FIC: All of Me [PG-15, AU Tom/Dorian]
Title: All of Me
Author: Batdz Angel (\0/)
Disclaimer: I don’t own the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen film. The quotes from the film were done by ear and this is merely a work of my own making as well as a way of honoring the characters.All paragraph titles, and the story title, are from the album Fallen by the now disbanded group Evanescence.
Rating: PG-15 for language and allusions to sexual situations dealing with two men.
Pairings: Tom/Dorian, canon pairings as they occurred in the film.
Spoilers: The movie, some of Tom Sawyer and The Picture of Dorian Gray. Just for background, you know.
Summary: AU. Fate had a way of making things happen.
-*-
part one: so numb without a soul
Time moved a lot more swiftly than most people believed.
He learned this fact when he awoke, years after that fateful day he stood and wished to be immortally beautiful. He learned this fact when he began to realize that no vice nor indulgence to his sinful nature would vanquish his thirst for something...more.
Time moved around the rest of the world slowly, but for Dorian Gray it was a mere blink of his eyes. Wars occurred, newly crowned kings took to the throne, and he remained as physically unchanged as he had ever been. The same dark, shining eyes and full mouth complimented by his smooth skin and dark hair. He learned, quite effectively to blend into his surroundings and as time went on, as people he knew died around him, he shut himself up in his home to realization of the true horror he had unwittingly released upon his person.
Of course, this occurred the evening after he murdered Basil Hallward, the creator of his portrait. Desperation and terror had driven him as soon as the other man had truly seen the face upon the canvas and without thought of his actions, he committed one of the his biggest sins of his existence...
And as Time continued to weave its way around the rest of the world, Dorian Gray was suspended forever in immortal beauty. And as so happens when one is given their heart’s darkest desire, he grew to hate and fear his curse as much, if not more, than he had originally desired it.
-*-
part two: so hollow inside
There was someone at the door.
He paused in his reach for a random book from his library’s vast shelves, cocking his head to the side slightly as he heard the voices from outside. Sighing deeply, he turned smoothly on his heel and walked out of the library, down the stairs, and paused at his front door. Opening the door enough to peer out, he said flatly, “Good evening.”
“Mister Dorian Gray?” the gentlemen with a rough burr of a voice asked and he studied the man before him swiftly as he replied, “I am.”
“We come by way of M.”
For a brief moment, anger rose inside his veins; Moriarty had done a terrifying act in stealing his portrait and Dorian was adamant to have it returned. So he said as conciliatory as he could possibly be at the moment, “M for mystery.”
He straightened his shoulders, opening the door wider as he played his part. “Well, I’ve told him and I’m telling you: I’m not interested.”
“Dorian,” a familiar voice purred suddenly and he watched with a detached air as a slim, redheaded woman appeared before him. In his many years, he had romanced quite a few women and this woman was a surprise to see standing before him.
“Mina,” he said and without word, stepped aside to allow them to pass.
As he played the part he was beginning to loathe as much as his curse, he began to see that any alternatives to M’s blackmail would be few. Mina, he knew from experience, was as fickle as she was intelligent and Quatermain was an old hero looking for one last wild ride. Skinner he couldn’t see much less trust and Nemo seemed as indifferent to the situation as he was involved.
He did feel a sliver of amusement and satisfaction as Quatermain revealed their brief history together. He remembered the old man, sitting in a horrendously humid room with an audience of young, innocent boys that he had detested at the time more than any other beings on the entire planet. The looks on the other’s faces was well worth Mina’s sarcastic remarks and Nemo’s doubt of his possible experience in the world.
M’s arrival was on the clock as he had suspected; the man was more obsessed with the idea of war and would stop at nothing to get what he desired. Experience kept Dorian’s mouth shut at M’s posturing but he did calmly retort to Skinner’s agreement with M’s speech that he didn’t agree with M in the slightest.
Wars always occurred; Dorian didn’t care unless they affected him personally.
The fight was swift and messy; he hated fighting in most ways and bullets bloody well hurt despite his reaction. The soldier he easily dispatched and made his way calmly to change his shirt into a clean one. Somehow while he was gone, M escaped and he returned to the assumption that he was as Skinner put it, “Invulnerable to harm.”
“I don’t like to boast,” he said as he leaned against his cane, adding coolly. “What happened to Mina?”
The solider holding Mina hostage was a fool; Dorian had no patience for fools but kept silent merely glancing towards the newcomer who aimed the Winchester rifle with ease. A handsome young man with piercing green eyes and tousled brown hair met with his approval, and he felt his lips twist into a small, unnoticeable smile of calculation.
“Special Agent Sawyer of the American Secret Service,” the boy said and Dorian tipped his head slightly to study the other man whilst he conversed with Quartermain. At the boy’s explanation of how he came to be in his home and his unspoken offer to join the League, he said rather dryly, “Very noble. But this is a private party and you’re not invited.”
Green eyes met his briefly and he smirked to himself at the spark of anger that flared in the depths of them. Ah, so the eager boy had a backbone of some kind; it was a relief to know that he wasn’t a complete idiot then.
Mina’s rather rude acceptance of the boy would have at one time made Dorian bristle but instead he chuckled to himself and said, “On the contrary, the battle was just the spur I needed.” He caught the boy’s eye and added, “That and the thrill of a friendship renewed. So, you’re not needed.”
Quatermain’s opinion, however was not surprising to Dorian; the man thought with his guns, of that he had no doubt. And so without any qualms other than how his portrait was faring, Dorian joined the League in their trip to Paris.
-*-
part three: make me real
If he had know what the ramifications for certain actions would be, he would have destroyed the damned painting years ago after murdering Basil. As it were, he was finding himself in a bit of quandary.
Who could he trust with the real reason he was on board? Even now, he didn’t trust Mina nor any of the people who had arrived at his home with the intent of recruiting. He debated for a few days as the Nautilus made its way to Venice and finally decided that Tom Sawyer was the lesser of two evils in a manner of speaking. For one thing, Henry Jekyll was anything but a simpering fool without his bloodthirsty counterpart and for another, Dorian didn’t trust Edward Hyde in any shape, be it his own or the doctor’s.
He approached the boy after dinner and without qualm said, “I have something I must discuss with you Sawyer.”
The boy’s eyes widened and then hardened as he seemed to realize who he was speaking too. Without waiting for his agreement, Dorian turned and walked towards his quarters, smiling to himself as he heard the boy hurriedly follow. As soon as Tom was in his quarters, Dorian went directly to where he had the box of samples and opened it, showing it to the Agent.
It took Tom a few seconds to realize what exactly he was looking at and Dorian watched as the young man straightened his shoulders. Without letting Tom speak, Dorian said rather quietly, “I hope you will give me the chance to explain why I have these, Agent Sawyer. Believe me when I say I am many things but a supporter of madness such as the one I have been witness to for the past few weeks is not one of them.”
“I’m listening,” was all the boy offered.
And so, Dorian started from the beginning, telling him of his actions the day his portrait was painted, the curse he began to understand as his portrait grew more and more horrendous in appearance while he remained unaffected, despite his sins. He told Tom of his arrival at his home one afternoon and the realization that his portrait was gone.
The reaction of Tom to M’s reveal was surprising; the American sighed deeply and said, voice weary, “I thought something about this whole League was off but didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes about it.” Straightening from where he had taken a seat, Tom studied Dorian for a moment and then said, “I have to tell the others, you know.”
Dorian looked back at him steadily and said, “I know.”
For the first time in a long while, he didn’t bother to hide his sins. But it wasn’t for his own peace of mind, no; it was because Tom stood by him, even as the others condemned him, even as Mina’s eyes flashed red as she realized the true reason for his seduction of her. Tom stood by him unflinching and said, “Mr. Gray didn’t have to say anything. All he had to do was escape while in Venice and we would be dead.” The others looked ready to protest but Tom was adamant.
“I thought you were all heroes,” the boy said without preamble. “Or at least, I assumed you were. Kinda disappointing to realize that all of your posturing was a crock of bullshit.”
And that, Dorian reflected later on, was worth the explanations he would have to give later.
-*-
part four: the truth and the lies
The plan, was in his opinion, a spectacular success.
Tom had suggested Dorian go through with M’s plan with a slight difference in that the bombs and recording were made useless by Hyde’s capable hands. The bombing of Venice, however, was something Dorian hadn’t been quite aware of and he was just as surprised as the others when the cobblestone rocked beneath their feet.
As he stood, arguing with Quatermain about how to outrun a city literally crashing around their ears (“I’m an immortal, sir, not a gazelle. How can we outrun this?”), Tom vanished without warning into the Nautilus. The roar of an engine had everyone turning and with a screech of the tires, the white automobile that Nemo had created came barreling out of the ship. The tires squealed along the ground and Tom looked at everyone expectantly, a smirk pulling at his lips as he said, “Care for a spin?”
Dorian immediately ran to the machine, ahead of Mina and Quatermain. Jekyll’s refusal to join them prompted him to demand, “Then what good are you?” as Tom gunned the engine and took of with another roar.
The gunfire was expected but he was still not prepared for it. Swearing as he realized that the others were easily more harmed than himself, he shouted back to the others, “Keep going!” before launching himself out of the car.
Mina’s cry of his name had him rolling his eyes as he sliced his way through the crowd. Honestly, women were far too fickle in their affections; he preferred a no nonsense approach. He managed to make his way back to the ship without being seen by anyone of M’s people; it wouldn’t do to give the game up just yet. Nemo taught him quickly how to operate the smaller vessel he kept for exploration purposes and Dorian said casually he set his course, “I would suspect being naked for so long would be trying on a man’s patience, Skinner.”
The invisible man chuckled and said, “Well, s’not fun, if you get my drift.”
M’s arrival cut any other conversation short; Skinner effectively vanished as it were and Dorian pretended to be M’s inside man. The man’s rants about world domination, however were starting to grate on his very last nerve.
As they made their way to Mongolia, Dorian wondered how Tom had fared. The boy had been adamant in keeping his word, saying he had been raised Christian and as such, would be no man that went back on his promise.
Dorian wondered to himself if that included helping him hide the portrait where it could never be again used to force him into servitude.
If anything, he enjoyed his freedom.
-*-
part five: lost for so long
M was dead.
Dorian watched as Tom lowered his rifle, spinning to face Quatermain eagerly at his triumphant cry. The immortal watched silently as the old man said his goodbyes and then, passed on without a fight. Silently, Dorian tipped his head forward in respect for the other man and stepped out of the shadows.
“He fought hard, Agent Sawyer,” he said quietly to the boy who nodded. Lifting his head, the young man nodded again and said, “The world lost a hero today.”
“It also gained one,” Dorian replied before shouldering his portrait, now safely secured inside of a large suitcase and covered with vast amounts of cloth. The American looked at him, startled at the compliment and Dorian smirked at him before adding, “The others must be informed.”
It was a unanimous decision to take Quatermain’s body back to Africa; at one time, Dorian would have taken his leave and returned to his life in England, as bleak as it was. But Tom looked quite ready to settle in for a long period of mourning his mentor and Dorian couldn’t allow that at all.
They stood at the grave of Allan Quatermain and Skinner observed quietly, “You remember he swore Africa wouldn’t let him die? I wish the old boy had been right.”
The others murmured quiet agreements but Dorian watched Tom as he stared down at the grave. The immortal than was struck by a thought: what could he possibly do now?
“I have long hidden away from the world,” Nemo said. “Now I wish to see it anew as the century turns.”
“It isn’t that interesting,” Dorian replied dryly. “Believe me.”
Mina threw him a rather rude glare and he shrugged his shoulders as the others bid farewell to the grave. Tom stood before the grave for a moment, murmuring something Dorian didn’t catch. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he approached Dorian and said, “Going back to England then?”
“Possibly,” Dorian retorted casually as they walked away from the grave. “Perhaps I’ll join the world again as well. I missed quite a lot with my self-imposed solitude.”
Tom was silent for a few seconds before saying hesitantly, “Mr. Gray-“
“Dorian,” he interrupted facing the young man. “Considering you helped me without any reprimands, I believe it is only right I allow you to call me by my name.”
Tom looked a bit bemused but nodded nonetheless. “Dorian,” he said hesitantly. “I just wanted to know, why did you tell me?” The lad rushed forward, adding, “I mean, you’ve known Mina a lot longer than me and Allan was the leader-“
“You are not quite as corrupted as the rest of us, Tom,” Dorian cut the youth off. “You still believe in the goodness of human nature. I find it refreshing.”
A flush worked its way up the American’s neck and he mumbled, “Oh.”
“And,” Dorian added as he eyed the boy. “I find that your intelligence isn’t hidden beneath that American boy persona you do so well.”
Laughter flared in Tom’s eyes as he retorted cheerily, “It fooled you for a bit though, didn’t it?”
-*-
part six: you’re still with me
Time moved a lot more swiftly than most people believed.
Dorian studied his face in the mirror, eyes tracing the contours of his face and didn’t start as a familiar voice said teasingly, “With the way you bitch about that damn portrait, you’d think you wouldn’t like to look at yourself in mirrors.”
Turning his head enough to see his companion from the corner of his eye, Dorian said haughtily, “A man is judged by his appearance first, Tom.”
Tom grinned at him from where he lay, naked, on the large bed. The Agent cheerily saluted his English lover with the middle finger and said, “Fuck you, Gray.”
“You did,” Dorian retorted lazily as he turned away from the mirror. “Quite thoroughly I might add.”
The last ten years had passed, to Dorian’s utter bemusement, rather slowly. His first two years as Tom’s friend had been rather odd for the immortal in the sense that he had never really had a friend. The third year, he and Tom had parted ways, the American intent on marrying his childhood sweat heart. Dorian had managed to neatly sidestep his friend’s request to accompany him back to the United States by stating that he had pressing business in England that couldn’t wait; Tom had been disappointed but Dorian had been silently contemplating his ability to lust after a man who was, by all intents and purposes, his only friend.
Not to mention that Tom, while not innocent or naive, seemed completely unaware of the fact that most of Dorian’s thoughts when it came to him were not that of a platonic friendship. Mina, for her part, found the whole affair amusing as hell; her own relationship with Jekyll had taken a romantic turn to the utter surprise of the League. The good doctor had quite amusingly approached Dorian one day and said that he would appreciate if he would desist in pursuing Mina.
Dorian had blinked, looked around, blinked again, and said, “Dear God, man, are you truly so delusional that you’d believe I’d marry the woman? I’m not that much of a masochist, Jekyll. I assure you that Mina is all yours.”
The vampiress hadn’t been quite amused by that statement but Dorian couldn’t have cared less. For a year, he had been without Tom at his side and while letters came quite frequently, detailing the preparations for the wedding and the like, Dorian wondered if at any point in time did Tom truly not see how he felt for him?
The new year came and went; nineteen-hundred and four found Dorian sitting in the dark in his home, contemplating the covered portrait across from him. He had sat with a cup of brandy and thought that his life would be utterly pointless now that Tom was married. He would have a vast amount of children, he had thought, and be happy, never thinking of Dorian again.
The knock at his door had taken him by surprise.
The fact that Tom stood in the doorway robbed him speech.
The fact that Tom pulled him forward and fastened his mouth rather nicely on Dorian’s pretty much shut down any higher brain functions. That night had been the beginning of six years of passion and regular nights of enthusiastic shagging that, Dorian found, Tom wasn’t quite as naive about as he had thought.
Time moved a lot more swiftly than most people believed, Dorian knew, but the beauty of time was that in all things it succumbed to Fate.
And Fate, he believed, had a way of making things happen.
FIN
Author: Batdz Angel (\0/)
Disclaimer: I don’t own the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen film. The quotes from the film were done by ear and this is merely a work of my own making as well as a way of honoring the characters.All paragraph titles, and the story title, are from the album Fallen by the now disbanded group Evanescence.
Rating: PG-15 for language and allusions to sexual situations dealing with two men.
Pairings: Tom/Dorian, canon pairings as they occurred in the film.
Spoilers: The movie, some of Tom Sawyer and The Picture of Dorian Gray. Just for background, you know.
Summary: AU. Fate had a way of making things happen.
-*-
part one: so numb without a soul
Time moved a lot more swiftly than most people believed.
He learned this fact when he awoke, years after that fateful day he stood and wished to be immortally beautiful. He learned this fact when he began to realize that no vice nor indulgence to his sinful nature would vanquish his thirst for something...more.
Time moved around the rest of the world slowly, but for Dorian Gray it was a mere blink of his eyes. Wars occurred, newly crowned kings took to the throne, and he remained as physically unchanged as he had ever been. The same dark, shining eyes and full mouth complimented by his smooth skin and dark hair. He learned, quite effectively to blend into his surroundings and as time went on, as people he knew died around him, he shut himself up in his home to realization of the true horror he had unwittingly released upon his person.
Of course, this occurred the evening after he murdered Basil Hallward, the creator of his portrait. Desperation and terror had driven him as soon as the other man had truly seen the face upon the canvas and without thought of his actions, he committed one of the his biggest sins of his existence...
And as Time continued to weave its way around the rest of the world, Dorian Gray was suspended forever in immortal beauty. And as so happens when one is given their heart’s darkest desire, he grew to hate and fear his curse as much, if not more, than he had originally desired it.
-*-
part two: so hollow inside
There was someone at the door.
He paused in his reach for a random book from his library’s vast shelves, cocking his head to the side slightly as he heard the voices from outside. Sighing deeply, he turned smoothly on his heel and walked out of the library, down the stairs, and paused at his front door. Opening the door enough to peer out, he said flatly, “Good evening.”
“Mister Dorian Gray?” the gentlemen with a rough burr of a voice asked and he studied the man before him swiftly as he replied, “I am.”
“We come by way of M.”
For a brief moment, anger rose inside his veins; Moriarty had done a terrifying act in stealing his portrait and Dorian was adamant to have it returned. So he said as conciliatory as he could possibly be at the moment, “M for mystery.”
He straightened his shoulders, opening the door wider as he played his part. “Well, I’ve told him and I’m telling you: I’m not interested.”
“Dorian,” a familiar voice purred suddenly and he watched with a detached air as a slim, redheaded woman appeared before him. In his many years, he had romanced quite a few women and this woman was a surprise to see standing before him.
“Mina,” he said and without word, stepped aside to allow them to pass.
As he played the part he was beginning to loathe as much as his curse, he began to see that any alternatives to M’s blackmail would be few. Mina, he knew from experience, was as fickle as she was intelligent and Quatermain was an old hero looking for one last wild ride. Skinner he couldn’t see much less trust and Nemo seemed as indifferent to the situation as he was involved.
He did feel a sliver of amusement and satisfaction as Quatermain revealed their brief history together. He remembered the old man, sitting in a horrendously humid room with an audience of young, innocent boys that he had detested at the time more than any other beings on the entire planet. The looks on the other’s faces was well worth Mina’s sarcastic remarks and Nemo’s doubt of his possible experience in the world.
M’s arrival was on the clock as he had suspected; the man was more obsessed with the idea of war and would stop at nothing to get what he desired. Experience kept Dorian’s mouth shut at M’s posturing but he did calmly retort to Skinner’s agreement with M’s speech that he didn’t agree with M in the slightest.
Wars always occurred; Dorian didn’t care unless they affected him personally.
The fight was swift and messy; he hated fighting in most ways and bullets bloody well hurt despite his reaction. The soldier he easily dispatched and made his way calmly to change his shirt into a clean one. Somehow while he was gone, M escaped and he returned to the assumption that he was as Skinner put it, “Invulnerable to harm.”
“I don’t like to boast,” he said as he leaned against his cane, adding coolly. “What happened to Mina?”
The solider holding Mina hostage was a fool; Dorian had no patience for fools but kept silent merely glancing towards the newcomer who aimed the Winchester rifle with ease. A handsome young man with piercing green eyes and tousled brown hair met with his approval, and he felt his lips twist into a small, unnoticeable smile of calculation.
“Special Agent Sawyer of the American Secret Service,” the boy said and Dorian tipped his head slightly to study the other man whilst he conversed with Quartermain. At the boy’s explanation of how he came to be in his home and his unspoken offer to join the League, he said rather dryly, “Very noble. But this is a private party and you’re not invited.”
Green eyes met his briefly and he smirked to himself at the spark of anger that flared in the depths of them. Ah, so the eager boy had a backbone of some kind; it was a relief to know that he wasn’t a complete idiot then.
Mina’s rather rude acceptance of the boy would have at one time made Dorian bristle but instead he chuckled to himself and said, “On the contrary, the battle was just the spur I needed.” He caught the boy’s eye and added, “That and the thrill of a friendship renewed. So, you’re not needed.”
Quatermain’s opinion, however was not surprising to Dorian; the man thought with his guns, of that he had no doubt. And so without any qualms other than how his portrait was faring, Dorian joined the League in their trip to Paris.
-*-
part three: make me real
If he had know what the ramifications for certain actions would be, he would have destroyed the damned painting years ago after murdering Basil. As it were, he was finding himself in a bit of quandary.
Who could he trust with the real reason he was on board? Even now, he didn’t trust Mina nor any of the people who had arrived at his home with the intent of recruiting. He debated for a few days as the Nautilus made its way to Venice and finally decided that Tom Sawyer was the lesser of two evils in a manner of speaking. For one thing, Henry Jekyll was anything but a simpering fool without his bloodthirsty counterpart and for another, Dorian didn’t trust Edward Hyde in any shape, be it his own or the doctor’s.
He approached the boy after dinner and without qualm said, “I have something I must discuss with you Sawyer.”
The boy’s eyes widened and then hardened as he seemed to realize who he was speaking too. Without waiting for his agreement, Dorian turned and walked towards his quarters, smiling to himself as he heard the boy hurriedly follow. As soon as Tom was in his quarters, Dorian went directly to where he had the box of samples and opened it, showing it to the Agent.
It took Tom a few seconds to realize what exactly he was looking at and Dorian watched as the young man straightened his shoulders. Without letting Tom speak, Dorian said rather quietly, “I hope you will give me the chance to explain why I have these, Agent Sawyer. Believe me when I say I am many things but a supporter of madness such as the one I have been witness to for the past few weeks is not one of them.”
“I’m listening,” was all the boy offered.
And so, Dorian started from the beginning, telling him of his actions the day his portrait was painted, the curse he began to understand as his portrait grew more and more horrendous in appearance while he remained unaffected, despite his sins. He told Tom of his arrival at his home one afternoon and the realization that his portrait was gone.
The reaction of Tom to M’s reveal was surprising; the American sighed deeply and said, voice weary, “I thought something about this whole League was off but didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes about it.” Straightening from where he had taken a seat, Tom studied Dorian for a moment and then said, “I have to tell the others, you know.”
Dorian looked back at him steadily and said, “I know.”
For the first time in a long while, he didn’t bother to hide his sins. But it wasn’t for his own peace of mind, no; it was because Tom stood by him, even as the others condemned him, even as Mina’s eyes flashed red as she realized the true reason for his seduction of her. Tom stood by him unflinching and said, “Mr. Gray didn’t have to say anything. All he had to do was escape while in Venice and we would be dead.” The others looked ready to protest but Tom was adamant.
“I thought you were all heroes,” the boy said without preamble. “Or at least, I assumed you were. Kinda disappointing to realize that all of your posturing was a crock of bullshit.”
And that, Dorian reflected later on, was worth the explanations he would have to give later.
-*-
part four: the truth and the lies
The plan, was in his opinion, a spectacular success.
Tom had suggested Dorian go through with M’s plan with a slight difference in that the bombs and recording were made useless by Hyde’s capable hands. The bombing of Venice, however, was something Dorian hadn’t been quite aware of and he was just as surprised as the others when the cobblestone rocked beneath their feet.
As he stood, arguing with Quatermain about how to outrun a city literally crashing around their ears (“I’m an immortal, sir, not a gazelle. How can we outrun this?”), Tom vanished without warning into the Nautilus. The roar of an engine had everyone turning and with a screech of the tires, the white automobile that Nemo had created came barreling out of the ship. The tires squealed along the ground and Tom looked at everyone expectantly, a smirk pulling at his lips as he said, “Care for a spin?”
Dorian immediately ran to the machine, ahead of Mina and Quatermain. Jekyll’s refusal to join them prompted him to demand, “Then what good are you?” as Tom gunned the engine and took of with another roar.
The gunfire was expected but he was still not prepared for it. Swearing as he realized that the others were easily more harmed than himself, he shouted back to the others, “Keep going!” before launching himself out of the car.
Mina’s cry of his name had him rolling his eyes as he sliced his way through the crowd. Honestly, women were far too fickle in their affections; he preferred a no nonsense approach. He managed to make his way back to the ship without being seen by anyone of M’s people; it wouldn’t do to give the game up just yet. Nemo taught him quickly how to operate the smaller vessel he kept for exploration purposes and Dorian said casually he set his course, “I would suspect being naked for so long would be trying on a man’s patience, Skinner.”
The invisible man chuckled and said, “Well, s’not fun, if you get my drift.”
M’s arrival cut any other conversation short; Skinner effectively vanished as it were and Dorian pretended to be M’s inside man. The man’s rants about world domination, however were starting to grate on his very last nerve.
As they made their way to Mongolia, Dorian wondered how Tom had fared. The boy had been adamant in keeping his word, saying he had been raised Christian and as such, would be no man that went back on his promise.
Dorian wondered to himself if that included helping him hide the portrait where it could never be again used to force him into servitude.
If anything, he enjoyed his freedom.
-*-
part five: lost for so long
M was dead.
Dorian watched as Tom lowered his rifle, spinning to face Quatermain eagerly at his triumphant cry. The immortal watched silently as the old man said his goodbyes and then, passed on without a fight. Silently, Dorian tipped his head forward in respect for the other man and stepped out of the shadows.
“He fought hard, Agent Sawyer,” he said quietly to the boy who nodded. Lifting his head, the young man nodded again and said, “The world lost a hero today.”
“It also gained one,” Dorian replied before shouldering his portrait, now safely secured inside of a large suitcase and covered with vast amounts of cloth. The American looked at him, startled at the compliment and Dorian smirked at him before adding, “The others must be informed.”
It was a unanimous decision to take Quatermain’s body back to Africa; at one time, Dorian would have taken his leave and returned to his life in England, as bleak as it was. But Tom looked quite ready to settle in for a long period of mourning his mentor and Dorian couldn’t allow that at all.
They stood at the grave of Allan Quatermain and Skinner observed quietly, “You remember he swore Africa wouldn’t let him die? I wish the old boy had been right.”
The others murmured quiet agreements but Dorian watched Tom as he stared down at the grave. The immortal than was struck by a thought: what could he possibly do now?
“I have long hidden away from the world,” Nemo said. “Now I wish to see it anew as the century turns.”
“It isn’t that interesting,” Dorian replied dryly. “Believe me.”
Mina threw him a rather rude glare and he shrugged his shoulders as the others bid farewell to the grave. Tom stood before the grave for a moment, murmuring something Dorian didn’t catch. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he approached Dorian and said, “Going back to England then?”
“Possibly,” Dorian retorted casually as they walked away from the grave. “Perhaps I’ll join the world again as well. I missed quite a lot with my self-imposed solitude.”
Tom was silent for a few seconds before saying hesitantly, “Mr. Gray-“
“Dorian,” he interrupted facing the young man. “Considering you helped me without any reprimands, I believe it is only right I allow you to call me by my name.”
Tom looked a bit bemused but nodded nonetheless. “Dorian,” he said hesitantly. “I just wanted to know, why did you tell me?” The lad rushed forward, adding, “I mean, you’ve known Mina a lot longer than me and Allan was the leader-“
“You are not quite as corrupted as the rest of us, Tom,” Dorian cut the youth off. “You still believe in the goodness of human nature. I find it refreshing.”
A flush worked its way up the American’s neck and he mumbled, “Oh.”
“And,” Dorian added as he eyed the boy. “I find that your intelligence isn’t hidden beneath that American boy persona you do so well.”
Laughter flared in Tom’s eyes as he retorted cheerily, “It fooled you for a bit though, didn’t it?”
-*-
part six: you’re still with me
Time moved a lot more swiftly than most people believed.
Dorian studied his face in the mirror, eyes tracing the contours of his face and didn’t start as a familiar voice said teasingly, “With the way you bitch about that damn portrait, you’d think you wouldn’t like to look at yourself in mirrors.”
Turning his head enough to see his companion from the corner of his eye, Dorian said haughtily, “A man is judged by his appearance first, Tom.”
Tom grinned at him from where he lay, naked, on the large bed. The Agent cheerily saluted his English lover with the middle finger and said, “Fuck you, Gray.”
“You did,” Dorian retorted lazily as he turned away from the mirror. “Quite thoroughly I might add.”
The last ten years had passed, to Dorian’s utter bemusement, rather slowly. His first two years as Tom’s friend had been rather odd for the immortal in the sense that he had never really had a friend. The third year, he and Tom had parted ways, the American intent on marrying his childhood sweat heart. Dorian had managed to neatly sidestep his friend’s request to accompany him back to the United States by stating that he had pressing business in England that couldn’t wait; Tom had been disappointed but Dorian had been silently contemplating his ability to lust after a man who was, by all intents and purposes, his only friend.
Not to mention that Tom, while not innocent or naive, seemed completely unaware of the fact that most of Dorian’s thoughts when it came to him were not that of a platonic friendship. Mina, for her part, found the whole affair amusing as hell; her own relationship with Jekyll had taken a romantic turn to the utter surprise of the League. The good doctor had quite amusingly approached Dorian one day and said that he would appreciate if he would desist in pursuing Mina.
Dorian had blinked, looked around, blinked again, and said, “Dear God, man, are you truly so delusional that you’d believe I’d marry the woman? I’m not that much of a masochist, Jekyll. I assure you that Mina is all yours.”
The vampiress hadn’t been quite amused by that statement but Dorian couldn’t have cared less. For a year, he had been without Tom at his side and while letters came quite frequently, detailing the preparations for the wedding and the like, Dorian wondered if at any point in time did Tom truly not see how he felt for him?
The new year came and went; nineteen-hundred and four found Dorian sitting in the dark in his home, contemplating the covered portrait across from him. He had sat with a cup of brandy and thought that his life would be utterly pointless now that Tom was married. He would have a vast amount of children, he had thought, and be happy, never thinking of Dorian again.
The knock at his door had taken him by surprise.
The fact that Tom stood in the doorway robbed him speech.
The fact that Tom pulled him forward and fastened his mouth rather nicely on Dorian’s pretty much shut down any higher brain functions. That night had been the beginning of six years of passion and regular nights of enthusiastic shagging that, Dorian found, Tom wasn’t quite as naive about as he had thought.
Time moved a lot more swiftly than most people believed, Dorian knew, but the beauty of time was that in all things it succumbed to Fate.
And Fate, he believed, had a way of making things happen.
FIN