticed the crescent moon outside tonight?" He pointed skyward… which was in fact the ceiling.
Mina raised a brow again. "Yes, Mr. Quatermain, I did. Not all myth and legend is accurate, as I'm sure you're aware. Only certain sub-species are capable of transformation on the full moon alone… otherwise, it is possible to become such a beast whenever one wishes."
"So what do you plan to do?" Allan eyed her inquisitively.
"All we can do is wait… he could change back any minute… or it could take him hours to realise what he's become, and just how to revert to his human form," Mina replied, linking her hands in front of her loosely.
Allan scoffed quietly. How could they just leave Sawyer to try and decipher this on his own? Clearly, the poor boy – even in this shape – was confused and overwhelmed. He had no idea what he was doing, and that he wasn't being threatened. No doubt all he knew at this point was his bestial urges and instincts, and right now that probably consisted of 'keep the threat at bay, and escape by any means necessary'.
So it was that Allan Quatermain stepped towards the beast, despite the whimper from Henry Jekyll, who no doubt wasn't fond of watching what may happen. But the doctor did not retreat, simply watched as Allan stood not too far from the werewolf, and said clearly and loudly, "Agent Sawyer."
There was a glint of recognition in the gleaming eyes, before it bellowed anew, and snapped its feral jaws at the hunter, the teeth closing mere inches from the man's face before the collar snapped the head back. It did nothing to improve its temper, and it thrashed again, snarling fiercely in a rage.
"Sawyer… listen to me… concentrate on my voice, boy," Allan began again, and it was with no lack of intensity that he did so. He stood quite firmly before the creature, and stared fixatedly at it, never wavering. There was a confidence and sincerity in his tone. The beast seemed to notice, and turned its large head to Allan, tilting it to one side as a confused dog may when being asked to do something it did not comprehend. It still growled, but with less conviction than before. "That's it…" Allan eased, letting his compassion show now, "you know me. Don't you? You know all of us… don't let this new part of you take over. You can control it… you just have to concentrate."
The werewolf seemed to hunch down slightly, and one of the ears pricked with a twitch, as if it were truly listening and paying attention. The teeth were no longer bared in a threat, but the growl had not completely subsided as of yet.
"Sawyer…" Allan said to it again, in a simple manner, trying to jog some sort of recollection in the bestial mind of the creature before him.
The growls ceased. The eyes blinked.
"Tom Sawyer…"
A small sound from the throat of the animal made Allan narrow his eyes. It sounded like a low pine, longing and guilty.
Allan and the others watched, transfixed, as the creature shook its head, and then began to pant. It pined again, louder, and opened its mouth and let out a sorrowful note, one that was painful to listen to. There was a crack, a heart wrenching sound, as the bone and cartilage in one of the knees broke, altering and changing from the reversed hind quarters of an animal, to that of a human. The other soon followed with the same awful noise, and the beast dropped to all fours, the gigantic forelimbs touching down with a thud, as a snarl – albeit a pained one – rumbled forth from its throat. Its eyes closed, and it gave an almighty shudder, as if frightened or cold.
Allan's eyes widened as the black, coarse hair started to recede, slowly at first, before shrinking back and drawing into the skin itself. He grimaced at the sight. The limbs contracted as one, and the snapping of bones was heard. Allan noticed the shrinking of the ribcage, and reasoned that was the origin of the snapping. Sawyer's body was reshaping, and Allan imagined that experiencing it must have been worse than witnessing it alone. But still he stood, stoically and firmly before the transforming figure.
The face and muzzle of the werewolf began to reshape and form itself back into the features of a human being, though with the head bowed, Allan could not see the expression on Sawyer's face. He knew it must have been pained though… the transformation – like Jekyll into Hyde and vice versa – looked excruciating.
It wasn't long until the head was perfectly recognisable as human once again, and the black started to fade from the tousled locks of hair, blonde bleeding through from the roots and taking precedence. A pained gasp was heard, before the very last signs of the werewolf vanished… and Tom Sawyer was back.
It seemed like an eternity, as silence descended on the room, save for Sawyer's panting, and glances were exchanged. The young American knelt, hands on the ground, trembling in the same spot were the werewolf had collapsed not long ago. The manacles fell from his wrists with a light clang, and he ducked his head right down, letting the collar fall useless to the grating underneath him. The sound echoed, and reverberated off the walls.
"Sawyer…" Allan began again, quietly and more soothing this time, to try and stir the young man from his undoubtedly shocked state.
The head rose, and narrowed green eyes looked up at him, the face of the American registering too many emotions to catalogue. Shock, pain, fear and surprise all fought for priority, and the result was an unreadable expression. When he spoke, his voice was husky and forced; "Quatermain…?"
Allan moved forward, closing up to the American. He nodded. "That's right. It's Allan Quatermain."
"How… but…" Sawyer trembled again, and closed his eyes, sitting back slightly on his haunches, but leaving his hands on the floor for balance. There was another shudder, and Allan crouched down in front of his young friend… the man who had avenged his death.
The green eyes opened once again, and Allan saw the tears in them as the two locked gazes. Allan smiled at Sawyer, and touched a hand to his head in a fatherly fashion, gentle and welcoming.
Sawyer's emotions overwhelmed him then, and the tears broke through his defences. He sobbed, and Allan took him in his arms, holding him as he shook with fright and shock.
"It's all right, boy… I'll help you through this…"
Allan lost all track of time as he embraced the trembling form of Sawyer, and he wasn't even aware that everyone else had left to let them have their moment together in peace. Though Allan far from understood what had happened, he wasn't going to let Sawyer be consumed by confusion, guilt or fear… he needed guidance, and that was what the old hunter planned to provide, by any means necessary.
A/N2: All right then… that was chapter 4. You see what I mean about the title? Yeah well… never mind, 'eh? Hope you liked this one, and remember you've got a potential three or four day wait for chapter 5… *dodges projectiles* sorry about that! I've just noticed… Tom has cried in all three of my full-lengths… odd…