Author's Note: Before you say anything, I know my updates have been slack as of late, and for that, I am shamefaced and truly sorry. I'll try to break that bad (terrible) habit at once, but unfortunately I can't make any promises, cuz of my job. Also, the ban didn't help… _ And I got major inspiration for BTLOTM. Bah, so many excuses, enough of that. This one might be disappointingly short I'm afraid.
Sethoz: Yes, I am being shockingly nice to Tom, aren't I? Don't expect that to continue forever though… I can only hold out so long. Thanks for lavishing me with overzealous compliments once again. You really are too kind to me. So much potential for angst! Oops… this counts as a long time, right? *wince*
RogueSparrow: I have yet to read the book with Dorian, but I will get around to it… when Huckleberry Finn gives me a break and starts to get really… what's the word? Better? Tom Sawyer was so much more fun and enjoyable. Sigh. Thanks!
drowchild: Oh dear… hope you didn't spaz out too much waiting an agonisingly long time for this one. Eeep! Sorry! I dunno what was keeping Tom and Becky myself… *pokes them* What was keeping you two? *they glare* Aheh… never mind. As for the other predicament… you'll have to wait and see, won't you? ~_^
Psychozzy: Aw, puppy! Darn it… now I'm gonna watch any Shane West film and think about puppies… meh, could be worse. Sorry this took so long, and I hope you enjoyed that trip.
Anacalagon: All That Jazz! Hehe, sorry. Yes indeed, what will Mina think…?
angelic katty: Ah yes… all the betrayal. Won't it be fun when it all comes out in the open?
Graymoon74: Aw, thanks for the compliment about the Tom/Becky thing. Couldn't resist now, could I? They were so sweet as kids in the book, so I had to carry it through ^_^. Hehe, as for the rest of the review… thanks!
But enough of all that twaddle… on with the show, 'eh? Once again, my sincerest apologies for the lateness, and ee gads, look at the time!
Without further adieu, part 5 of Ghosts of Old…
The face stared back at him defiantly in the mirror, and a vain and pleased smile crept onto his handsome, flawless features with a slight satisfied sigh issuing forth from his parted lips. His waves of soft brown, chestnut-tinted hair shone delicately in the light of the room, almost creating a halo around his face, causing him to break into a full grin with the ridiculousness of it.
His same dark eyes glanced sidelong at the silent Morse key, and he huffed, glancing into the reflective surface once more, before striding away, and taking to sitting himself into a luxurious leather chair, and swinging one leg over the knee of the other. He took to fingering the pommel of his cane; even as the Morse key skittered into life, hope flickering in Dorian's veiled eyes. A sly smile surfaced, and hovered, before he loudly called, – feeling rather lazy all of a sudden – "James!"
The lithe man sidled into the room with aplomb, and glided up to the key, taking up a pen and paper at once, elegantly jotting down the letters and making sense of them, without uttering a sound. When the key fell silent, and the lack of sound descended upon the room like a persistent shadow, James walked up to his charge and passed him the note.
Dorian let his gaze pass over it, and shifted slightly in his chair, not giving anything away. After a moment, he screwed up the note and simply muttered, "Wonderful. Reply at once, James. You know what to say."
"Yes, sir, of course."
Dorian stood from the chair, tossing the ball of crumpled paper into the crackling flames in the fireplace as he went, watching it smoulder and curl, until it was falling into ash. His eyes did not waver for a moment, until he snapped himself out of his inexplicable reverie, and made his way from the room, leaving James to send the reply.
Not long now…
Joe and Huck stumbled down the road, trying to see Skinner, who had – funnily enough, given his 'condition' – disappeared on them. He was nowhere to be found, and they were starting to – despite their fits of giggles – worry about the man.
"Skinner?" Huck yelled, earning an irritated shout from an elderly gentleman, who poked his head out of his window, telling the 'youngster' to keep his mouth shut, or he'd come down and shut it for him. Huck grinned, and called out, "Hey, you seen an invisible man?"
Joe nearly collapsed with mirth, laughter wracking his body, until he just about ran out of oxygen, and had to gasp in a breath, wheezing and almost crying with the force of it. He slapped Huck on the back of the shoulder, sending the smaller man stumbling forward.
"Hey, watch it!" Huck chuckled, and looked back up at the window, only to see the elderly gentleman gesture rudely, and slam his window closed. "Well…" Huck slurred, "… that wasn't very nice."
"Ah, forget it. Skinner!" Joe rambled, wobbling on one foot. "What time is it?"
"How I am s'posed to know? I ain't got a watch." Huck narrowed his eyes, and turned around quickly, falling on his behind in the middle of the dirt road with a squeak of a laugh. "Oops."
Despite his own father having been a spineless – sometimes, at least – drunk, Huck was rather enjoying his intoxication. He felt Joe grab at his jacket, and heard him say, "What're you doin' on the floor, Huck?"
Huck giggled like a child, and looked up. "Well, Skinner ain't down here."
"Well, course not. What would he be doin' on the ground?" Joe descended into fits of laughter again.
They both jumped considerably when a voice erupted from the shadows, only slightly slurred as it said, "Well, you two sure can't hold your drinks, 'eh?"
"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Huck stammered, trying to get up from the floor with Joe's useless assistance. The other man nearly toppled onto the smaller American, only to have invisible fingers latch into the back of his jacket.
Huck imagined Skinner had rolled his eyes then, and gave a grin, even as Joe was gently moved aside – hiccupping quietly – and a hand grabbed his own shoulder.
"Oh, Skinner, it's you."
"Well, who else is it gonna be?" Skinner retorted, helping Huck to dust off his jacket. Huck gave a yelp, and swatted at the thief.
"Oi," he fumbled, "don't do that… where are we?" His train of thought quickly changed, the affects of the alcohol dizzying. He wobbled for a moment, even as Joe sniggered with a snort, and felt Skinner catch him, sighing.
"C'mon, lets get you back to the Nautilus and a spare bed. Maybe some coffee… if Sawyer sees you two like this, he'll kill me."
"If he can find you." Huck grinned cheekily, and Joe burst into raucous laughter, throwing back his head. The elderly gentleman bellowed out of his window again, and Skinner retorted with some rather imaginative cuss words. Huck was only humoured more when he saw that the complaining local looked around in shock at the voice without an origin.
The man quickly disappeared back into his house, and Huck and Joe grinned, using Skinner as a kind of support to make their way back to the Nautilus.
As the green eyes opened slowly, a sluggish sigh filled his lungs and left him again, steadily making his chest rise and fall, which was when he became aware of the hand draped over his bare torso. He furrowed his brow slightly, still groggy from sleep, and glanced to his left, seeing the beautiful slumbering face of Becky Thatcher, peaceful and untroubled… just how he remembered her before Huck had 'died'. He smiled wanly, and reached down with his left hand – which had been positioned above Becky's head – and stroked a soft lock of her blonde hair from her face, causing her to stir slightly.
Her blue eyes fluttered open, and upon seeing his face smiling at her, she returned the gesture, sliding closer to him a little, and resting her head on his shoulder, muttering, "What time is it?"
Tom cast his gaze over to the other side of his bed, and saw the clock there, and read its display. "A little after eight."
Becky laughed slightly, and it caused a slight shiver to run over Tom's chest as her breath played over his skin, even as she said, "Late, for me. But it's just too comfortable to move right now."
Tom smiled; broader, and let his fingers play repeatedly through her hair as he sighed again. He hadn't realised how long he had been yearning for just what had happened, the intimacy between Becky and him… it just felt right. It felt like it should have happened before, but they had just been putting it off, pretending it shouldn't happen. But now he thought about it… it was a little awkward. Here he was, part of something that made a difference, part of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, an elite team of outcasts and misfits who could really make a difference… and now he and Becky had admitted their attraction and feelings towards one another. It felt right, but at the same time, it felt confusingly wrong. His brow furrowed, and a slight frown marred his youthful face.
Becky glanced up at him, turning her head and rolling over onto her front a little, her locks playing around her face gently and attractively, as she asked, "Is anything wrong, Tom?" She had seen his expression, clearly.
Tom looked down at her, and forced a smile onto his face, resolving to give the matter serious thought later on. "No, everything's fine," he told her, running his fingers on his right hand affectionately across her cheek. She closed her eyes, and leaned into his touch. "Everything's perfect."
Becky smiled, though he could see in her eyes when they opened again that she was less than thoroughly convinced, though she would no doubt let the matter drop so long as he kept up the act. Tom was thankful for that, and slowly started to slip away from her. She did not protest, knew that now they were both awake, there was no point staying in bed.
Becky removed herself from the covers, and the two silently dressed themselves. When Tom was in the middle of slipping his shirt on, after fastening his pants, he felt the hand on his shoulder. He turned, seeing Becky behind him. She smiled, and leaned up to kiss him. He returned the kiss, and then threw her an inquiring look, even as she ran her hand over his waist. She slowly started to button his shirt for him, her eyes fixed on her task, even as Tom stared down at her, taking in the fine details of her face.
When she had buttoned the shirt up to his chest, she raised her blue eyes to meet his gaze, before silently turning around, presenting Tom with the unwelcome challenge of returning the favour. Tom frowned slightly, before throwing caution to the wind. Though, in truth, he had never before been asked to fasten a corset… he thought he might as well make the effort; it was favourable to admitting to Becky that he couldn't help.
But he couldn't stop the thought that bubbled in his mind; Just how do women dress alone in the morning?
Becky couldn't stop the giggle that escaped her when she and Tom pushed into the dining room to be greeted by a most humorous sight. There, on one side of the table, sat a rather dishevelled – and clearly hung over – Joe Harper, and Huckleberry Finn. The former had his arms crossed on the tabletop, and his forehead leaned down on them. The latter was nursing a mug of coffee; his hands wrapped around the cup firmly, as if letting go would mean failure; admitting defeat. His eyes stared down at it, clear bags underneath them. He looked half asleep, not to mention very much in the grips of a bad headache. Food was set out along the table's grand length, but the two agents had not touched it, clearly, whereas the other occupant was helping himself.
Sitting opposite the hung over Americans was Rodney Skinner, now slipping another round of toast as well as some eggs onto his plate, when he noticed the arrival of Becky and Tom, greeting them with a chipper, "Mornin'!"
"Hey, Skinner," Tom returned, and walked to the table, seating himself beside the invisible man, who had clearly made the effort to conceal his… 'condition'. He was clothed in his leather jacket and his trilby was set on the table beside his cup of what looked to be coffee. His face had been painted with a white substance, and he wore pince-nez glasses on the bridge of his nose, covering the voids where his eyes had once been. It still fascinated Becky, but she tried not to think about it as she sat down gracefully beside Tom, thinking just how comfortably he had fastened her clothing for her.
Snap out of it, Becky… just because you've wanted him for years, it doesn't mean everything he does is perfect. She tried to convince herself, but even as she glanced to her right, seeing him made her tingle. She was thankful for the fact that she had chosen to sit… her knees were feeling rather weak, and she doubted they would have held her up. "So," she began, in the attempt to concentrate on something fresh, "did you boys enjoy your evening?" She smiled; couldn't help it.
Tom grinned broadly, and offered Becky a drink, to which she acknowledged with an affirming nod and a smile. Joe glanced up from his crossed arms, looking thoroughly… well, awful, to put it mildly. He groaned, before letting his head drop forward again with a solid 'thud'. Huck glanced to him, furrowing his brow, before looking to Becky again… and he paused, taking in the look of the two newest arrivals, before a hint of a smile touched his handsome young face.
He knows, Becky thought, and felt the slight blush in her cheeks. I wonder what Joe will think…
Mitesh glanced about him, thoroughly concerned about being discovered. The last message had come through, and it told him to only reply if it were important or an emergency. He knew what to do now… the last message had been detailed enough to give him instruction enough to fulfil his task without further query. The Wolf – as he had decided to call him – was most vehement. It was all to be carefully executed, lest the plan fail.
Mitesh despised failure, knew the possible punishments for it. The Wolf would be most displeased should his plans fall through, and Mitesh did not wish to see the outcome of such an unwelcome event. So it was that he turned his attention back on his task, fingers working deftly at the equipment he was using. He had already passed along the message to those few he knew he could trust, thankfully some of the largest and strongest of the crew… he would most definitely need their assistance. He tried not to think what Nemo would do if he discovered the treachery slowly taking shape under his very nose on his precious Nautilus.
Mitesh rolled his eyes, and got back to work, wondering just what the Americans would do when they lost one of their own…