The Crucible of Fear part 2
Don't own nothing, ain't making any money off this
Part 2 of a fic challenge
PG rating
Ensemble cast
PART 2
“What in bloody hell!” Quatermain roared when he viewed his young protege slumped in a chair. Rushing over to Sawyer’s side, the adventurer grasped the chin of the unresponsive spy, giving it a firm jerk. “Come on now, lad. This is no time to be napping,” Allan urged with more calm than he felt inside.
“He will not wake until you reach England,” Majeel offered in explanation.
“I thought it was only to be a blessing! What in blazes is this?”
“Protection,” King Umbopa added. “Twazul or anyone he has control of will not be able to harm him, but your youngest must stay protected until then.”
“That don’t make any sense,” Rodney questioned angrily. “Ain’t the bloke in England? Shouldn’t Tom be out cold while we’re there to protect him, not before?”
“What exactly are you sending us into?” Mina asked, her ire rising. She didn’t like this one bit. “You’re keeping something more from us.”
Exchanging a glance between his tribal doctor, King Umbopa met the face of each League member one by one, his serious tone tinged with regret. “You know all you can know. Twazul will try to use your fear to control you, but he can be defeated.”
“Thank you for that little bit of nothing,” Gray scowled. “I for one don’t want any part of this.”
“You would allow innocents to suffer?” Majeel muttered in disgust. “You all must fight for the sake of humanity.”
“We must leave you now. The longer we delay your journey, the less time you have to save Captain Good and Sir Henry’s families.” Umbopa reached out and clasped onto Quatermain’s forearm, the old hunter responding in kind. “Take care, my friend. I will pray to the spirits of the earth to give you wisdom and courage to face this foe.”
Allan nodded grimly, casting a quick look in Sawyer’s direction. “I’ll do all I can, Umbopa. Sir Henry was only looking for his brother, and he and Captain Good are innocent in Gagool”s death. I’ll make sure that bastard knows that personally.”
“You will all make it known,” Majeel corrected, placing a hand on Tom’s shoulder, “including this one.”
Quatermain began to argue, but Umbopa intervened. “It’s the only way, Allan, and denying it won’t make the inevitable disappear.” With that said, the African king and his servant left the Nautilus, allowing it’s occupants to begin their perilous journey into the depths of their inner turmoil.
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Supper passed quietly, and despite the magnificent meal placed before them, the League could only pick at the food, their thoughts with the young American who could not join them. After their visitors had left, Sawyer was taken to his room, still deeply under whatever trance Majeel had placed him in.
The heavy cloud of the possible dangers ahead also dampened any mood for idle chit chat. They would have to face their biggest, deepest fear.... Each member secretly asked themselves if it was truly possible to fight against what they had hidden inside for so long. As the questions echoed in their minds, the feeling of helplessness grew. One by one the League left the table to brood over their daunting task in the privacy of their cabins, till sleep finally overtook their doubts.
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Throwing back the blankets, Captain Nemo finally ended his bid for sleep. Placing his robe over his modest pajamas, the Hindu made his way towards his shrine, hoping some prayers would ease his troubled spirit. There was a darkness creeping inside that he thought he had vanquished years ago.
Passing outside Sawyer’s cabin, the captain noticed the door was open a crack. Peering inside to make sure his young friend was alright, Nemo saw Quatermain gently tucking a blanket more securely around the unconscious spy. Smiling sadly, he thought back to when he had done the same thing to his own children back in India. Spellbinding them with tales of adventure, he would kiss each one of them goodnight, making sure each trusting child was secure and safe.
Watching the hunter smooth back some blonde strands of hair that rested across Tom’s eyes, Nemo felt a resentment growing. Why should Quatermain get to bask in the glow of fatherhood again? Yes, they had both lost their families through tragedy, but Quatermain’s losses were from his own pride and vanity. It wasn’t fair this imperialistic, Anglo-Saxon’s soul could mend while his still lay in pieces.
Hearing Quatermain walking towards the door, Nemo ducked around the corner, his anger growing as the explorer ambled to his room. When he was sure Allan was not returning, the captain snuck inside Sawyer’s cabin, viewing the helpless form in the bed. He was so young, handsome, full of life....just as his own children had been, before they were punished fatally for being the wrong nationality.
The great Allan Quatermain represented all that Britannia embodied, and the boy represented redemption and happiness in another chance of imperialistic oppression. Pushing aside any pity for the youth, Nemo rationalized his next course of action. He wrapped his hand around a hunting knife Sawyer kept in the night stand beside the bed, and raised it above the agent’s heart.
It would be more merciful to kill the young man before Quatermain’s stench of evil ruined another innocent life.
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Mina woke with a start, a thirst rising inside that was overwhelming her every sense. The smell of it hung heavily in the air, and she could hear it rushing through the veins as she ran a tongue over her mouth in anticipation of the sweet and salty taste. The supply she had procured from a mortician back in London was getting stale, and she relished being able to drink something fresh....
Throwing a robe over her nightgown, the vampiress hurried down the hall to her feast, not caring that it was Sawyer’s room she entered. Seconds later she transformed, the beast inside her fully exposed. Eyes blood red, she hovered near Tom’s neck, watching the veins throb with life. Young blood was excruciatingly delicious, it’s strength and vitality a rush beyond description.
In a primal scream of ecstasy, Mina bared her overly long canine fangs and went in for the kill, satisfying her need to feed on someone young and alive.
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How he hated that insufferable boy! The thought rang over and over in Dorian’s mind as he fought the urge to sleep. If he didn’t have to keep that child alive to keep himself alive...he would gladly end his servitude to the American with a well placed sword thrust.
As much as he craved to kill the agent, he feared the fires of Hell more. But wasn’t his forced compliance a form of Hell on earth? Was he truly free? If he defied the Almighty’s wishes and killed Sawyer, would he really be punished in Hell? Wouldn’t Satan actually reward him for disobedience of the highest order?
He was tired of fighting through the multitudes of human emotions. It was all for nothing anyway; why not end it all now and be done? The more the immortal thought on it, the more his will overcame the excruciating pain caused by his hatefulness towards Sawyer.
Grasping his sword cane, Gray smiled maliciously. He would take great pleasure in ripping the boy’s mid-section open...slowly.
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Beads of sweat broke out on Jekyll’s face as he tried to push Edward Hyde’s voice back inside the farthest reaches of his mind. His inner demon was worse today, the monster’s presence hard to control as he struggled to keep his sanity. They were about to enter a dangerous situation, and Hyde was the last thing England needed.
“I’m getting stronger, Henry, you can’t deny it,” Edward Hyde mocked inside the doctor’s head. “I’ll be the one in charge, and you’ll be the one forced to sit in darkness!”
“No! I won’t allow you to terrorize innocent people like you did before!”
“Oh really? Did you stop me all those other times back in London...Paris? I remember stacking up a very high body count.”
“Be quiet!” Jekyll cried out, covering his ears as if it could help drown out his alter ego’s voice. “I’m in control now!”
A low, menacing laugh began in back of Jekyll’s consciousness, growing louder with every passing second till his wiry body began to quake and twist violently. What was happening? He hadn’t touched the elixir, but his body was beginning to change...
“I’m tired of waiting for you to release me!” Hyde growled, his voice coming more to the forefront. “The stronger I become, the more you’ll fade away till there is nothing left of Dr. Henry Jekyll!”
“I forbid you! I’m the true owner of this person! You were created by me....”
“And I thank you ever so much, Henry for that one moment of brilliance in your pathetic life, but now it’s time for me to become the dominant personality. Hmmm...how should I celebrate my freedom? I know! I’ll start by tearing apart everyone’s precious little American....”
Henry cried out in vain as his body became the behemoth Mr. Hyde, his worst fear finally realized. In his effort to help humanity, he had unwittingly unleashed it’s destruction! Before he had the relief of knowing at least the potion would wear off, but now he was stuck in back of Hyde’s mind, with no hope of ever returning.
“I wonder if that old medicine man’s spell will break when I pull out Sawyer’s arms?” Hyde smiled.
“Don’t harm him, Edward...please...,” Henry begged.
“If it means that much to you,” Edward sneered in mock compliance. “How about I have my way with the beautiful Mrs. Harker?” Hearing his former master gasp in horror, the man-monster laughed cruelly, and broke a leg off a nearby wooden chair. “I hear vampires can be killed by a stake through the heart, followed by decapitation. I can easily rip her head off, that should be no problem.”
“No! Don’t you touch her!” Jekyll screamed.
“We can’t have it both ways. It’s either the boy or the woman you secretly desire. I’d pick the boy if I were you, after all...he could become competition down the road for us.”
“Don’t do this!”
“Make the choice, Henry....or I’ll do it for you,” Mr. Hyde threatened, “and there’s the added danger I may get greedy. If you choose, I give you my word to only kill one.” Hearing Jekyll’s grief stricken answer, the gigantic man threw his head back in a roar of laughter. “Let’s begin the fun, shall we? Oh, and by the way, Henry...I’ll dismember him quickly.”
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“Father? Father, where are you?” a voice called through a thick, London fog.
Allan stirred from his sleep and found himself standing in front of his old home in the outskirts of London. It had been years since he last stepped foot on the property.... Where they in England already? Anxiously he looked around for Sawyer. Majeel had said the boy would awake as soon as they reached England.
“He’s not here,” a bitter, but familiar voice uttered through the haze.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Quatermain peered intently into the fog. “Harry?” No, it couldn’t be his long dead son! “Whose playing games?” A figure stepped out from the gray bleakness, his face leaving a lump in the hunter’s throat, making it almost impossible to speak.
“Hello, Father,” Harry Quatermain called out happily, looking just the same he had before that tragic day. His brown eyes crinkled in mirth as he stretched his arms out in an invitation of greeting. “I have missed you so much!”
Tears began to trickle down the wrinkled face. “Harry?” Allan managed to finally say, still standing in place. Was he dreaming? He could feel the dampness in the air around him, and heard the Thames river lapping against the stone barriers in a calming effect. This had to be real.
“Aren’t you glad to see me?” Harry questioned, lowering his arms a little.
“No, Harry...,” Allan fumbled around in response, “it’s just that I can’t believe what I’m seeing.... You were killed....”
Harry laughed. “Come over here and see how real I am!” Again the younger Quatermain held his arms out wide.
Slowly, the old explorer walked over to his grown child, his mind still reeling from the shock of it all. When he finally reached his goal, he eagerly threw his arms around his son. “Harry...Harry,” he sobbed more fully, tightening his hug. “You don’t know how many times I prayed to be able to see you again, even if it was for a second....”
The warm embrace was shattered when Harry violently pushed his father away from him. “But you haven’t been lately, have you?” the son accused heatedly. “Seems I’ve been replaced in your life.”
“What? What are you talking about, Harry?” Allan sputtered, confused and hurt by the sudden change of attitude. “You could never be replaced.”
“Oh really?” Harry spat back in a venomous tone. “Ever since that American entered your life...your memories of me have been fading!”
“You surely can’t blame Thomas for anything....”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Heaven’s no, not your precious Thomas. He’s everything you ever wanted in a son, isn’t he, Father? He wouldn’t have acted so stupidly like me, the bookworm, back in Africa.”
Hurt was replaced by anger as Quatermain lashed out at the unfair accusations. “What in bloody hell are you saying, boy? Don’t forget that I’m your father....”
“Are you? Sure forgot about me easily enough when the right ‘son’ came along. Must be a dream come true...having a perfect replica of yourself doting on your every word, every lesson.”
“You stop that right now! It’s nothing like that!”
“Who did you give your life for, Father?” Harry jeered. “I remember feeling every claw, every tooth that tiger used to tear me to bits! Did your Thomas feel that knife slice his throat open? You felt that knife, didn’t you? Felt it dig deep into your lungs...all for him!”
“If I could’ve stopped that tiger myself, I would have gave my life over and over to do it!” Allan swore angrily. “How could you ever doubt my love for you?”
“How could you throw me aside for some wanna-be son?” Harry shot back vehemently. “You spend more time with him than you ever did with me my entire youth! I was thirty-three years old before I went on an adventure with you! This upstart walks up, shows off his rifle, and he’s instantly accepted. How should I take it?”
“I’ll admit I’m very fond of the lad,” Allan conceded, “but you would like him too if you gave him the chance....”
“Be one happy family?” Harry gave a disgusted snort. “Ha! And sit at the same table with the one who wants to take my place? No! If you ever want to see me again, Father, you must break all ties with him.”
Looking at his son with confusion, Quatermain reached out for his only child. “Why are you being so cruel, son?”
“Why are you?” Harry asked, walking backwards into the fog.
“No! Harry...wait!” Allan begged as he tried to run after his departing son, but something was holding his arm, pulling him back.
“Allan?”
Quatermain did a double take, seeing Sawyer’s face looming over his. A feeling of guilt and anger overcame the hunter, and he jerked his arm free from the spy’s firm grip, avoiding looking the young man in the eyes. All he needed was a few more seconds with Harry to make him see sense.
Tom let out a sigh of relief. “Sure glad you’re okay, I was gettin’ worried there for a minute.”
“Just a dream,” Allan muttered, fussing with his covers as he tried to get up. “How long have you been awake, Sawyer?”
“Not long,” the blonde agent shrugged. “Funny thing is, I don’t remember anything past Majeel and the king being here. Don’t remember them leavin’ either.”
“We’ll all discuss it later,” Quatermain said brusquely, not looking in Tom’s direction.
“Oh, all right,” Tom agreed, patting his stomach. “Tummy’s growlin’ at me anyhow.”
When he heard the sound of the door closing, Quatermain let out a groan, and clutched the sides of the wardrobe in front of him till his fingers turned white from the pressure. Was he betraying his son’s memory by having the same fatherly feelings towards another? Harry’s stinging assertions came roaring back, driving the seasoned explorer deeper into guilt. Did pride and vanity once again rear it’s ugly head by taking Sawyer under his wing? Having the boy in his life brought a new sense of purpose, but did he do the wrong thing by treating Thomas more like a son instead of a pupil?
Opening up the ornate piece of furniture, Allan didn’t make his usual haste in getting dressed. He dreaded having to deal with the others, but more so with the young agent. Would they guess what he was thinking? He knew Tom wouldn’t relent; demanding his answers. How could he tell the lad about the horrible guilt he obviously felt deep inside that manifested itself in the form of his departed son?
Whistling down the corridors of the Nautilus, Tom sniffed the air hoping to catch the scent of whatever the head chef, Anonin, was making. It smelled like French Toast.... A grin formed as he picked up his pace, passing by Dorian’s room. A shrill shriek stopped the American cold in his tracks. Gray was having one of his frequent nightmares of Hell, but there was something different about this episode.
Sawyer knocked on the door. “Gray? You okay in there?” Hearing more cries of desperation coming from the other side, the spy jimmied the lock like Skinner had taught him, and entered inside the cabin.
The immortal thrashed about in his bed, a look of absolute agony on his normally perfect features. Cries filled the air as Gray battled whatever demon was taunting him. The young spy watched the aristocrat in horror, wondering what he could do to end the suffering before him. True, he still didn’t like Gray that much, but he couldn’t stand by and do nothing.
Moving to the side of the bed, Sawyer mimicked his actions minutes ago in Quatermain’s room, grabbing the flailing arms in a firm grip. “C’mon Gray,” Tom spoke quietly, “it’s mornin’...you should be done with your sleepin’ by now.”
Hearing the young agent’s voice, Dorian’s eyes flew open. “You’re alive?” he whispered, his voice rough from the screams.
“Course I am,” Tom frowned.
“I could’ve sworn I killed you,” Gray muttered in confusion, running a hand through his longish, brown locks.
Sawyer shook his head. “You can’t kill me remember? Said so yourself.” He smacked the immortal on the arm. “Let’s get your lazy sack of bones up.”
Dorian continued to stare into space, still disbelieving. “Dear god, I wanted to literally kill you...”
Giving a sarcastic chuckle, Sawyer threw Gray’s robe at him. “You always say that.”
Springing up from the bed, Dorian grabbed Sawyer by the arms, shaking him once. “I’m serious you simpleton!” he snarled in the blonde’s face. “I was back in Hell being punished for gutting you with my sword! Despite all the affliction I felt that tried to stop me, I tore you open...for pure pleasure! I wanted it so bad, I couldn’t stop myself!”
Tom pulled free, looking at Gray with wide eyes as he inched back towards the door. Granted, there was no love loss between them, but Dorian had never voiced his hatred quite this way before.
“Don’t look at me that way,” Gray grumbled, feeling an odd sensation coming over him. It felt almost like guilt, but he didn’t feel that emotion anymore.
Nodding, the American agent hurried from the room, almost colliding with Jekyll, who was frantically looking around as he left his cabin.
“Are you alright, Henry?” Sawyer asked in concern, taking in the traumatized features of the doctor.
“He didn’t destroy the door?” the doctor said shakily under his breath, feeling the edging around the doorway. When he finally acknowledged the voice talking to him, Jekyll stood stock still, appearing ready to faint as if he had just seen a ghost.
“Dr. Jekyll?” Tom asked again, reaching out to steady the medical man.
“I watched Hyde dismember you....”
“Wh-what?” Sawyer gasped, taking a step back.
“I’m sorry....I’m so sorry!” Jekyll begged, placing his trembling hands in front of his face in shame. “Hyde took over my body...he made me choose between killing you or....” Henry didn’t finish, rushing back inside his room and slamming the door shut.
A door opening to the side of him caused the stunned American to turn and view the sorrowful face of Mina Harker. Tear streaks had left their marks on the porcelain skin, and her blue eyes were swollen around the edges from crying. Seeing her dead victim standing before her, the vampiress’ mouth fell open in amazement, revealing her still un-retracted fangs. Instantly she covered her mouth, her disgrace evident as she lowered her head and turned her gaze away.
“Please don’t haunt me,” she whispered through a fresh bout of tears. “I didn’t realize I was draining you until it was too late.... Please forgive me..., Tom...please....”
Unable to answer back due to the overload of confusion, Sawyer ran from Mina’s presence, seeking some form of sanity from what he had just heard. Seeing Nemo exit his stateroom, the youth gave a small sigh. The wise Indian would be able to cast some light on what was going on.
“Cap’n Nemo!” Tom called out. His hope was short lived when the captain turned, the once knowing, considerate eyes now cold and sad.
A brown hand touched the American’s chest. “There is no stab wound?” Nemo asked in astonishment. He unsheathed his saber and stared at it as if he were in a daze. “My sword is not covered in your blood anymore...,” his voice trailed off.
“You...you too?” the young spy half-whispered, backing away from Nemo. “You tried to kill me?”
The captain rubbed a hand across his forehead as the realization dawned on him. “I wanted to kill your for revenge....”
“Revenge? I don’t understand.”
“I fear I understand all too well,” Nemo said solemnly, his eyes moistening. “Forgive me.” Turning back to the door he had just came from, the Indian dropped his head, and silently went back inside.
Left standing alone in the corridor, Sawyer thought back to what the others had just told him. His teammates...his friends...were wanting to kill him? How could this be? A deep knot began to form in the pit of his stomach. But why? What did he do?
His mind reeling, Sawyer sped down the hall to the only person he prayed could help him, throwing open the door and entering inside.
“Dammit all, boy,” Quatermain growled, as he buttoned his shirt. “Can’t a man dress in private?” His admonitions died on his lips when he noticed his protege shrinking back from him like a dog who had been kicked one time too many. Instantly his troubles vanished, taken over by concern. “Thomas? What’s wrong, lad?”
Tom tried to open his mouth to speak, but the pain of his friends words choked him, causing him to stand in silence, pleading with his father figure through his eyes.
Cautiously, Allan neared the youth, alarmed by the sudden change. Sawyer reminded him of a skittish gazelle, ready to take flight....and that wasn’t the Tom Sawyer he knew. Something had thrown the American for a loop, but what?
“Are you ill? You don’t look very well?” Quatermain asked, placing a hand on Tom’s forehead to feel for a fever. He frowned when he saw the hurt and confusion radiating from the young man’s intense, hazel eyes. “Thomas, I can’t help you don’t tell me, son.”
At the mention of the word, ‘son’, Tom knew he was safe, struggling to find the words to explain the emotions swirling inside him. “Did I do somethin’ wrong? You all want me in the League, right? I mean, you went to an awful lot of trouble to get me back in....”
“What are you going on about, boy?” the hunter interrupted curtly, anxious to get to the source of Sawyer’s odd behavior. Watching Tom inch back farther with a wary expression, Quatermain chided himself in his mind for his reaction. Dammit! The boy was obviously needing some reassurance, and was trusting him to give it. Throwing his doubts aside, the explorer pulled Sawyer closer, grasping the young man by the shoulders.
“Take as much time as you need, Thomas..., then we’ll sort this out.” His heart warmed at the look of absolute trust Tom gave him. The charges brought against him in his dream disappeared. No, he had done the right thing.
Part 2 of a fic challenge
PG rating
Ensemble cast
PART 2
“What in bloody hell!” Quatermain roared when he viewed his young protege slumped in a chair. Rushing over to Sawyer’s side, the adventurer grasped the chin of the unresponsive spy, giving it a firm jerk. “Come on now, lad. This is no time to be napping,” Allan urged with more calm than he felt inside.
“He will not wake until you reach England,” Majeel offered in explanation.
“I thought it was only to be a blessing! What in blazes is this?”
“Protection,” King Umbopa added. “Twazul or anyone he has control of will not be able to harm him, but your youngest must stay protected until then.”
“That don’t make any sense,” Rodney questioned angrily. “Ain’t the bloke in England? Shouldn’t Tom be out cold while we’re there to protect him, not before?”
“What exactly are you sending us into?” Mina asked, her ire rising. She didn’t like this one bit. “You’re keeping something more from us.”
Exchanging a glance between his tribal doctor, King Umbopa met the face of each League member one by one, his serious tone tinged with regret. “You know all you can know. Twazul will try to use your fear to control you, but he can be defeated.”
“Thank you for that little bit of nothing,” Gray scowled. “I for one don’t want any part of this.”
“You would allow innocents to suffer?” Majeel muttered in disgust. “You all must fight for the sake of humanity.”
“We must leave you now. The longer we delay your journey, the less time you have to save Captain Good and Sir Henry’s families.” Umbopa reached out and clasped onto Quatermain’s forearm, the old hunter responding in kind. “Take care, my friend. I will pray to the spirits of the earth to give you wisdom and courage to face this foe.”
Allan nodded grimly, casting a quick look in Sawyer’s direction. “I’ll do all I can, Umbopa. Sir Henry was only looking for his brother, and he and Captain Good are innocent in Gagool”s death. I’ll make sure that bastard knows that personally.”
“You will all make it known,” Majeel corrected, placing a hand on Tom’s shoulder, “including this one.”
Quatermain began to argue, but Umbopa intervened. “It’s the only way, Allan, and denying it won’t make the inevitable disappear.” With that said, the African king and his servant left the Nautilus, allowing it’s occupants to begin their perilous journey into the depths of their inner turmoil.
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Supper passed quietly, and despite the magnificent meal placed before them, the League could only pick at the food, their thoughts with the young American who could not join them. After their visitors had left, Sawyer was taken to his room, still deeply under whatever trance Majeel had placed him in.
The heavy cloud of the possible dangers ahead also dampened any mood for idle chit chat. They would have to face their biggest, deepest fear.... Each member secretly asked themselves if it was truly possible to fight against what they had hidden inside for so long. As the questions echoed in their minds, the feeling of helplessness grew. One by one the League left the table to brood over their daunting task in the privacy of their cabins, till sleep finally overtook their doubts.
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Throwing back the blankets, Captain Nemo finally ended his bid for sleep. Placing his robe over his modest pajamas, the Hindu made his way towards his shrine, hoping some prayers would ease his troubled spirit. There was a darkness creeping inside that he thought he had vanquished years ago.
Passing outside Sawyer’s cabin, the captain noticed the door was open a crack. Peering inside to make sure his young friend was alright, Nemo saw Quatermain gently tucking a blanket more securely around the unconscious spy. Smiling sadly, he thought back to when he had done the same thing to his own children back in India. Spellbinding them with tales of adventure, he would kiss each one of them goodnight, making sure each trusting child was secure and safe.
Watching the hunter smooth back some blonde strands of hair that rested across Tom’s eyes, Nemo felt a resentment growing. Why should Quatermain get to bask in the glow of fatherhood again? Yes, they had both lost their families through tragedy, but Quatermain’s losses were from his own pride and vanity. It wasn’t fair this imperialistic, Anglo-Saxon’s soul could mend while his still lay in pieces.
Hearing Quatermain walking towards the door, Nemo ducked around the corner, his anger growing as the explorer ambled to his room. When he was sure Allan was not returning, the captain snuck inside Sawyer’s cabin, viewing the helpless form in the bed. He was so young, handsome, full of life....just as his own children had been, before they were punished fatally for being the wrong nationality.
The great Allan Quatermain represented all that Britannia embodied, and the boy represented redemption and happiness in another chance of imperialistic oppression. Pushing aside any pity for the youth, Nemo rationalized his next course of action. He wrapped his hand around a hunting knife Sawyer kept in the night stand beside the bed, and raised it above the agent’s heart.
It would be more merciful to kill the young man before Quatermain’s stench of evil ruined another innocent life.
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Mina woke with a start, a thirst rising inside that was overwhelming her every sense. The smell of it hung heavily in the air, and she could hear it rushing through the veins as she ran a tongue over her mouth in anticipation of the sweet and salty taste. The supply she had procured from a mortician back in London was getting stale, and she relished being able to drink something fresh....
Throwing a robe over her nightgown, the vampiress hurried down the hall to her feast, not caring that it was Sawyer’s room she entered. Seconds later she transformed, the beast inside her fully exposed. Eyes blood red, she hovered near Tom’s neck, watching the veins throb with life. Young blood was excruciatingly delicious, it’s strength and vitality a rush beyond description.
In a primal scream of ecstasy, Mina bared her overly long canine fangs and went in for the kill, satisfying her need to feed on someone young and alive.
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How he hated that insufferable boy! The thought rang over and over in Dorian’s mind as he fought the urge to sleep. If he didn’t have to keep that child alive to keep himself alive...he would gladly end his servitude to the American with a well placed sword thrust.
As much as he craved to kill the agent, he feared the fires of Hell more. But wasn’t his forced compliance a form of Hell on earth? Was he truly free? If he defied the Almighty’s wishes and killed Sawyer, would he really be punished in Hell? Wouldn’t Satan actually reward him for disobedience of the highest order?
He was tired of fighting through the multitudes of human emotions. It was all for nothing anyway; why not end it all now and be done? The more the immortal thought on it, the more his will overcame the excruciating pain caused by his hatefulness towards Sawyer.
Grasping his sword cane, Gray smiled maliciously. He would take great pleasure in ripping the boy’s mid-section open...slowly.
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Beads of sweat broke out on Jekyll’s face as he tried to push Edward Hyde’s voice back inside the farthest reaches of his mind. His inner demon was worse today, the monster’s presence hard to control as he struggled to keep his sanity. They were about to enter a dangerous situation, and Hyde was the last thing England needed.
“I’m getting stronger, Henry, you can’t deny it,” Edward Hyde mocked inside the doctor’s head. “I’ll be the one in charge, and you’ll be the one forced to sit in darkness!”
“No! I won’t allow you to terrorize innocent people like you did before!”
“Oh really? Did you stop me all those other times back in London...Paris? I remember stacking up a very high body count.”
“Be quiet!” Jekyll cried out, covering his ears as if it could help drown out his alter ego’s voice. “I’m in control now!”
A low, menacing laugh began in back of Jekyll’s consciousness, growing louder with every passing second till his wiry body began to quake and twist violently. What was happening? He hadn’t touched the elixir, but his body was beginning to change...
“I’m tired of waiting for you to release me!” Hyde growled, his voice coming more to the forefront. “The stronger I become, the more you’ll fade away till there is nothing left of Dr. Henry Jekyll!”
“I forbid you! I’m the true owner of this person! You were created by me....”
“And I thank you ever so much, Henry for that one moment of brilliance in your pathetic life, but now it’s time for me to become the dominant personality. Hmmm...how should I celebrate my freedom? I know! I’ll start by tearing apart everyone’s precious little American....”
Henry cried out in vain as his body became the behemoth Mr. Hyde, his worst fear finally realized. In his effort to help humanity, he had unwittingly unleashed it’s destruction! Before he had the relief of knowing at least the potion would wear off, but now he was stuck in back of Hyde’s mind, with no hope of ever returning.
“I wonder if that old medicine man’s spell will break when I pull out Sawyer’s arms?” Hyde smiled.
“Don’t harm him, Edward...please...,” Henry begged.
“If it means that much to you,” Edward sneered in mock compliance. “How about I have my way with the beautiful Mrs. Harker?” Hearing his former master gasp in horror, the man-monster laughed cruelly, and broke a leg off a nearby wooden chair. “I hear vampires can be killed by a stake through the heart, followed by decapitation. I can easily rip her head off, that should be no problem.”
“No! Don’t you touch her!” Jekyll screamed.
“We can’t have it both ways. It’s either the boy or the woman you secretly desire. I’d pick the boy if I were you, after all...he could become competition down the road for us.”
“Don’t do this!”
“Make the choice, Henry....or I’ll do it for you,” Mr. Hyde threatened, “and there’s the added danger I may get greedy. If you choose, I give you my word to only kill one.” Hearing Jekyll’s grief stricken answer, the gigantic man threw his head back in a roar of laughter. “Let’s begin the fun, shall we? Oh, and by the way, Henry...I’ll dismember him quickly.”
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“Father? Father, where are you?” a voice called through a thick, London fog.
Allan stirred from his sleep and found himself standing in front of his old home in the outskirts of London. It had been years since he last stepped foot on the property.... Where they in England already? Anxiously he looked around for Sawyer. Majeel had said the boy would awake as soon as they reached England.
“He’s not here,” a bitter, but familiar voice uttered through the haze.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Quatermain peered intently into the fog. “Harry?” No, it couldn’t be his long dead son! “Whose playing games?” A figure stepped out from the gray bleakness, his face leaving a lump in the hunter’s throat, making it almost impossible to speak.
“Hello, Father,” Harry Quatermain called out happily, looking just the same he had before that tragic day. His brown eyes crinkled in mirth as he stretched his arms out in an invitation of greeting. “I have missed you so much!”
Tears began to trickle down the wrinkled face. “Harry?” Allan managed to finally say, still standing in place. Was he dreaming? He could feel the dampness in the air around him, and heard the Thames river lapping against the stone barriers in a calming effect. This had to be real.
“Aren’t you glad to see me?” Harry questioned, lowering his arms a little.
“No, Harry...,” Allan fumbled around in response, “it’s just that I can’t believe what I’m seeing.... You were killed....”
Harry laughed. “Come over here and see how real I am!” Again the younger Quatermain held his arms out wide.
Slowly, the old explorer walked over to his grown child, his mind still reeling from the shock of it all. When he finally reached his goal, he eagerly threw his arms around his son. “Harry...Harry,” he sobbed more fully, tightening his hug. “You don’t know how many times I prayed to be able to see you again, even if it was for a second....”
The warm embrace was shattered when Harry violently pushed his father away from him. “But you haven’t been lately, have you?” the son accused heatedly. “Seems I’ve been replaced in your life.”
“What? What are you talking about, Harry?” Allan sputtered, confused and hurt by the sudden change of attitude. “You could never be replaced.”
“Oh really?” Harry spat back in a venomous tone. “Ever since that American entered your life...your memories of me have been fading!”
“You surely can’t blame Thomas for anything....”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Heaven’s no, not your precious Thomas. He’s everything you ever wanted in a son, isn’t he, Father? He wouldn’t have acted so stupidly like me, the bookworm, back in Africa.”
Hurt was replaced by anger as Quatermain lashed out at the unfair accusations. “What in bloody hell are you saying, boy? Don’t forget that I’m your father....”
“Are you? Sure forgot about me easily enough when the right ‘son’ came along. Must be a dream come true...having a perfect replica of yourself doting on your every word, every lesson.”
“You stop that right now! It’s nothing like that!”
“Who did you give your life for, Father?” Harry jeered. “I remember feeling every claw, every tooth that tiger used to tear me to bits! Did your Thomas feel that knife slice his throat open? You felt that knife, didn’t you? Felt it dig deep into your lungs...all for him!”
“If I could’ve stopped that tiger myself, I would have gave my life over and over to do it!” Allan swore angrily. “How could you ever doubt my love for you?”
“How could you throw me aside for some wanna-be son?” Harry shot back vehemently. “You spend more time with him than you ever did with me my entire youth! I was thirty-three years old before I went on an adventure with you! This upstart walks up, shows off his rifle, and he’s instantly accepted. How should I take it?”
“I’ll admit I’m very fond of the lad,” Allan conceded, “but you would like him too if you gave him the chance....”
“Be one happy family?” Harry gave a disgusted snort. “Ha! And sit at the same table with the one who wants to take my place? No! If you ever want to see me again, Father, you must break all ties with him.”
Looking at his son with confusion, Quatermain reached out for his only child. “Why are you being so cruel, son?”
“Why are you?” Harry asked, walking backwards into the fog.
“No! Harry...wait!” Allan begged as he tried to run after his departing son, but something was holding his arm, pulling him back.
“Allan?”
Quatermain did a double take, seeing Sawyer’s face looming over his. A feeling of guilt and anger overcame the hunter, and he jerked his arm free from the spy’s firm grip, avoiding looking the young man in the eyes. All he needed was a few more seconds with Harry to make him see sense.
Tom let out a sigh of relief. “Sure glad you’re okay, I was gettin’ worried there for a minute.”
“Just a dream,” Allan muttered, fussing with his covers as he tried to get up. “How long have you been awake, Sawyer?”
“Not long,” the blonde agent shrugged. “Funny thing is, I don’t remember anything past Majeel and the king being here. Don’t remember them leavin’ either.”
“We’ll all discuss it later,” Quatermain said brusquely, not looking in Tom’s direction.
“Oh, all right,” Tom agreed, patting his stomach. “Tummy’s growlin’ at me anyhow.”
When he heard the sound of the door closing, Quatermain let out a groan, and clutched the sides of the wardrobe in front of him till his fingers turned white from the pressure. Was he betraying his son’s memory by having the same fatherly feelings towards another? Harry’s stinging assertions came roaring back, driving the seasoned explorer deeper into guilt. Did pride and vanity once again rear it’s ugly head by taking Sawyer under his wing? Having the boy in his life brought a new sense of purpose, but did he do the wrong thing by treating Thomas more like a son instead of a pupil?
Opening up the ornate piece of furniture, Allan didn’t make his usual haste in getting dressed. He dreaded having to deal with the others, but more so with the young agent. Would they guess what he was thinking? He knew Tom wouldn’t relent; demanding his answers. How could he tell the lad about the horrible guilt he obviously felt deep inside that manifested itself in the form of his departed son?
Whistling down the corridors of the Nautilus, Tom sniffed the air hoping to catch the scent of whatever the head chef, Anonin, was making. It smelled like French Toast.... A grin formed as he picked up his pace, passing by Dorian’s room. A shrill shriek stopped the American cold in his tracks. Gray was having one of his frequent nightmares of Hell, but there was something different about this episode.
Sawyer knocked on the door. “Gray? You okay in there?” Hearing more cries of desperation coming from the other side, the spy jimmied the lock like Skinner had taught him, and entered inside the cabin.
The immortal thrashed about in his bed, a look of absolute agony on his normally perfect features. Cries filled the air as Gray battled whatever demon was taunting him. The young spy watched the aristocrat in horror, wondering what he could do to end the suffering before him. True, he still didn’t like Gray that much, but he couldn’t stand by and do nothing.
Moving to the side of the bed, Sawyer mimicked his actions minutes ago in Quatermain’s room, grabbing the flailing arms in a firm grip. “C’mon Gray,” Tom spoke quietly, “it’s mornin’...you should be done with your sleepin’ by now.”
Hearing the young agent’s voice, Dorian’s eyes flew open. “You’re alive?” he whispered, his voice rough from the screams.
“Course I am,” Tom frowned.
“I could’ve sworn I killed you,” Gray muttered in confusion, running a hand through his longish, brown locks.
Sawyer shook his head. “You can’t kill me remember? Said so yourself.” He smacked the immortal on the arm. “Let’s get your lazy sack of bones up.”
Dorian continued to stare into space, still disbelieving. “Dear god, I wanted to literally kill you...”
Giving a sarcastic chuckle, Sawyer threw Gray’s robe at him. “You always say that.”
Springing up from the bed, Dorian grabbed Sawyer by the arms, shaking him once. “I’m serious you simpleton!” he snarled in the blonde’s face. “I was back in Hell being punished for gutting you with my sword! Despite all the affliction I felt that tried to stop me, I tore you open...for pure pleasure! I wanted it so bad, I couldn’t stop myself!”
Tom pulled free, looking at Gray with wide eyes as he inched back towards the door. Granted, there was no love loss between them, but Dorian had never voiced his hatred quite this way before.
“Don’t look at me that way,” Gray grumbled, feeling an odd sensation coming over him. It felt almost like guilt, but he didn’t feel that emotion anymore.
Nodding, the American agent hurried from the room, almost colliding with Jekyll, who was frantically looking around as he left his cabin.
“Are you alright, Henry?” Sawyer asked in concern, taking in the traumatized features of the doctor.
“He didn’t destroy the door?” the doctor said shakily under his breath, feeling the edging around the doorway. When he finally acknowledged the voice talking to him, Jekyll stood stock still, appearing ready to faint as if he had just seen a ghost.
“Dr. Jekyll?” Tom asked again, reaching out to steady the medical man.
“I watched Hyde dismember you....”
“Wh-what?” Sawyer gasped, taking a step back.
“I’m sorry....I’m so sorry!” Jekyll begged, placing his trembling hands in front of his face in shame. “Hyde took over my body...he made me choose between killing you or....” Henry didn’t finish, rushing back inside his room and slamming the door shut.
A door opening to the side of him caused the stunned American to turn and view the sorrowful face of Mina Harker. Tear streaks had left their marks on the porcelain skin, and her blue eyes were swollen around the edges from crying. Seeing her dead victim standing before her, the vampiress’ mouth fell open in amazement, revealing her still un-retracted fangs. Instantly she covered her mouth, her disgrace evident as she lowered her head and turned her gaze away.
“Please don’t haunt me,” she whispered through a fresh bout of tears. “I didn’t realize I was draining you until it was too late.... Please forgive me..., Tom...please....”
Unable to answer back due to the overload of confusion, Sawyer ran from Mina’s presence, seeking some form of sanity from what he had just heard. Seeing Nemo exit his stateroom, the youth gave a small sigh. The wise Indian would be able to cast some light on what was going on.
“Cap’n Nemo!” Tom called out. His hope was short lived when the captain turned, the once knowing, considerate eyes now cold and sad.
A brown hand touched the American’s chest. “There is no stab wound?” Nemo asked in astonishment. He unsheathed his saber and stared at it as if he were in a daze. “My sword is not covered in your blood anymore...,” his voice trailed off.
“You...you too?” the young spy half-whispered, backing away from Nemo. “You tried to kill me?”
The captain rubbed a hand across his forehead as the realization dawned on him. “I wanted to kill your for revenge....”
“Revenge? I don’t understand.”
“I fear I understand all too well,” Nemo said solemnly, his eyes moistening. “Forgive me.” Turning back to the door he had just came from, the Indian dropped his head, and silently went back inside.
Left standing alone in the corridor, Sawyer thought back to what the others had just told him. His teammates...his friends...were wanting to kill him? How could this be? A deep knot began to form in the pit of his stomach. But why? What did he do?
His mind reeling, Sawyer sped down the hall to the only person he prayed could help him, throwing open the door and entering inside.
“Dammit all, boy,” Quatermain growled, as he buttoned his shirt. “Can’t a man dress in private?” His admonitions died on his lips when he noticed his protege shrinking back from him like a dog who had been kicked one time too many. Instantly his troubles vanished, taken over by concern. “Thomas? What’s wrong, lad?”
Tom tried to open his mouth to speak, but the pain of his friends words choked him, causing him to stand in silence, pleading with his father figure through his eyes.
Cautiously, Allan neared the youth, alarmed by the sudden change. Sawyer reminded him of a skittish gazelle, ready to take flight....and that wasn’t the Tom Sawyer he knew. Something had thrown the American for a loop, but what?
“Are you ill? You don’t look very well?” Quatermain asked, placing a hand on Tom’s forehead to feel for a fever. He frowned when he saw the hurt and confusion radiating from the young man’s intense, hazel eyes. “Thomas, I can’t help you don’t tell me, son.”
At the mention of the word, ‘son’, Tom knew he was safe, struggling to find the words to explain the emotions swirling inside him. “Did I do somethin’ wrong? You all want me in the League, right? I mean, you went to an awful lot of trouble to get me back in....”
“What are you going on about, boy?” the hunter interrupted curtly, anxious to get to the source of Sawyer’s odd behavior. Watching Tom inch back farther with a wary expression, Quatermain chided himself in his mind for his reaction. Dammit! The boy was obviously needing some reassurance, and was trusting him to give it. Throwing his doubts aside, the explorer pulled Sawyer closer, grasping the young man by the shoulders.
“Take as much time as you need, Thomas..., then we’ll sort this out.” His heart warmed at the look of absolute trust Tom gave him. The charges brought against him in his dream disappeared. No, he had done the right thing.