Peace

by Cheryl W

Wracked by guilt and despair over Huck Finn's death, Tom shuts the world out and it seems only Allan can break down the young man's barriers and help him to find some peace.father son relationship only

11. Chapter 11

Peace

By: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I don't own The League of the Extraordinary Gentlemen or anything in conjunction with LXG nor am I making a profit from this story. No copyright infringement is intended. Sadly, I do not own Tom Sawyer either.

Chapter 11

A little over two hours later, Allan stood over the sleeping form of Tom Sawyer, regretful at the prospect of ripping the wounded man from his well deserved reprieve from pain. The light that spilled in from the hallway lit the secret service agent's youthful features in a soft glow, making the three stitches on Sawyer's temple seem ugly and out of place on such a peaceful face. 'At least he wasn't awake to feel Jekyll put those stitches in,' Allan thought with some satisfaction. Jekyll, with his help, had bandaged Sawyer's bullet wound, tenderly resettled him back upon the bed and then swiftly dealt with the cut to the spy's forehead. It was then that the doctor's sharp eyes had fallen to Quatermain and he ordered the hunter to his room for some rest, refusing to give a quarter. Reluctantly Allan had left Sawyer's side but only after securing a promise from Henry that he would wake him and not Sawyer when the ship left port.

Henry had lived up to that bargain. Now Allan felt turmoil at fulfilling his own oath to Sawyer. He had already delayed this moment by an hour, for it was only now that Mina and Jekyll could be spared from the medical ward. 'The boy needs his sleep more than he needs to be involved in some meeting where more accusations and regrets will be unearthed than solutions.' Allan's heart panged at the thought of Sawyer not being at his side, at the spy's anger and possible hurt at the exclusion. But most of all, Allan knew Sawyer deserved to be at the meeting, he was as much a part of the league as Quatermain himself.

That thought decided it but it didn't do anything to lessen Allan's regret at having to awaken Sawyer. Standing at the head of the bed, Allan gazed tenderly down to the sleeping secret service agent. "Tom," he called softly, unwilling to startle the man to awareness. When that call didn't garner a response, Allan called a little louder, "Tom, it's time to get up."

Rolling his head to the right as if he was attuned to the voice, Tom murmured without opening his eyes, "It's Saturday, Aunt Polly…no school..no church."

The words caught Allan off guard, as if his musings on how young Sawyer looked in the soft light had transformed the sleeping youth. Tenderly he stroked the boy's blond tresses, "Sawyer, it's Allan. We're going to have a meeting."

Forcing open his eyes as if they had been glued shut, Tom blinked repeatedly before the figure standing over his bed came into blurry focus. "Allan?" he croaked, his mouth and throat horribly dry and his thoughts fuzzy.

With visible concern, Allan gently asked, "How are you feeling, Tom?"

Finally managing to get Allan into focus, Tom saw the depth of the older man's apprehension at his possible reply. "Are you looking for the truth here or will you let me slide with some manly bravado?" he quirked, beginning to push back the covers only to freeze when he become acutely aware that Allan's hand lightly rested on his head. He didn't want to break that contact, to toss it aside like it meant nothing to him when it meant the world to him. How many times had he envisioned his father at his side, teaching him to fish, to fight, his father's hand steadying him when he stumbled or carrying him to bed when he would fall asleep on the floor when he was playing toy soldiers, offering him words of wisdom that he would follow all the days of his life! Now, probably with little thought to his actions, Allan had bestowed a wonderful gift to him, had unknowingly and without deep intentions, made some dream of Sawyer's come true. For an instant, for a blinking of his eyes, Tom had felt like he wasn't alone anymore, that his father stood at his side, worriedly, guarding him against any harm, had his hand resting on his head in a gesture that bespoke of his love.

Tears almost welled in Tom's eyes. 'Don't go to pieces, Sawyer! Act nonchalant, as if your own father stood at your bed every morning, that his hand rested on your head more times than you could ever count. For pete sake, don't overreact to Allan's simple kindness!'

Though Sawyer's remark had been flippant, Allan found his worry too profound to allow him to match the spy's lightheartedness when the younger man's motion to throw back the covers came to an abrupt halt. Leaning over Tom, his eyes probing the younger man's green gaze, Allan soothed, misinterpreting Sawyer's immobility as an indicator of the pain and weakness surging through the spy, "Easy, just lie still for a moment."

Swallowing his emotions, Tom gave a small lopsided smile, "I'm alright, Quatermain. But I could use a hand sitting up," readily revealing his physical weakness to provide a smoke screen to his emotional upheaval. For a moment, Tom saw indecision war in Quatermain's dark eyes, then without resignation, Allan pulled the covers back from Sawyer, giving the American his answer to his request for aid.

Sliding his hand from Tom's head and gently slipping it behind the wounded man's shoulders while his other hand took a firm hold on Sawyer's right forearm, Allan ordered, "Move slowly."

With a 'you've got to be kidding' look to Quatermain, Tom grumbled with shallow outtakes of air as he, with Allan's assistance, painfully levered himself into a seated position, "You act like I could move quickly." A grunt of pain cut off his smart aleck retort, his ribs protesting his upright position.

Watching Tom's face go white, his arm bracing his ribs as the pain assaulted him, Allan clenched his teeth, biting back words of worry that he knew the secret service agent wouldn't welcome. "I've underestimated you too often, boy. I won't do it again," pride and respect flowing in his words and from his brown eyes.

Pushing back the pain to a place where he could almost cut himself off from it, Sawyer eased his tense stance and exhaled, meeting Allan's ill concealed worry soaked expression. "I appreciate the vote of confidence. Right now it's misplaced but I still appreciate it," Tom quirked.

"Humbleness? From you?" Quatermain said, arching an eyebrow. "You must have hurt your head worse than Jekyll realized," he joked, raising his hand as if to re-inspect the stitched cut.

Playfully swiping away Quatermain's reaching hand, Tom snorted, "Very funny. Now why don't you make yourself useful and hand me my shoes."

"I'll do one better, I'll put them on," Allan countered, retrieving the shoes that were at the foot of the bed. Kneeling, he slid the first shoe on Tom's unresisting foot before freezing and shooting a suspicious look up to the too complacent Sawyer. The smug satisfaction in the spy's eyes told the hunter that he had played right into Sawyer's hands. "You tricked me, didn't you? You planned that I would put on your shoes for you the whole time."

Without an ounce of denial or regret, Tom drawled with a wide smile, "You'd be a good guy to have around when I have a fence to paint."

"I don't know what that means but somehow I don't like it," Allan replied, his growl lacking any trace of rancor as he finished lacing up the spy's shoe laces and came to his feet. He was about to ask the secret service agent if he felt he could stand up when Sawyer came to his feet. Instantly Allan's hands wrapped around Sawyer's forearms, fearful that the wounded man would falter and harm himself further.

Touched by the hunter's oblivious concern, Tom gently assured, "I'm alright. I'll take things easy, I promise."

Reluctantly Allan let his hands slip from Sawyer. "That's not the promise I was looking for?" he accused, his warm regard softening the intenseness of his words.

Seriousness clouded Tom's eyes, "I've sworn to do my duty..even at the cost of my own life. I thought you of all people would understand that pledge."

Emotion thickened Allan's words, "I might have understood…would have...before Harry died." He stepped closer to Tom, his eyes piercing into the spy's, "My loyalty to that duty killed my son. I won't let it kill someone else I care about."

Shocked to realize that Allan spoke about him, referred to him with his vow, Tom paused a moment before he made his gentle, quiet, reply. "Maybe it wasn't your loyalty to duty that caused your son to join your mission, maybe it was his own loyalty."

"Yes, to me," Allan bitterly growled with self hatred.

"To his country," Tom corrected, "Loyalty to a pledge he made to himself to fulfill his duty to queen and country. A duty he was proud and honored to perform…just like you once were."

Allan felt like the breath had been knocked from him, leaving him grasping for air…for the truth. 'Did Harry join the mission for duty's sake…not for my sake? Did he die thinking I would be proud of him, of his sacrifice, that his duty had been fulfilled? Only to have me curse his sacrifice, abandon honor, forsake morality? Did I taint what good Harry had hoped to accomplish in his last hour by clinging to guilt and bitterness and revenge?'

Seeing anguish distort Quatermain's features instead of a lightening of his burden of guilt, Tom laid his hand on the right side of Allan's neck. "Your son's death wasn't your fault Allan. You said that no man travels this world alone but you let your hurt blind you to the second truth. Every man walks his own path. Your son chose to take up the call to duty…just like Huck did. Just like I do. And sometimes that duty…" Tom faltered his voice wavering before he swallowed, drew in a steadying breath and finished, "costs us more than we can bear to lose but if we don't hold the line, if we aren't willing to make sacrifices …who will stand and fight? Who will stop the Fantoms in the world? Who will carry on the fight that Huck died for…that Harry died for, if not us?"

Tears escaped from Quatermain's eyes and, reaching a hand around the nap of Tom's neck, he drew the young man to him. Then Allan bowed his head until his forehead rested against Sawyer's. "We'll carry on the fight," Allan choked out, "You, me, this blasted league..we'll fight and we'll bloody win. I owe it to my son."

"And I owe it to Huck," Tom fervently stated, closing his eyes and letting the comfort of Allan's presence ease away the doubts that clung to his soul, doubts that they would win, that he would finish the job Huck had so passionately begun.

Lifting his head, Allan gently slid his hand under Tom's chin and tilted the spy's head up so he could see the green eyes he had come to know so well. "I think we better get to Nemo's meeting or the bloody 'pirate' will have us swabbing the deck," Quatermain's joking slander of Nemo caused Sawyer's mouth to lift into a smile.

Side stepping away form Allan, Tom walked to his travel bag saying as he went, "Deck? This boat doesn't have a deck, Quatermain."

"Sure it does…it's the top of this monstrosity and it just happens to go underwater," Allan countered, watching as Sawyer pulled a clean shirt from his luggage. Before Tom could begin to try and struggle to get the shirt on, Allan was at his side. "Let me have that," he said, snatching the shirt from the younger man's hands and sliding the sleeve up Sawyer's arm, gently settling it over the younger man's back and sliding the other sleeve up Sawyer's other arm and unto his shoulders.

"I can take it from here, Aunt Polly," Tom sallied, then dropping his eyes to the lowest button, he began to set to the task of buttoning up his shirt.

Stepping in front of Tom, Allan watched as the secret service agent buttoned up his shirt while admirably masking any discomfort the action caused his injuries. "Aunt Polly? Did you get sent to her house when your parents were ready to auction you off?" he joked, a smirk covering his face.

Tom's hands didn't falter nor did he give any kind of reaction to the piercing jab Quatermain had unknowingly made right into his heart. Without lifting his head or letting an inflection enter his voice he replied, "No. I got sent there when my mom died."

Shame, horror and guilt slammed into Allan at his thoughtless words. "Sawyer…I'm sorry."

Raising his head, Tom put on a small sad smile, "People die. It's just how life works."

Tom's accepting reply spiked hurt into Allan and he found his next words thick with emotion, "And your father?"

With the same acceptance to cruel fate, Tom answered, "Never knew him. He died before I was born. Had a stepfather for a few months before he got killed in a steamboat explosion."

'He's been through so much tragedy and still he's like a beacon of hope.' "So you came to live with your Aunt Polly and her family?"
Dropping his head, Tom again resumed buttoning his shirt, "No family, just her. But she took us in, Sid, my half brother and me, and gave us a home, loved us. Most in Hannibal would say that was more than I deserved," he quirked with a mischievous smile and laugh.

Allan opened his mouth to defend Sawyer from those bastards in Hannibal and apparently from Tom's own poor self image but the spy's light laughter told him that Sawyer wasn't looking for a defender. Instead Quatermain calmly said, "Hannibal, that's where you grew up?"

"Hannibal, Missouri," Tom repeated as an answer, pride seeping into his tone as he smirked up at Allan. "Huck and I made our mark on every square inch of that town," his memories of his adventures with Huck now bittersweet. Gingerly tucking in his now buttoned shirt, Tom turned to the table where Quatermain had stored their particular arsenal. Pulling his two Colts from the holster he began to replace the empty shells with bullets.

"You can't seriously think you need them here!" Allan exclaimed in shock and anger and worry as he breathed down Sawyer's neck as if daring the younger man to put the holster on.

Without pulling his attention from his reloading process, the secret service agent lobbied, "Ishmael was killed on board."

"Yes, by Dorian and he's not here anymore," Quatermain drawled, already beginning to doubt his chances of swaying the stubborn American's mind.

Putting in the last bullet on his second gun, Tom snapped the gun barrel closed and snuggly fit both guns into the holster. For the first time he looked up and met Allan's eyes, "When there's a bad apple in a bushel I tend to check the other apples real well. No one likes biting into a worm." With that said, Tom picked up the holster.

"I'm not helping you put that bloody thing on," Allan growled, folding his arms over his chest. "You wear that thing, put that pressure on that bullet wound and more than likely Henry will have to restitch your shoulder."

"Thanks for that ray of sunshine," Tom sarcastically said, already sliding the holster up to rest on his right shoulder, right on top of the bandaged bullet wound. Without hesitation, Sawyer bent his left arm back, his hand blindly searching for the arm hole in the holster.

With a muttered curse, Allan, lifting the holster, gently guided Tom's hand through the holster and settled the left side of the holster on the spy's shoulder. "Do you want to also stuff some dynamite sticks in your pocket for good measure!" he grumbled mockingly.

Smiling, Tom rose to the challenge, "You know, I believe that you can never have too many weapons at the ready."

"Come on," Allan bid, gently ushering Tom toward the door, "you can better arm yourself for dinner. Right now we have a meeting of the minds to attend."

"Meeting of the minds…I like that," Tom repeated as they walked out of his room and began the walk to Nemo's stateroom, neither man aware that villainous minds had already turned the submarine into a weapon against them, a weapon that nothing in Sawyer's arsenal could combat.

'Can someone explain to me again what's so great about a boat that can travel underwater?!' Tom bitterly thought, clutching onto the speedometer on the Nautilus's bridge as the submarine rapidly sank stern first into the darkest depths of the ocean. 'I didn't survive a crumbling city, a crash in Nemo's automobile, a rocket, Jekyll ripping open my shoulder, and nearly being blown up only to drown in this canoe!'

He still felt stunned at the turn of events. Bombs on the Nautilus. Brilliant as it was devious. Sawyer heaped another curse on Dorian's head as he recalled the immortal's part in this sabotage, could still hear the dry smug voice on the gramophone recording disk. But it was not Gray's voice that had caused a sharp pain to drive into his very heart. It was the voice of Huck's murderer.

"Gentlemen, if you are hearing this then every step leading up to it has gone as planned." But the voice was not the one the man had adopted on the dock, it was not the voice that he and Huck had instantly recognized as the Fantom's guttural drawl. This voice was cultured, calm and even pleasant, as deceptive as the man's dark soul. "He likes the sound of his own voice, doesn't he," Tom had observed aloud, a sneer lurking in his words.

As the Fantom's plot was revealed, Tom could feel nothing but contempt. Taking lives, using lives was a game to the man, a game he enjoyed playing as long as he won in the end. 'Maybe you've won this round but you're not gonna win the game,' Tom had sworn then with confidence, his hands clenching as the man droned on. And then the trap's contours were revealed, the information coming too little too late. Sawyer's mistaken confidence was literally blown apart as the first bomb ripped through the Nautilus, causing the ship to list, tossing everyone in the stateroom to the starboard side of the ship.

With cruel accuracy, the stateroom's table slammed into Tom's ribs, pinning him to the wall, agony and the force of the impact knocking the air from his lungs. Another bomb rang out and another, rocking the ship to the port side, sending the table to the other side of the room and the room's occupants falling forward to collide with the floor. Sprawled out on the marble floor, Tom coerced air into his lungs and his pain to the back of his senses. There was no time to think, to feel, to falter…there never was when death was breathing down his neck. He was struggling to scramble to his feet when Allan appeared at his side, wrapping an arm around his waist and hauling him to his feet.

"I must get to the bridge," Nemo cried, stumbling out the door.

"I'm going too," Tom announced, his words breathless and hued with pain as he slipped from Allan's hold to follow Nemo. He didn't have to look behind him to know Quatermain was only a few paces away, crashing from side to side in the hallways just as he was, determined to reach the bridge.

'A lot of good being on the bridge is doing me,' Tom sourly thought, bringing his focus again to the here and now. Catching Allan's eyes across the bridge, Sawyer saw matching grim resolve burning in the hunter's dark gaze. They would not accept death without a fight, it was an instinct entrenched in them, like breathing.

His attention was drawn back to Nemo as a crewmember shouted out the location of the compartment where the water was entering the Nautilus, plunging the submarine toward its grave on the bottom of the ocean. Without any noticeable hesitation, Nemo ordered, "Seal it."

For the first time ever, the crewmember bulked at his captain's orders. Stammering he explained, "But there are men in there."

Wrestling with the vessel's wheel, Nemo spared the crewmember one quick glance, a glance filled with grimness, sorrow and resolve. "For the greater good we must seal the compartment."

Something twisted in Sawyer's soul as he heard Nemo's order, an order that condemned Nemo's crewmembers in that compartment to death so all on board the Nautilus would not be so doomed, so the league could complete its duty and stop the Fantom's evil. Duty, it seemed to leave a bitter taste in Tom's mouth now. His earlier words to Alan about 'willing to make sacrifices' for duty's sake replayed through his mind, leaving him with questions he was unprepared to answer. 'Could I make the choice Nemo is making? Could I truly put the greater good above the lives of others? Above the lives of those I care about?' The more cynical part of Sawyer cut in, 'Whether you could make that brutal decision or not, men will die today, in that compartment, for the greater good but worse, they will die for you…so you can live. They will die and you will live…just like Huck did.'

Suddenly Tom felt violently sick and it had nothing to do with the motion of the sea or the boat. 'I don't want anyone else dying in my place! Not again! I can't live with more blood on my hands!' Then just as quickly, calm resolve settled in him as he vowed, "I won't live and let others die for me, not ever again!' Determined to join the fate of the men in that compartment rather than benefit from their doomed fate, Tom declared, "I'll go to the compartment and close the hatch," finishing his sentence with 'behind me' only in his head.

Before Nemo could make a reply, Jekyll cut in stalwartly, offering up Hyde's services instead for the task. "Go, Jekyll," Nemo said in way of agreement.

Tom watched the doctor stagger out the door, feeling a wave of helplessness begin to sink him faster than the Nautilus. 'No! That was my duty! That was my right!' Pulling his eyes from the door, they clashed with Allan's accusatory glare. 'He knows why I volunteered,' Tom surmised, 'and he's furious with me. He looks ready to stalk across this doomed boat and strangle me. This is not how I thought we'd end things between us.'

Allan didn't think he could clench his jaw any tighter without teeth shattering. 'One minute Sawyer looks ready to battle the devil to stay alive and the bloody next he's volunteering to commit suicide! And somewhere in that convoluted mind of his he thinks he's being noble and loyal to that duty he's so proud of!' The part of Allan that was the spy, the part that did not possess a father's heart, knew that Sawyer was being noble and loyal and every other honorable thing a man could be. That knowledge did little to ease the panic and anger in his heart, a heart which had claimed Sawyer as a son. What did sway his emotions was the wretchedness that suddenly clouded Tom's eyes. Instantly Allan's anger bled away and he let the love he felt for the tender young man shine in his eyes and turn up his lips into an encouraging cocky smile.

Receiving gifts was not something Thomas Sawyer had much experience in. Having lost his parents at a young age and with his aunt being so poor, gifts were a luxury that he had done without on many occasions and for many years. But he knew a valuable gift when one was bestowed upon him. Allan's tender regard and smile were one such valuable gift, a gift the magnitude Tom had received only once before, when Huckleberry Finn had honored him by calling him his friend.

Now, here among the possible death throes of the great underwater vessel, Tom felt a wide smile break across his face, his green eyes sparkling into Quatermain's, expressing his gratitude and equally tender regard for the obstinate hunter. 'If this is the end of the ride, it's been an honor being at your side, Allan,' Tom silently thought, hoping the older man could see that sentiment in his eyes.

The spy's look conveyed his silent message to Quatermain almost as if the words were spoken between them. Yes, there were regrets if this was to be their end but there was also gratitude, gratitude for the connection that had sprang between them, touching their hearts and rescuing them both from their personal demons. 'I am so bloody proud of you son! And if I can't spare you this fate at least I can share in it.'

Without warning the submarine's rapid descent ceased, causing all occupants of the ship to stumble as the boat's position shifted, adopting a leisurely drifting descent. On the bridge, Tom loosed his grip on the speedometer but did not relinquish it as a crewmember ran into the bridge, announcing that the hatch had been sealed. Immediately, Nemo ordered the bridge staff to take the Nautilus to the surface, fast as they dared.

Again Tom's world tilted, causing him to reclaim his white knuckled grip on the speedometer as the vessel vectored for the surface at an incredibly steep angle. When the nose of the submarine burst out of the water, Tom, at the sight of the blue sky and sunlight on the rippling water, drew in a starving breath. 'That's it! No more rafts, paddleboats or submarines! I'm a land lubber from here on out…well I will be once this mission is over and I put my feet back on the soil of the good ole US of A!' Tom vowed, already knowing he was lying to himself, water was in his blood…almost as much as adventure was.

Alan slumped against the wall of the bridge in utter relief. 'Too close! That was too bloody close..even for this extraordinary league!' He shot a look over to Sawyer and for a moment he saw matching relief in the spy's face before a cocky smile beamed on the American's face, showcasing his white teeth to perfection. 'He's bloody gloating!' he criticized. Then in surprise, he realized that same exhilaration and smugness was pulsating through his veins. They had won, again. 'Extraordinary, indeed,' he quirked, letting his expression mirror the spy's as he forced his legs to stop their shaking and started to walk toward the American.

Having already begun his own trek toward Allan, Tom met the adventurer in the middle of the room.

"Are you alright?" the two men inquired simultaneously of each other, causing some chuckles to escape from their throats.

"I'm alright, how about you?" Allan replied back first, his eyes already sweeping over Sawyer in inspection.

"I'll live to fight another day," Tom repeated his earlier proclamation, his eyes steadily meeting Allan's, warning the older man to not take up his usual overprotective questioning here on the bridge surrounded by Nemo's crew and Mina. At the thought of Mina, Tom's eyes instantly flew to the English woman behind them. "Mina, are you alright?"

"Nice of someone to ask," she drolly replied, giving Quatermain a cool look as she pushed some of her mane of hair from her face where it had fallen during the course of their misadventure.

Raising an eyebrow, Quatermain drawled, "I thought you wanted to be treated like one of the boys, Mrs. Harker."

"As an equal, Mr. Q, I wished to be treated like an equal. I am most assuredly not 'one of the boys.'"

"I've already noticed that," Tom mumbled under his breath, taking in the sight of the beautiful woman in black.

The young spy's words caused Mina's temper to dissipate and she took the few steps forward to stand mere inches from the spy. "Compliments do not need to be whispered, Tom," she nearly purred, her eyes pouring into his.

"Well, I think he thought with your wonderful bat senses, you'd hear a whisper as likely as a shout," Allan gruffly cut in, attempting to dispel the mood that was engulfing Mina and Sawyer. When he had told Sawyer that Mina was out of his league, he had said it as not so much the truth but as a deterrent. Quatermain knew women, knew that they all had the ability to 'sink their teeth' into a man's soul but Mina's bite had already proven itself deadly. The young ones' light flirtation had amused him, causing him to internally cheer Sawyer's successes with the widow but now he felt concerned at the frank attraction the vampire was bestowing on Sawyer.

Quatermain's growl did not remove Mina's smile nor draw her gaze from Tom's as she casually made her reply. "Sorry to say I am reliant upon my own exceptional hearing, Mr. Q, nor do I suffer from a bat's great limitation in sight."

"Oh…so you just have their bite, do you?" Allan said as if it were an accusation.

The words broke the spell that held the spy and vampire. Turning sharp eyes onto the hunter, Mina stepped toward Quatermain, purposefully she leaned slowly closer to the older man, goading him to flinch away. The hunter gave her no such satisfaction. Her lips were almost touching his ear as she whispered, "Maybe it's you who is more lion than man. You're becoming very protective of your young cub." Drawing back, she met the hunter's gaze with a challenge in her eyes.

Unabashedly, Quatermain retorted, "Yes, I am. Take that as the warning it should be."

Nemo approached the present members of the league, unaware of the currents running through the threesome. "Let's reconvene in my stateroom. I will have someone notify Mr. Jeykll of our location." Then he stalked out the door.

"After you," Tom said to Mina, a small smile on his lips. Nodding with that British modesty that Sawyer wasn't sure how to interpret, Mina walked out of the room. Then he looked to Quatermain and they began the trek to the door, side by side. "You have a way with women, Quatermain," Tom declared, unaware of his part in the caustic exchange between the vampire and the hunter. Then he shot Quatermain a smirk, "A bad way but still, it's a way."

"Whelp," Quatermain said, giving the grinning Sawyer a light shove through the doorway.

Walking back into the stateroom was like getting a kick in the gut, again. Here all the recent points in this game could be tallied. It was here that they plotted their pursuit of Gray, that they heard M's gloating voice emanate from the recording disk, that they had helplessly learned of the bombs presence seconds before they felt them tear the ship apart. 'I think I hate this room as much as I hated Aunt Polly's sewing nook where I usually got the switch,' came to Tom followed by, 'OK so maybe I deserved the switch but this time the punishment doesn't fit the crime.'

Looking at the shambles the room was in, Tom picked up a chair and righted it before moving to the table. Opening his mouth to ask if someone could help him, he found Quatermain at the other end, already gripping the edge of the table. Together they maneuvered the table in place, matching grimaces of pain springing to both of their faces as their respective injuries objected to their good Samaritan actions. Ruefully they both leveled guilty expression at each other, expecting reciprocal lectures. Relief surged through them both when they realized neither had the high ground enough to dish out a reprimand.

"I saw that and I disapprove," Jekyll's scolded as he made his way down the hallway to the stateroom, straightening his fresh clothing.

Instead of shame, Allan turned to face the approaching doctor with a smile, "The hero makes his entrance," giving Henry a thumbs up.

An 'ah shucks' look came over Henry's features, "Well, let's not make a saint out of a sinner. Can we still follow Gray?" he asked, his eyes resting on Quatermain.

"We were the faster," the adventurer drawled, "now we're the tortoise to his hare."

Defeat sagged Jekyll's shoulders as he aided Quatermain in righting a table, "So we're done?" The answer was in Quatermain's grim expression but it was another voice, a voice firm with conviction that gave a reply.

"No." Tom adamantly refuted, thinking of Huck, of his murderer slipping through his fingers. "We're alive. If M has any ideas to the contrary, that gives us an edge."

Tom's sharp mind tagged on, 'An edge I plan on exploiting until I get what I want.' Suddenly the hate that burned in his gut was vying for domination over his pledge to seek justice upon Huck's murderer 'Justice, it's what Huck would want you to seek, it's what Allan wants you to seek, it's what you swore you would seek!' But the dark part of his soul, the part that knew the true evil men could do, the true evil he himself was capable of would not remain silent. 'But will justice be enough. Will it fill the gaping hole that Huck's murder ripped into your heart and soul? Will justice give you the satisfaction of seeing the Fantom breathe his last breath, slowly, painfully, knowing that death was reaching for him with greedy, cold, unrelenting hands'

All eyes of the league settled on the young man, unaware of his dark ruminations. Ironically, his brave, firm words of conviction gave a boost to their sagging spirits, giving them hope that justice would still be done and done by them. The entrance of a crewmember with his startling pronouncement only added fuel to the hope that had nearly been snuffed out. They were getting a signal from the Nautiloid.

"Hello, my freaky darlings," the radio man translated.

Happy disbelief surged through Tom. "Skinner?" he said aloud, though he held no doubts at the sender's identify. Only the invisible thief would utter a nickname like 'my freaky darlings' let alone mean it in a good way. For some reason, Skinner had always felt like a friend to Tom. And now that friend was being returned to him, untainted and seemingly energized to take on their foes.

"Hiding on board little fish with Gray. On way to base. East by North East. Follow my lead," came the rest of the morse code translation.

Allan smiled and turned to the members of the league, his eyes settling on Sawyer. "Looks like the tortoise just got wind of a short cut. You were right not to give up hope, lad."

Hope, the word seemed to echo in Tom's head, foreign and maybe even unwelcome. Hope was about goodness, about positive thinking, about seeking out the honorable solution to a troublesome dilemma. If he had offered up hope to the others, he had done it unconsciously. Revenge and hope could not share the same space, they were as different as night and day, as heaven and hell. 'As different as justice and revenge,' a voice said in Tom's head that sounded a lot like Huck Finn's.

Tom started as a hand came to rest on his shoulder, causing his head to snap up and his vision to collide with Quatermain's questioning gaze. "What?" he asked, sensing that he hadn't heard something the older man had said.

Abandoning his prior words, Allan, watching as the others walked away leaving he and Sawyer alone at the radio room's doorway, lowly asked, his eyes boring into Sawyer's, "What's wrong? Do you think Skinner's not to be trusted?"

"No, him I trust, never quite got to the point of not trusting him," Tom assured, straightening his stance from his leaning position on the doorway.

"Then what's troubling you?" Allan gently probed, feeling the tension in Sawyer like it was his own. "There someone else you don't trust?"

"Yeah. Me," Tom lowly confessed, brushing past Allan and slowly making his way down the hallway.

TBC

Replies to Reviews:

Shakai: So glad you liked the banter and Tom's big 'ouchie' and the last sentence! As always, it's a real treat hearing from you!

Sawyer Fan: I was so encouraged that you thought last chapter was worth the wait! After a long writer's block, I always wonder if I 'still got it'! Thanks for you wonderful review!

Q1120790: Thank you for your overwhelming review! Your words really struck me right in the heart and I just had to reread your review a few times! Sometimes I feel like I'm letting my 'heart and soul' hang out there with my stories and I've regretted allowing myself to be so vulnerable. But then a wonderful person like yourself comes alone and sees that vulnerability and applauds it. That is a beautiful gift to me! Thank you and I'd be very honored if you added the story to your favorite list! Hope the rest of the story keeps you smiling!

StriderX: Well your review about had ME crying! After that bout of writer's block I was feeling uncertain of myself so I REALLY appreciated your compliments! As for the writing career…it would be a dream come true! Maybe someday! Thanks again, my friend, for your thoughts, encouragements and advice!

Amanda Hope: Thank you for the fantastic compliments! I really struggle to keep the emotions believable and not too sappy so I loved hearing that you thought I wrote them 'realistically and beautifully'! Hope you like this chapter!

ALonelySoul: Thank you for your truly wonderful compliments! A beaming smile came to my lips when you said you think of my story when you watch the movie! As for your dread about Allan's death's effect on Sawyer...you'll have to wait and see! I was so touched and pleased that you wanted another LOTR story from me! However, I have to admit that I'm not planning on writing any more LOTR. But you never know, I'm an obsessive kind of gal, always flitting around like a moth from one obsession to the next. I'm actually hoping to jump back on the Star Wars bandwagon after this fic wraps up. But if I do pen another LOTR story it's great to know you'll willing to read it! Support like that is awesome to have!

Ten Mara: Loved you review as always! I'm afraid you're disappointed in this chapter considering I took the coward's way out and adopted the movie's scene for Tom's 'leader of men' speech. Initially my intentions were to remain true to the theatrical version of the film but then with your comment I considered stealing some lines from the book/deleted scenes. But when I put pen to paper(fingers to keyboard) I just couldn't get that to work. So I apology for the omission of the 'scene' you were looking forward to! However, your encouragement to add more Mina to the storyline gave me the guts to have her in this chapter. Thank you for your wonderful words!

Someone Reading: Hello Friend! You won't believe me but just this weekend I discovered your name on my favorite story list and stopped in at your profile page! When I read you had stopped reviewing I really wanted to get in contact with you and say how very much I always valued and enjoyed every review you honored me with! Then, like some magic trick, you gave me the wonderful gift of your review! Your review's better than getting the best mushy card Hallmark ever had! And there is nothing to forgive! Every person has a right and a need to step back and play things low key! Goodness knows I live most of my life that way! Thank you so much for your wonderful support of this story! It means a lot to me that you value the relationship struggles, dialogue and the interwoven scenes. Coming from you it's a great compliment! Thanks again for sending that awesome review!

Laura B: Thanks for your wonderful review! And I had to laugh when you said you didn't mind that 'Sawyer was getting a raw deal.' I guess it's true what they say..you always hurt the ones you love! (but somehow I don't think they were thinking fanfiction when they said that).

Thanks so much to everyone for reading this chapter!

Till next time…

Cheryl W.