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Dust From Their Shoes, The Annotated Version.
Dust From Their Shoes
[This fic comes from two things I wanted to see. Something of the Five from WWI, which I don't see as much as WWII, and something of the Five on a boat. Which ... random, but there you go. Heh. And this came out of it]
Nikola stood on deck to watch as they pulled away from the London docks, despite the encroaching darkness as evening fell. Not to wave goodbye, since both Helen and James were far too busy to come see him off at the moment. And he certainly wasn't standing here out of any great sense of sentimentality, watching England slip away behind him with the dirty water of the Thames. No. [Just randomly, but was the world ever nice to Nikola? Ever?]
No. He stood on deck in search of ... a sense of completion. Of relief. Of perhaps some small, bitter sense of triumph.
He was done here. For now, at least, though never fully, not with Helen resting still on British soil. But done for now. Done being at the beck and call of yet another government, done doing his bit for the war effort. The armistice had held, the Treaty of Versailles had been signed in June, and the British Government could finally go take a run off a cliff for itself. He was heading back to America, and having done. [He does strike as a man who, while he will help if he sees it's important, really doesn't like being bullied into things. And the British Government (most governments, in fact) have this slight tendancy to bully people]
It was possible, of course, that he was more than a little bitter. It was possible that he'd been a little bitter for the past decade, ever since a few well placed threats had first brought him to heel over Worth. It was possible that being at the beck and call of a government that held your secrets and your nationality over your head, the threat of deportation, had grated on him, just a little. Possible, too, that the strain of being Serbian in Britain, considering the war, and events in Sarajevo back in '14, and all the lovely little whispering behind his back while he slaved away on their bloody government's behalf ... [I'm not sure, because it's not something I've ever had cause to consider before, but being a Serb in Europe during WWI, considering that it was 3 Bosnian Serbs who kickstarted the whole shooting match in 1914 ... possibly would have gotten him some whispers at his back] Well. It was possible that he was feeling more than a little resentment, and more than a little relief just to finally be shot of the lot of them.
Not that there was much waiting for him back in New York either, of course. Not at this stage. The legacy of Wardenclyffe, not to mention Edison, Morgan and Marconi, was still very much a cloud over his (more or less non-existent) financial status, and with the war having effectively ended any funding from his European patents ... It was a cold welcome waiting for him in America, to be sure. [Sanctuary!Tesla, ping-ponging between the two sides of the Atlantic, doesn't seem to have had things significantly better that Historical!Tesla, and possibly even worse :( ]
But a better welcome than the one he was leaving in England ...
With an exasperated grunt, he pulled himself up off the railing, turning away from the fading lights of London. He would go back to his cabin, he decided. Shake off the malaise. Really, there was only so much brooding a man could allow himself. Even if one was a vampire, and perhaps, he had to admit, perhaps he shouldn't have read quite so many of Helen's collection of gothic novels before departing. Even aside from the wear and tear of war, and service enforced with a word in the right ear, reading that claptrap would be enough to put anyone in a gloomy mood.
Moving quickly and absently along deck, he wondered if he hadn't, accidentally of course, happened to bring a few of them with him. Well, it was going to be a long voyage, after all ... [*grins at him* It's so hard to keep him down. And, of course, he nicked the racier of Helen's collection. Just to keep himself company, you understand. Hehe]
And then, outside the door to his cabin, with his hand resting on the handle, Nikola stopped. Paused, very carefully, and stood very, very still, very quiet. Listening, as he had been for the past length of deck, to someone moving about his room with all the shuffling, muffled care of someone either too new, too tired, or too uncaring to attempt real stealth. Nikola waited, with all the patience of a cat, for an idea of which was the case, and then ... then his uninvited visitor sighed, heavy and tired and familiar, and Nikola found himself opening the door with an unconscious smile. [I'm never fully sure how much in the way of 'vampire senses' I want to attribute to Nikola, considering he doesn't show much evidence of them. But wartime paranoia on its own probably helped, here]
There was no-one in the room, not a thing to be seen. Naturally. Nikola zeroed in on the soft sound of someone doing their best to hold their breath, and the dent in the bedspread from some invisible weight, and closed the door behind him with a wicked smile and a raised eyebrow pointed right at the person that wasn't there. [*smiles* I love playing with Nigel's invisibility. I love the ... the there-and-yet-not of it]
"You know, given London in November, you really should put some clothes on, Nigel." [*snickers* Opening shot, as per usual]
"Sod off," his old friend shot back, with his usual grump, but tiredly. With no real force, no real strength, and as Nigel faded back into view, as a naked man materialised on his bed, Nikola saw why. [But this time ... this time Nigel's too tired]
Nigel, huddled in a ball on the bed, was pale, almost grey, and shaking. Short, repeated tremors, made only more obvious by the fact that, in the couple of years since Nikola had last seen him, Nigel had lost a great deal of weight, enough that for the first time in their acquaintance, he looked like the ghost people sometimes called him. He looked a pale shadow of the man who'd left for mainland Europe some years ago to play his part for England. A shivering copy, etched here and there with the white splashes of new scars, and his eyes as he looked up at Nikola were fever-bright, and so exhausted Nikola felt like collapsing just looking at him. [This is ... I didn't actually plan for the Spanish Flu, originally, but it seems to have snuck in, plus the exhaustion, and some new scars ... WWI Europe was not a fun place to be running around, when you're not as durable as a vampire, and spend a lot of your time naked]
"What the hell happened to you?" Nikola managed, very quietly, coming forward, hand coming up as if to touch that quivering shoulder, hesitating at the last moment. Nigel grinned up at him, glassy and dangerous, and there was mockery in those tired eyes as they watched the hand, a bitter laughter until Nikola took hold with more force than he'd originally intended, and then Nigel closed his eyes. Closed them with a quiver of what might have been relief, and leaned into the harshness of Nikola's touch. [This is ... not sure you're allowed to touch, not sure if touching would help, but they've never backed down from the challenges the other sets. It's that, more than anything, that reassures them about each other. It's that that Nigel's looking for. Continuity. Sameness. Safety]
"There's been a war on," he answered, hard and tired, with a savage little curl of his lip. "Didn't nobody tell you?" [... Again, Nigel's voice ... My first instinct is 'didn't anyone tell you', but it's Nigel. Not sure why I bring this up, but that one caught me, for some reason]
"The war's over," Nikola returned, gently, fishing for the bedspread with his other hand, and draping it clumsily over his friend's shoulders. Nigel barely reacted. "Well. Mostly, anyway. Enough for us, at least." Enough for him, definitely, or he wouldn't be on this ship. And for Nigel ... if ever a man looked like he been through enough, it was Nigel, this minute ... [One gets the impression that Nikola is ... not so good at comfort. But he does try, sometimes]
Nigel laughed. A harsh, bitter crack, and he huddled into the blanket, canted sideways into the strength of Nikola's hand. "Ought to tell them that, then," he muttered. "Tell the bloody sods to leave me alone." [I just ... Nigel would have been so useful, as a spy. And I can't help but think that the Government who could throw around threats in 1910 probably wouldn't have given him a lot of choice about it]
Nikola frowned. Hard and dangerous. "Tell who?" Nigel quivered, flinched, and Nikola's hand tightened. For a moment, anyway, before he made himself relax, but his eyes had already hardened, had already darkened. "Nigel, what happened to you? What's going on?" [... This is in part coming from End of Nights. Nikola keeps ... putting himself physically in the way of threats. For Helen with Ashley, for Henry in the Sanctuary. Not to mention The Five. At some point, it seems he decided that since he's physically more durable, he should be the one taking the hits. I think here, with Nigel so ... frail ... he kinda wants to do that. To find something trying to hit them, take it, and then hit them back]
"What are the chances of my successfully stowing away in your cabin for the duration of this little jaunt?" the thief asked eventually, by way of answer, tipping his head sideways to rest it against Nikola's arm and looking sidelong up at him. "I only ask because apparently it's bloody difficult to get passage out of England when half the Secret Service are looking to have a word with you." He smiled, or something like it, watching as Nikola's eyebrow rose of its own volition. "Who would have thought, hmm?" [... The Five don't ask for much of each other, I think. It's ... complicated. But Nigel is only asking a little, because it's all he can bear. Just somewhere to stow away. He could have stayed, asked for Helen's help, for James', but ... Too much. And besides. Nikola isn't as ... as moralistic about things as those two. Nikola won't judge him quite the same way, and Nigel is ... ashamed, here. Just a little]
Nikola blinked. "You stole naked into my cabin because you wanted to stow away with me?" he asked, and then shook his head. "Never mind. Of course you can stay!" It might be a tight squeeze, logistically, but on the upside, Nikola being a vampire and therefore not eating all that much, meals shouldn't be too much of a problem ... [*smiles* Just an odd thing, but it would make things easier. Stowing away with a vampire, I mean. Well, provided the vampire's friendly. He can give you the food ...]
Nigel slumped in relief. Just a tiny thing, a small release of tension, but Nikola blinked, and stared at him in shock. What had the man thought? That Nikola would kick him, naked and exhausted, back out the door, tell him to sleep in the hold? Get the captain to turn them around and dump him back on the docks, with people hunting him? They were friends. Did Nigel really think Nikola would balk at sharing a cabin? Did he really think ... [Nikola ... like him keeping his word when it counts, Nikola doesn't like people implying he does less than he should, for friends. He doesn't balk. He's never balked. And he doesn't like people thinking that he will]
"Don't look like that," Nigel said softly. Looking up at him, vaguely sheepish through the tiredness, and with a small, soft smile. "I didn't mean ... Look, I've been bunging around a war zone for the past few years, alright? Not to mention being hounded about by our own Secret bloody Service ... Give me a minute to get used to the idea of having somewhere safe to sleep, would you? Not to mention a bed ..." He grunted in exasperation, and Nikola glared at him for another minute, just for good measure, but then ... [Nigel is too tired for this shit. Too worn. But he does get Nikola]
But then he had to smile, no, grin, a slow, wicked thing, and ask: "What makes you think you're getting the bed? It's my cabin, you know ..." [When in doubt, banter. It's the safest thing they have between them]
And it was Nigel's turn to stare at him, and do his best to punch Nikola in the stomach with a curse that would've made Helen blink, and look for all of a second like the robust, belligerent man Nikola remembered. Then it was Nigel's turn to grin, and curse, and pretend for a moment that he wasn't naked and exhausted and coming with nothing in his hands to ask for Nikola's help. For a moment, exactly as it should be. And then. [And the most familiar, the most reliable, the most them, and they both want that. They know what to do with that]
"It might put you in danger," the thief said softly, leaning back to pull the blanket around himself, and forcing himself to meet Nikola's gaze. "I think I lost 'em, most of them, but there might ... They were pretty annoyed, last time I saw 'em. Apparently, governmental types really don't like it when you say 'no'. If any of them followed me onto the ship ..." [But ... they both have this odd sense of duty, of justice. It's not right, dumping your mates in the mess. No matter how much you need their help. Unless, of course, Nikola's trying to lure them into his plans -_-; But he likes to think that's different. That's giving them an opportunity]
Nikola paused, stayed silent for a moment while Nigel blinked warily up at him. Perhaps a little in annoyed vengeance, for Nigel not trusting him. Perhaps to allow himself a moment to hide the instinctive stirring inside him at the thought of a threat, the instinctive darkening of his eyes. Nikola paused for a moment, and looked down at his friend. [*smiles lopsidedly* He's a bit vindictive, sometimes]
"They want you that badly?" he asked, quietly. Not that the British government weren't plenty annoyed with him at the minute, and likely to be only more so once they realised he'd left the country, but ... "Enough to hunt you this far? What did you do to them, Nigel?" [Again ... there's a part of this that's him looking for something to hit. Test how far they're going to come, so he nows how far he can knock them back. I think him going for the Cabal was something similar. You hit him, or his friends, he hits back]
And now the man looked away. Now Nigel looked down, knotting his hands in his lap, and every moment of that aching, shivering exhaustion crept back into his figure, into the tremble of his shoulders.
"There was a war on," he said. Quietly, flatly. "There's lots of things a government might use an invisible man for, with a war on. And I said yes. Because that's what an Englishman does, innit? I said yes. And the last few years ... Well, I've been quite popular. Because Section 6 couldn't get men inside Germany, but I could get in, couldn't I? Get in anywhere, me. And out again, more importantly. Right useful, I was. Right useful." [... *hugs Nigel gingerly* It's different, when it's your duty, and it's something only you can do, and I think Nigel's still ashamed of running, in some ways]
He stopped, for a minute, leaning back against the wall, and Nikola took the time to retreat. To lean back against the opposite wall of the cabin, and just watch the man. Watch his friend, tired to the bone, and shivering in Nikola's bed. [Nikola ... doesn't so much care about the war, just yet. He's still concerned for Nigel first]
"Then last year, I got caught. Not by the Germans. Not by any bloody body. But by the bloody influenza. The bloody flu, but there were people ... there were people dropping like flies, Nikola. You wouldn't believe it, if you didn't see, but ... Scared the pants off me. Scared me half to bloody death, and I swear, I swear it was only the Blood that saved me. I swear it was only whatever we did in '86 that spared me, because there were men in their prime dying all around me ... [I'm not sure why the Spanish Flu snuck in. It was going to be an injury, in the line of fire, but ... But the flu was something else. Killing people in their prime before the weak, because the flu hijacks a strong immune system ... bloody scary thing, the Spanish Flu. And the death toll ... can't blame Nigel for saying sod it, after that, and with peace mostly already there] And then I woke up in a hospital in France a few months back, and there were very serious men asking me to pick up where I left off, to do one more run into Germany to see if the armistice was really going to hold ... And I said no. I said no, no bloody more, I wasn't doing it. Not after that, not after the scare I'd had. And they ... didn't like that." He looked up at Nikola, pale and strained. "They really didn't like that." [But governments don't like letting go of useful things ... and is it just me, or am I showing a slightly cynical streak, here? Heh]
"And they've been hunting you since," Nikola said softly. Not a question. He didn't need to ask, not with the man shaking and desperate, right there, and Nikola hurriedly tucked his fists under his arms, where Nigel couldn't see the whiteness of the knuckles, and the darkness of the nails. "For months?" [I'm never sure ... quite when Nikola started to embrace his vampire lineage wholesale. I have the idea that for most of his natural lifespan (til '43), it was the human he focused on, but ... but I think even that early, he started relying on the vampire in face of threats]
"For months," Nigel confirmed softly, slumping back against the headboard, his hands unclenching and falling loose and limp into his lap. "Might be still, if they managed to get aboard when I wasn't looking. If they know I might come to you." He winced, looked down. "I wouldn't have led them to you, to any of you, but ..." [The other reason he didn't go to James or Helen. They have ... they're more settled, have more reputation to protect, have a fixed location to defend. Nikola can run with Nigel, if he needs to. Nikola can be sneaky with him]
"Shut up," Nikola interrupted. Gently, but with a noticeable lack of patience. He never was very good at that. Nigel blinked up at him, and Nikola stood forward from the wall, stalked back over to the bed to loom over him, to glare at him. "Nigel, if they followed you to me, to any of us ... they're in for a very nasty shock. James has some very interesting ideas about the appropriate use of violence in self-defense, you know. Helen, of course, is not to be trifled with at all. And I ..." He grinned, blackly and with teeth, and curled his hands where the nails wouldn't show. "And I would welcome them to try it." [But any of them, any of them, would have fought for Nigel. And done damage]
Nigel blinked at him, slow and wary. "Didn't you promise ...?" he asked, cautiously, and Nikola huffed darkly.
"I promised not to hunt people down and drain their blood. I did not promise not to defend myself, or my friends, from harm!" he growled, wincing as his voice resonated more deeply than intended. Nigel blinked at him, and he sighed in exasperation. "I'm not British, Nigel. I've never been British. And I've just spent the past couple of years working for an entirely unappreciative government who seem to like holding my nationality over my head, and consequently I have absolutely no sympathy for any representative of said government who should happen to threaten me with violence, and meet an unhappy end!" [Lines. They all have their lines, the points past which it's your own bloody lookout, should you threaten them, and they'll feel no remorse. See no need for remorse. Helen with Worth, for example. John and Nikola with the Cabal. Past a certain point, they will destroy you, and count it just]
Or a friend. Anyone who should happen to threaten a friend, and meet an unhappy end. Nikola was not, he liked to think, a violent man, but there were limits, and as people were so fond of telling him lately, there had been a war on ... [There'd be a war on. And if it justifies using Nigel, it justifies defending him too, as far as Nikola's concerned]
"Suddenly, I've an idea what poor old George must have felt," Nigel said, suddenly and quietly, and with a smile. Nikola blinked at him.
"What?" [Bit of a non-sequiter there, Nigel]
"Westinghouse," the thief clarified, grinning a little, eyes soft as he looked up at Nikola. "Suddenly I've an idea how he must have felt, that moment in '97 when you tore up his contract out of the bloody blue, just because he asked." Nikola stared at him, nonplussed, and he grinned. "The story made the rounds, you know. Shocking behaviour for a businessman." [It was. It was. It was also amazing. George, like Nigel, came asking for something small. A concession. And instead he got ... he got the complete removal of his debt. Because Nikola, apparently, sees no reason to give someone a little if he can give them everything they need instead. No small measures. If he can fix your problem, he'll do it outright, because he seems to think that that's what you're supposed to do for friends. Also, because he doesn't seem to believe in half-measures in general]
Nikola blinked, slowly, tilting his head to look consideringly down at Nigel. "But perfect behaviour for a friend, I thought," he said, curiously, carefully, and watched Nigel flush. Watched a tinge of pink feather though pale, worn cheeks, and Nigel nodded at him.
"That's what I meant," Nigel said softly. "Suddenly, I know how he felt." A small, bright little smile, something wry and amused and grateful, and he inclined his head to Nikola. "As a friend, you're a prince, old mate. Never let anyone tell you different." [*smiles* I love the friendship between these two, I have mentioned, yes?]
And it was Nikola's turn to flush, and look away. Shake his head. "I've changed my mind," he said, gruffly, and tried not to smile at the flicker of wariness in Nigel's eyes. Tried not to let it become something softer, too soft, as he reached out with a vampire's strength to push Nigel down, to lay him down, and try not to think about how thin and tired Nigel was, that even a human could have done it with ease. "I've changed my mind," he said again, pulling a blanket around the man. "You can have the bed after all." A rich, dazzling grin. "A prince ought to be generous, don't you think?" [He's soft in odd ways, is Nikola]
Nigel shook his head, mouth curling wryly, but he nodded. "Right generous you are," he said, smiling quietly. "Do I get to borrow a pair of pyjamas first?" [*snickers* Part of what I love with these two is that for every grand gesture Nikola makes, Nigel has a more down-to-earth rejoinder for it. Heh. They balance nicely]
Nikola laughed, and waved his hand at the trunk at the base of the bed. "Help yourself," he smiled, wry in his turn, a little pointed, for fun. "What's mine is yours. It usually is. [Thief. Lets not forget. But that's alright, because they're friends] I'm going to do a quick turn around the ship, shake England off my shoes." [Which became the title, somewhat by accident, but somewhat appropriately] And have a look around, quietly, and watch to see who was watching back ...
Nigel squinted at him, with a proper spy's suspicion, but only nodded. "Alright then. Budge me up when you get back. There's room enough to share, if barely." [Suspicious, utilitarian. I love Nigel]
Nikola raised an eyebrow at that, looking at the narrow cabin, and back at Nigel. "If you say so," he said, dubiously, and smiled. "Isn't it lucky the influenza robbed you of a few of those extra pounds ..." [*grins* I love the teasing]
Nigel threw the pillow at his head, and Nikola left the cabin laughing, with Nigel cursing viciously behind him, dropping in volume hurriedly as Nikola opened the door, glaring in mute fury after him. Nikola shot him a jaunty grin, and let the door slip closed behind him over his friend's exhausted fury. And then, he let the smile slip, and something older and colder slip forward in its place.
He really was rather tired of England. And a little bitter. And not at all happy about the threat to a friend.
No. Not at all happy. [Nikola, rather like Helen, is dangerous more for the strength of his convictions than anything else. Dangerous because his lines are defined, and he will not regret dealing with those who step past them]
---
They came in the small hours of the morning. Nigel's spies, hunting him. Or Nikola, perhaps, since they came to his door. He didn't suppose it mattered very much. [Little bit of action, here. I ought to do something more active with these two. They'd be something in action together. Also, boat. I wanted adventure on a boat. I wanted this scene quite badly. Heh]
Only one shadow at first, stopping at the cabin door, a muted gleam of dark metal in its hand. A gun, perhaps? Oh, now that wouldn't do. Not at all. Nikola stepped forward, soft and silent from his place beside the life-boats, quiet as only a supernatural predator could be. Or a spy, as it turned out. The man was good. Only shocked for a moment, as Nikola spun him around, only stunned for a second before the gun started to come up. But a second ... a second was all Nikola needed, to press one hand to his mouth, silence him, and twist with the other until the neck snapped with a sound that seemed to echo across the ship. A second, only one, and it was over. [Of course, Nikola is also dangerous because he's smart, fast, and well nigh indestructable -_-;]
Nikola looked down at the body. Looked down at what was perhaps the first man he'd ever killed, in cold blood. Looked down, and tested the knowledge, tested the feeling in his chest. Fear? Desire? Sickness? Surely something.
But no. Nothing. Not really. Only a vague disgust, and a quiet satisfaction at the elimination of a threat. Perhaps that should worry him. Perhaps he should fear that more than a surge of lust from the vampire, or of madness, like John. Perhaps this calm distaste was something worse.
But Nikola didn't think so. [Again, a bit like Helen ... they don't ... once their internal lines are satisfied, they don't regret. They don't see a need to regret. They're scary because they're so sure of their own rightness, and are willing to fight, and do some frankly terrifying things, to back it up]
With a sigh, soft and quiet, he reached down and searched the body. Touched the gun, cold metal in a cold hand, meant for them. For him or for Nigel, because his friend dared say no to people one shouldn't say no to, because his friend knew things he shouldn't. No, Nikola thought. This vague disgust was not at all unwarranted. [And you don't threaten what's theirs. That seems to be a line for most of the Five. Most people in general, maybe]
Shaking his head, quiet and sure, he hefted the body. Lifted it with all a vampire's grace and quiet, moved to the side of the ship, and softly, carefully, let it go. Let it fall into the water, let the thunder of waves against the side drown out the splash. He dropped his enemy into the sea, and started to turn. [Quiet, clean, deadly. When he's not making grandiose schemes, Nikola is dangerous. Perhaps, in some ways, we're lucky he prefers the grandiosity. It's easier to stop]
Only to feel the hot flash in his arm as a blade swept across it. Only to feel the spike of pain and fury as he hissed, and dove to the side, and turned to face the knife in the hands of the second man. A knife, not a gun, and perhaps this one didn't have one, or perhaps he only wanted to be quiet, to not draw attention to this sordid little affair, hunting a tired, sick man across a continent and off it. Perhaps he wanted to be silent. [Dirty little games, spies. I think I watched Callan too young. May have had something to do with my cynicism]
Good enough. Nikola could be silent with the best of them. And he was fast, so much faster than any knife. So many years ago, the Source Blood had given him these gifts, and this government, this man's government, the same as hunted his friend, thought to use him for it. Or despite it. Or with it. Well. Well then. Let them taste it, too. Let them see. [Never take a knife to a vampire fight. Really. Come to that, don't take anything shy of a tank to a vampire fight. How did the Church manage to wipe them out, in the Middle Ages? But I suppose, if they don't expect you ...]
The second man fell as silently as the first. As bloodlessly, too. Nikola had promised, promised Helen and the others, long years ago. He had promised, and he kept his promises, those that counted. The man fell from a broken neck, the same as his companion, and the only blood spilled was Nikola's own, on the blade of the knife. And that, too, was easily dealt with. That, too, was easily wiped away. [He's starting to shift, here. He's starting to become more vampire than human. But it's only small, yet. It's nothing to his promise, yet. Maybe won't ever be]
Nigel was waiting for him as he returned. Nigel caught him as he opened the door, seized his arms as he slipped through, pushed him furiously up against the bulkhead. The thief, the spy, the invisible man, pale as death and white with rage. Nikola blinked down at him, and carefully didn't smile. [Nigel ... this wasn't what he wanted. It was never what he wanted. And he's angry more out of shame, than anything else]
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Nigel hissed, or tried to hiss. His voice cracked a little. Strained. "Nikola, what ..." He stopped. Stopped as he realised the warmth beneath his hand, the wetness. Stopped as he squinted in the darkness, and recognised the blackness of blood against his skin. Nikola's blood. Nigel stopped, and flinched, shuddering in the dimness in something like guilt. "Nikola ..." [They aren't supposed to get hurt. The Five aren't supposed to get hurt. They're supposed to be untouchable. Nigel ... can't bear that that's false, because of him]
"It's nothing," Nikola answered, light and cheerful. "I slipped on the deck and cut it against a railing. Don't worry about it." [Nikola, as he proved with John, is more than capable of hiding things people don't need to know. Lying, or just omitting, so they won't worry/will do as he wants]
Nigel stared at him. Blankly, just for a second, and then fury swamped him. Then utter rage swamped his features, and he shoved against Nikola, shoved himself close and spat into Nikola's face. "Don't you lie to me!" he snarled, low and black. "Whatever else you ... whatever else you do, Nikola, don't you ever lie to me! Not about ..." [Not the time. Not the time. Nikola, you can't lie to him here ...]
His voice cracked, broke, but Nikola was already nodding. Nikola was already saying yes, silent and steady, and his hands reached up to clasp Nigel's shoulders. To hold him steady. "I'm sorry," he said, quickly and quietly. "Nigel, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." [... I don't ... I don't exactly ship them. It's ... It's rooted so much more in friendship, for these two. But there is such depth of emotion, of history, with all the Five ... it blurs the lines. They're more than just friends]
Nigel held against him, held himself taut and furious for another second, another moment, and then ... Then the man slumped against him. Pale and half-dressed, and so very, very tired.
"I didn't want ... It wasn't supposed to ... Your promise ..." [Tired, and guilty. Nigel really never meant to lead them to the others]
"I kept my promise," Nikola interrupted, immediately, confidently. "I didn't drink. Not a drop was spilled that wasn't mine. It was all very ..." He paused, feeling his mouth curl, feeling the dark curve of it. "It was all very human." [This line ... I love this line. Because ... it is human. It always is. With Nikola, the human is where all the darkness comes from. The vampire just gives him a means to express it. And this ... the darkness of this is so human, and it's so ... the promise isn't against the darkness. The promise doesn't stop it. It can't. It starts here, I think. What he becomes. It starts in the human he was]
"I don't care if it was bloody fish," Nigel snarled, but quietly. Raggedly, curled against Nikola's chest. "It wasn't supposed ... You shouldn't have had to do that. Not for me. You shouldn't have to risk that ..." [ ... I love Nigel. I figure I ought to just keep saying that. I love Nigel. His impatience, his bluffness, his loyalty]
Nikola smiled, then. A soft thing in the darkness, and he pressed the man close. Gently, and Nigel was as breakable in his arms as those men had been outside, Nigel was as fragile, but Nikola was not John. He was not the monster people feared when they heard the word 'vampire'. His strength was his, and controllable, and it harmed only those he wanted it to harm. Harmed only when he saw the need, and no more. [... He's aware he's more durable than them. Than all of them. He'll stand in front of the blows for them, and hold them carefully, because he does know that. He's not like John. He knows what his monster is, and doesn't see it so]
"There was no risk," he said, with a laughing curl of his lip, with a calm confidence. "Not to me, not to you. They didn't want to be heard, and now they never will be. That's all there is to it." They had left England, left Europe, and the war wasn't on anymore. Not for them. Not anymore. America was before them, and that was all there was to it. [And he feels no remorse. Not for this. Not when it's them]
Nikola looked down at Nigel, still shaking against him, and then over at the bed. Over at the rucked blankets from Nigel's rush to the door, and the narrow space between the edge and the wall that might, just might, fit two grown men, if they were thin, and worn, and tired enough not to care. [... It's ... It's love, but not ... not like Helen and John, not like Nikola for Helen. It's ... someone who's part of you, who's lived through what you've lived through, who'll fight beside you, who you'll protect, who'll protect you. Someone who stands beside you. That's where this is coming from. That love. The rest is topping. The rest is for the moments between, because they can, because they dare. Because they're tired enough not to care]
"Still want to share with me?" he asked, very quietly, and grinned a little when Nigel looked incredulously up at him. "It's getting late, you know." [Friendship first. The old games first. Because that's who they are]
Nigel stared at him, for a long, long second, in the darkness and the cold, on a ship in the Atlantic on a cold November night in 1919. Nigel stared at him, in parts incredulous, furious, desperate and relieved, annoyed, resigned. In parts tired beyond measure, and just too worn to fight. Nigel stared at him, and then he grinned. Then he reached up, pulled Nikola's head to his, and pressed them together, forehead to forehead, mouth almost to mouth. [But that little bit more, because they can]
"You're the most annoying, reckless, contrary, bloody stupid sod I ever met," he growled, so very fondly. "And one of these days you're going to get the both of us killed, you do know that."
Nikola grinned. "It's possible," he allowed. "But you love me anyway, yes?"
"Yes," Nigel said, soft and exasperated and real, and kissed him. Just a touch against his mouth, gruff and brief and almost chaste. "Yes, I love you anyway, you bloody bastard." [It is almost chaste. It's almost chaste, because sometimes you don't need more, and my gods, I love the pair of them. I should probably stop writing them sometime soon, but ... I love the pair of them. *shrugs helplessly, grins*]
"Good," Nikola smiled, and took the invisible man, took the spy, took his friend, to bed.
[End]
[This fic comes from two things I wanted to see. Something of the Five from WWI, which I don't see as much as WWII, and something of the Five on a boat. Which ... random, but there you go. Heh. And this came out of it]
Nikola stood on deck to watch as they pulled away from the London docks, despite the encroaching darkness as evening fell. Not to wave goodbye, since both Helen and James were far too busy to come see him off at the moment. And he certainly wasn't standing here out of any great sense of sentimentality, watching England slip away behind him with the dirty water of the Thames. No. [Just randomly, but was the world ever nice to Nikola? Ever?]
No. He stood on deck in search of ... a sense of completion. Of relief. Of perhaps some small, bitter sense of triumph.
He was done here. For now, at least, though never fully, not with Helen resting still on British soil. But done for now. Done being at the beck and call of yet another government, done doing his bit for the war effort. The armistice had held, the Treaty of Versailles had been signed in June, and the British Government could finally go take a run off a cliff for itself. He was heading back to America, and having done. [He does strike as a man who, while he will help if he sees it's important, really doesn't like being bullied into things. And the British Government (most governments, in fact) have this slight tendancy to bully people]
It was possible, of course, that he was more than a little bitter. It was possible that he'd been a little bitter for the past decade, ever since a few well placed threats had first brought him to heel over Worth. It was possible that being at the beck and call of a government that held your secrets and your nationality over your head, the threat of deportation, had grated on him, just a little. Possible, too, that the strain of being Serbian in Britain, considering the war, and events in Sarajevo back in '14, and all the lovely little whispering behind his back while he slaved away on their bloody government's behalf ... [I'm not sure, because it's not something I've ever had cause to consider before, but being a Serb in Europe during WWI, considering that it was 3 Bosnian Serbs who kickstarted the whole shooting match in 1914 ... possibly would have gotten him some whispers at his back] Well. It was possible that he was feeling more than a little resentment, and more than a little relief just to finally be shot of the lot of them.
Not that there was much waiting for him back in New York either, of course. Not at this stage. The legacy of Wardenclyffe, not to mention Edison, Morgan and Marconi, was still very much a cloud over his (more or less non-existent) financial status, and with the war having effectively ended any funding from his European patents ... It was a cold welcome waiting for him in America, to be sure. [Sanctuary!Tesla, ping-ponging between the two sides of the Atlantic, doesn't seem to have had things significantly better that Historical!Tesla, and possibly even worse :( ]
But a better welcome than the one he was leaving in England ...
With an exasperated grunt, he pulled himself up off the railing, turning away from the fading lights of London. He would go back to his cabin, he decided. Shake off the malaise. Really, there was only so much brooding a man could allow himself. Even if one was a vampire, and perhaps, he had to admit, perhaps he shouldn't have read quite so many of Helen's collection of gothic novels before departing. Even aside from the wear and tear of war, and service enforced with a word in the right ear, reading that claptrap would be enough to put anyone in a gloomy mood.
Moving quickly and absently along deck, he wondered if he hadn't, accidentally of course, happened to bring a few of them with him. Well, it was going to be a long voyage, after all ... [*grins at him* It's so hard to keep him down. And, of course, he nicked the racier of Helen's collection. Just to keep himself company, you understand. Hehe]
And then, outside the door to his cabin, with his hand resting on the handle, Nikola stopped. Paused, very carefully, and stood very, very still, very quiet. Listening, as he had been for the past length of deck, to someone moving about his room with all the shuffling, muffled care of someone either too new, too tired, or too uncaring to attempt real stealth. Nikola waited, with all the patience of a cat, for an idea of which was the case, and then ... then his uninvited visitor sighed, heavy and tired and familiar, and Nikola found himself opening the door with an unconscious smile. [I'm never fully sure how much in the way of 'vampire senses' I want to attribute to Nikola, considering he doesn't show much evidence of them. But wartime paranoia on its own probably helped, here]
There was no-one in the room, not a thing to be seen. Naturally. Nikola zeroed in on the soft sound of someone doing their best to hold their breath, and the dent in the bedspread from some invisible weight, and closed the door behind him with a wicked smile and a raised eyebrow pointed right at the person that wasn't there. [*smiles* I love playing with Nigel's invisibility. I love the ... the there-and-yet-not of it]
"You know, given London in November, you really should put some clothes on, Nigel." [*snickers* Opening shot, as per usual]
"Sod off," his old friend shot back, with his usual grump, but tiredly. With no real force, no real strength, and as Nigel faded back into view, as a naked man materialised on his bed, Nikola saw why. [But this time ... this time Nigel's too tired]
Nigel, huddled in a ball on the bed, was pale, almost grey, and shaking. Short, repeated tremors, made only more obvious by the fact that, in the couple of years since Nikola had last seen him, Nigel had lost a great deal of weight, enough that for the first time in their acquaintance, he looked like the ghost people sometimes called him. He looked a pale shadow of the man who'd left for mainland Europe some years ago to play his part for England. A shivering copy, etched here and there with the white splashes of new scars, and his eyes as he looked up at Nikola were fever-bright, and so exhausted Nikola felt like collapsing just looking at him. [This is ... I didn't actually plan for the Spanish Flu, originally, but it seems to have snuck in, plus the exhaustion, and some new scars ... WWI Europe was not a fun place to be running around, when you're not as durable as a vampire, and spend a lot of your time naked]
"What the hell happened to you?" Nikola managed, very quietly, coming forward, hand coming up as if to touch that quivering shoulder, hesitating at the last moment. Nigel grinned up at him, glassy and dangerous, and there was mockery in those tired eyes as they watched the hand, a bitter laughter until Nikola took hold with more force than he'd originally intended, and then Nigel closed his eyes. Closed them with a quiver of what might have been relief, and leaned into the harshness of Nikola's touch. [This is ... not sure you're allowed to touch, not sure if touching would help, but they've never backed down from the challenges the other sets. It's that, more than anything, that reassures them about each other. It's that that Nigel's looking for. Continuity. Sameness. Safety]
"There's been a war on," he answered, hard and tired, with a savage little curl of his lip. "Didn't nobody tell you?" [... Again, Nigel's voice ... My first instinct is 'didn't anyone tell you', but it's Nigel. Not sure why I bring this up, but that one caught me, for some reason]
"The war's over," Nikola returned, gently, fishing for the bedspread with his other hand, and draping it clumsily over his friend's shoulders. Nigel barely reacted. "Well. Mostly, anyway. Enough for us, at least." Enough for him, definitely, or he wouldn't be on this ship. And for Nigel ... if ever a man looked like he been through enough, it was Nigel, this minute ... [One gets the impression that Nikola is ... not so good at comfort. But he does try, sometimes]
Nigel laughed. A harsh, bitter crack, and he huddled into the blanket, canted sideways into the strength of Nikola's hand. "Ought to tell them that, then," he muttered. "Tell the bloody sods to leave me alone." [I just ... Nigel would have been so useful, as a spy. And I can't help but think that the Government who could throw around threats in 1910 probably wouldn't have given him a lot of choice about it]
Nikola frowned. Hard and dangerous. "Tell who?" Nigel quivered, flinched, and Nikola's hand tightened. For a moment, anyway, before he made himself relax, but his eyes had already hardened, had already darkened. "Nigel, what happened to you? What's going on?" [... This is in part coming from End of Nights. Nikola keeps ... putting himself physically in the way of threats. For Helen with Ashley, for Henry in the Sanctuary. Not to mention The Five. At some point, it seems he decided that since he's physically more durable, he should be the one taking the hits. I think here, with Nigel so ... frail ... he kinda wants to do that. To find something trying to hit them, take it, and then hit them back]
"What are the chances of my successfully stowing away in your cabin for the duration of this little jaunt?" the thief asked eventually, by way of answer, tipping his head sideways to rest it against Nikola's arm and looking sidelong up at him. "I only ask because apparently it's bloody difficult to get passage out of England when half the Secret Service are looking to have a word with you." He smiled, or something like it, watching as Nikola's eyebrow rose of its own volition. "Who would have thought, hmm?" [... The Five don't ask for much of each other, I think. It's ... complicated. But Nigel is only asking a little, because it's all he can bear. Just somewhere to stow away. He could have stayed, asked for Helen's help, for James', but ... Too much. And besides. Nikola isn't as ... as moralistic about things as those two. Nikola won't judge him quite the same way, and Nigel is ... ashamed, here. Just a little]
Nikola blinked. "You stole naked into my cabin because you wanted to stow away with me?" he asked, and then shook his head. "Never mind. Of course you can stay!" It might be a tight squeeze, logistically, but on the upside, Nikola being a vampire and therefore not eating all that much, meals shouldn't be too much of a problem ... [*smiles* Just an odd thing, but it would make things easier. Stowing away with a vampire, I mean. Well, provided the vampire's friendly. He can give you the food ...]
Nigel slumped in relief. Just a tiny thing, a small release of tension, but Nikola blinked, and stared at him in shock. What had the man thought? That Nikola would kick him, naked and exhausted, back out the door, tell him to sleep in the hold? Get the captain to turn them around and dump him back on the docks, with people hunting him? They were friends. Did Nigel really think Nikola would balk at sharing a cabin? Did he really think ... [Nikola ... like him keeping his word when it counts, Nikola doesn't like people implying he does less than he should, for friends. He doesn't balk. He's never balked. And he doesn't like people thinking that he will]
"Don't look like that," Nigel said softly. Looking up at him, vaguely sheepish through the tiredness, and with a small, soft smile. "I didn't mean ... Look, I've been bunging around a war zone for the past few years, alright? Not to mention being hounded about by our own Secret bloody Service ... Give me a minute to get used to the idea of having somewhere safe to sleep, would you? Not to mention a bed ..." He grunted in exasperation, and Nikola glared at him for another minute, just for good measure, but then ... [Nigel is too tired for this shit. Too worn. But he does get Nikola]
But then he had to smile, no, grin, a slow, wicked thing, and ask: "What makes you think you're getting the bed? It's my cabin, you know ..." [When in doubt, banter. It's the safest thing they have between them]
And it was Nigel's turn to stare at him, and do his best to punch Nikola in the stomach with a curse that would've made Helen blink, and look for all of a second like the robust, belligerent man Nikola remembered. Then it was Nigel's turn to grin, and curse, and pretend for a moment that he wasn't naked and exhausted and coming with nothing in his hands to ask for Nikola's help. For a moment, exactly as it should be. And then. [And the most familiar, the most reliable, the most them, and they both want that. They know what to do with that]
"It might put you in danger," the thief said softly, leaning back to pull the blanket around himself, and forcing himself to meet Nikola's gaze. "I think I lost 'em, most of them, but there might ... They were pretty annoyed, last time I saw 'em. Apparently, governmental types really don't like it when you say 'no'. If any of them followed me onto the ship ..." [But ... they both have this odd sense of duty, of justice. It's not right, dumping your mates in the mess. No matter how much you need their help. Unless, of course, Nikola's trying to lure them into his plans -_-; But he likes to think that's different. That's giving them an opportunity]
Nikola paused, stayed silent for a moment while Nigel blinked warily up at him. Perhaps a little in annoyed vengeance, for Nigel not trusting him. Perhaps to allow himself a moment to hide the instinctive stirring inside him at the thought of a threat, the instinctive darkening of his eyes. Nikola paused for a moment, and looked down at his friend. [*smiles lopsidedly* He's a bit vindictive, sometimes]
"They want you that badly?" he asked, quietly. Not that the British government weren't plenty annoyed with him at the minute, and likely to be only more so once they realised he'd left the country, but ... "Enough to hunt you this far? What did you do to them, Nigel?" [Again ... there's a part of this that's him looking for something to hit. Test how far they're going to come, so he nows how far he can knock them back. I think him going for the Cabal was something similar. You hit him, or his friends, he hits back]
And now the man looked away. Now Nigel looked down, knotting his hands in his lap, and every moment of that aching, shivering exhaustion crept back into his figure, into the tremble of his shoulders.
"There was a war on," he said. Quietly, flatly. "There's lots of things a government might use an invisible man for, with a war on. And I said yes. Because that's what an Englishman does, innit? I said yes. And the last few years ... Well, I've been quite popular. Because Section 6 couldn't get men inside Germany, but I could get in, couldn't I? Get in anywhere, me. And out again, more importantly. Right useful, I was. Right useful." [... *hugs Nigel gingerly* It's different, when it's your duty, and it's something only you can do, and I think Nigel's still ashamed of running, in some ways]
He stopped, for a minute, leaning back against the wall, and Nikola took the time to retreat. To lean back against the opposite wall of the cabin, and just watch the man. Watch his friend, tired to the bone, and shivering in Nikola's bed. [Nikola ... doesn't so much care about the war, just yet. He's still concerned for Nigel first]
"Then last year, I got caught. Not by the Germans. Not by any bloody body. But by the bloody influenza. The bloody flu, but there were people ... there were people dropping like flies, Nikola. You wouldn't believe it, if you didn't see, but ... Scared the pants off me. Scared me half to bloody death, and I swear, I swear it was only the Blood that saved me. I swear it was only whatever we did in '86 that spared me, because there were men in their prime dying all around me ... [I'm not sure why the Spanish Flu snuck in. It was going to be an injury, in the line of fire, but ... But the flu was something else. Killing people in their prime before the weak, because the flu hijacks a strong immune system ... bloody scary thing, the Spanish Flu. And the death toll ... can't blame Nigel for saying sod it, after that, and with peace mostly already there] And then I woke up in a hospital in France a few months back, and there were very serious men asking me to pick up where I left off, to do one more run into Germany to see if the armistice was really going to hold ... And I said no. I said no, no bloody more, I wasn't doing it. Not after that, not after the scare I'd had. And they ... didn't like that." He looked up at Nikola, pale and strained. "They really didn't like that." [But governments don't like letting go of useful things ... and is it just me, or am I showing a slightly cynical streak, here? Heh]
"And they've been hunting you since," Nikola said softly. Not a question. He didn't need to ask, not with the man shaking and desperate, right there, and Nikola hurriedly tucked his fists under his arms, where Nigel couldn't see the whiteness of the knuckles, and the darkness of the nails. "For months?" [I'm never sure ... quite when Nikola started to embrace his vampire lineage wholesale. I have the idea that for most of his natural lifespan (til '43), it was the human he focused on, but ... but I think even that early, he started relying on the vampire in face of threats]
"For months," Nigel confirmed softly, slumping back against the headboard, his hands unclenching and falling loose and limp into his lap. "Might be still, if they managed to get aboard when I wasn't looking. If they know I might come to you." He winced, looked down. "I wouldn't have led them to you, to any of you, but ..." [The other reason he didn't go to James or Helen. They have ... they're more settled, have more reputation to protect, have a fixed location to defend. Nikola can run with Nigel, if he needs to. Nikola can be sneaky with him]
"Shut up," Nikola interrupted. Gently, but with a noticeable lack of patience. He never was very good at that. Nigel blinked up at him, and Nikola stood forward from the wall, stalked back over to the bed to loom over him, to glare at him. "Nigel, if they followed you to me, to any of us ... they're in for a very nasty shock. James has some very interesting ideas about the appropriate use of violence in self-defense, you know. Helen, of course, is not to be trifled with at all. And I ..." He grinned, blackly and with teeth, and curled his hands where the nails wouldn't show. "And I would welcome them to try it." [But any of them, any of them, would have fought for Nigel. And done damage]
Nigel blinked at him, slow and wary. "Didn't you promise ...?" he asked, cautiously, and Nikola huffed darkly.
"I promised not to hunt people down and drain their blood. I did not promise not to defend myself, or my friends, from harm!" he growled, wincing as his voice resonated more deeply than intended. Nigel blinked at him, and he sighed in exasperation. "I'm not British, Nigel. I've never been British. And I've just spent the past couple of years working for an entirely unappreciative government who seem to like holding my nationality over my head, and consequently I have absolutely no sympathy for any representative of said government who should happen to threaten me with violence, and meet an unhappy end!" [Lines. They all have their lines, the points past which it's your own bloody lookout, should you threaten them, and they'll feel no remorse. See no need for remorse. Helen with Worth, for example. John and Nikola with the Cabal. Past a certain point, they will destroy you, and count it just]
Or a friend. Anyone who should happen to threaten a friend, and meet an unhappy end. Nikola was not, he liked to think, a violent man, but there were limits, and as people were so fond of telling him lately, there had been a war on ... [There'd be a war on. And if it justifies using Nigel, it justifies defending him too, as far as Nikola's concerned]
"Suddenly, I've an idea what poor old George must have felt," Nigel said, suddenly and quietly, and with a smile. Nikola blinked at him.
"What?" [Bit of a non-sequiter there, Nigel]
"Westinghouse," the thief clarified, grinning a little, eyes soft as he looked up at Nikola. "Suddenly I've an idea how he must have felt, that moment in '97 when you tore up his contract out of the bloody blue, just because he asked." Nikola stared at him, nonplussed, and he grinned. "The story made the rounds, you know. Shocking behaviour for a businessman." [It was. It was. It was also amazing. George, like Nigel, came asking for something small. A concession. And instead he got ... he got the complete removal of his debt. Because Nikola, apparently, sees no reason to give someone a little if he can give them everything they need instead. No small measures. If he can fix your problem, he'll do it outright, because he seems to think that that's what you're supposed to do for friends. Also, because he doesn't seem to believe in half-measures in general]
Nikola blinked, slowly, tilting his head to look consideringly down at Nigel. "But perfect behaviour for a friend, I thought," he said, curiously, carefully, and watched Nigel flush. Watched a tinge of pink feather though pale, worn cheeks, and Nigel nodded at him.
"That's what I meant," Nigel said softly. "Suddenly, I know how he felt." A small, bright little smile, something wry and amused and grateful, and he inclined his head to Nikola. "As a friend, you're a prince, old mate. Never let anyone tell you different." [*smiles* I love the friendship between these two, I have mentioned, yes?]
And it was Nikola's turn to flush, and look away. Shake his head. "I've changed my mind," he said, gruffly, and tried not to smile at the flicker of wariness in Nigel's eyes. Tried not to let it become something softer, too soft, as he reached out with a vampire's strength to push Nigel down, to lay him down, and try not to think about how thin and tired Nigel was, that even a human could have done it with ease. "I've changed my mind," he said again, pulling a blanket around the man. "You can have the bed after all." A rich, dazzling grin. "A prince ought to be generous, don't you think?" [He's soft in odd ways, is Nikola]
Nigel shook his head, mouth curling wryly, but he nodded. "Right generous you are," he said, smiling quietly. "Do I get to borrow a pair of pyjamas first?" [*snickers* Part of what I love with these two is that for every grand gesture Nikola makes, Nigel has a more down-to-earth rejoinder for it. Heh. They balance nicely]
Nikola laughed, and waved his hand at the trunk at the base of the bed. "Help yourself," he smiled, wry in his turn, a little pointed, for fun. "What's mine is yours. It usually is. [Thief. Lets not forget. But that's alright, because they're friends] I'm going to do a quick turn around the ship, shake England off my shoes." [Which became the title, somewhat by accident, but somewhat appropriately] And have a look around, quietly, and watch to see who was watching back ...
Nigel squinted at him, with a proper spy's suspicion, but only nodded. "Alright then. Budge me up when you get back. There's room enough to share, if barely." [Suspicious, utilitarian. I love Nigel]
Nikola raised an eyebrow at that, looking at the narrow cabin, and back at Nigel. "If you say so," he said, dubiously, and smiled. "Isn't it lucky the influenza robbed you of a few of those extra pounds ..." [*grins* I love the teasing]
Nigel threw the pillow at his head, and Nikola left the cabin laughing, with Nigel cursing viciously behind him, dropping in volume hurriedly as Nikola opened the door, glaring in mute fury after him. Nikola shot him a jaunty grin, and let the door slip closed behind him over his friend's exhausted fury. And then, he let the smile slip, and something older and colder slip forward in its place.
He really was rather tired of England. And a little bitter. And not at all happy about the threat to a friend.
No. Not at all happy. [Nikola, rather like Helen, is dangerous more for the strength of his convictions than anything else. Dangerous because his lines are defined, and he will not regret dealing with those who step past them]
---
They came in the small hours of the morning. Nigel's spies, hunting him. Or Nikola, perhaps, since they came to his door. He didn't suppose it mattered very much. [Little bit of action, here. I ought to do something more active with these two. They'd be something in action together. Also, boat. I wanted adventure on a boat. I wanted this scene quite badly. Heh]
Only one shadow at first, stopping at the cabin door, a muted gleam of dark metal in its hand. A gun, perhaps? Oh, now that wouldn't do. Not at all. Nikola stepped forward, soft and silent from his place beside the life-boats, quiet as only a supernatural predator could be. Or a spy, as it turned out. The man was good. Only shocked for a moment, as Nikola spun him around, only stunned for a second before the gun started to come up. But a second ... a second was all Nikola needed, to press one hand to his mouth, silence him, and twist with the other until the neck snapped with a sound that seemed to echo across the ship. A second, only one, and it was over. [Of course, Nikola is also dangerous because he's smart, fast, and well nigh indestructable -_-;]
Nikola looked down at the body. Looked down at what was perhaps the first man he'd ever killed, in cold blood. Looked down, and tested the knowledge, tested the feeling in his chest. Fear? Desire? Sickness? Surely something.
But no. Nothing. Not really. Only a vague disgust, and a quiet satisfaction at the elimination of a threat. Perhaps that should worry him. Perhaps he should fear that more than a surge of lust from the vampire, or of madness, like John. Perhaps this calm distaste was something worse.
But Nikola didn't think so. [Again, a bit like Helen ... they don't ... once their internal lines are satisfied, they don't regret. They don't see a need to regret. They're scary because they're so sure of their own rightness, and are willing to fight, and do some frankly terrifying things, to back it up]
With a sigh, soft and quiet, he reached down and searched the body. Touched the gun, cold metal in a cold hand, meant for them. For him or for Nigel, because his friend dared say no to people one shouldn't say no to, because his friend knew things he shouldn't. No, Nikola thought. This vague disgust was not at all unwarranted. [And you don't threaten what's theirs. That seems to be a line for most of the Five. Most people in general, maybe]
Shaking his head, quiet and sure, he hefted the body. Lifted it with all a vampire's grace and quiet, moved to the side of the ship, and softly, carefully, let it go. Let it fall into the water, let the thunder of waves against the side drown out the splash. He dropped his enemy into the sea, and started to turn. [Quiet, clean, deadly. When he's not making grandiose schemes, Nikola is dangerous. Perhaps, in some ways, we're lucky he prefers the grandiosity. It's easier to stop]
Only to feel the hot flash in his arm as a blade swept across it. Only to feel the spike of pain and fury as he hissed, and dove to the side, and turned to face the knife in the hands of the second man. A knife, not a gun, and perhaps this one didn't have one, or perhaps he only wanted to be quiet, to not draw attention to this sordid little affair, hunting a tired, sick man across a continent and off it. Perhaps he wanted to be silent. [Dirty little games, spies. I think I watched Callan too young. May have had something to do with my cynicism]
Good enough. Nikola could be silent with the best of them. And he was fast, so much faster than any knife. So many years ago, the Source Blood had given him these gifts, and this government, this man's government, the same as hunted his friend, thought to use him for it. Or despite it. Or with it. Well. Well then. Let them taste it, too. Let them see. [Never take a knife to a vampire fight. Really. Come to that, don't take anything shy of a tank to a vampire fight. How did the Church manage to wipe them out, in the Middle Ages? But I suppose, if they don't expect you ...]
The second man fell as silently as the first. As bloodlessly, too. Nikola had promised, promised Helen and the others, long years ago. He had promised, and he kept his promises, those that counted. The man fell from a broken neck, the same as his companion, and the only blood spilled was Nikola's own, on the blade of the knife. And that, too, was easily dealt with. That, too, was easily wiped away. [He's starting to shift, here. He's starting to become more vampire than human. But it's only small, yet. It's nothing to his promise, yet. Maybe won't ever be]
Nigel was waiting for him as he returned. Nigel caught him as he opened the door, seized his arms as he slipped through, pushed him furiously up against the bulkhead. The thief, the spy, the invisible man, pale as death and white with rage. Nikola blinked down at him, and carefully didn't smile. [Nigel ... this wasn't what he wanted. It was never what he wanted. And he's angry more out of shame, than anything else]
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Nigel hissed, or tried to hiss. His voice cracked a little. Strained. "Nikola, what ..." He stopped. Stopped as he realised the warmth beneath his hand, the wetness. Stopped as he squinted in the darkness, and recognised the blackness of blood against his skin. Nikola's blood. Nigel stopped, and flinched, shuddering in the dimness in something like guilt. "Nikola ..." [They aren't supposed to get hurt. The Five aren't supposed to get hurt. They're supposed to be untouchable. Nigel ... can't bear that that's false, because of him]
"It's nothing," Nikola answered, light and cheerful. "I slipped on the deck and cut it against a railing. Don't worry about it." [Nikola, as he proved with John, is more than capable of hiding things people don't need to know. Lying, or just omitting, so they won't worry/will do as he wants]
Nigel stared at him. Blankly, just for a second, and then fury swamped him. Then utter rage swamped his features, and he shoved against Nikola, shoved himself close and spat into Nikola's face. "Don't you lie to me!" he snarled, low and black. "Whatever else you ... whatever else you do, Nikola, don't you ever lie to me! Not about ..." [Not the time. Not the time. Nikola, you can't lie to him here ...]
His voice cracked, broke, but Nikola was already nodding. Nikola was already saying yes, silent and steady, and his hands reached up to clasp Nigel's shoulders. To hold him steady. "I'm sorry," he said, quickly and quietly. "Nigel, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." [... I don't ... I don't exactly ship them. It's ... It's rooted so much more in friendship, for these two. But there is such depth of emotion, of history, with all the Five ... it blurs the lines. They're more than just friends]
Nigel held against him, held himself taut and furious for another second, another moment, and then ... Then the man slumped against him. Pale and half-dressed, and so very, very tired.
"I didn't want ... It wasn't supposed to ... Your promise ..." [Tired, and guilty. Nigel really never meant to lead them to the others]
"I kept my promise," Nikola interrupted, immediately, confidently. "I didn't drink. Not a drop was spilled that wasn't mine. It was all very ..." He paused, feeling his mouth curl, feeling the dark curve of it. "It was all very human." [This line ... I love this line. Because ... it is human. It always is. With Nikola, the human is where all the darkness comes from. The vampire just gives him a means to express it. And this ... the darkness of this is so human, and it's so ... the promise isn't against the darkness. The promise doesn't stop it. It can't. It starts here, I think. What he becomes. It starts in the human he was]
"I don't care if it was bloody fish," Nigel snarled, but quietly. Raggedly, curled against Nikola's chest. "It wasn't supposed ... You shouldn't have had to do that. Not for me. You shouldn't have to risk that ..." [ ... I love Nigel. I figure I ought to just keep saying that. I love Nigel. His impatience, his bluffness, his loyalty]
Nikola smiled, then. A soft thing in the darkness, and he pressed the man close. Gently, and Nigel was as breakable in his arms as those men had been outside, Nigel was as fragile, but Nikola was not John. He was not the monster people feared when they heard the word 'vampire'. His strength was his, and controllable, and it harmed only those he wanted it to harm. Harmed only when he saw the need, and no more. [... He's aware he's more durable than them. Than all of them. He'll stand in front of the blows for them, and hold them carefully, because he does know that. He's not like John. He knows what his monster is, and doesn't see it so]
"There was no risk," he said, with a laughing curl of his lip, with a calm confidence. "Not to me, not to you. They didn't want to be heard, and now they never will be. That's all there is to it." They had left England, left Europe, and the war wasn't on anymore. Not for them. Not anymore. America was before them, and that was all there was to it. [And he feels no remorse. Not for this. Not when it's them]
Nikola looked down at Nigel, still shaking against him, and then over at the bed. Over at the rucked blankets from Nigel's rush to the door, and the narrow space between the edge and the wall that might, just might, fit two grown men, if they were thin, and worn, and tired enough not to care. [... It's ... It's love, but not ... not like Helen and John, not like Nikola for Helen. It's ... someone who's part of you, who's lived through what you've lived through, who'll fight beside you, who you'll protect, who'll protect you. Someone who stands beside you. That's where this is coming from. That love. The rest is topping. The rest is for the moments between, because they can, because they dare. Because they're tired enough not to care]
"Still want to share with me?" he asked, very quietly, and grinned a little when Nigel looked incredulously up at him. "It's getting late, you know." [Friendship first. The old games first. Because that's who they are]
Nigel stared at him, for a long, long second, in the darkness and the cold, on a ship in the Atlantic on a cold November night in 1919. Nigel stared at him, in parts incredulous, furious, desperate and relieved, annoyed, resigned. In parts tired beyond measure, and just too worn to fight. Nigel stared at him, and then he grinned. Then he reached up, pulled Nikola's head to his, and pressed them together, forehead to forehead, mouth almost to mouth. [But that little bit more, because they can]
"You're the most annoying, reckless, contrary, bloody stupid sod I ever met," he growled, so very fondly. "And one of these days you're going to get the both of us killed, you do know that."
Nikola grinned. "It's possible," he allowed. "But you love me anyway, yes?"
"Yes," Nigel said, soft and exasperated and real, and kissed him. Just a touch against his mouth, gruff and brief and almost chaste. "Yes, I love you anyway, you bloody bastard." [It is almost chaste. It's almost chaste, because sometimes you don't need more, and my gods, I love the pair of them. I should probably stop writing them sometime soon, but ... I love the pair of them. *shrugs helplessly, grins*]
"Good," Nikola smiled, and took the invisible man, took the spy, took his friend, to bed.
[End]
