Author's Note: Another late update, I know. Stuff is going on, and at least it's finally here right? Sorry.
Raven Silvers: Thanks!
TARilus: Thanks for the comments. A Skinner scene will appear next chapter, don't worry. You and your taglines! They're always so cool O.O
Nimmo Gray: I always put cliffhangers, heh. You'll have to get used to them. ::smiles::
redheadedtomluvr: Thanks for the review, and welcome to the story. Glad you're enjoying it. And how could I make poor Skinner the bad guy? Heh.
Leigh S. Durron: Glad you loved it, Leigh. Oh yes, Skinner's in it rather deep, thanks to that blasted Marvel . ::shakes fist:: Ah, freaked by the tripods? … Excellent ::grins::
LotRseer3350: Thanks. Ah yes, the government project. It will all become very clear soon. Hehehehe.
queerquail: Hehe, little Jimmy Grey was actually in the comic, so no, he's not related to Dorian, thankfully, heh. Glad I could satisfy after camp.
Anacalagon: Heh, five in the morning?! What the heck are you doing up? O.O Yipes. Thanks for the review.
Sethoz: Thank you, dear Sethoz. Tension is a favourite toy of mine, as you know, heh. Tom-ness? Good, good. Love getting chapters to everyone's liking ::grins:: Holiday… here's the holiday ::winks::
And without further ado, here is the new part of LXG2: Above & Beyond!
The luscious greens and blues of the countryside with the sparse clouds did nothing to content the three people walking through the long grasses of one of the fields. It was soft around them, almost gentle, and grazing a little way off to their left as they travelled were two large horses that snorted, tossed their manes, and chewed happily on the stalks below them, unaware or uncaring as to the presence of strangers.
Mina Harker walked in the lead, with Allan Quatermain lagging at the rear. Tom walked in the centre of the two, parting them, and hoping it would help to diffuse the tension he had been able to sense between them since the hunter had returned. He wasn't sure what it was, but it made him deeply uncomfortable, and he only wanted them to 'give it a break', as it were. There were more important things to worry about than sexist bickering, and comparisons of expertise and experience.
Tom almost rolled his eyes as Mina spoke from up ahead, a blunt command to the hunter at the rear, "Keep up."
"Bugger it," Quatermain grumbled from behind the spy, "I can't. I'm old, dammit, I'm bloody old."
Well, I suppose resurrection will do this to a guy, Tom thought to himself with a concealed half smile. The sun beat down on them lazily out in the fields of the South Downs in the countryside, and jackets and coats had been abandoned at the inn. Mina walked in the lead, in her formal corset, blouse and skirt, her red tie keeping the collar of her white feminine shirt upright and stiff, concealing the bite marks beneath. So far, she hadn't stumbled more than once on her heels in the field, which Tom had actually found secretly amusing and very human of her at the time. Quatermain was his usual neutral self, with shades of tan, brown, white and grey, sash around his neck, waistcoat with pouches and slots, and hardy pants, with tall leather boots. On his head, he wore his hat to keep the sun from his eyes, and in his hands was a kind of long wooden cane, to help him progress through the long grasses, though he had seemed loathe to use it at first, as if submitting to his age. Tom himself had simply shed the duster of a jacket, surprised at the heat that England could provide, and smiling to himself as he thought about it. His black waistcoat fluttered slightly in the light breeze, his boots traipsing along the dry dirt beneath his feet, his sleeves on his white shirt ever rolled up above his elbows with the top two buttons unfastened. His braces – suspenders, whatever you wished to call them – hung down behind him at the seat of his pants and around his legs, whilst his Colt pistols were holstered reassuringly at his waist in their harness. He was comforted by their presence and weight, even as the two with him continued their – to put it bluntly – whining.
"This is why fatty Holmes sent me out here to the South Downs with you, Mrs. Harker. I'm only fit for–"
"Women's work?" Mina cut in, without looking over her padded shoulder. Her voice carried clearly and crisply on the warm air, and Tom raised a brow, glancing behind him at the hunter, who seemed to offer him an apologetic glance. Tom smiled, and shrugged.
"That…" Quatermain began hesitantly. "Blast it, that's not what I meant. Why do women have to turn everything around?"
Tom tried to restrain the laugh at that, seeing the slight tense in Mina's form up ahead, as though she were tempted to bite at the perhaps unintentional verbal bait provided by the hunter from behind her.
"I'm just fed up," Quatermain resolved firmly, calling forward to his two companions as they trudged onward. "I don't know what we're doing here."
"We're looking for someone," Mina informed him plainly from the lead.
"Who's somewhere around here," Tom input unnecessarily, just to see what would happen. His childlike curiousity was kicking again, and he had never really been able to resist giving in to it when it did this.
"Yes." Quatermain seemed less than amused at the other two joining forces against him, something that amused the spy further, though he had no intention of angering his former mentor. "And we've no blasted idea who, and we've no blasted idea where." He sighed audibly, and pressed on, "If this man is so secret that even Holmes doesn't know where he is…"
"… Then he must be very important." Mina glanced back over her shoulder for a moment as Quatermain came up to Tom's side, and the two men pushed forth to shadow the vampire on either side. "You're tired, Mr. Quatermain, that's all. We didn't sleep."
Ain't that the truth? Tom thought, suppressing an oddly timed yawn, glancing to the beauty that was Mina's face, and staring for an unstoppable moment. He managed to drag his eyes away for a moment, and regard the looming forest up ahead. Well, he thought, that sure doesn't look friendly.
"Yes, well," Quatermain continued unwaveringly from Mina's other side, seemingly struggling not to fall some way behind once again, "by the time we'd found our lodgings, it was light." Obviously, he wasn't pleased about this, but Tom would have thought the man was accustomed to days without much rest, given his past, with the adventures and hunting. Tom himself knew the bane of long hours, even days without more than a couple of hours of sleep, with his occupation. Sometimes, he didn't mind it at all, but right now, he would have appreciated the chance to lie down for a while.
When Quatermain spoke again, he jostled a memory that Tom had barely registered, despite its recentness, "And what was all that 'Mr. and Mrs Sawyer' stuff about?"
How the heck did I forget that? It had certainly stunned Tom when Mina had given the names for registering at the inn, and he had had to fight off the wide-eyed expression that would have blown the cover. He had simply forced himself to stand beside the vampire now pretending to be his wife, and try not to look bothered about the expression the receptionist had given them. She had stared for a moment, and then smiled and given them their keys… of course, which there had only been two of, with the three team members – with Quatermain forcing himself to act as their unwittingly accompanying father. They still had to sort out that little puzzle.
Looks like I'll be sleeping on the floor of Quatermain's room, Tom mused with a furrowing of the brow.
"Nothing. It's just cover that was necessary, Mr. Q." Mina threw the hunter a glance, and for a moment, it seemed she was losing patience.
Quatermain merely arched a brow, and chose to change the subject, with a hesitant glance at the seemingly focused Tom, who was in fact thinking back over the entire situation. It seemed somehow wrong that this place was untouched when the whole of London was about to burn in the fire of vicious aliens and their machines.
Optimism…
"I wish that bastard were here now," Quatermain mumbled, and Tom wondered if the hunter had intended for it to be quiet enough so that only the vampire would hear. Sighing, he ignored it, even as Mina snapped back at the man who had spoken.
"Don't say that… he might be."
All three fell silent, and a chill ran up Tom's spine unnervingly at Mina's words. Dear god… she was right. What if Skinner had followed them here? What if he was behind them somewhere, sneaking in the grass and listening to them? Spying on them?
But why did he betray us? I don't understand it… he saved my life in Mongolia, and then he went and threatened it so willingly, just to switch sides to the aliens. Maybe he's trying to save his own hide, but it doesn't make so much sense now that I think about it. God dammit… why do things have to be awkward and complicated? No matter how much he thought about it, Skinner's defection would not settle in his brain and become understandable.
"Oh. Yes… I suppose you're right," Quatermain said shortly after. "Fine time for me to bring it up," he added with a humourless laugh. "With these dark woods looming."
"They're all we have," Mina told him, and then glanced momentarily at Tom, as if to check he was all right with what had been said. He smiled briefly, wanly, in her direction, and turned his gaze upon the woods, even as the three of them stopped walking, a pair of butterflies fluttering past and around them for a moment, a beautiful contrast of orange and white as their light, airy wings flapped lazily, before they were gone again.
"Our new M said our mystery man maintained a mobile base in the forest, so that no one knew where he was," Mina revealed, obviously having read the portfolio given to the three more thoroughly than the two men with her. Tom felt a little sheepish for this fact, and quietly cleared his throat, pocketing his hands out of subconscious habit.
"Thoughtful of him," Quatermain muttered sarcastically, tossing his arms out to his sides for a moment from beside Mina, almost striking her in the side, as she glared coolly in his direction. "Mrs. Harker," he persisted irritably, locking gazes firmly with the vampiress beside him, "do you have any idea how big these bloody woods are?"
"No." Her reply was quite blunt and sharp in how it was delivered, but she did not leave it there, much to Tom's interest. She persisted quite firmly, "I only know that we have to find this person and that complaining won't make it any easier." She sighed, and rolled her eyes, saying somewhat flatly, "Why don't you try to enjoy yourself?"
"Yes, I suppose I should," Quatermain responded, and Tom furrowed his brow at the tone of voice. "At least until the spacemen come and fry us."
Tom nearly laughed at that, until he reminded himself it was not intended to be humorous.
"Oh, do be quiet," Mina grumbled, and Tom thought he heard a growl, averting his attention, or trying to. "It's a lovely summer's day, and the birds are singing," the vampire was saying, glancing around as her pinned back hair lifted from her shoulders for a moment on the delicate breeze, and Tom noted her almost longing expression, frowning sadly at the look of it, and how it tugged at his instinctual sympathy.
"Beautiful nature," he added quietly from beside her, and noted her attention switching slowly to him as he spoke. "And all so green…" He sighed.
"Oh, don't you be fooled. It's red…"
Tom went cold at once, and he dropped his jaw with a rapid intake of breath, feeling the cold perspiration bead up on his back, chest and forehead at the sudden voice from behind them, so previously unannounced and mysterious.
No… it can't be him… Mina would have smelt him.
As one, the three turned their heads over their shoulders, as the voice spoke again, darkly and hissed almost.
"Red in tooth and claw…"
Nemo ordered the ramp to be lowered, and stood with the young man at his side, so far unnamed, and changed into a clean and dry set of fresh clothes. He held a small bundle in his arms, containing the clothes and small selection of personal items he had had on his person when coming aboard the Nautilus.
The large ramp of the submersible lowered steadily on the chains, the guiding railings slotting out after it, and Nemo turned his head to the boy once they had descended, seeing the officers approach them somewhat hesitantly at the sight laid out before them, obviously not something they were used to.
"Well, boy, here is where we put you off," Nemo told the young man, reaching out formally and in a friendly manner to shake his hand. The young boy took it, and they exchanged a handshake. "The constables will see you're entrusted with relatives." Realising the unknown identity of the boy, he looked down on him as warmly as he could manage, and asked, "What is your name, lad?"
The boy looked up at him with soft brown eyes, and responded, "Grey, sir. Jimmy Grey."
Nemo arched a surprised brow at the revelation of the name, and for just a flicker of a moment, he contemplated a connection between this poor child and the insufferable – and now deceased, ironically – immortal who had killed a dear friend of the Indian's. No… not possible. He cast the musings aside.
"Y-your metal fish is very grand, sir," Jimmy Grey continued in awe, looking up at Nemo in reverence. "One day, god willing, I shall build one myself."
This made Nemo smile, just enough to slightly turn up the edges of his mouth as he looked down on the child who had so made such a proclamation. "Good luck, boy," Nemo said, and nodded his head in a slight bow that the child saw but did not return, probably because he was not sure about doing so. Walking away from Nemo, Jimmy Grey passed two prowling black cats, stroking the tail of one as he went, and met with the police officers, who nodded to Nemo briefly, and then directed the boy away. Nemo watched him until he was out of sight, sighing, and hoping the poor child had some better luck in his future.
"Is the child gone?" Jekyll asked from the hold, hands linked behind his back as he nervously peered down the ramp, as Nemo ascended it. "Hyde is most insistent that we are able to proceed with our work…" He cleared his throat tentatively afterwards, appearing sheepish.
"Remind the creature that protecting the innocent is our work," Nemo said to the doctor plainly, eyeing him sidelong, and becoming most concerned about the other man's behaviour as of late. He seemed to be worrying himself about consoling Hyde any way possible recently, and it was troubling to the captain.
"No…" Jekyll began, and it was darkly and mysteriously that he did so. "Killing Mars-men… that's out work… and Skinner when we find him…"
Nemo turned slowly from his point as the crew raised the ramp, and stared pointedly at Jekyll, who seemed to realise he had said something so very wrong, heaved in a gasp, glanced shakily to the captain, and waited.
Choosing to – with great effort – ignore the obvious loss of control over Hyde by the doctor, Nemo countered with, "If we find him, which is, I think, not likely. Besides, it would perhaps be a great shame if Sawyer, Mrs. Harker and Quatermain were not here for that event. They would want to be here for it… especially Sawyer and Mrs. Harker."
"No," Jekyll murmured with a foreboding and frightening light in his eyes, as though Hyde were trying to escape this way. "No… I don't believe they would. They are not like us… especially young Sawyer… they are better off where they are."
"The stars…"
Mina stepped protectively in front of Tom Sawyer, perhaps without even realising, whilst Quatermain tried to do the same. Mina growled quietly, glaring at the form behind them, so very scruffy as he was, rather bedraggled, dishevelled and altogether odd. He had wispy, and upright – queerly enough – blonde hair that seemed to have a life of its own, with vividly startling blue eyes that gazed right into them. His face was strangely blank, and he blinked quickly. The clothes he wore were messy and haphazard, comprising of a crinkled blue shirt, buttoned up high to the collar, a grubby orange-brown waistcoat that was too short, and a too-large grey jacket that was missing a button. His grey trousers were torn at the bottoms of the legs, and his shoes seemed to be strangers to polish. Around his chin and jaw was fine stubble, and he blinked again. "They told me I should meet people."
His eyes widened ever so slightly, as his voice took on a distant, dreamy tone, "That's… that's if you are people."
Sawyer poked his head around from behind the two older League members unnecessarily trying to protect him, and he slowly emerged, obviously detecting no threat from this peculiar man. Mina's brow was furrowed, her eyes narrowed, and her growl had died away.
Quatermain, however, was not so patient, as he blurted, "Keep your distance, blast you! Of course we're people! What else would we be?"
The man started violently, and gave a gibber of a noise, like a squeak, eyes shooting right open again as he flailed his hands slightly with the sudden outburst and the shock of it.
"And who the devil are you?"
"Quatermain, don't shout," Mina warned quietly, reaching out a hand to stop the hunter from pressing forward to threaten the stranger away. He obviously meant no harm, this man. He seemed perfectly undamaging, save for the odd light in his eyes, and the scruffiness with which he presented himself. Sawyer offered the man an apologetic, and sympathetic gaze, even as the stranger moved in, grabbed the spy's hand and shook it. Sawyer looked startled, and glanced to Mina as the stranger did so, saying excitedly, "Me? Oh, I'm terrible sorry! Prendrick. Teddy Prendrick. I'm so glad they've finally listened to me, and send someone to find him."
Sawyer managed to peel his hand away from the newly titled Teddy Prendrick, and regarded it as though the man might have harmed him. Gazing at Mina and Quatermain, he blinked, and looked back to the odd man. "That'd depend on who you think we're looking for," he said to Prendrick.
"Why, the doctor, of course," Prendrick responded, his eyes wide once more as he spoke, glancing around secretively and suspiciously before leaning forward and adding – as if it were some great secret – in a hushed voice, "The devil doctor."
Mina regarded this strange man sceptically and with just a flash of paranoia, keeping an eye on the proximity he made towards Sawyer, and asking herself why she was suddenly so protective of the young spy. Certainly, he was vulnerable, given his mortality, but he was not defenceless or weak or helpless. He could take care of himself, and she reminded herself to get a grip on what she was feeling, thinking or doing.
"Everyone thought he'd died on his island, but I know," Prendrick ranted, waving his arms madly in a psychotic fashion as he rambled madly. "I could see his handiwork about me everywhere!" He gibbered to himself for a minute, remembered his audience, and continued, "Rutting on all fours like… l-like…" He lost his train of thought, giving Mina the oppurtunity to study the features again as he hesitated. He was frightened… she could smell it on him as though it were a strong alcohol beneath her nose. She did not like it, but it intrigued her. "… And the plump chap I met on my return! Government chap! He knew! You could see it. See it in his piggy eyes."
Sawyer's face showed a variation of disbelief, curiousity and shock at Prendrick's behaviour, and he stood beside Mina closely, hands out of his pockets simply now, his eyes narrowed as he listened.
"This man…" Mina began carefully, "did he have a little moustache? Macassar oil in his hair?"
"That's him!" Prendrick exclaimed. "And he knew! He knew about the island!"
Mina couldn't stop the curiousity as to this island from swelling within her, but she held back from asking about it, lest she frighten the man off. He was very odd, and seemed quite timid, almost like a mouse, or a wild cat, very skittish and panicky. "I'm sure he did," she confirmed bluntly. "And you say that this… doctor… is somewhere nearby?"
"Well," began Prendrick frantically, nodding vigorously to confirm as such, "yes. It's obvious. I've seen them. The ones he's altered." His wide eyes were mad with fear now as he held up a weathered, scarred hand to regard it with shock and an oddity in his gaze. "You think they're people, but look closer! They're animals! What seems a man will have the eyes of an old hunting dog."
Mina cocked her head in a bemused fashion, listening to these peculiar words as they were spoken, trying to fathom what on earth this individual was claiming. It made very little sense, but it intrigued her nevertheless, the fervour with which he was speaking.
"Or perhaps they're feline. Soft and sleek to all appearances, but stealthy! Vicious!" He continued to inspect his withering hand, and then turned his gaze suddenly upon Mina. "Do you know the type of whom I speak, Madam? Hm?" Before she was permitted to reply, he pressed on, voice quieter and somewhat faraway as he brought his hand near his mouth as though shocked, "Yes… y-yes, I rather think that you do."
With a slight squeak, he uttered, alarmed, "I've said too much already… d-don't try to follow me!" He started to turn, waving an arm as though fighting off an invisible foe. "I've set traps for your sort! Traps!"
With that, he took off, chattering madly and incoherently to himself like a madman, and waving his arms over and around his head as though being attacked from above. He cut a clean path for himself through the tall grass as he went, and soon, he was nothing but a lank speck in the distance, still retreating.
The three members of the League stared after him, silent and perplexed, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed, confused beyond belief at the oddity of the situation and all the things the man, Prendrick, had just said. Mina tilted her head at an almost animalistic angle, and said, "What a peculiar fellow."
"I'll say," Sawyer mumbled in agreement, cocking his head in a likewise fashion, and glancing sidelong to Mina. The two exchanged a glance, and shrugged.
"The fat man he mentioned, that has to be our Mr. Bond," Quatermain suggested, eyeing the other two. Either he hadn't noticed their shared gaze, or he was ignoring it. "So the doctor we're searching for, and the one from our lunatic friend's island…"
"Are the same man, yes," Mina confirmed, and turned towards the looming woods behind them. Sawyer followed her lead, and they gazed up at the huge, towering trees, thick and strong, hundreds of years old and reaching ever skyward for the heavens. "I think that's highly likely, Mr. Q."
"Don't call me that," she heard Quatermain grumble half-heartedly as he turned towards the trees as well. She simply smiled to herself at the annoyance he was finally displaying given the nickname she had adopted for him long ago. She wondered when it would affect him.
"Come on," Sawyer interjected, with an almost defeated sigh, as he started to progress towards the trees. "Let's see what we can find in here."
Mina and Quatermain followed him, and the vampire let the scents of the woods flood her senses as she pushed and further into them, carefully traipsing her way around and over obstructions such as roots and bushes. The forest floor was littered with nuts, berries and the telltale signs of animal presence.
"Africa."
Sawyer and Mina turned their gazes upon Quatermain as he froze for a moment behind them, no longer using his cane, which he must have dropped out at the entrance to the woods when Prendrick had surprised them. Mina cursed herself for having not smelt the stranger before he'd successfully scared the wits out of all of them.
You need to pay closer attention, Mina… snap out of… whatever it is that's the matter with you.
"What?" she asked of the hunter, curious as to why he had simply come out with the name of the country where they had previously buried him, only to have him resurrect.
"Oh, just talking to myself really," Quatermain admitted as he picked up the pace again, strolling into step behind Sawyer and Mina, who were progressing steadily through the winding path in the trees. "I was just thinking that this feels like Africa somehow. If I didn't know better… I'd swear there was game here."
Sawyer glanced backward at that, smiling almost mischievously as he responded, "In Sussex? Might be rabbits, I guess."
Mina refused the urge to laugh, or even smile, hiding it with a slight turn of her head, even as she filtered through the scents available again, and furrowed her brow ever so slightly. There was something odd on the wind, playing in her nostrils just slightly and teasing her senses enough to make her furrow her brow. What was that? It was animal… but not quite.
"No, I mean big game," Quatermain responded, and without turning, Mina could tell he was smiling, if only subtlely, at his protégé's cheeky behaviour. "I can almost smell it on the breeze."
You are not alone…
"And that feeling of being watched, by hidden eyes…" Quatermain's voice lessened in volume as he gazed around, walking at a steady, almost prepared pace.
"I hadn't noticed," Sawyer confessed, and the vampire could hear the slight sheepishness to his voice, as though he were ashamed to be the only one. Mina offered him a supportive glance as they pushed further forward in to the trees.
"You know," she began confidently, "that madman, Prendrick, his presence might be a good sign. He's clearly obsessed with our mysterious doctor." She leaned a hand gently against the ancient trunk of a tilting tree, feeling the roughness of the bark as she passed it, Sawyer on the other side, and continued, "His proximity means that we're close. Perhaps this 'island' was a previous base."
Sawyer nodded. "I think that's a pretty fair assumption." He hopped nimbly, and agilely over a log, displaying his youth, and Mina watched him do so. "So he's gotta be around here somewhere at least."
"Yes," Mina agreed with a light smile as Sawyer's boots thudded back to the dry earth. "We'll search for a little longer, and then we can return to the inn if we have no luck. We can begin again tomorrow."
"Suits me," Quatermain confirmed, and heaved himself over the log Sawyer had vaulted spryly, without the youthful grace, but carrying an air of experience in such movements nevertheless. It didn't seem to trouble him too much to do so. "Frankly, I'd rather be facing spacemen with Jekyll and Nemo than tramping through this shrubbery."
"Don't be so dreary," Mina teased lightly, and cocked her head. "Come, tell us about some of your past hunting to pass the time."
But as the three descended into Quatermain's nostalgic tales of Africa, the rainforest and King Solomon's mines, they failed to even detect the heavy, taloned and ragged paw that thunked firmly down on the log they had cleared, feral eyes piercing the shadows.
