Author's Note: Yes, I know it took a long time, and I'm terribly sorry for that. The shout outs might ramble on for a bit, but I have my reasons, lol. Don't ask. I'm crazy.
Sethoz: Glad you loved it. Warms my heart to hear you say that. Yes, Wood isn't very nice… something tells me you might grow to dislike him more in future chapters.
drowchild: You spelt incredulous right, my friend. Glad you like it!
Beck2: Thanks for the review… which I received almost 50 times… hehe, not your fault I know, but I now know it off by heart. Lol!
RogueSparrow: Ack! The praise! Swelled head! Eeep. Though I should be grateful, which I most certainly am! Don't get me wrong, lol. Appreciate every word. *hugs*
Raven Silvers: Ah yes… hello, Raven. Well… long 'review' you gave me there, and as author I feel it is my job/right to explain/defend myself, would you not agree? Pray, tell me, if I seem offended… okay? All right, I'll go through point by point and make my case. 1) Ah yes, the alpha issue. I've simply called them that for ease of reference. Not all alphas mate, sometimes the male will try with all his might, but the female won't have it. Now, bear in mind, my guys are brainwashed werewolves, lol, and I believe that's mostly explained away the problem… plus they're soldiers of a sort, and if you know anything about the forces, you know it's strictly a no-no. 2) Skinner wasn't exactly doubting his friendship with Tom… he was considering how it would change, and not sure what to do about it. He feels awkward and detached, confused. I never said they weren't friends, can't have that. Like you say, it's an appealing thing, and it won't ever change. I'm not splitting up the troublesome twosome. 3) Despite being the youngest, Lacertus has actually been a lycanthrope the longest, which you'll know cuz I imagine you read his bio on my LXG fanfiction site. It will appear in the story later on, it will develop, as you might say. I agree with you about that word by the way, lol. I love Lycan from Underworld myself, hehe. Good impression of Lacertus though. 4) Woods… well, you haven't seen much of him, I'll admit, and you're not far off, but he's not exactly an all round misguided guy, is he? He's brainwashing once-loyal subjects of his country and bending them to his will. Bad guy if you ask me, but think of the jer- man what you will. Lol. 5) Okay, last point… this, and I have to be honest, kinda threw me off quite a bit, and not in a pleasant way. I know you weren't trying to offend me, but sometimes lil' ol' me lets her head run away with her. The League are not themselves because, well… let's face it; one of their number has just been revealed as a potential slaughtering machine, with little to no self-control over his lycanthropy. I'd be a little out of whack myself. Mina is skipping her icy one-liners because she feels they are inappropriate in the dilemma; after all, she isn't Dorian and she does have a heart in there somewhere. Plus she is confused, along with Skinner, who's worried for his dear friend and therefore keeping his trap shut to avoid saying anything he might regret or lose a companion over. Allan… you were pretty much dead-on with your assessment of his behaviour. He's just got back from the dead, and I do extend on that in this chapter, and he's deeply worried about his protégé, whom he left as an optimistic young human. Now he comes back, and BLAM, not anymore. He's missed a lot, and is trying to catalogue, yeah? ^_^ And as for Nemo and Jekyll/Hyde… well, I have an order to my characters, but as you may notice, I do try and throw them all in now and then. I don't completely skip. All authors will do this. I have my Alpha characters (Tom and Mina) and I have my Omega characters (Nemo and sometimes Jekyll/Hyde, plus I'm never overly confident with using the poor guys, and don't want to mess up the continuity of their personalities). Skinner is snugly in the middle, and pops up quite a bit to lighten the mood, which I know you like, cuz he's a fave of yours, no? The plushie behind you says so anyway *waves to Skinner plushie, remembering he's inanimate* Yes, so anyway, please don't take offence, I just thought you deserved some kind of explanation for the points you brought up, all valid to you, I'm 100% sure. After all, we all have our opinions; it's what makes up human ~_^
Gah, sorry… so much rambling! My apologies, please do continue with the story if you're still awake! Enjoy, hopefully, and remember to tell me what you think. Thanks!
The trip to America was spent – respectively for each member of the League – in the solitude that they found in their own cabins. No one really spoke to each other… perhaps they were afraid something terrible was going to happen. From what they had seen of their adversary, they had a difficult time ahead… not that a plan of action had been finalised.
Henry had noticed that the four werewolves spent a lot of time in each other's company, sticking close like an instinctual pack. It was intriguing, and though he was not a study of behaviour, he had taken note of it. His notebooks lay in disarray on his desk, scribbled with observations.
"Why do you care, Henry? They are only beasts and monsters. They care only for themselves… that bitch will betray us again."
"Oh, not now, Edward… please."
"You resort to begging now? How pathetic…"
Henry rolled his eyes, careful to avoid any reflective surfaces lest he catch the grimace of his alter ego. "And you have no right to call to call others beasts and monsters, Edward."
"Don't forget who made me, Henry… I'm part of you."
Henry, irritated with Edward's grumbling and apparent intelligence about the matter – not knowing how to retaliate either – stood from his chair, almost knocking it over backwards with the speed of it. He ignored the wobbling of the furniture, and strode from the room, slipping his pocket watch into place as he did so, secure on its little chain. It caught the light as it did so, spinning before being hidden away.
Henry slipped his jacket on, merely for formality, and quickly made his way to the conning tower for some much needed fresh air. Edward was starting to give him a headache, one thing he did not need, especially as they were coming up on America. He knew his way to the exterior as though he had lived aboard the Nautilus his entire life, and made the journey in record time, swiftly climbing the ladder and pushing his way out into the dusk, only to stop at the sight of another figure, not a fellow League member either.
It was the imposing – though rather gentle-seeming – Russian gentleman… or rather, lycanthrope, Henry supposed. He saw that the man had already turned his eyes to observe Henry before he had even opened the door, and the doctor fumbled for something to say.
"I… I'm sorry, I seem to have disturbed you."
"Of course not, Doctor. Please… join me."
Henry considered the werewolf, huge as he was, and then proceeded to the railing to stand beside him. Dmitri glanced to him with a ghost of a smile. Henry looked out to the failing light dancing on the rippling waves of the ocean as they sped towards America's coast. They were coming up on it with startling speed, and a sense of urgency surged throughout the doctor.
"So," Dmitri began in his almost cheery tones, "you and Mr. Hyde share a body?"
"It's a little more complicated than that, but I suppose that would be one way of putting it, yes." Henry tried to smile, finding he couldn't.
"Believe me, Doctor," Dmitri said then, his expression darkening suddenly, "I sympathise." The shaded eyes turned on Henry, and he almost took a step back from the pained light he saw in them.
"Your lycanthropy?"
"Precisely." Dmitri nodded, and then turned back to face the waters out on the horizon. It seemed that was to be the end of the conversation. But Henry found himself confused… it had seemed to him, in the time before now – though he far from knew Dmitri – that the man was less than bothered by his 'condition', perhaps even embraced it. What he had just seen and heard from the large individual suggested otherwise.
Perhaps he had been turned against his will, Henry surmised, but knew better than to pry. He himself was a man of many secrets, including the numerous barbaric crimes Edward – and himself inadvertently – was responsible for. He respected other people's privacy, for he had always had his own…
Allan Quatermain sat in his room, and had been alone for near on three hours with his thoughts. Everything was rather confusing as of late, since his return to the League. It appeared Mrs. Harker was now the leader, with Sawyer bringing up a firm second place. Not entirely disagreeable, but not what Allan had had in mind upon 'departing'.
He had noticed Skinner's silence lately as well, and was – if such a thing was possible – concerned for the thief. Something seemed to be bothering him, and Allan would have asked him, if not for the slight rift between them, given the way in which he had left and then returned. He wished he had more answers for them… he just didn't. He couldn't tell them what death was like, for he truly didn't know. Allan hadn't been gone – as far as he had been told – all that long.
It disappointed him that he had not experienced more in death… for he truly had died. Though he hadn't gone anywhere… he had just… ended, or so it seemed. He had not seen any of his wives or lovers, nor his son, something that truly pained him. Allan had hoped he would have seen them again when he finally let go of life, but it appeared he was wrong about that.
And then there was Sawyer' condition to consider… the fact that he had not only matured since Allan's departure, but he had literally changed. The exact details were lost on Allan, but he knew that the Tom Sawyer he had known prior to his murder was long gone… or so it seemed. Maybe there was something left of him inside, but it was saddening to think the optimistic and cheerful young American was lost to the brutality of a werewolf, the change taking over him inside and tearing him apart, making him pessimistic and somewhat cold.
We can't let that happen to him. We're a team, and we need to watch out for one another… whether we like it or not. I see the way they try to pretend as though nothing is wrong, but they couldn't be further from the truth. They are lying to themselves, and with each moment that passes in our ignoring him, he's slipping away.
He didn't trust any of these other werewolves. Their presence had him reeling with mistrust… he didn't know why. He had heard of Delacroix's betrayal before, and he supposed that was why he disliked her now. This was her fault, whether Sawyer thought so or not. There was no escaping the facts, and if she wasn't removed from the Nautilus at the first oppurtunity, along with her mysterious companions, then they might lose Sawyer altogether… possibly in the most literal sense.
Sawyer could get himself killed, trying to protect these people… these people who had barely spoken more than five words since inviting themselves aboard. In truth, Sawyer had convinced Nemo and the others to let them stay, but Allan couldn't have been more fervent about denying them passage. What right did they have to involve themselves? True, the League were not officially assigned to stop these people either, but it was part of their 'job' – Mrs. Harker had informed him of their instatement as a real League – to eradicate threats like this… for no one planning on anything including trained werewolf soldiers could be up to any good. Of that, Allan was certain.
Now if only he could get through to Sawyer…
As if on some bizarre mental cue, there was a light knocking on his door, which was slightly ajar. Allan turned his head to see Agent Sawyer himself standing framed in the light from the corridor, hands in his pockets as usual, his trademark stance. He looked to the hunter with shadowed green eyes, blinking once, and saying, "Can I talk to you?"
"Of course," Allan responded, standing and turning the chair, waving at the one facing him for Sawyer to seat himself. He did so, tentatively, seemingly with every sense on the alert… instinct, Allan knew. It was odd to see the animalistic behaviour in a human though, and it almost fascinated him before he reminded himself of what was going on. Now really was not the time.
"What was it you wanted to talk about?" Allan settled in the chair again.
Sawyer stared at the carpet between his boots for a long, silent moment, before his head snapped up, and he said suddenly, "You don't trust them, do you…?"
Before Allan could respond, too stunned by the abruptness, Sawyer persisted with determination flashing in his eyes, "Anise and the others… you don't trust them."
"I barely know them, Sawyer, but from what I've heard, I have no reason to… and neither do you."
Their eyes locked… some would say tensely. "I don't fully forgive her for what happened… but I don't completely blame her either. This happened as she tried to save me. At least the man truly responsible died, and Evans too. We still achieved our goal, and accidents happen."
"How can you tell this was an accident?"
"Excuse me? What are you saying?" Sawyer narrowed his eyes in disbelief.
Allan leaned back in his chair slightly, and continued, taking a breath beforehand, "How do you know that this wasn't one big conspiracy, built up by the people we now go to confront… Evans and his men could have been duped, just like you, into thinking they had control, and that they knew what they were doing. Evans might have been confident of success, and winning your allegiance. Maybe then he planned to hand you over to these Americans for whatever they plan… there's no way of knowing. And this Delacroix and her friends could have been part of it from the beginning." At Sawyer's angered expression, Allan added, "I'm not trying to upset you, I'm just looking at the facts from a new angle… a rather extraordinary one, I'll admit, but not impossible."
"No… it's too… I don't know." He stood; running both hands through his hair briskly and giving it a more dishevelled appearance… not that one could notice. He turned on Allan after a moment of pacing, and waved a hand. "How do we know why you're really back? There's another example of 'extraordinary but not impossible' for you. You could have been sent for… something." Sawyer had apparently lost his fire near the end of the sentence, and stammered out, looking slightly sheepish.
Allan remained seated; knowing from his experience that standing also might pose as a challenge or a threat. He didn't want that… Sawyer could easily kill him now. "Not exactly plausible… but as you said, not impossible. But have I ever given you a reason not to trust me, hmm?"
Sawyer faltered there, trapped between reason and loyalty. He paused entirely, his body going still, his eyes never wavering from Allan's, until he suddenly dropped them to the floor and sighed. "No, you haven't…" His eyes rose again. "But… whether I want to admit it or not, I need these people… like I need the League." His voice fell considerably in volume, and he added, "I need you on my side… now more than ever."
Allan stood, slowly but surely, from the chair, and walked over to Sawyer, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I am on your side… I always have been." He smiled, in a fatherly fashion. "And I always will be… I'm here for you. To help."
Sawyer looked Allan in the eye, something different shining in them now. Was that fear? Or was it appreciation? Allan could have cared less, but at that moment, he brushed it aside, and took the younger man in his arms in a reassuring embrace, one that was returned with vehemence, as if letting him go would mean losing him all over again.
So long as he was needed, Allan vowed not to let that happen.
The Nautilus slipped into port as far down out of sight as possible, which was quite difficult in a bustling city like New York. It drew attention at once, like fireworks would when exploding in the night sky when all else had been silent and dark.
The doors were opened, and the ramps extended like a great tongue branching out of a gaping maw. Observing figures leapt back from the sight. Luckily, no authorities were near to ask pesky questions, and emerging out of the shroud from within the belly of the submersible came the League, tightly formed into a unit.
Tom was in the middle at the forefront, with Mina and Quatermain on either side. Skinner walked at the rear, with Nemo and Jekyll just a little ways in front and to his sides. They formed a kind of circle, though no one resided in the centre, as they normally might for protection perhaps. From behind them came formation lines of Nemo's crew, causing the pedestrians to scatter further back away from the procession, and at the very rear were the other three werewolves.
And as suddenly as they had all emerged, and proceeded, they stopped, halting like a well-trained and rehearsed unit. Tom looked to Quatermain and Mina, and then over his shoulder, eyes locking with Anise. She glanced right back at him, and she – along with Dmitri and Lei; silent and mysterious as ever – pushed forward, walking around the crewmen to come up to the American, who seemed very much in his element now that he was back in his country.
Tom hesitated for only a moment, sighing slightly and almost unnoticeably, before saying sternly, "You're not coming."
Anise's expression was frighteningly blank for a long time, before she narrowed her eyes. "What? Why? You need us, Tom."
Tom shook his head. "The League… I'm going with the League, and you're staying here."
"We can protect you," Dmitri offered, forever trying to help. The look in his eyes would have been heartbreaking if not for his sheer bulk. He looked solely at Tom, and there was no conflict, other than the burning desire to be of assistance in whatever way he could.
Tom looked back up at the man he barely knew – and regretted not growing closer to – and sighed. "No… I'll be all right. But I want you… need you, to stay here… please."
Anise had not taken her eyes off of Tom since coming around to face him, whereas Lei was darting her gaze back and forth between the members of the elite team. She scowled. "I knew this would happen," she hissed to Anise. "They mean to abandon us, where you said they would help. When have we ever been helped, other than by ourselves?"
Skinner looked as though he had been done – verbally – a great disservice. He furrowed his brow, offended, and crossed his arms, coming up beside Mina, glaring through his pince-nez. "We're tryin' to help you as well, you know. You could at least show a little gratitude, or is that too much to ask?"
Lei snarled, loudly, and Anise grabbed her by the arm, pulling her away from the thief so briskly, Tom imagined it would have yanked the limb out of the socket of anyone other than a werewolf. "Stop," Anise snapped, and narrowed her eyes coldly as they flashed a feral yellow for a brief fraction of a moment.
Lei let the rumble die down in her throat, and whispered a few words in her native language at Anise, who wore a deep look of concentration for a moment before sighing. She did not retaliate. Tom found himself extremely curious as to what had been said, and glanced to the fuming young woman, shortest of the four of them, but perhaps the fiercest.
Tom knew Lei just wanted to protect what she considered to be her family. He wished he knew more about her… and Dmitri… not to mention Anise. He had never once heard her speak of her family, or friends, before her siring. It was like she had no past, and for that, he was sorry, though he didn't know why.
"Anise… please… just… stay here?" He gave her his most convincing – or so he hoped anyway – pleading look, eyes never wavering.
It seemed like hours passed, and everything fell still around them, the moon rising overhead and bringing with it an eerie ethereal glow. The stars flickered in between the clouds that floated like ghostly shadows across the heavens and were soon hidden as a rumble of thunder threatened to tear the sky apart.
"All right." Anise's voice was quiet and defeatist, and her eyes lowered, submitting. Lei glanced briskly from the Frenchwoman to Tom, and back again. She opened her mouth to speak, but Dmitri growled sharply, cutting her off. Tom had never heard him do that before, and nodded his thanks to the Russian. Dmitri merely returned the inclination of the head.
Respect, Tom noted, and was not unappreciative. He gave the slightest of smiles, and reached forward with a hand, raising Anise's chin with his fingers, bowing his head to her. He kissed her gently, but firmly, a sign he would be back for her, safe and sound.
And then they parted, her eyes lingering on him with tears shining, threatening to fall. She said something in French to him, soft and melancholy, and then made her way back to the Nautilus, Lei and Dmitri in her wake.
Tom turned his head to watch them go, frowning deeply, before wondering what had been said to him. He was curious as to why she had spoken in French, and then decided that it was perhaps not for him to hear. He turned to go the way they had chosen, with the rest of the League pushing on around him. Quatermain, Jekyll, Nemo and Skinner surged forward with determination and a hidden urgency, but before the American could follow, Mina's hand snagged gently in his jacket.
The vampire looked him square in the eye, blue orbs of clarity and honesty, as she said, "… 'If you die, you'll take my heart with you'…" With that, she ducked around him, and headed off to catch up with the others, leaving Tom to stare into the Nautilus after Anise, wondering why she couldn't have said it to his face.
A/N: Well originally, this chapter was going to be bigger, but this seemed like as good a place to leave it as any. Call me cruel, and a bully for keeping you hanging, but… isn't that the point? Lol. More soon… I promise. Thanks!