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shadadukal and grav_ity's prompt about 'Nikola Griffin' as Nikola's worst pseudonym ever. To warn, it ... did not go anywhere near what I think she wanted -_-;
Title: Tribute
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Sanctuary
Characters/Pairings: James, Nikola, mention of Nigel. Gen
Summary: Late November, 1964. James has a phone call to make, and a question to ask
Wordcount: 1390
Warnings/Notes: This article on Murph the Surf should explain what's being discussed. With, naturally, a Sanctuary twist. Heh.
Disclaimer: Not mine, and apologies to history, and Jack Roland Murphy
shadadukal and grav_ity's prompt about 'Nikola Griffin' as Nikola's worst pseudonym ever. To warn, it ... did not go anywhere near what I think she wanted -_-;Title: Tribute
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Sanctuary
Characters/Pairings: James, Nikola, mention of Nigel. Gen
Summary: Late November, 1964. James has a phone call to make, and a question to ask
Wordcount: 1390
Warnings/Notes: This article on Murph the Surf should explain what's being discussed. With, naturally, a Sanctuary twist. Heh.
Disclaimer: Not mine, and apologies to history, and Jack Roland Murphy
Tribute
James cradled the telephone to his ear, listening absently as it rang repeatedly, and rubbed tiredly at his eyes with his other hand. The phone call was a long shot, at best, to an hotel that Nikola had implied could get through to him if needed, but if what James suspected was true, Nikola was probably too far underground at this point to be reached. Still, circumstances demanded that James at least try. If only in order to express his complete and utter disbelief.
Under his elbow, resting on the table, a New York newspaper from some weeks ago glared balefully up at him, along with a letter from a friend of his from the other side of the pond, helpfully answering a hesitant query on James' part.
If this meant what he thought it meant, he was going to throttle Nikola ...
The line clicked, someone at the other end finally picking up, and James snapped back to the moment with razored focus, listening as a familiar voice came cautiously down the line.
"Hello?" Nikola Tesla asked, carefully. "James? Is that you?"
"Nikola," James said, as heavily as humanly possible, and from the grin he could all but hear down the line, thought it confirmation enough.
"James," Nikola shot back, suddenly sly, and yes, James could hear the grin. "What can I do for you?"
"Jack Roland Murphy," James said, internally still somehow hoping that he was wrong. Internally realising that there wasn't much hope, for the grin in Nikola's voice. "Alan Kuhn. Roger Clark. Do these names ring a bell, Nikola?"
A long, long pause down the line, and a face appeared in James' mind, a perfect copy of Nikola, and that face morphed quickly through the numerous expressions James knew inhabited this silence. Amusement. Cunning. Delight at James' finding him out. Some faint worry, perhaps, though the line was secure. Maybe, even, a hint of chagrin, though James didn't hold out much hope.
"Did you want anything from the Natural History Museum?" Nikola asked at last, wry and bubbling with repressed amusement. "I would have asked beforehand, you understand, but I didn't want to pressure the children too much ..."
"For gods sake, Nikola!" James snapped, exasperated beyond measure, finally giving vent to the disbelief that had dogged him for weeks, ever since seeing the papers, and that one name ... "What on earth were you thinking?"
Nikola laughed, the sound blurred a little by static on the line, but James heard the odd note in it, heard the catch. "Oh, you know me," the vampire told him cheerfully. "Easily distracted by shiny things, eh, James?"
"Nikola," James said quietly. Reprovingly. Surely he deserved a better answer than that.
Nikola sobered, then. Just a little, in the sound of his voice, and James' mind conjured the expression to match easily enough. "I needed something," he said, equally quite. "I needed something, and I had a few old debts to repay too. I had a chance, James. I took it."
James sighed, dropping his head into his hand again, suddenly tired. "Was this thing you needed by any chance a 14 carat yellow diamond?" he asked, but perhaps there was a faint hint of amusement beginning to slip into his own voice. Perhaps a faint hint of appreciation. He could hear the matching grin Nikola sent him for it.
"Perhaps," Nikola laughed, rich and amused. "Perhaps a number of diamonds. Fantastically useful things, those stones. Why James. However did you know?"
"It was the only thing not recovered when they caught the others," James pointed out drily. "Not that much of a deductive leap, Nikola."
The vampire laughed at him down the line. "Touche, Sherlock," he grinned. "But that wasn't what I was asking."
James knew that. Of course he did. And of course Nikola would want to know how he'd been traced. Not that that, either, had been all that taxing a deduction. But one would have to know ...
"It was the Morgan collection," he answered, quietly. Knowing the bad blood that had lived between those two. "The alarm system for the museum wasn't functioning. Not unusual, their security was never good, but rather convenient, and no trouble at all for a man of your talents. But the damning evidence, Nikola ..." He paused, let it play out a little, let himself tease, although he knew he shouldn't. Not about this. Of all things, not about this. "Murphy mentioned a name, someone who'd helped him come up with the idea." He paused again, but this time in raw sympathy. "Oh, Nikola ..."
"It seemed fitting," his old friend answered, after a moment. His voice soft, subdued. "Not that they could have held a candle to him, you understand. Getting themselves caught not three days later. He would have laughed at them. But it seemed fitting. A ... A tribute, if you like."
"Yes," James said, very quietly. A tribute, a memorial. It had only been a few years. And Nikola had always been the closest to him. Always been the one among them ... well, the one among them capable of giving the memory of an old friend this particular tribute. But still ... "But still, Nikola. 'Nikola Griffin'? Really? Not exactly an opaque pseudonym ..."
Nikola laughed, warm and uncaring as it cracked in the middle. His voice was wry, and husky. "I know," he said, as honest as only he could be. "I've always had trouble with names, James, you know that. And he'd have yelled at me himself, I know. But it seemed ..." He paused, and James could sense the smile, the shake of the head, years since he'd seen either. "One last job together," Nikola finished, so very, very softly. "One last job, just the two of us. Don't you think? Doesn't that seem fitting, James?"
James didn't answer, for a moment. Looking down at the newspaper on the desk, the headline proudly declaring the 'Greatest Jewel Heist of the Century!', and felt himself nodding. Felt himself sighing, and finding just the smallest smile, in memory of an old friend. Yes, he thought. Nigel, at least, would have found it fitting.
"Next time, you could try for some subtlety," he said, but he didn't disagree. "I would remind you that I am still connected to law enforcement, after all."
Nikola laughed. "Oh, but James," he purred, still rough, but delighted. "You're the only one knowledgable enough to catch on, you know that. And if you turned me in, I'm positive Nigel would haunt you. Just because." A note of childish petulance, there, and just a hint of wistfulness. James shook his head.
"Don't get caught," he warned finally, hearing the rueful surrender in his own voice, imagining Nikola's grin to hear it. "And if I'm going to be covering for you, the least you could do is pay me for it!"
Nikola laughed, voice crackling through the line. "Diamonds are a girl's best friend? James, you should have said something sooner! Of course I'd be happy to share!"
"Oh, shut up," James grumped at him, but he was grinning faintly. "Some small remuneration, wired safely, would do quite nicely. I presume you do have a fence."
"Now, James. That would be telling." Nikola was still grinning, he could hear it. "But I'd be happy to forward you some of the proceeds, never fear. Silence, as they say, is golden. Or rather, the price of it is. For shame, by the way. Blackmailing an old friend. Whatever would Nigel have thought?"
"That I'm getting paid far too little for the messes you all get me into," James responded drily, and grinned at the answering huff of laughter. "Stay safe, Nikola. And ..." He hesitated, wondering if it was really his place to say, but in the end ... "And Nikola? I'm sure he appreciated it. Even if he would most definitely have yelled at you for it."
The silence this time was longer, and somehow sadder than the crackle of static should allow, but Nikola was quiet when he answered, sure and calm, and warm. "Thank you," was all he said, very quietly, and with a soft click, he cut the call.
James lifted the receiver away from his ear, looked at it softly for a minute or two, and then rested it back in its cradle with a soft and quiet smile.
"To old friends," he toasted quietly, and slipped the newspaper into a drawer. "Old friends, and absent ones."
James cradled the telephone to his ear, listening absently as it rang repeatedly, and rubbed tiredly at his eyes with his other hand. The phone call was a long shot, at best, to an hotel that Nikola had implied could get through to him if needed, but if what James suspected was true, Nikola was probably too far underground at this point to be reached. Still, circumstances demanded that James at least try. If only in order to express his complete and utter disbelief.
Under his elbow, resting on the table, a New York newspaper from some weeks ago glared balefully up at him, along with a letter from a friend of his from the other side of the pond, helpfully answering a hesitant query on James' part.
If this meant what he thought it meant, he was going to throttle Nikola ...
The line clicked, someone at the other end finally picking up, and James snapped back to the moment with razored focus, listening as a familiar voice came cautiously down the line.
"Hello?" Nikola Tesla asked, carefully. "James? Is that you?"
"Nikola," James said, as heavily as humanly possible, and from the grin he could all but hear down the line, thought it confirmation enough.
"James," Nikola shot back, suddenly sly, and yes, James could hear the grin. "What can I do for you?"
"Jack Roland Murphy," James said, internally still somehow hoping that he was wrong. Internally realising that there wasn't much hope, for the grin in Nikola's voice. "Alan Kuhn. Roger Clark. Do these names ring a bell, Nikola?"
A long, long pause down the line, and a face appeared in James' mind, a perfect copy of Nikola, and that face morphed quickly through the numerous expressions James knew inhabited this silence. Amusement. Cunning. Delight at James' finding him out. Some faint worry, perhaps, though the line was secure. Maybe, even, a hint of chagrin, though James didn't hold out much hope.
"Did you want anything from the Natural History Museum?" Nikola asked at last, wry and bubbling with repressed amusement. "I would have asked beforehand, you understand, but I didn't want to pressure the children too much ..."
"For gods sake, Nikola!" James snapped, exasperated beyond measure, finally giving vent to the disbelief that had dogged him for weeks, ever since seeing the papers, and that one name ... "What on earth were you thinking?"
Nikola laughed, the sound blurred a little by static on the line, but James heard the odd note in it, heard the catch. "Oh, you know me," the vampire told him cheerfully. "Easily distracted by shiny things, eh, James?"
"Nikola," James said quietly. Reprovingly. Surely he deserved a better answer than that.
Nikola sobered, then. Just a little, in the sound of his voice, and James' mind conjured the expression to match easily enough. "I needed something," he said, equally quite. "I needed something, and I had a few old debts to repay too. I had a chance, James. I took it."
James sighed, dropping his head into his hand again, suddenly tired. "Was this thing you needed by any chance a 14 carat yellow diamond?" he asked, but perhaps there was a faint hint of amusement beginning to slip into his own voice. Perhaps a faint hint of appreciation. He could hear the matching grin Nikola sent him for it.
"Perhaps," Nikola laughed, rich and amused. "Perhaps a number of diamonds. Fantastically useful things, those stones. Why James. However did you know?"
"It was the only thing not recovered when they caught the others," James pointed out drily. "Not that much of a deductive leap, Nikola."
The vampire laughed at him down the line. "Touche, Sherlock," he grinned. "But that wasn't what I was asking."
James knew that. Of course he did. And of course Nikola would want to know how he'd been traced. Not that that, either, had been all that taxing a deduction. But one would have to know ...
"It was the Morgan collection," he answered, quietly. Knowing the bad blood that had lived between those two. "The alarm system for the museum wasn't functioning. Not unusual, their security was never good, but rather convenient, and no trouble at all for a man of your talents. But the damning evidence, Nikola ..." He paused, let it play out a little, let himself tease, although he knew he shouldn't. Not about this. Of all things, not about this. "Murphy mentioned a name, someone who'd helped him come up with the idea." He paused again, but this time in raw sympathy. "Oh, Nikola ..."
"It seemed fitting," his old friend answered, after a moment. His voice soft, subdued. "Not that they could have held a candle to him, you understand. Getting themselves caught not three days later. He would have laughed at them. But it seemed fitting. A ... A tribute, if you like."
"Yes," James said, very quietly. A tribute, a memorial. It had only been a few years. And Nikola had always been the closest to him. Always been the one among them ... well, the one among them capable of giving the memory of an old friend this particular tribute. But still ... "But still, Nikola. 'Nikola Griffin'? Really? Not exactly an opaque pseudonym ..."
Nikola laughed, warm and uncaring as it cracked in the middle. His voice was wry, and husky. "I know," he said, as honest as only he could be. "I've always had trouble with names, James, you know that. And he'd have yelled at me himself, I know. But it seemed ..." He paused, and James could sense the smile, the shake of the head, years since he'd seen either. "One last job together," Nikola finished, so very, very softly. "One last job, just the two of us. Don't you think? Doesn't that seem fitting, James?"
James didn't answer, for a moment. Looking down at the newspaper on the desk, the headline proudly declaring the 'Greatest Jewel Heist of the Century!', and felt himself nodding. Felt himself sighing, and finding just the smallest smile, in memory of an old friend. Yes, he thought. Nigel, at least, would have found it fitting.
"Next time, you could try for some subtlety," he said, but he didn't disagree. "I would remind you that I am still connected to law enforcement, after all."
Nikola laughed. "Oh, but James," he purred, still rough, but delighted. "You're the only one knowledgable enough to catch on, you know that. And if you turned me in, I'm positive Nigel would haunt you. Just because." A note of childish petulance, there, and just a hint of wistfulness. James shook his head.
"Don't get caught," he warned finally, hearing the rueful surrender in his own voice, imagining Nikola's grin to hear it. "And if I'm going to be covering for you, the least you could do is pay me for it!"
Nikola laughed, voice crackling through the line. "Diamonds are a girl's best friend? James, you should have said something sooner! Of course I'd be happy to share!"
"Oh, shut up," James grumped at him, but he was grinning faintly. "Some small remuneration, wired safely, would do quite nicely. I presume you do have a fence."
"Now, James. That would be telling." Nikola was still grinning, he could hear it. "But I'd be happy to forward you some of the proceeds, never fear. Silence, as they say, is golden. Or rather, the price of it is. For shame, by the way. Blackmailing an old friend. Whatever would Nigel have thought?"
"That I'm getting paid far too little for the messes you all get me into," James responded drily, and grinned at the answering huff of laughter. "Stay safe, Nikola. And ..." He hesitated, wondering if it was really his place to say, but in the end ... "And Nikola? I'm sure he appreciated it. Even if he would most definitely have yelled at you for it."
The silence this time was longer, and somehow sadder than the crackle of static should allow, but Nikola was quiet when he answered, sure and calm, and warm. "Thank you," was all he said, very quietly, and with a soft click, he cut the call.
James lifted the receiver away from his ear, looked at it softly for a minute or two, and then rested it back in its cradle with a soft and quiet smile.
"To old friends," he toasted quietly, and slipped the newspaper into a drawer. "Old friends, and absent ones."
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