Note: The original request from V musicka: Suppose Deryn and Alek and the Leviathan crew have landed somewhere in the East (Japan, etc.) and Alek, before the story began, found out that "Dylan" was a girl. He's avoiding her, is kind of grumpy, and is still getting over the fact when he's surrounded and attacked by some unfriendly locals. Deryn rushes in and saves him with her awesomeness (wit, knife-throwing, etc.) and... whatever you like.
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Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.
- Henry David Thoreau
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In hindsight, ducking his guards on the streets of Tokyo is probably not the most clever thing Alek has ever done.
To be fair, he wasn't trying to provoke an uproar on the part of the British, and he certainly wasn't trying to isolate himself so that he would be an easy target for assassins. He was trying to get away from Deryn.
A girl. A deceitful, unnatural girl. He thought he'd found a friend, but it was entirely a lie. Her apologies, her excuses – it all means nothing. He never wants to see her or listen to her lies again.
So he ducks his guards, of which Deryn is one, and quickly, effortlessly, manages to get himself lost beyond all belief.
It takes quite a few minutes to find his way back to a main thoroughfare, and then a few minutes more to decide that he does, in fact, want to ask for directions.
He's angry, but not suicidal. He'll need to get back to the Leviathan and his men eventually.
He just… doesn't want it to be anytime very soon.
If Bovril were along for this excursion, retracing his steps would undoubtedly be somewhat easier, but he – of course – left the loris in his stateroom. Eventually Alek comes across a merchant who speaks enough German to explain the location of the airfield. He begins working his way in that direction, being sure to stay away from the less reputable-looking areas.
Tokyo is fascinating: a city in transition. Clanker to Darwinist, Oriental to European, all of it overlapping comfortably, it seems. He watches Japanese boffins in suits and bowler hats walk past women in high wooden sandals and stiff silk robes… and wonders.
How different is this city from his own circumstances? He, too, is in transition – no longer quite a Clanker, but not a true Darwinist, either. No longer a prince, and not an emperor.
Missing his friend. Not ready to apologize.
Yet.
He sighs. It was all so much easier when she was a boy. God's wounds, he can't even make a friend correctly! And now, his admiration for "Dylan" takes on new overtones that he isn't entirely certain that he likes.
He imagines Bovril's voice murmuring "In transition" into his ear and feels abruptly irritated with himself.
All of his musings, however, are cut short when a voice behind him shouts, "Hohenberg!"
He turns, startled, at the sound of his name. Belatedly, he realizes that the accent was Japanese, not Scottish, and that Deryn's voice was never that harsh.
Belatedly, he realizes he's just given himself away.
Four men quickly surround him. They're dressed in the Western style, though they're clearly locals. Two of them grab his arms, holding him in place, and one stands behind him. Something cold and hard digs into his back, making him go still.
The leader – or the man Alek presumes to be the leader, anyway – grabs his chin in one hand, roughly forcing him to turn his head this way and that. Alek jerks his head away. He expects retribution, but the men only seem amused.
The men have a brief exchange in Japanese, and then the leader says, in very good German, "You are the prince. The Austrian."
Alek's heart is hammering, but he says, "You have the wrong person, I'm afraid," with creditable calm. He looks around, hoping for an ally, hoping for a rescue, but everyone in the street seems to have become suddenly and selectively blind, deaf, and dumb.
The leader gives him a flicker of a smile. "No, Your Highness. I think we are right." He gestures sharply.
One of the other men holds up a torn, grimy square of newsprint. Alek catches a glimpse of his own photograph and feels his hopes sink.
Eddie Malone and the New York World are moments away from getting him killed.
"I don't know what you have been promised," he says quickly, "but I can match the offer -"
He cuts himself off because the leader's cruel smirk promises no mercy.
"You will walk with us, Your Highness," the leader says, adjusting the knot of his tie, then smoothing the silk flat. His clothes are of the highest quality, but colorful tattoos are revealed beneath the finely-tailored cuffs. "Murder in the street is so barbaric."
Another jab from the object in his back; he suspects it's a pistol. Instead of being cowed, Alek is furious.
After escaping Austria, after leading a revolution in Istanbul, with his destiny laid out before him, he will not go meekly to the slaughter, and how dare these criminals assume that he will?
"No," he says, lifting his chin to glare at the leader. As far as final words go, it's hardly up to imperial standards. He finds he doesn't care.
The leader doesn't look away; his smirk hardens into something cold and glittering. Eyes still on Alek, he says a few quick, pleasant words in Japanese.
Things happen rather quickly, then.
The men holding onto his arms shift their grips slightly. The pressure at his back eases for a moment. Instinct takes over, and Alek is twisting his arms free and pushing forward before anyone – least of all himself – realizes what he's doing.
He slams into the leader, knocking the man backwards and sending his hat tumbling into the street. Alek nearly falls, but regains his balance and –
- is caught by grasping hands and finds himself facing the barrel of a pistol and -
- there is a piercing whistle from farther down the street and a knife sprouts from the shoulder of the man with the gun -
A rigging knife. A midshipman's whistle.
And British voices are shouting, and fabricated hounds are baying and barking, and the four would-be assassins do their best to disappear as airmen and Japanese officers close in.
Alek, however, stands where he is, because running towards him – sweating, dirty, swearing, beautiful – is his best friend. Right now, as the realization of what nearly happened sets in and turns his knees to water, all he cares to do is wait for Deryn to reach him.
When she does, she hesitates barely a moment, and then she pulls him into a fierce, rough hug.
"You Dummkopf," Deryn says. She's pressed closely enough that he can feel the vibration of her words in his chest and smell the sweat that she's raised searching for him.
What a fool he was to run from her.
"I'm sorry," he says softly, tightening his hold around her shoulders. Sorry for running, sorry for his anger, sorry for nearly dying in a Tokyo street for no reason other than misplaced Hapsburg pride.
It doesn't matter that she's a girl, he discovers. It never mattered.
"Me too," she answers, just as quiet. Then, louder: "But you're still pure dead stupid for running off like that."
He gives her a crooked smile as they separate. "So I've realized."
"The whole barking city's looking for you. Volger's foaming at the mouth, practically," she says. She looks at him closely, and he feels his ears heating under the scrutiny. "Did those bastards hurt you?"
"No," he says, though he suspects he'll have a bruise or two later. "You rescued me just in time."
"Aye, I did, didn't I?" she says, quite satisfied. She tosses a scowl in the direction of the departed men. "Lost my best sodding knife, though."
A small commotion further up the street is revealed to be some of the Leviathan's crew victoriously dragging one of the would-be assassins back. It's the man who'd held the pistol on Alek, and who'd been at the receiving end of Deryn's excellent aim. His suit is stained heavily with red around the shoulder and arm.
"Perhaps not," Alek says.
Deryn grins at him, then jogs over to the airmen and retrieves her knife amid much congratulatory back-slapping. Alek watches her, a curious new tightness in his chest.
"Come on, you daft prince," she says, rejoining him. She wipes off the blade and sticks it into her boot again. "Let's get ourselves home."
"Yes," he says. "I believe I'm ready to be scolded by Volger - and Bovril."
She laughs.
Alek walks with Deryn back to the airship, and, along the way, finds himself no longer in transition.
