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Written for the history battle over on ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sfa_history. It was supposed to be around 800-odd words, and sort of ... got away from me a bit. Or, you know, a lot -_-;
Title: Old Friends and Enemies
Rating: PG
Fandom: Sanctuary
Characters/Pairings: Nikola Tesla, Nigel Griffin. Mention of Thomas Edison, Georges Melies, HG Wells, JP Morgan, Helen Magnus and James Watson
Summary: There are more kinds of justice to the Five than Helen's, and Nigel is all too willing to show Edison this.
Wordcount: 3544 (it got away from me)
Notes: For the prompt: "Nigel Griffin, Nikola Tesla, Thomas Edison. Revenge is a dish best served cold." Set in 1906, year of Tesla's 50th birthday, and not long before the events of 'For King and Country'
Disclaimer: Not mine, and apologies in advance for the mess I've made of history -_-;
sfa_history. It was supposed to be around 800-odd words, and sort of ... got away from me a bit. Or, you know, a lot -_-;Title: Old Friends and Enemies
Rating: PG
Fandom: Sanctuary
Characters/Pairings: Nikola Tesla, Nigel Griffin. Mention of Thomas Edison, Georges Melies, HG Wells, JP Morgan, Helen Magnus and James Watson
Summary: There are more kinds of justice to the Five than Helen's, and Nigel is all too willing to show Edison this.
Wordcount: 3544 (it got away from me)
Notes: For the prompt: "Nigel Griffin, Nikola Tesla, Thomas Edison. Revenge is a dish best served cold." Set in 1906, year of Tesla's 50th birthday, and not long before the events of 'For King and Country'
Disclaimer: Not mine, and apologies in advance for the mess I've made of history -_-;
Old Friends and Enemies
There wasn't often someone in his hotel room when he got back. There were, of course, the occasional people who tried, often women, but Nikola tried to discourage that sort of thing. Shockingly, Helen would have said, but Nikola stalwartly maintained that he was trying to reinvent the modern world, here, and he simply didn't have time. Sooner or later, most people got the picture.
But there was someone waiting for him today, someone who'd managed to get past the Waldorf's not-inconsiderable security. He could smell them, an oddly familiar scent, and masculine. Definitely no woman this time. Hmmm. Interesting.
He didn't hesitate on the way in, throwing the door open with his usual aplomb. Another man might have been cautious, with an unknown gentleman waiting for him in his home, but Nikola had largely left fear behind twenty years ago, in the press of a needle. Besides which, he didn't do patient very well, and the sooner this was dealt with, the better.
"Well, well," said the man dressed in Nikola's best bathrobe, reclining in his armchair and raising a glass of Nikola's wine to toast his entrance. "Nikola Tesla. Fifty years old today, and not looking a day over thirty." A swift, cavalier grin. "Good to see you, mate."
Nikola allowed himself a second to stare, a second to blink at the sheer audacity of the intrusion, and then brought his hand to his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation. "Nigel," he answered, a world of history in the name, annoyance and exasperation and reluctant joy to see him. "I'd tell you to make yourself at home, but obviously you already have. Stop drinking the last of my wine, you reprobate!"
Nigel grinned, climbing to his feet and ambling over to shake Nikola's hand. Nikola squinted at him first, but accepted the gesture with bad grace. Nigel's grin just widened.
"Oh, you know me," he said, gesturing mildly with the wineglass. "I take my luxuries where I can find them ..."
"Yes, I know," Nikola drawled, stalking past him to claim some of his wine back for himself. "Largely from other people, I remember." He plopped himself down in his chair, thank you, and set about nursing his wine with a vengeance. "Not to put too fine a point on this, Nigel, but I'm not really in the mood for entertaining guests at the minute. I've scheduled the evening for being very depressed, so if you don't mind ...?"
Nigel blinked at him for a bit. Not moving to leave, or even to be offended, though that was hardly the politest thing Nikola'd ever said, even by his standards. Nigel just studied him, with that long, distant stare that he'd acquired over years of seeing without being seen, years of watching other people's secrets play out around him. Nigel had never been stupid, his inclusion to the Five had proven that, and the years of being invisible had added an odd, secret layer to his intelligence, a more-than-hinted suggestion that he knew something you didn't.
Which was more than probable, but not something Nikola wanted to deal with just then. He met Nigel's stare with a glare of his own, and pointedly supped the dark, red liquid in his glass, allowing the briefest film of black to cloud his eyes. Nigel blinked at the threat, and then, annoyingly, let his face split into a grin, shaking his head with a warm, rueful expression as he moved to the chair across from Nikola and set himself down to ignore the vicious glare he was getting.
"My, you are in a filthy mood, aren't you?" he commented idly, refilling his glass, but there was sympathy in the look he gave Nikola over the rim. "I'd heard you were having trouble, lately. I hadn't realised it was this bad." Nikola snarled silently, looking away. "Finances a bother, are they?"
Nikola snorted. "If you'd call the loss of funding from patents, the loss of my current investors and my blacklisting against future ones, not to mention looming bankruptcy, a bother ... then yes." He smiled, a glittering, savage grin. "Yes, I'm having a little bit of financial difficulty, how kind of you to notice."
"My pleasure," Nigel returned mildly, but there was a softness in his eyes as he looked over, something small and secret and sympathetic. "Dream a little too big again, did we?"
Nikola laughed, tipping his head back against the chair and watching Nigel lazily through his glass. "It turns out," he said, tired and almost amused. "That the construction of something aimed at the production of free, wireless energy does not sit well with the forces of American big business. Though it may well save the world, it is useless, nay, a crime, unless it also makes them a tasty profit." He chuckled darkly, wondering at his own naivety. "Something I should have learned years ago, I think."
Nigel smiled sadly. "Oh, undoubtedly," he said, very quietly. "But then you're as bad an idealist as the other two. Always were." He shook his head, rueful, and the look he sent Nikola was almost fond. "You and Helen and James. Trying to change the world, no matter that all you get is a kick in the teeth in return. I always figured you'd run afoul of it one day."
Nikola raised his eyebrows. "Did you now," he mused, wondering if he should be insulted, and then shook his head, allowed himself a little smile. "Well, it appears you may have been right. Congratulations. A life of petty crime does indeed turn out to be the superior route." A grin, soft and black. "Or at least, the more reliable."
"Don't be like that," Nigel chastised, but gently. "Besides. I have a little something that might cheer you up. Resulting, I might add, from my 'life of petty crime'." He grinned, suddenly, vibrant and rich and mischievous. An expression all Five of them had shared, from time to time, and perhaps the only one in the world guaranteed to get Nikola's blood racing no matter what.
He leaned forward, looking at Nigel with renewed interest, and damn if the thief didn't grin at him for it, didn't flash that smug, 'I've got you now' expression his way. Nikola rolled his eyes. He tolerated that look from Helen, on the grounds that she always did have him, but from Nigel it was a little more of a stretch and he didn't mind showing it, waving a hand in a hurry-up gesture to get the man moving.
"Always so impatient," Nigel huffed, but he was still grinning. "Alright. You remember your old friend Edison?" Nikola grimaced, his interest souring almost immediately. That name had that effect on him. "No," Nigel said quickly, noting it, "Trust me, Nikola. You will like this."
"I'd better," he grumbled. He'd come up here to be depressed in private, yes, but there were limits. "I'm in no mood to deal with Edison, Nigel."
"Yes, yes," Nigel soothed. "Trust me. You remember, about four years ago, there was a little scandal about Edison stealing a film from a New York theatre, copying it, and selling all over the city? Little thing called 'A Trip to the Moon'?"
Nikola blinked, bemused. He'd heard a little about it at the time, since apparently Edison's distribution of the film had bankrupted the poor Frenchman who'd directed it; Melies, or something. Another victim of Edison's famously ruthless business practices, and Nikola couldn't help the instant rush of sympathy he'd felt, the surge of fellow-feeling. But that was just it. Melies had been just another victim, just another casualty to Edison's business acumen, and unfortunately they weren't rare. He'd been embroiled in his own troubles soon enough, and forgotten all about it.
"Ye-es?" he said, slowly. Obviously baffled, and showing it. Nigel grinned, a little, but he was looking suddenly rather more serious, now. Suddenly rather more angry.
"I heard about it from an old friend of mine," the thief said, slowly. Heavily. "You remember Herbert Wells? Wrote a rather ... interesting book about me back in '97?" Nikola nodded. 'Interesting' wasn't quite the word he'd have chosen. Thank heavens people thought it the fiction it was ... "Well, the film was based partly on another book of his. 'The First Men in the Moon'." He paused, smiled. "Herbert did have a fascination with the fantastic. Would have fit in right well with the Five of us."
"I'm sure," Nikola murmured, impatience dripping from the words, just a touch, and Nigel smiled ruefully, before setting himself back on a far darker track, if his expression was anything to go by.
"Not the point, I know," he said, quietly. "But ... it just reminded me, is all. I've always been interested in photography, you know, and I've been watching these films for a while ... But it hadn't touched so close to me before, you know? An admirer of a friend, just, but still ... It reminded that that wasn't the first time someone I knew ran afoul of old Thomas. Wasn't the first time he'd driven to bankruptcy a friend of mine. So ... I decided maybe it was time to take a little holiday in the good old United States."
He grinned, as black and deadly as any expression that had ever crossed Nikola's own features, and he was a vampire. Nikola sat up in his seat, blinking warily at him. He'd forgotten, perhaps, though he remembered now, that Nigel had always been dangerous in a temper. Much like James, amiable until pushed, and then ...
"What have you done?" he asked, quietly, and was mildly surprised that it came out not the least bit accusing. In fact, the words were almost eager, almost anticipatory, and he spared a brief moment to acknowledge that Helen would be thoroughly shocked at him. Took a moment, and then looked back at Nigel, full sure there was nothing but savage delight in his eyes. Nigel grinned back at him.
"You probably haven't heard," he said, rich and satisfied. "They've done a bloody good job hushing it up. But there have recently been a rash of burglaries around Edison's companies. Impossible thefts, in broad daylight or under the stern gaze of many a night watchman. Burglaries, you might say, that a man would have to be almost invisible to carry out ..."
He looked at Nikola, smug and proud and vindictive, and Nikola couldn't have helped the vicious, delighted grin that crossed his face if he tried.
"You stole from him," he said softly, and tried not to let the triumph come through too strongly. He didn't quite succeed, if the echoing gleam in Nigel's eye was anything to go by. "You stole from Thomas Edison."
"Mostly from General Electric," Nigel nodded, still smugly satisfied. "But there were a few valuable objects went missing from Glenmont, too."
"His home," Nikola whispered, in vindictive awe. "You were in his home?"
Nigel laughed. "I was indeed! Nice place it was, too. Almost gave the missus a heart-attack, one night, but turned out alright in the end. Her, safe and sound in her bed, and me out the window with some nice bits of jewellery and a half-decent painting. A good night's work, I thought. For a petty criminal, I mean." There was a little sting, there, a little shot off Nikola's bows, but he didn't care about that. He couldn't.
"You stole from Thomas Edison," he mused, almost dreamily. "Twenty years ago he all but runs me out of the country, practically into the Five's waiting arms, and here two decades later ... The Invisible Man robs his money out from beneath his nose." He laughed. "The past almost literally coming back to haunt him ..."
Nigel grinned. "I do a good line as a ghost," he commented idly. "Would have gone for a Christmas visitation, but that seemed a bit over the line, to me ..."
Nikola shook his head, barely hearing him, lost in schadenfreude. He had come up here to wallow, tonight. Come to let the despair wash over him, if only for an evening, before he went back to fight again, to face his second brush with bankruptcy on America's shores, and now ... To hear that his old enemy, near the first, from that first failure in this land, was feeling the pinch that little bit more tonight as well, to hear that he wasn't alone in his suffering, thanks to a friend ...
He laughed softly to himself. No, this was far from something Helen would approve of, far from just or worthy by her lights. But the Five had been more than Helen. Sometimes he forgot, but it was true. The Five were more than Helen, more even than Helen and James, and they had more ways and means of justice at their hands than her ideals. And Nigel had reminded him of that. His old friend.
"You're right," he said softly, looking up at the thief to smile warmly. Gratefully, and this was not a thing he should be grateful for, but right now he rather thought he didn't care. Nigel had done him a service, a very great service, and right now Nikola was quite happy to show it. "That does make me feel better, Nigel. Thank you." A rueful grin, that he knew the words didn't come from him often, but were genuinely offered.
Nigel was smiling at him again, that same fond, secret expression, and Nikola wondered suddenly how much the invisible man saw, of they Five, they remaining three. How much he looked out for them, in his own casual, unremarkable way. Not unremarkable because it was small, but unremarkable because no-one saw it to remark on it. He wondered how many secrets were kept by the man who saw, and was never seen.
Then Nigel shook himself. Shook away the long stare of twenty invisible years, and put back on the rough, blunt grin that had served him so well in college, served so well to make everyone forget that this unsubtle man had earned his entry to one of the most brilliant groups of the day. Of any day. Nigel played the rough, sturdy gentleman to the hilt, wore his commonness like a shield, and Nikola suddenly wondered how much of what lay behind it could be truly dangerous.
It was an altogether exciting thought.
"Look on the windowseat," Nigel told him softly, smiling that rich, satisfied smile. That dark little shine that the vampire in Nikola liked very much indeed. "That's not the only gift I brought you. Though I might ask you for a little something in return, for this one ..."
Curiosity piqued, Nikola stood up, laying his wineglass on the table with a soft click and padding with a vampire's grace over to the window. Nigel leaned back to watch him, as perfectly confident in Nikola's rooms and clothes as if he'd been here for days. Which he could well have been, but Nikola wasn't going to think about that overmuch.
The 'gift' was apparently a small key, and a piece of paper on which was written a string of numbers. Nikola wasn't long figuring out what they meant.
"I came to the US for a reason," Nigel said, quietly. "It wasn't just about the money, or making him pay. It was about justice. It was about looking after my friends." He smiled softly. "A man should always look after his friends."
"How much?" Nikola asked, as softly. As carefully. Nigel smiled, and Nikola knew the answer before he spoke, knew exactly how much. To the last dollar.
"Fifty thousand US dollars," the thief said, very quietly, and Nikola closed his eyes, let his hand curl around the key and clench tight. Because of course. Because it must be. The price offered to a young, naive inventor, the reward for his work offered on a promise and stolen with a laugh, with a taunt. The number he'd spat at a friend, years ago in a fit of rage, when Nigel had laughingly said that he didn't understand the British sense of humour, and Nikola had been unable to keep himself from snapping. From explaining, white with fury, and watching genuine apology creep across blunt, unsubtle features that later learned secrets far too well.
"Of course," he said, faintly, feeling his mouth curve into an odd, soft smile. "It would have to be."
"Not much these days," Nigel acknowledged behind him, coming over to stand beside him in the light from the window, and look down at the little key. "I'd have tried for more, maybe, if I'd known how much trouble you were in. Though that probably would have garnered a bit of suspicion ... But this way, it's not a theft. This way, it's not stealing."
Nikola felt his eyebrow quirk on sheer instinct, the sarcasm rolling rich and smooth onto his tongue. "I know quite a few people who would disagree with you on that," he pointed out, grinning just a little, and Nigel, never one to stand down from a fight, grinned back.
"If they're the kind of people that can look at Edison robbing Melies blind and call it business, then I don't think I'll pay very much attention to 'em," he growled shortly, and shook his head. "But in this case, it isn't. You earned that, Nikola. You earned it twenty years ago in honest work. And if he can do what he does and call it business ... then I think we can do this, and call it nothing more than monies owed."
Nikola laughed, very softly, and bounced the key in his palm. Not enough, as Nigel said. Nowhere near enough to cover his current debts, nowhere near enough to resurrect Wardenclyffe, nowhere near enough to make his dream come true. But that wasn't the point. The money wasn't the point.
The point was justice, if only of a kind most people wouldn't recognise, the redressing of past wrongs on behalf of a friend. The point was looking out for your friends.
As Nigel said. A man should always look after his friends.
"You said you might ask for something, for this one?" he asked, quietly. Looking over at Nigel, smiling faintly. Not begrudging. Nikola had never begrudged anything genuinely owed, when it was his to give. And never to a friend. He never begrudged anything to a friend.
"Come back with me," Nigel asked, rough and casual as if he'd never kept a secret in his life, easy as if he hadn't come here to find Nikola near drowned in despair, and acted to help him. Blunt and calm as if he hadn't the first ulterior motive. Nikola found himself smiling. "Pay as much of your debts as you can, say sod the lot of them, and come home. America has never been bloody kind to you, Nikola. For all their talk, they don't buy big dreams over here. Come back with me." He smiled slyly. "Helen's back in England. And James, and all the other poor idealistic sods she's caught up in her crusade. You'd fit right in. You always did."
"And you'd have no ulterior reason for wanting me there, I assume," Nikola answered, lips curling around his grin. Nigel attempted to look as innocent as he could. Which wasn't very.
"Well, there are a few merchant groups down the Docks, in merry old London," the Invisible Man said casually. "Invested in some new electrical alarm systems. Bugger of a thing. If you wanted to have a look at them for me, as a favour, I wouldn't be at all upset ..."
Nikola grinned, with rather more teeth than a man usually grins, and felt the excitement climb in his chest. Felt the rich, savage curl that he had only felt once before, when a beautiful woman had lured him from his projects and his classes, and pressed a needle to his vein, and opened up a whole new world before him.
Home, Nigel said. And perhaps ... perhaps it was. Home was where the heart is, and Nikola had long since left his heart with the Five. Wardenclyffe was failing, and fast, and if he was honest he could see no realistic way to scrape together the funds to save it, not when Morgan was vocally discouraging any other investors from coming within a mile of him. America, yet again, was proving more than a little resistant to his ideals.
But England ... His work might have a chance, in England. At the very least, the country must be softened some by Helen's relentless crusades. Nikola couldn't believe that any nation, be they ever so great, could stand for long against Helen Magnus, and with her beside him again ... Yes. It had a chance. His work would have a chance, and he ... He would have friends again. And a man should look after his friends ...
"Fifty thousand dollars should buy us two tickets home, yes?" he asked, holding out his arm like a gallant, and grinning when Nigel, eyeing it like it was a snake, accepted it with all the wariness of a man who knew Nikola Tesla all too well. "I'm at your disposal, Mr Griffin."
Nigel looked at him, with a hint of that twenty-year stare, and then shook his head with the rueful grin of a man who's gotten exactly what he asked for and knows it.
"Lucky me," he said, shaking his head, and Nikola laughed.
A/N: Continues, as part of my Nikola/Nigel series, in 1919: Dust From Their Shoes
There wasn't often someone in his hotel room when he got back. There were, of course, the occasional people who tried, often women, but Nikola tried to discourage that sort of thing. Shockingly, Helen would have said, but Nikola stalwartly maintained that he was trying to reinvent the modern world, here, and he simply didn't have time. Sooner or later, most people got the picture.
But there was someone waiting for him today, someone who'd managed to get past the Waldorf's not-inconsiderable security. He could smell them, an oddly familiar scent, and masculine. Definitely no woman this time. Hmmm. Interesting.
He didn't hesitate on the way in, throwing the door open with his usual aplomb. Another man might have been cautious, with an unknown gentleman waiting for him in his home, but Nikola had largely left fear behind twenty years ago, in the press of a needle. Besides which, he didn't do patient very well, and the sooner this was dealt with, the better.
"Well, well," said the man dressed in Nikola's best bathrobe, reclining in his armchair and raising a glass of Nikola's wine to toast his entrance. "Nikola Tesla. Fifty years old today, and not looking a day over thirty." A swift, cavalier grin. "Good to see you, mate."
Nikola allowed himself a second to stare, a second to blink at the sheer audacity of the intrusion, and then brought his hand to his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation. "Nigel," he answered, a world of history in the name, annoyance and exasperation and reluctant joy to see him. "I'd tell you to make yourself at home, but obviously you already have. Stop drinking the last of my wine, you reprobate!"
Nigel grinned, climbing to his feet and ambling over to shake Nikola's hand. Nikola squinted at him first, but accepted the gesture with bad grace. Nigel's grin just widened.
"Oh, you know me," he said, gesturing mildly with the wineglass. "I take my luxuries where I can find them ..."
"Yes, I know," Nikola drawled, stalking past him to claim some of his wine back for himself. "Largely from other people, I remember." He plopped himself down in his chair, thank you, and set about nursing his wine with a vengeance. "Not to put too fine a point on this, Nigel, but I'm not really in the mood for entertaining guests at the minute. I've scheduled the evening for being very depressed, so if you don't mind ...?"
Nigel blinked at him for a bit. Not moving to leave, or even to be offended, though that was hardly the politest thing Nikola'd ever said, even by his standards. Nigel just studied him, with that long, distant stare that he'd acquired over years of seeing without being seen, years of watching other people's secrets play out around him. Nigel had never been stupid, his inclusion to the Five had proven that, and the years of being invisible had added an odd, secret layer to his intelligence, a more-than-hinted suggestion that he knew something you didn't.
Which was more than probable, but not something Nikola wanted to deal with just then. He met Nigel's stare with a glare of his own, and pointedly supped the dark, red liquid in his glass, allowing the briefest film of black to cloud his eyes. Nigel blinked at the threat, and then, annoyingly, let his face split into a grin, shaking his head with a warm, rueful expression as he moved to the chair across from Nikola and set himself down to ignore the vicious glare he was getting.
"My, you are in a filthy mood, aren't you?" he commented idly, refilling his glass, but there was sympathy in the look he gave Nikola over the rim. "I'd heard you were having trouble, lately. I hadn't realised it was this bad." Nikola snarled silently, looking away. "Finances a bother, are they?"
Nikola snorted. "If you'd call the loss of funding from patents, the loss of my current investors and my blacklisting against future ones, not to mention looming bankruptcy, a bother ... then yes." He smiled, a glittering, savage grin. "Yes, I'm having a little bit of financial difficulty, how kind of you to notice."
"My pleasure," Nigel returned mildly, but there was a softness in his eyes as he looked over, something small and secret and sympathetic. "Dream a little too big again, did we?"
Nikola laughed, tipping his head back against the chair and watching Nigel lazily through his glass. "It turns out," he said, tired and almost amused. "That the construction of something aimed at the production of free, wireless energy does not sit well with the forces of American big business. Though it may well save the world, it is useless, nay, a crime, unless it also makes them a tasty profit." He chuckled darkly, wondering at his own naivety. "Something I should have learned years ago, I think."
Nigel smiled sadly. "Oh, undoubtedly," he said, very quietly. "But then you're as bad an idealist as the other two. Always were." He shook his head, rueful, and the look he sent Nikola was almost fond. "You and Helen and James. Trying to change the world, no matter that all you get is a kick in the teeth in return. I always figured you'd run afoul of it one day."
Nikola raised his eyebrows. "Did you now," he mused, wondering if he should be insulted, and then shook his head, allowed himself a little smile. "Well, it appears you may have been right. Congratulations. A life of petty crime does indeed turn out to be the superior route." A grin, soft and black. "Or at least, the more reliable."
"Don't be like that," Nigel chastised, but gently. "Besides. I have a little something that might cheer you up. Resulting, I might add, from my 'life of petty crime'." He grinned, suddenly, vibrant and rich and mischievous. An expression all Five of them had shared, from time to time, and perhaps the only one in the world guaranteed to get Nikola's blood racing no matter what.
He leaned forward, looking at Nigel with renewed interest, and damn if the thief didn't grin at him for it, didn't flash that smug, 'I've got you now' expression his way. Nikola rolled his eyes. He tolerated that look from Helen, on the grounds that she always did have him, but from Nigel it was a little more of a stretch and he didn't mind showing it, waving a hand in a hurry-up gesture to get the man moving.
"Always so impatient," Nigel huffed, but he was still grinning. "Alright. You remember your old friend Edison?" Nikola grimaced, his interest souring almost immediately. That name had that effect on him. "No," Nigel said quickly, noting it, "Trust me, Nikola. You will like this."
"I'd better," he grumbled. He'd come up here to be depressed in private, yes, but there were limits. "I'm in no mood to deal with Edison, Nigel."
"Yes, yes," Nigel soothed. "Trust me. You remember, about four years ago, there was a little scandal about Edison stealing a film from a New York theatre, copying it, and selling all over the city? Little thing called 'A Trip to the Moon'?"
Nikola blinked, bemused. He'd heard a little about it at the time, since apparently Edison's distribution of the film had bankrupted the poor Frenchman who'd directed it; Melies, or something. Another victim of Edison's famously ruthless business practices, and Nikola couldn't help the instant rush of sympathy he'd felt, the surge of fellow-feeling. But that was just it. Melies had been just another victim, just another casualty to Edison's business acumen, and unfortunately they weren't rare. He'd been embroiled in his own troubles soon enough, and forgotten all about it.
"Ye-es?" he said, slowly. Obviously baffled, and showing it. Nigel grinned, a little, but he was looking suddenly rather more serious, now. Suddenly rather more angry.
"I heard about it from an old friend of mine," the thief said, slowly. Heavily. "You remember Herbert Wells? Wrote a rather ... interesting book about me back in '97?" Nikola nodded. 'Interesting' wasn't quite the word he'd have chosen. Thank heavens people thought it the fiction it was ... "Well, the film was based partly on another book of his. 'The First Men in the Moon'." He paused, smiled. "Herbert did have a fascination with the fantastic. Would have fit in right well with the Five of us."
"I'm sure," Nikola murmured, impatience dripping from the words, just a touch, and Nigel smiled ruefully, before setting himself back on a far darker track, if his expression was anything to go by.
"Not the point, I know," he said, quietly. "But ... it just reminded me, is all. I've always been interested in photography, you know, and I've been watching these films for a while ... But it hadn't touched so close to me before, you know? An admirer of a friend, just, but still ... It reminded that that wasn't the first time someone I knew ran afoul of old Thomas. Wasn't the first time he'd driven to bankruptcy a friend of mine. So ... I decided maybe it was time to take a little holiday in the good old United States."
He grinned, as black and deadly as any expression that had ever crossed Nikola's own features, and he was a vampire. Nikola sat up in his seat, blinking warily at him. He'd forgotten, perhaps, though he remembered now, that Nigel had always been dangerous in a temper. Much like James, amiable until pushed, and then ...
"What have you done?" he asked, quietly, and was mildly surprised that it came out not the least bit accusing. In fact, the words were almost eager, almost anticipatory, and he spared a brief moment to acknowledge that Helen would be thoroughly shocked at him. Took a moment, and then looked back at Nigel, full sure there was nothing but savage delight in his eyes. Nigel grinned back at him.
"You probably haven't heard," he said, rich and satisfied. "They've done a bloody good job hushing it up. But there have recently been a rash of burglaries around Edison's companies. Impossible thefts, in broad daylight or under the stern gaze of many a night watchman. Burglaries, you might say, that a man would have to be almost invisible to carry out ..."
He looked at Nikola, smug and proud and vindictive, and Nikola couldn't have helped the vicious, delighted grin that crossed his face if he tried.
"You stole from him," he said softly, and tried not to let the triumph come through too strongly. He didn't quite succeed, if the echoing gleam in Nigel's eye was anything to go by. "You stole from Thomas Edison."
"Mostly from General Electric," Nigel nodded, still smugly satisfied. "But there were a few valuable objects went missing from Glenmont, too."
"His home," Nikola whispered, in vindictive awe. "You were in his home?"
Nigel laughed. "I was indeed! Nice place it was, too. Almost gave the missus a heart-attack, one night, but turned out alright in the end. Her, safe and sound in her bed, and me out the window with some nice bits of jewellery and a half-decent painting. A good night's work, I thought. For a petty criminal, I mean." There was a little sting, there, a little shot off Nikola's bows, but he didn't care about that. He couldn't.
"You stole from Thomas Edison," he mused, almost dreamily. "Twenty years ago he all but runs me out of the country, practically into the Five's waiting arms, and here two decades later ... The Invisible Man robs his money out from beneath his nose." He laughed. "The past almost literally coming back to haunt him ..."
Nigel grinned. "I do a good line as a ghost," he commented idly. "Would have gone for a Christmas visitation, but that seemed a bit over the line, to me ..."
Nikola shook his head, barely hearing him, lost in schadenfreude. He had come up here to wallow, tonight. Come to let the despair wash over him, if only for an evening, before he went back to fight again, to face his second brush with bankruptcy on America's shores, and now ... To hear that his old enemy, near the first, from that first failure in this land, was feeling the pinch that little bit more tonight as well, to hear that he wasn't alone in his suffering, thanks to a friend ...
He laughed softly to himself. No, this was far from something Helen would approve of, far from just or worthy by her lights. But the Five had been more than Helen. Sometimes he forgot, but it was true. The Five were more than Helen, more even than Helen and James, and they had more ways and means of justice at their hands than her ideals. And Nigel had reminded him of that. His old friend.
"You're right," he said softly, looking up at the thief to smile warmly. Gratefully, and this was not a thing he should be grateful for, but right now he rather thought he didn't care. Nigel had done him a service, a very great service, and right now Nikola was quite happy to show it. "That does make me feel better, Nigel. Thank you." A rueful grin, that he knew the words didn't come from him often, but were genuinely offered.
Nigel was smiling at him again, that same fond, secret expression, and Nikola wondered suddenly how much the invisible man saw, of they Five, they remaining three. How much he looked out for them, in his own casual, unremarkable way. Not unremarkable because it was small, but unremarkable because no-one saw it to remark on it. He wondered how many secrets were kept by the man who saw, and was never seen.
Then Nigel shook himself. Shook away the long stare of twenty invisible years, and put back on the rough, blunt grin that had served him so well in college, served so well to make everyone forget that this unsubtle man had earned his entry to one of the most brilliant groups of the day. Of any day. Nigel played the rough, sturdy gentleman to the hilt, wore his commonness like a shield, and Nikola suddenly wondered how much of what lay behind it could be truly dangerous.
It was an altogether exciting thought.
"Look on the windowseat," Nigel told him softly, smiling that rich, satisfied smile. That dark little shine that the vampire in Nikola liked very much indeed. "That's not the only gift I brought you. Though I might ask you for a little something in return, for this one ..."
Curiosity piqued, Nikola stood up, laying his wineglass on the table with a soft click and padding with a vampire's grace over to the window. Nigel leaned back to watch him, as perfectly confident in Nikola's rooms and clothes as if he'd been here for days. Which he could well have been, but Nikola wasn't going to think about that overmuch.
The 'gift' was apparently a small key, and a piece of paper on which was written a string of numbers. Nikola wasn't long figuring out what they meant.
"I came to the US for a reason," Nigel said, quietly. "It wasn't just about the money, or making him pay. It was about justice. It was about looking after my friends." He smiled softly. "A man should always look after his friends."
"How much?" Nikola asked, as softly. As carefully. Nigel smiled, and Nikola knew the answer before he spoke, knew exactly how much. To the last dollar.
"Fifty thousand US dollars," the thief said, very quietly, and Nikola closed his eyes, let his hand curl around the key and clench tight. Because of course. Because it must be. The price offered to a young, naive inventor, the reward for his work offered on a promise and stolen with a laugh, with a taunt. The number he'd spat at a friend, years ago in a fit of rage, when Nigel had laughingly said that he didn't understand the British sense of humour, and Nikola had been unable to keep himself from snapping. From explaining, white with fury, and watching genuine apology creep across blunt, unsubtle features that later learned secrets far too well.
"Of course," he said, faintly, feeling his mouth curve into an odd, soft smile. "It would have to be."
"Not much these days," Nigel acknowledged behind him, coming over to stand beside him in the light from the window, and look down at the little key. "I'd have tried for more, maybe, if I'd known how much trouble you were in. Though that probably would have garnered a bit of suspicion ... But this way, it's not a theft. This way, it's not stealing."
Nikola felt his eyebrow quirk on sheer instinct, the sarcasm rolling rich and smooth onto his tongue. "I know quite a few people who would disagree with you on that," he pointed out, grinning just a little, and Nigel, never one to stand down from a fight, grinned back.
"If they're the kind of people that can look at Edison robbing Melies blind and call it business, then I don't think I'll pay very much attention to 'em," he growled shortly, and shook his head. "But in this case, it isn't. You earned that, Nikola. You earned it twenty years ago in honest work. And if he can do what he does and call it business ... then I think we can do this, and call it nothing more than monies owed."
Nikola laughed, very softly, and bounced the key in his palm. Not enough, as Nigel said. Nowhere near enough to cover his current debts, nowhere near enough to resurrect Wardenclyffe, nowhere near enough to make his dream come true. But that wasn't the point. The money wasn't the point.
The point was justice, if only of a kind most people wouldn't recognise, the redressing of past wrongs on behalf of a friend. The point was looking out for your friends.
As Nigel said. A man should always look after his friends.
"You said you might ask for something, for this one?" he asked, quietly. Looking over at Nigel, smiling faintly. Not begrudging. Nikola had never begrudged anything genuinely owed, when it was his to give. And never to a friend. He never begrudged anything to a friend.
"Come back with me," Nigel asked, rough and casual as if he'd never kept a secret in his life, easy as if he hadn't come here to find Nikola near drowned in despair, and acted to help him. Blunt and calm as if he hadn't the first ulterior motive. Nikola found himself smiling. "Pay as much of your debts as you can, say sod the lot of them, and come home. America has never been bloody kind to you, Nikola. For all their talk, they don't buy big dreams over here. Come back with me." He smiled slyly. "Helen's back in England. And James, and all the other poor idealistic sods she's caught up in her crusade. You'd fit right in. You always did."
"And you'd have no ulterior reason for wanting me there, I assume," Nikola answered, lips curling around his grin. Nigel attempted to look as innocent as he could. Which wasn't very.
"Well, there are a few merchant groups down the Docks, in merry old London," the Invisible Man said casually. "Invested in some new electrical alarm systems. Bugger of a thing. If you wanted to have a look at them for me, as a favour, I wouldn't be at all upset ..."
Nikola grinned, with rather more teeth than a man usually grins, and felt the excitement climb in his chest. Felt the rich, savage curl that he had only felt once before, when a beautiful woman had lured him from his projects and his classes, and pressed a needle to his vein, and opened up a whole new world before him.
Home, Nigel said. And perhaps ... perhaps it was. Home was where the heart is, and Nikola had long since left his heart with the Five. Wardenclyffe was failing, and fast, and if he was honest he could see no realistic way to scrape together the funds to save it, not when Morgan was vocally discouraging any other investors from coming within a mile of him. America, yet again, was proving more than a little resistant to his ideals.
But England ... His work might have a chance, in England. At the very least, the country must be softened some by Helen's relentless crusades. Nikola couldn't believe that any nation, be they ever so great, could stand for long against Helen Magnus, and with her beside him again ... Yes. It had a chance. His work would have a chance, and he ... He would have friends again. And a man should look after his friends ...
"Fifty thousand dollars should buy us two tickets home, yes?" he asked, holding out his arm like a gallant, and grinning when Nigel, eyeing it like it was a snake, accepted it with all the wariness of a man who knew Nikola Tesla all too well. "I'm at your disposal, Mr Griffin."
Nigel looked at him, with a hint of that twenty-year stare, and then shook his head with the rueful grin of a man who's gotten exactly what he asked for and knows it.
"Lucky me," he said, shaking his head, and Nikola laughed.
A/N: Continues, as part of my Nikola/Nigel series, in 1919: Dust From Their Shoes
