()
The second time he came around he felt refreshed, bright-eyed and alert. He lifted his head from where it was slumped against the wall and peered around in the darkness, looking for Snowy. There was no sign of the little white dog, and Tintin desperately hoped his long-time companion was still alive and happy. Or, at least still alive.
The damp concrete had seeped into the underside of his plus-fours, making him feel uncomfortably chilly. The rough ropes around his ankles and wrists made any movement on the painful side of inconvenient.
Usually he would call for Snowy to chew through the ropes, but as Snowy was sadly not available, he would have to figure a way out by himself.
He cast an eye around the dingy cell, looking for anything he could use that wasn't too far away. Unfortunately, the thugs that had chloroformed him seemed to be of a higher general IQ than the usual culprits, and there were no handy nails sticking out of the wall at a convenient wrist height, no give in the ropes, no dumb guard at the door.
Just a small, damp, dripping concrete cell, no windows, one (most probably locked) door, and tight, strong ropes.
Oh crumbs.
Still, he wasn't giving up. He would bide his time, wait until they brought him food, and take them unawares. First, however, he'd have to stand up despite the constricting ropes.
It took him roughly two hours (although he couldn't be entirely sure, without a clock or the position of the sun to give him an indication of time passing) to roll himself to his feet. The ropes scraped though his socks and he was sure they had broken through the skin, but he just gritted his teeth and pushed past the pain. The ropes definitely broke the skin on his wrists and the blood trickled warmly down his hands and dripped off the end of his fingers.
He hit a problem when he finally managed to stand on his feet, leaning against the wall for support and breathing heavily from his exertions. With his ankles bound, he couldn't manage much more than a rather ungainly hop which sent him almost immediately tumbling to the floor again. Luckily he caught himself just in time before he undid hours of work and effort.
A flash of inspiration hit him as he stood awkwardly, staring at the dripping ceiling. Perhaps he could loosen the ropes by soaking them in the puddles forming on the floor. If that didn't work, then maybe the soggy ropes would disintegrate when rubbed against the rough concrete walls.
It wasn't much of a plan, Tintin thought as he lowered himself to the floor again to roll the ropes in the puddles, but it was, at least, better than staring disconsolately at the floor, wondering how he'd get back to the docks before the time window closed.
()
The air was cold and fresh on the morning of departure, but Tintin breathed it in with relish after the stuffy sleeping quarters in the ship. Out on deck with a stiff breeze playfully tugging at his unruly ginger quiff, that was what he enjoyed, the true essence of adventure.
He was joined much later by sleep-ruffled, bloodshot and bleary-eyed sailors who had all somewhat overindulged the night before, drinking their last land ale before departing to Spain the next noon. They weren't in the mood for conversation, simply grunting a morning greeting before heading off to work. There was still much to be done before departure.
Tintin waited for Archie to come up on deck, as he was unsure as to what his job actually was. As he waited, Allan climbed up past him, and Tintin noticed the large dark rings hanging under the young crook's eyes, and the ashy greyness of his face. Something told Tintin that Allan hadn't followed Tintin's example of going to bed; Tintin wondered what exactly Allan had been doing after their night-time conversation.
Allan gave Tintin a nod as he passed, but Tintin refrained from returning the greeting. There was just something so… repellent about the man, so slimy and indigestible that the normally well-mannered boy couldn't bear to even contemplate acting friendly towards him.
'Ah, Tintin!' Archie seemed to be in good shape – at least the night of constant snoring appeared to have been worth it.
'Morning, Archie,' Tintin smiled. 'What are we supposed to be doing this morning?'
'Checking the last lot of cargo before we set sail. If we bugger off with someone else's stuff there'd be a right hoo-hah. And believe me, we really don't want that just before we leave.'
Tintin followed Archie down to the hold, where the newly stacked crates awaited their careful scrutiny. Tintin sniffed the air curiously.
'Smells like someone's been smoking down here.'
'Well, whoever it was, they shouldn't have been. Captain Jenson only lets people smoke on deck on the Icarus. He's very particular about his ship, even if it is an old pile of junk barely worth the scrapyard.' As Archie spoke, however, he stroked the metal wall fondly. 'Still, I have some good memories from voyages on this old thing.'
Tintin sniffed the still, musty air of the hold again and thought about Allan's query for a lighter the night before. But why would Allan have been down the hold at that time of night?
And now he came to think about it, Allan had been holding common brand cigarettes. The smell that hung heavily in the air of the hold had a more expensive, cigar-like smell to it, not unlike Captain Haddock's odd indulgence at Marlinspike.
But thinking of the Captain and Marlinspike depressed Tintin somewhat, sending a dull ache into his chest, so he shook the memory away and immersed himself in the (rather boring) job of checking the cargo. Archie was good company, however, full of stories about his time at sea, and even though Tintin had heard nearly all of them before, from his Captain, they were still enjoyable, fresher somehow, and passed the time pleasantly.
Before he knew it, it was noon.
()
The galley was packed full to bursting by the time Tintin and Archie made their way there. The air was warm and close, and they had to fight their way through a mass of bodies just to make their way to the counter.
'First day down,' Archie grinned, with stunning cheerfulness. Tintin could not quite muster a believable smile. One day down, around twenty-five years to go. If he was even in the same timeline.
'Yeah,' he said, half-heartedly, and Archie seemed satisfied. It seemed that this Haddock, just like his older counterpart, loved being on the sea.
The food was nothing special, but Tintin was starving and wolfed it down, while Archie took his time, savouring each mouthful and looking around happily.
'This is the life for me, Tintin,' he said happily. 'A life on the sea – heaven.'
Tintin couldn't see what was so heavenly about a small cramped galley on a ship held together by rust and prayers, but he didn't want to burst Archie's happy little bubble of first day voyage euphoria.
Tintin needn't have worried about bursting Archie's bubble; moments later Allan slid onto the bench beside him and elbowed his side.
''ave you thought any more on that business proposition I asked you about?' Allan muttered. Archie's smile popped and deflated.
'I told you, I don't want to get involved,' he said, sounding slightly anxious. 'I don't want to do anything that might risk-'
'Your loss,' Allan shrugged. Then he turned to Tintin, tipping him a wink. 'You fancy gettin' in on this, tuftie?'
Tintin glanced at Archie, who was staring intently at his food but shaking his head ever so slightly.
'I'm fine, thank you,' he said stiffly. Allan shrugged again, and stood up.
'I'll see you gents later then,' he said, unruffled, as he weaved his way through the crush of people.
'What was all that about?' Tintin asked Archie as soon as Allan was out of sight.
'Allan's a good chap,' Archie said, almost defensively, 'but he has… money troubles. And some of his money-making schemes… well… they're not always completely above board. And if I want to become a Captain one day, I need a clean record.'
'What kind of scheme is this one?' Tintin asked, intrigued despite himself, his reporter's nose sniffing for a story. Archie looked around shiftily, before leaning in closer and lowering his voice.
'You know the diamonds I mentioned yesterday?'
'Yes?' Tintin said eagerly.
'Apparently it wasn't just a rumour. Allan is in on a plan to transport these diamonds to a buyer in Spain for a wealthy man in Brussels, and he asked me if I wanted in on it. At first I thought it was a fairy story, but it turns out there actually are diamonds.'
'Someone trusts Allan with real diamonds?' Tintin asked incredulously. Archie grinned slightly.
'No. I don't think anyone would trust a sailor with diamonds. No, apparently he was going to stow someone on board the ship. I didn't want to get mixed up in it all, so I didn't ask for details.'
Archie turned back to his food, obviously rather uncomfortable with the conversation. Tintin understood he was legitimately worried about his record. It was Archie's dream to be a Captain one day; Tintin wished he could tell him that he would achieve his dream.
But he'd already messed too much with the timeline. Not to mention Archie would never believe him.
Tintin had finished his dinner much sooner than Archie, and he as he waited for his friend to finish savouring the colourless mush on his plate Tintin scanned the galley absent-mindedly, committing the faces of his fellow crew members to memory. A shadowed figure in the corner caught his eye and he looked over just in time to see a head vanishing from the room.
He recognised that head, although for a few seconds he couldn't quite remember…
'Jacques!' he exclaimed suddenly, exploding from his bench and sending the last of Archie's food flying into the air.
'Tintin, what…?' Archie began, but Tintin was already halfway to the door, vaulting over any obstacle that stood in his way.
If Jacques was on the Icarus, the danger was suddenly very real. Tintin was, after all, the only one in this timeline who knew the full extent of Jacques' crimes, and that made him a threat. Suddenly, the mystery of the tipping crane was no longer such a brain-teaser.
Despite the danger, Tintin still found himself pursuing the villain. It was a strange instinct, running towards the man who was trying to kill him, but he found he hated Jacques, more than he had ever hated anyone before. There was a boiling pit of rage in his stomach, hissing and spitting. Jacques was, overall, the reason for his being stranded in the past, away from his friends, his family. Some dark part of Tintin wanted him to pay.
As he cleared the door to the galley and pushed his way down the narrow, dark corridor to the deck, following the clanging sound of Jacques' footsteps, he heard someone following him, thumping along behind him in a chase of solidarity. He chanced a look behind him and saw that Archie was thundering along, a look of confusion on his face that was nonetheless overshadowed by his determination. Tintin was suddenly swamped with a rush of affection that quieted the lava pit of rage in his stomach somewhat. Even in this form, the Captain would follow him anywhere, even when unsure of the details. Even young, Archibald Haddock's loyalty remained his most admirable quality.
But Tintin turned his thoughts quickly back to the rapidly fleeing spy.
The chase was on.
()
When the lock clicked, Tintin tensed.
When the handle turned, Tintin took a tiny step forward, readying himself.
When the man walked in, clutching a small handgun, Tintin pounced.
After a brief tussle, the man was on the cold concrete floor, unconscious, and Tintin held the handgun tightly and glanced at the door.
'First,' he said, 'I'll have to keep you from telling anyone about my escape.' The unconscious man, surprisingly, did not reply, and put up no struggle as Tintin tied his wrists and ankles together with the now damp rope, finally finishing by gagging the man with his own shirt.
'There,' he said, rocking back on his heels, surveying his handiwork. 'That should keep you busy.'
Then he walked out of his cell, closing and locking the door behind him.
He had blueprints to get back, and a time window to catch.
()
A/N: Sorry about the wait, but I'm on study leave and should actually be revising, so I haven't had much time. I had to write more, though, because it's all just starting to get interesting. Hope you enjoyed, and if you did or didn't, tell me