icarus_chained (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
icarus_chained) wrote2016-04-03 04:36 pm
icarus_chained) wrote2016-04-03 04:36 pm
Entry tags:
LXG Nemo/Jekyll/Hyde Fic
This is a surprisingly long story for me, for a canon I only rewatched recently and which a lot of people seem to despise. Heh. However, a) I really enjoy this movie, shite as it is in places, b) I really love Nemo, and c) I really ship these three. Two, three. So. Have eight thousand odd words as a result of my recent rewatch?
Title: Promises Sweet
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003, Movie)
Characters/Pairings: Dr. Henry Jekyll, Edward Hyde, Captain Nemo, mention of Allan Quatermain, Ishmael and the League. Jekyll/Hyde/Nemo
Summary: In Mongolia, after the wounded have been tended and the bodies of the dead brought back aboard the Nautilus, Henry and Edward wander the ship, lost and confused by their own reactions. It's Nemo who finds them, and Nemo who brings them home and finds a sort of peace for the three of them to share
Wordcount: 8347
Warnings/Notes: Right, um. Pre-epilogue, aftermath, canonical character death. Grief, shock, confusion. Multiple personalities, mental issues, Hyde being Hyde. Comfort, companionship, attraction, complicated relationships. Decisions, sharing a bed. No sex. Hopeful ending?
Disclaimer: Not mine
Title: Promises Sweet
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003, Movie)
Characters/Pairings: Dr. Henry Jekyll, Edward Hyde, Captain Nemo, mention of Allan Quatermain, Ishmael and the League. Jekyll/Hyde/Nemo
Summary: In Mongolia, after the wounded have been tended and the bodies of the dead brought back aboard the Nautilus, Henry and Edward wander the ship, lost and confused by their own reactions. It's Nemo who finds them, and Nemo who brings them home and finds a sort of peace for the three of them to share
Wordcount: 8347
Warnings/Notes: Right, um. Pre-epilogue, aftermath, canonical character death. Grief, shock, confusion. Multiple personalities, mental issues, Hyde being Hyde. Comfort, companionship, attraction, complicated relationships. Decisions, sharing a bed. No sex. Hopeful ending?
Disclaimer: Not mine
Promises Sweet
They had wandered away from the infirmary and the main thrust of the action around it. They wanted to be by themselves for a minute. They needed ... some time to come to grips.
Henry had found a quiet corridor of the Nautilus, somewhere out of the way, where they wouldn't be found immediately. He stood by a porthole, looking out at the snowy Mongolian twilight. The factory couldn't be seen from here. That was all to the good, in truth. The empty greyness suited their mood much better. In their reflection against it, Edward's face was only lightly superimposed across his own. He'd been quiet since the factory. Or no. Since the aftermath. Henry couldn't blame him.
They had helped carry Quatermain to the Nautilus. Skinner, too, more in need of their help. Skinner at least would survive, though given the severity of the burns he wouldn't be happy about it for a while yet. Quatermain would have no more care for happiness ever again. They had packed him in ice. A preservative measure, the better to bring his body home. There had been enough of it lying around. Aside from the weight, and the cold, it hadn't been difficult. Nemo had laid a space aside in the depths of the Nautilus, made a place half ice box and half shrine. He'd been the one to think of the ice, as well.
He'd been the one to find them a coat, too, somewhere in the midst of things. Henry hadn't thought of it, not once Sawyer had appeared, the expression on his face an all-too-clear illustration of what had happened. The cold wouldn't have bothered Edward, hadn't bothered him, but Henry was a frailer creature. Had Nemo not been paying attention, remote and familiar enough with loss to be able to think through it, they might be in the infirmary themselves, nursing the beginnings of frostbite and oblivious to it until too late.
That was part of what kept Edward quiet, he thought. Nemo. Quatermain. Comfort and loss. Both such strangers to them now. How long since they had last been close enough to anyone to experience either? Not since Edward. Edward had never been inclined. Too fragile and maudlin a pair of emotions for him. He didn't understand them, even now. Henry could see it in him, see the confusion in the face laid across his own. He could sense it, feel Edward shifting with it in the back of his head. Loss, confusion. Comfort, bewilderment. They were such foreign things to his monster.
Such foreign things to him, now. So unfamiliar once again. He couldn't decry Edward for it. It wasn't only the brute who found them strange.
"... Doctor?"
They startled, Edward's reflection an instinctive flash of aggression and defensiveness as they spun, the monster stirring in a fitful, exhausted attempt to protect them both. Useless, without the formula. An empty gesture, and one that would once have horrified. Henry wondered vaguely that it didn't anymore. Even as he turned, he wondered at how guiltless the strength of his monster made him now.
Nemo did not startle. He only watched them as they came to face him. He stood a little way away, steady, patient, imperturbable. A slight, shadowed figure in the dimness of the corridor, steady as a mountain and fathomless as the sea. Henry flushed, twice as conscious of his own unease, the embarrassment of his twitching startlement. He paused automatically, waiting for Edward's comment, listening for a harsh disdain. It didn't come. After a second, with an absent sort of shock, Henry realised that Edward was frozen too. The sight of Nemo had stilled him, as nothing in their life had ever done before.
Should that be terrifying, he wondered? For any man to have such power over them? Or should it be relieving instead? He didn't know. Truly, he didn't. And this moment, he was too tired and unmoored to even try.
He faced Nemo instead. He shook himself, a habitual twitch of his head normally used to try and shake Edward from his ear, and managed a step forward and a shaky, tremulous sort of smile. He spread his arms, an instinctive welcome, offering whatever service he might provide.
"Nemo," he said. "I'm sorry, I-- I'm sorry. Did you need something?"
The Captain studied him for a moment. That still, careful contemplation of his, that endless patience. Nemo had no care for social niceties, did not trip over them as Henry so often did. Nemo did as he pleased, when he pleased, and would not be moved for all the world before that point. It was a part of him they could not help but admire, Henry and his monster both. It was a fierce, silent sort of a strength, and it drew them both like magnets.
It disconcerted them too, though. It was an uneasy thing to be studied so. Even for Edward, who flinched from very, very little. Perhaps it meant more from someone they admired.
"... Night is drawing in," Nemo said at last, with an odd note in his voice that would have been cautious, had he been anyone other than who he was. "The others are retiring, those that are fit to do so. I intend to repair for a nightcap. Will you join me, Doctor?"
Henry blinked at him, opened his mouth wordlessly. That ... had not been anything he was expecting. He found himself glancing sideways, his head moving without his will, his eyes seeking Edward's reflected in the porthole. Seeking counsel, asking his monster what to do. For God's sake, when had he ever ...?
And Edward was no help, regardless. He only stared mutely back at Henry, equally uncertain, equally lost. No help at all.
"We can stop by your quarters on the way, if you would prefer to fetch some clothing first," Nemo continued, with something of a brusque gentility. Henry's head snapped back around, blinking myopically at him, and Nemo nodded gently downwards. Henry dropped his eyes, and realised with vague shock what the Captain was referring to.
Beneath the coat, he was still dressed in the torn remnants from the factory. He'd forgotten. To a degree, it wasn't unusual, a common thing in the aftermath of one of Edward's emergences. Normally he would have realised before now, however. He was too self-conscious, always had been. He would never before have stood in company and not been conscious of his state of undress. What ... what was wrong with him today? With them, with both of them. Surely one death, someone they had only known a few weeks, should not affect them like this?
"Doctor," Nemo said again, this time more forcefully. He came towards them, as Henry looked up, his brow furrowed and a sharp, searching look now on his face. "Dr. Jekyll. What is it? Are you hurt, or something else?"
Something else. Yes, probably, though what particular sort of something else Nemo was expecting, Henry wasn't sure. But they were ... something else. Confused. Perhaps the cold had affected them. Perhaps it had numbed something, left them slow and stupid in the wake of it. All they'd wanted was some time alone. They hadn't expected to have to answer to anyone for it.
"... Something else," he agreed, after a long moment in which Nemo stared at him very fiercely indeed. Henry chuckled abruptly, a breathless little huff of amusement, and held out his empty hands once more. Spread them, more mute entreaty now than welcome. "I'm sorry, Captain. I don't ... I'm not sure what's wrong with me. I suspect I would be bad company. I think I shall retire. Though I ... I thank you for your offer."
He looked away then, shuffled awkwardly as he tried to remember where exactly he was and how to return to their room from here, studiously avoiding Edward's gaze in the process. He was turning, readying to leave, when Nemo reached out and caught his arm.
Henry went very still. He felt Edward stir, felt the stronger of them come slowly to attention inside him, but Edward was only waiting too. Edward was curious, and nothing more. Henry turned, slowly, and looked at the Captain behind them.
"I am well accustomed to silence, Doctor," Nemo said, with slow, calm intent. "You would not have to entertain me. If you are unwell, I do not think that you should be alone."
That caught at something. The words. The man saying them. It caught a snarl of things, and Henry laughed again. Harder, now, and sharper, with a vague edge of hysteria. He didn't feel slow anymore. He felt giddy, instead, and brittle. It hardly seemed a safer combination, but Nemo didn't so much as move. He raised an eyebrow, instead. Looked at Henry as if the laugh had only proved his point. Which it may well have.
Henry shook his head, a pale, wry smile on his face. "I am not sensible this evening," he warned, rather cheerfully. "Neither sensible nor dignified. I don't want to disturb you, Captain. You've done enough to help us today."
'Us'. He noticed the 'us', once it had already left his mouth. Neither Edward nor Nemo commented, though. Edward coiled through him, nearly a physical presence now, but he didn't comment. Nemo looked only mildly bemused.
"I am not easily disturbed," was all he said. "Especially not today, of all days. Come with me, Doctor. If you truly wish for peace, I will leave you be, but I would prefer your company."
"Go with him," Edward said suddenly. Enough so that Henry's head jerked towards the porthole, Nemo's stabilising grip on his arm a rare point of steadiness in the world. Edward looked back at him from their reflection, a curious expression on his face. Thoughtful, calm. Intent, in a way that usually came only during a hunt, but there was no edge of violence to it. He looked at Henry, met his eyes steadily. "Go with him, Henry. Let him have us, if he wants us."
An odd way to say it. What a interesting way to phrase it. Henry glanced back at Nemo, found the Captain watching him calmly. Knowing, perhaps, what he was doing. He'd seen it once, after all, though under less disarming circumstances. There was every chance that Nemo knew precisely who Henry was listening to. It didn't seem to bother him any.
"... A nightcap, did you say?" He tried on a vague smile, stepping back towards Nemo and gently retrieving his arm. "I suppose ... it's possible that I could use one. All right. Lead on, sir. I'm sure I shall follow."
Nemo studied him again, held his eyes fiercely and intently. It really was unsettling. There was nothing to be done for it, though. Nemo was as he was. He nodded to himself after a moment. Having seen whatever it was he wanted to see, Henry could only presume. He stood back slightly, the fierceness of his expression softening a little, and gestured for Henry to precede him down the corridor. Or join him, perhaps, since Nemo was the one of them who knew where he was going. Henry stepped up beside him with a wry little shake of his head.
"We'll go to my quarters, I think," Nemo informed him softly, walking ahead with his calm, precise stride. "I have garments you can borrow. It will do until later. I had not realised that you would not have changed."
Henry grimaced faintly. "I would have. Should have. I ... forgot." Nemo glanced at him, and he shrugged uneasily. "I don't know. I am ... not myself tonight. Not Edward, either. I'm not sure what's happened to me."
Nemo's eyebrows raised briefly, but he said nothing to that. From the way he looked ahead, striding more determinedly, Henry had the impression that that wasn't because he had nothing to say, and more because he had no wish to say whatever it was here. Not out in the open, in corridors where anyone could hear. Something he wished to say in private, then? Alarming, possibly. Except that Henry was too tired, really, to be truly worried, and besides he ...
He trusted Nemo. Such a strange thing to think, but he did. Today of all days. Nemo had not failed them once so far. In all that violence, all that peril, all that grief, Nemo had never once let either himself or Edward down. He had never once done them harm, and had done his best to prevent others from trying.
It was a lightening thought. A bubble in the chest, buoying him upwards, so that he imagined for a second that he was less walking and more floating after Nemo, tugged along in his wake. Flotsam, washing up at the Captain's doors. Edward would object to the description, he thought. Edward would not fancy it at all. Henry thought it rather amusing.
Until they reached the door, at least. Until he actually did wash up, flotsam in Nemo's wake, and had to consider what it might mean. He glanced at Edward in the doorknob, nearly laughing once again to realise what he was doing. To realise he was taking comfort from Edward's presence, that he was looking towards his darker self for reassurance or at the least company in his uncertainty. So far had they come, since Edward had almost sacrificed himself in the Nautilus' depths. So far, and Henry still wasn't sure in which direction. Good or ill, he couldn't tell. It should worry him more than it did.
"Come in, Doctor," Nemo said softly, opening the door and guiding Henry gently but insistently inside. He guided him past the stutter of amazement at the room, too, steering Henry onwards towards a seating arrangement in its opulent depths. "Sit down, remove your clothes. You're still cold. I'll find you something to wear."
He moved off without a pause, heading deeper into the rooms. Towards his sleeping quarters and his wardrobe, presumably. Henry didn't know why he'd been so stunned. The Nautilus had never been a modest vessel. Even his own room was comparable to a good cabin on any first class ship. It only made sense that Nemo's, as Captain, would be only more impressive again.
It was only that it reminded him of Nemo's position, that was all. A prince, if only of a private and seafaring kingdom now. A prince and a captain and a warrior, strong as a mountain and fathomless as the sea. Henry laughed raggedly, catching the edges of hysteria once again, and leaned back in his seat, pressing his palms across his face. A ragged piece of flotsam, wasn't he, with a monster in his tow. What a guest for a prince to have.
"Get a hold of yourself, Henry," Edward murmured, a calm, brutish presence flexing itself mildly inside his head. Henry glanced at him, lowered his hands to find Edward watching him from the burnished side of a coffee pot on the table. There'd been no contempt in the admonishment. Edward was only looking at him, as mild and reassuring as any hysterical imagining could wish. What had happened to them? What were they now, that he could look at his monster for reassurance, and have the monster give it?
It was a relief to have Nemo reappear, before he might be forced to try and answer that. Even when the man held out a soft tunic and a pair of trousers, offering them silently and immovably as though expecting Henry to strip there and then to put them on. It was still a more concrete embarrassment than his own tangled thoughts. Henry blinked at him, at the calm arch of an eyebrow that answered him and the way that Edward cackled roughly to one side, and abruptly found that lightness inside himself again. He found a bubble of humour and almost courage, a blithe lack of concern, and stood up to accept the clothes from Nemo's hands.
He was near-naked often enough anyway, wasn't he? He was lucky usually to salvage enough ragged threads of trousers to avoid shocking the world entirely. Dignity should long have been a forgotten luxury, and he didn't think that Nemo would mock him. Or perhaps even care. He was cold. He'd realised as Nemo said it. It had seeped into him as the factory exploded behind them, and he forgotten to notice in all the pain and preparations afterwards. If not for Nemo's coat out there, he'd be very unwell indeed right now.
Edward leered at him casually as he stripped out of that coat, laying it carefully aside and unpicking the hasty knot that had held their trousers on his hips. It was a familiar sensation, though less mocking now than it would normally be. Edward had always disdained his shaking grasps at normality in the wake of a transformation, mocked him for his weakness and his hiding. There was none of that now. Just the leer, familiar and in this moment almost kind.
Henry didn't look at Nemo. Not until he was clothed once more. There was only so far his courage and his dignity could stretch.
"Sorry," he said, fiddling with the embroidery on the tunic. It was a beautiful thing, very fine, if a little too short. It didn't make as much different as it might, when the garment was designed to reach the calf. "Ah. Thank you, Captain."
"Sit down," said Nemo gently. "It's no trouble, Doctor. We have saved each other enough today to be easier in each other's company, I think."
It was said calmly, more as a statement than a question. Henry glanced up, startled, and found the man watching him. Found that same calm, immovable confidence in Nemo's eyes, a man who would stand firm in the face of anything, offering nothing now but the truth as he saw it. As ... as anyone might see it, maybe. Henry hadn't really thought it, but they had fought together, hadn't they? They had done their best, himself and Edward, to keep Nemo safe as well during that jolly little massacre of theirs. Instinct, mostly, but perhaps no less acceptable for that.
He tipped his head back a bit, letting out a ragged breath and a lot of lingering, habitual anxiety along with it. This was not the normal aftermath of a transformation. Hadn't been from the start. They had felt and done things today that neither of them had ever done before, not while they were two, and they were not in unsafe hands. They were not alone, and they were not with anyone who might justly destroy them for what they were. They had helped. This once, at least, or counting the ship perhaps this second time, they had done nothing worth apologising for.
"... You're right," he said at last, when he lowered his head and found Nemo watching him with a slight, vague twinkle in his eye. Henry smiled back as he finally sat down. "You're right, I'm sorry. We did well today. Even if it cost us. We did well."
Nemo nodded, that faint smile curving his lips beneath the moustache. "We did indeed," he agreed, moving to take a seat opposite the one Henry had chosen for himself. Edward pouted at that. Henry moved the coffee pot before he'd thought, turning it so that the spout should not block Edward's view. Only a second later did he think about what he'd done, did he pause and wonder at the ... the absurdity of it. Edward was inside him. What good would it do to turn a reflection to see them both? But Edward sneered gratefully up at him, and Henry could only shake his head and keep his tremblings to himself.
Nemo had watched this little exchange, he realised when he looked up. Nemo had watched the motion, watched his face as he made it and his face when he realised what he'd done. There was curiosity in the man's eyes, knowledge of another presence and a curiosity of how far it spread and how it might be reached. There was no fear. No anger or disgust, as there had been that first night Nemo had witnessed his and Edward's altercation. Nemo wasn't afraid of Edward any longer, to whatever extent he ever had been. Henry ... wasn't sure yet how to react to that. He wasn't sure yet it was deserved. Yet Edward had never harmed Nemo. Edward had never wanted to. In that factory, Edward had given everything they had to keep Nemo safe, even past the point where the formula was gone and only Henry left to try and do anything. Nemo had come for them. He'd come for Edward. They'd both been desperate to repay that, to try and earn whatever had motivated it.
They were desperate still, he realised. It was only that they were somewhat calmer about it now. Worn down some by grief and by cold, the losses of the day numbing fears towards any further ones. And they trusted him. At least the beginnings of it. Nemo was what he was. They trusted him to deal with them as they were in return.
"Was it your first, Doctor?" Nemo asked quietly into the silence. Henry blinked at him slowly. He'd relaxed more than he should inside that silence, he thought. He was tired enough that he'd almost sunk too far. Not for any fear or worry over dignity, but only because it wasn't polite to fall asleep in front of your host. He shook himself, carefully, watched Edward do the same. He forced himself to try and pay attention.
"My first what?" he asked, with curiosity rather than trepidation. Edward grunted vaguely from the coffee pot. Henry almost smirked. Until Nemo clarified, at least. The urge to smirk faded rapidly at that.
"Your first true battle," the Captain said, with that same calm gentility, his eyes soft with a peculiar sort of sympathy, and Henry felt cold clench tight inside him once again. He looked away. Looked at Edward, who looked back with something that might almost have been apology. For Nemo. All of Henry's moral panic over their years, and for Nemo Edward thought to finally be ashamed. The smirk became a snarl. Or would have done, had Henry not been so damnably tired.
"We have fought many times," he said coldly. "Murdered, too. You've heard of us, Captain, and seen us. You know we've fought before."
"That is not what I asked," Nemo interrupted calmly, the words as decisive a halt as a brick wall. Henry blinked, and carefully closed his mouth. "You have killed before and you have hunted, or your other half at least. That is not to say you have fought. Not as a crew or a soldier fights. Among comrades, for a common goal. Accepting the losses afterwards. That is what we did today. We fought, and we won, and we lost. Have you known that before?"
Henry stared at him, mute, the numbness of the Mongolian wastes creeping up through him once again. That confusion, that loss and that bewilderment that had so affected them, left them lost and forgetful of themselves. Quatermain, who they hadn't even been that fond of. Respected, yes, but not much more than that. Not enough to mourn this way, to be so affected by his death. And Skinner, his pain something that had torn at them, Mina and Sawyer, their grief a shock and an echo of their own. It had been ... It had been different, yes. They'd never fought beside anyone. Never been accepted to that extent. Edward wouldn't ... He'd thought that Edward wouldn't. He'd never thought his monster would allow it. Until that moment when the bombs went off, when Edward fought to save the ship. Until then. Until afterwards.
"... I don't know what's happening to us," he said, a little hoarsely. Leaning back, looking at the ceiling rather than Nemo or Edward. "We've never ... I've grieved before, but not ... And Edward, not at all. It doesn't ... happen like this. I don't know what's happening."
Nemo was silent for a moment, a careful, gentle sort of a silence. Strange, from so fierce and so deadly a man. Not unexpected, though. They were coming to learn that. They were coming to understand.
"The first time is always like that," the Captain said quietly at last. "To have fought beside someone and lost them. It is always different. There is more to your response. I cannot say how Mr Hyde might affect things. But it is a natural reaction. To lose someone whose life has been in your hands, and who has held your own in theirs. It is never an easy thing."
Ishmael, Henry remembered. He felt the weight of the man in his arms once more, spending his last breath to warn them. He remembered Nemo's face as he watched his friend die.
Henry swallowed, that tinge of hysterical humour back in his voice. "We only knew him a few weeks. We didn't even like him that much. Edward ... Edward respected him, but I don't think he had forgiven him for capturing us. And I ... I didn't know him. I don't think I knew him. Not enough to ... to feel this ..."
"Liking is not required," Nemo said, with a strange sort of knowing in his voice. "Even an enemy may be mourned, if he was worthy enough. Their worth is measured in the strength of their effect on us. Quatermain captured you, and by doing so he brought you here. To us, to this fight. Being here has changed you, I think. You do not speak of your monster as you used to. You say 'we' and 'us'. You do not revile him as you once did. Quatermain helped cause that. Perhaps that is part of why you mourn."
Henry laughed, struggling forwards to rest his elbows on his knees and scrub desperately at his face. He felt Edward's silence almost physically, felt the coiled tightness in his head and from the coffee pot, where Edward was trying not to react, trying not to feel, trying not to let Henry see. Trying not to be weak. Expecting to be mocked for it, maybe. Expecting Henry to strike at him, to throw anger and grief against him once more. It had been deserved, once. Edward was what he was, and Henry had made him to be that way. His anger and his guilt and his hate had been deserved between them once upon a time.
But was it now? Was it earned anymore. Edward could kill without a thought. He was a simple thing in many ways, and when it came to the death Henry knew he would not hesitate. He remembered Edward's expression, though. In the engine room, while the water flooded away, dozens saved by Edward's actions. He remembered Edward's face when he'd caught Henry's eyes down there, and Henry had answered him. "Bravo, Edward! Bravo!"
He'd said that Henry craved it, the elixir, all the power that came with it. If a ... a not-evil man could long for bloodshed, sometimes, perhaps a not-terrible monster could long for something higher in return. And, as Henry knew so very well, once someone had tasted of their addictions, they were very, very difficult to let go of again.
And then, too, there was ...
"You don't seem to revile him either," he said quietly, looking back up at Nemo once more. Seeing Edward turn too, out of the corner of his eye. A pause first, while he realised what Henry was implying. Either, Henry said. Edward paused to assimilate that. Then to Nemo, the both of them. Then to the man who had half-carried them while their formula ran out, his arm around their struggling half-made form, trying to keep them ahead of the death behind them. A man who had saved their life, and who had been willing to stand in the face of an evil he could not stop to do it. "You don't seem so opposed to having a brute on your ship."
Nemo looked back at them calmly, a strange half smile hidden behind his beard, a curious look in his eyes. "It would be a poor repayment, when he has saved every life on that ship, and my own besides," he pointed out, leaning forward to smile at Henry more openly. "It is a difficult thing to revile someone who has fought beside you. Not always, of course. Treachery will be rewarded as it deserves. But an honest companion? That is a hard thing to despise."
Lightness bubbled up through Henry once again. A silent wonder, that floating, airy feeling. What freedom felt like. Edward's freedom was his. They were bound together. Where one was hated so were both. For one to be accepted ...
"Tell him thank you, Henry," Edward said, his voice thick and heavy as he looked at Nemo. "Thank him for coming when we called. Thank him for staying. Thank him for saving our life. Do it now, Henry. Please."
Henry swallowed, his own throat a little tight, but he answered with a will. He said it, because it was more than well deserved.
"... Edward says thank you," he said, his eyes creasing at Nemo's arched brow. "For coming for him in the factory. For staying. For everything since. I ... I'll thank you too. We're more often hunted than saved. You were another thing that was different. All of you, perhaps, but you most of all." A pause, while his eyes prickled. "Thank you."
Nemo blinked. He swallowed, looked away as Henry had been looking forward and back this entire conversation. He looked down at his knees, and his smile now was a quieter, more knowing thing.
"You reminded me once that my own past was far from laudable," he said quietly, when he looked back at Henry. "It was not a baseless accusation. We each have a darkness, one that was almost unleashed by that madman in there. Perhaps it is for the best, then, that we should guard each other. Not as jailors, but as companions in arms. As ... friends, perhaps."
Friends. Said with a tinge of almost hope, as if Nemo too was not unaffected by all that had passed this day. These last few weeks. It had been ... a hard-fought thing, hadn't it? For all of them, and perhaps Henry least of all. He had more gained than lost, after all. Everyone else, they had lost friends or enemies, been wounded. Been killed. Henry had found something instead. A tentative peace with Edward, an acceptance and a chance like none he had had in years. He had suffered least of all, in the end. And here he was, moping on top of Nemo, as though he had suffered most. Good god. What a truly selfish thing he was.
"... I would happily be your friend, sir, if I had earned the chance," he said, trying to answer Nemo's hope as Nemo had repeatedly answered theirs. "Edward I know would die for you, though I cannot promise he will always be friendly about it. We are ... We have much to learn about each other now. Things we did not allow before. I don't think I am wrong, however, in saying that he would gladly count you a friend as well."
"You're not," Edward agreed, a small growl, and a leer because Edward was Edward, and Henry had made him so. "More than friends, if the man asks. You tell him to say the word."
Henry closed his eyes. "For God's sake, Edward," he managed, pressing his fingers to his brow. "Not ... One thing at a time, all right? Let's wait on that, shall we?"
"Dare I ask?" Nemo asked, rich and amused as he watched them. Henry blinked his eyes open, caught himself staring at the man. At the quiet, fierce strength of him, the light of humour in his eyes. The warmth, just for them. More than friends, Edward said. All the man had to do was ask. It wasn't only Edward. It never was, never had been. Nothing in their partnership had ever been Edward's fault alone. They'd had Nemo in their arms, huddled together with him against an icy wall while death scrabbled at the gate. They'd had his arm around them, holding them up at the risk of his own life. Edward was not alone in remembering that. Henry was a coward of a man, and all Nemo would have to do was ask.
One thing at a time, though. One thing. Let's have a friend first before they destroyed it searching for more, hmm?
"Nothing," he said, offering up a crooked grin. "Edward is just ... He's both eloquent and direct, shall we say. It was nothing, Captain."
Nemo looked briefly sceptical, but accepted that. Seemed to, anyway. "Nemo," he said instead, and chuckled while Henry blinked. "You need not call me Captain, Doctor. My name will suffice. There's no need to fall back on formality."
"... Oh," Henry said, a little stupidly. "Well, ah. I mean. Likewise, Captain. Nemo." He paused, shook his head. "I don't feel much of a doctor at the minute. Henry will do."
Nemo's smile widened. "Henry, then," he agreed, with a warming sort of satisfaction, before he sobered again. His expression became thoughtful and a little hesitant once more. "You will forgive an impertinence, Henry. I think ... I think perhaps you should stay here for tonight." He held up a hand. "I mean nothing untoward. You were in shock earlier. I should have noticed sooner, but there was much to be done. I would like to redress that. These rooms are well appointed. There are rugs and sofas aplenty. Or you might have my bed."
Henry stared at him. He nearly flushed, too, so soon on top of the other thoughts. Edward didn't even leer, as much stunned himself. Henry shook his head desperately.
"I would not put you out, sir!" he said, and hoped it had not come out as strangled as he feared. "That is, I'm sure I shall be fine. I can return to my room, it's no trouble."
Nemo held up both hands, a calming gesture. "It you stayed it would be no trouble either," he assured rapidly. "I would not ask, Doctor, if I did not wish it. I am ..." He hesitated, and then finished. "I would like to have company. It has been a long few weeks. I would like to have yours, to reassure myself that you are safe. We have lost too many, and you and I almost perished together. I was witness to that. If it is too much of an imposition, you do not have to oblige me. If you stayed, however, I would be grateful."
And that put Henry in a neat bind. He could hear the truth in Nemo's voice, could hear something shaking and kept carefully under control. Ishmael again, he thought. More than Quatermain, though he and Nemo had liked each other. It was Ishmael that haunted the Captain though, now that he was properly avenged and nothing left now but the grief. It would be a small thing to stay with the man, to give him another living presence to remind him that all had not entirely been lost, as close as it had come. Or it would be, if Henry didn't want it so much, and for entirely the wrong reasons.
Edward snorted loudly. Loudly to Henry, anyway, grabbing his attention and pulling it firmly in Edward's direction. The brute shook his head, a hint of a familiar contempt back in his eyes again. He had no care for social niceties, Henry's monster. He had no care for reasonings. He cared only what they wanted, and how to make it theirs.
"He wants us to stay, Henry," Edward murmured, the voice of temptation once more. "Didn't we just say all he had to do was ask? He wants us, and we want him. Don't let your nerves get in the way. Tell the man yes. Let him have us if he wants us."
"There is such a thing as wanting the wrong thing, Edward," Henry hissed savagely, instinctively, and only a second later, at Nemo's sudden stillness, remembered why that had really not been the best of ideas.
He looked, very slowly, back at Nemo. Petrified, and yet relieved in a way. Feeling something crumbling back to nothing around him, painful and yet comforting in its familiarity. He looked the man in the eye, wondering idly what he'd see, and then froze. Then fell still as stone as what he saw wasn't anger or confusion or disgust, but rather surprise, and a growing, tentative contemplation.
"... There is indeed," Nemo said carefully, watching him with dark, thoughtful eyes. "If it is my wanting that you find distasteful, Doctor, then know I would not ask anything of you against your will. I am not that sort of monster. If ... If it is another wanting, however ... then perhaps, depending on what it is and from whom it is wanted, it may not be so wrong as you think."
Henry gaped at him. Edward, too. For all his prompting, Henry thought Edward had never once expected that Nemo would ... that there was even a possibility that Nemo would ever acknowledge such a thing, let alone seem to imply ... to imply ...
Nemo stood. Watching Henry all the time, looking for some sign of fear or anger, he came to his feet, that slight, quiet strength, and came the few steps to Henry's side. Edward stirred fitfully, a confused growl in his throat. Henry only blinked, watching the man in bemusement and, he greatly feared, rather a great deal of startled hope.
"I intended to ask you for a nightcap," the Captain said, standing with careful, quiet dignity at Henry's side. "For the reasons I stated before, and for others too. I wanted companionship, your companionship. I would have asked nothing you did not want, and nothing at all had you given any sign of discomfort. That was my intent. But you were ... I realised it would be selfish of me. I could see you were unwell from the moment I stepped into that corridor. I should have expected it. You are in some ways still a civilian, even in spite of your monster. I did not mean to press when you were so unwell. Nor will I, now. I only mean to say ... that if a wanting is mutual, then perhaps there is no reason to fear it?"
Henry didn't answer. Couldn't, struck helpless and mute in the face of the man. Nemo waited, patiently. Edward did not. Edward never could. After a bare few moments, Edward snarled at him.
"For God's sake, Henry! Find a formula and give me our mouth if you can't speak! Say something, damn you. Don't leave the man standing there!"
Henry shook himself. The old gesture, instinctive, trying to shake Edward out of his ear. He looked back up at Nemo helplessly. "... I want," he managed, shaking slightly at the sound of it. "I want. Edward wants. But I ... but Edward wants. Captain. Nemo. I ... You shouldn't. You have to know that we--"
Nemo touched a hand to his shoulder. A light gesture, cutting him off. The man shook his head gently. "I have fought beside Mr Hyde," he said. "I think perhaps he does not mean me harm, whatever else it is he wants. Nor do I think you do either. I trust you, Dr Henry Jekyll. You have fought at my side, saved my life and those of my crew. I am not afraid of you."
"... Fuck," Edward breathed, a shocking and heartfelt crassness. "Henry, we ..."
"I know," Henry whispered, entirely terrified. "Edward, I know."
Nemo paused for a moment at that, waited to see if either of them meant to speak to him in his turn, but Henry wasn't able for that yet. Nor was Edward, not even had he been in possession of their tongue. Edward, even less used than Henry to that kind of casual declaration of trust, had been struck more thoroughly speechless than anyone. And so, after a moment of their silence, Nemo took it on himself to move where they could not.
"Stay with me tonight," he said, his hand warm and careful on Henry's shoulder. "On the sofas or in my bed. It doesn't matter. We will do nothing but sleep." At Henry's stir, his confusion, Nemo shook his head again. "You are not ready for anything else right now, Doctor. I am not so selfish a creature as that. You are confused, you were in shock, you have felt things today that you have not in a long while, if ever before. You will make no decisions tonight, not of that nature. It would do none of us any good. So we will sleep, and nothing more, and we will know at least that the other is alive. Tomorrow ... Tomorrow we will think of anything more. We must bring Quatermain home before all else. We will have time to think, and to decide what it is we might want. Do you agree?"
Henry ... felt a number of things at that, including a hot squirm of disappointment, and another of shamed embarrassment. He felt a warmth too, though. A relief and a gratitude. They had ... they trusted Nemo. Him and Edward both, when he never yet let them down. It seemed that they had not been wrong in that. It was more than lives Nemo might be trusted with. There was a lightness to knowing that.
"I ... I think that would be a good idea," he said, a little thickly, and managed a small, tremulous smile up at the man. "Your, ah. Your bed, if you don't mind. Edward and I ... We would rather be near you. We almost ... we almost died together, as you said. We should like to share a bed, if only for sleeping. I'd like ... I think I'd like to know someone was near."
Nemo nodded wordlessly, that flash of grief and understanding in his brown eyes. The knowledge of his dead, and of those he might have lost alongside them. Ishmael. Henry wondered if it would comfort Nemo to hear the name, or if it would only wound more deeply. Either way, it was not his business. Nemo would grieve in his own time and in his own manner, much as Nemo did anything else as well.
Henry might be there for him, though. He could be another living presence, as much of a comfort as that could be, and gladly so. Edward too, in his simpler, more brutish way. Henry had an idea that, for Nemo as for no one else, Edward might be willing to entertain those frailer, more maudlin emotions of theirs. Nemo drew them as no one else ever had. He made them quiet and unafraid.
"Together, then," Nemo said, drawing him back. "I will agree to that, and happily."
He hesitated a little, and then brought his hand down from Henry's shoulder, brought it to clasp his arm instead. His eyes were fierce and earnest when Henry met them again in startlement. He gripped and held Henry fiercely in his hand.
"I would have you as a friend first, Doctor," he said quietly. "I want you to know that. Even if there is nothing else, I would have you as a friend. A man I have fought beside, who I have saved and who has saved me in my turn. There is enough in that for any man to be glad of. Do nothing you do not want. Decide nothing from any fear. We are alive and we have fought together. That is more than enough for me, if you decide you want nothing more."
Henry stared at him seriously, reached up to grip the man's hand where it lay on his arm. "I believe you," he said, Edward's silence thick and weighty in his head. "Please believe me. It's not the wanting that is the problem. It's ... You must do the same, yes? We don't want to hurt you, Edward or I. I don't think we ever did. Please don't allow us to. Not for any reason."
Nemo studied him, that fierce and seeking regard. It wasn't uneasiness that greeted it now, but desperation, desire, hope. Henry wanted to be seen, wanted Nemo to know how fiercely and how truly he meant it. Before anything else he had said, he needed Nemo to believe this, and to act accordingly. They wanted him safe. They had wanted that since before the factory. Nothing in the world mattered so much between them.
And then, after a second, Nemo nodded. He smiled, that strange, half-hidden thing. "Yes," he said. "I understand. It is a bargain, then. We shall guard ourselves and each other, and keep our evils from destroying us as best we can. Is that the bargain you seek?"
Henry breathed, deep and steadying, and nodded. "It is," he said, curling his fingers tight around Nemo's hand. "Edward is calm for you as he is for almost no one else, but you know as well as anyone that he is not always ... kind. That is not all his fault. Some of it comes from me. We will do all that is in our power not to hurt you, but we are not ... we are not good men."
Nemo raised his chin, looking down at them thoughtfully with dark, experienced eyes. "You are better ones than you think," he said mildly. "You must be, or I would not have been given cause to trust you. Never fear, however. Should treachery come, I shall answer it as it deserves. I shall not fall for your evil. I lay down my life only for what I think right, and nothing else."
Such a strength, Henry thought distantly. Such a fierce and quiet thing. They had not expected it. Since they had first become changed, they had judged strength by Edward first and foremost, and by that measure Nemo, slim and ferocious as he was, was no strength at all. But Edward's was a simple power. They realised that now. There was more in this world than that most simple of strengths, and by those more arcane measures, Nemo was a stronger thing by far. As steady and fathomless as the sea.
"... Then you have a bargain, sir, if you want it still," he said finally, with a strange sort of calm of his own. A patience and a surety, with Edward coiled inside him, such as neither of them had ever experienced before. Nemo smiled, and held his hand.
"I do," he said, and leaned down then to kiss them softly. Only a gentle thing, the press of his lips against Henry's and the tickle of his beard against their cheek. Edward made a noise, a hum of confusion and approval in Henry's ear, a delight for a far softer thing than was his wont. Henry felt a surge at that, an amusement and a fondness, and a light, desperate sort of gratitude for the man who had caused it. He felt a laugh bubble in his chest, and parted his lips to let Nemo have his fill, to let him feel and taste and have them if he wanted them. He opened his mouth and let Nemo fall properly into the kiss.
It was some time before Nemo drew away. Henry thought so, at least. A strange, floating interval, a vague hum of pleasure that distanced him from all concrete concerns. It felt like hours before that languid press of lips came to an end, and for all those hours Edward had not once been discontent. He had been patient. He had been dazed and drugged and delighted. Such a power Nemo had over them, such a force from so gentle a thing. It should have been terrifying. It wasn't. It couldn't be. Not yet.
"... Not tonight," Nemo said, tracing a hand gently over Henry's cheek. Henry blinked, a second too long before the words had meaning him. Nemo smiled carefully. "Not tonight, Doctor. Tonight for sleeping, and nothing else. I will not have of you without your will and your knowledge. Tomorrow, when the world is not so confused. We will decide then."
Henry felt a flash of anger at that, his own and not Edward's, a fitful stir that only confused him all the more. The temper of thwarted desire, and behind it a stumbling bewildered sort of relief. He winced, and recognised the sense of Nemo's words.
"Bugger," he said, softly but emphatically. "Goddamn it. You're right, of course. Tomorrow. When I can string a sentence together without sounding like Edward in the process. We'll leave the decisions until then."
"Spoilsport," Edward commented, but lightly. Dazedly still, and confusedly grateful in his own right. Oh yes. Nemo made sense all right. All the sense in the world. Bugger it all anyway.
The Captain chuckled lightly at them, holding out his other hand until he had both of Henry's hands in his. Henry blinked at him, but allowed it, and allowed himself to be pulled gently to his feet as well. He swayed a bit as he stood, steadied only by Nemo. He flushed, a little, and Nemo's smile went soft and wide.
"To bed with you, I think," he said gently. "It has been a long day, for the both of us. Three of us, perhaps. We should retire then, and let tomorrow come all the sooner."
And that, Henry thought, that there, in that moment, was possibly the best idea he'd ever heard in his life. He said so, even, with only a grunt of Edward's agreement. The day, the weeks they'd had, a bed suddenly sounded the most heavenly promise in the world.
And tomorrow, of course, that promise too, only the sweeter still.
They had wandered away from the infirmary and the main thrust of the action around it. They wanted to be by themselves for a minute. They needed ... some time to come to grips.
Henry had found a quiet corridor of the Nautilus, somewhere out of the way, where they wouldn't be found immediately. He stood by a porthole, looking out at the snowy Mongolian twilight. The factory couldn't be seen from here. That was all to the good, in truth. The empty greyness suited their mood much better. In their reflection against it, Edward's face was only lightly superimposed across his own. He'd been quiet since the factory. Or no. Since the aftermath. Henry couldn't blame him.
They had helped carry Quatermain to the Nautilus. Skinner, too, more in need of their help. Skinner at least would survive, though given the severity of the burns he wouldn't be happy about it for a while yet. Quatermain would have no more care for happiness ever again. They had packed him in ice. A preservative measure, the better to bring his body home. There had been enough of it lying around. Aside from the weight, and the cold, it hadn't been difficult. Nemo had laid a space aside in the depths of the Nautilus, made a place half ice box and half shrine. He'd been the one to think of the ice, as well.
He'd been the one to find them a coat, too, somewhere in the midst of things. Henry hadn't thought of it, not once Sawyer had appeared, the expression on his face an all-too-clear illustration of what had happened. The cold wouldn't have bothered Edward, hadn't bothered him, but Henry was a frailer creature. Had Nemo not been paying attention, remote and familiar enough with loss to be able to think through it, they might be in the infirmary themselves, nursing the beginnings of frostbite and oblivious to it until too late.
That was part of what kept Edward quiet, he thought. Nemo. Quatermain. Comfort and loss. Both such strangers to them now. How long since they had last been close enough to anyone to experience either? Not since Edward. Edward had never been inclined. Too fragile and maudlin a pair of emotions for him. He didn't understand them, even now. Henry could see it in him, see the confusion in the face laid across his own. He could sense it, feel Edward shifting with it in the back of his head. Loss, confusion. Comfort, bewilderment. They were such foreign things to his monster.
Such foreign things to him, now. So unfamiliar once again. He couldn't decry Edward for it. It wasn't only the brute who found them strange.
"... Doctor?"
They startled, Edward's reflection an instinctive flash of aggression and defensiveness as they spun, the monster stirring in a fitful, exhausted attempt to protect them both. Useless, without the formula. An empty gesture, and one that would once have horrified. Henry wondered vaguely that it didn't anymore. Even as he turned, he wondered at how guiltless the strength of his monster made him now.
Nemo did not startle. He only watched them as they came to face him. He stood a little way away, steady, patient, imperturbable. A slight, shadowed figure in the dimness of the corridor, steady as a mountain and fathomless as the sea. Henry flushed, twice as conscious of his own unease, the embarrassment of his twitching startlement. He paused automatically, waiting for Edward's comment, listening for a harsh disdain. It didn't come. After a second, with an absent sort of shock, Henry realised that Edward was frozen too. The sight of Nemo had stilled him, as nothing in their life had ever done before.
Should that be terrifying, he wondered? For any man to have such power over them? Or should it be relieving instead? He didn't know. Truly, he didn't. And this moment, he was too tired and unmoored to even try.
He faced Nemo instead. He shook himself, a habitual twitch of his head normally used to try and shake Edward from his ear, and managed a step forward and a shaky, tremulous sort of smile. He spread his arms, an instinctive welcome, offering whatever service he might provide.
"Nemo," he said. "I'm sorry, I-- I'm sorry. Did you need something?"
The Captain studied him for a moment. That still, careful contemplation of his, that endless patience. Nemo had no care for social niceties, did not trip over them as Henry so often did. Nemo did as he pleased, when he pleased, and would not be moved for all the world before that point. It was a part of him they could not help but admire, Henry and his monster both. It was a fierce, silent sort of a strength, and it drew them both like magnets.
It disconcerted them too, though. It was an uneasy thing to be studied so. Even for Edward, who flinched from very, very little. Perhaps it meant more from someone they admired.
"... Night is drawing in," Nemo said at last, with an odd note in his voice that would have been cautious, had he been anyone other than who he was. "The others are retiring, those that are fit to do so. I intend to repair for a nightcap. Will you join me, Doctor?"
Henry blinked at him, opened his mouth wordlessly. That ... had not been anything he was expecting. He found himself glancing sideways, his head moving without his will, his eyes seeking Edward's reflected in the porthole. Seeking counsel, asking his monster what to do. For God's sake, when had he ever ...?
And Edward was no help, regardless. He only stared mutely back at Henry, equally uncertain, equally lost. No help at all.
"We can stop by your quarters on the way, if you would prefer to fetch some clothing first," Nemo continued, with something of a brusque gentility. Henry's head snapped back around, blinking myopically at him, and Nemo nodded gently downwards. Henry dropped his eyes, and realised with vague shock what the Captain was referring to.
Beneath the coat, he was still dressed in the torn remnants from the factory. He'd forgotten. To a degree, it wasn't unusual, a common thing in the aftermath of one of Edward's emergences. Normally he would have realised before now, however. He was too self-conscious, always had been. He would never before have stood in company and not been conscious of his state of undress. What ... what was wrong with him today? With them, with both of them. Surely one death, someone they had only known a few weeks, should not affect them like this?
"Doctor," Nemo said again, this time more forcefully. He came towards them, as Henry looked up, his brow furrowed and a sharp, searching look now on his face. "Dr. Jekyll. What is it? Are you hurt, or something else?"
Something else. Yes, probably, though what particular sort of something else Nemo was expecting, Henry wasn't sure. But they were ... something else. Confused. Perhaps the cold had affected them. Perhaps it had numbed something, left them slow and stupid in the wake of it. All they'd wanted was some time alone. They hadn't expected to have to answer to anyone for it.
"... Something else," he agreed, after a long moment in which Nemo stared at him very fiercely indeed. Henry chuckled abruptly, a breathless little huff of amusement, and held out his empty hands once more. Spread them, more mute entreaty now than welcome. "I'm sorry, Captain. I don't ... I'm not sure what's wrong with me. I suspect I would be bad company. I think I shall retire. Though I ... I thank you for your offer."
He looked away then, shuffled awkwardly as he tried to remember where exactly he was and how to return to their room from here, studiously avoiding Edward's gaze in the process. He was turning, readying to leave, when Nemo reached out and caught his arm.
Henry went very still. He felt Edward stir, felt the stronger of them come slowly to attention inside him, but Edward was only waiting too. Edward was curious, and nothing more. Henry turned, slowly, and looked at the Captain behind them.
"I am well accustomed to silence, Doctor," Nemo said, with slow, calm intent. "You would not have to entertain me. If you are unwell, I do not think that you should be alone."
That caught at something. The words. The man saying them. It caught a snarl of things, and Henry laughed again. Harder, now, and sharper, with a vague edge of hysteria. He didn't feel slow anymore. He felt giddy, instead, and brittle. It hardly seemed a safer combination, but Nemo didn't so much as move. He raised an eyebrow, instead. Looked at Henry as if the laugh had only proved his point. Which it may well have.
Henry shook his head, a pale, wry smile on his face. "I am not sensible this evening," he warned, rather cheerfully. "Neither sensible nor dignified. I don't want to disturb you, Captain. You've done enough to help us today."
'Us'. He noticed the 'us', once it had already left his mouth. Neither Edward nor Nemo commented, though. Edward coiled through him, nearly a physical presence now, but he didn't comment. Nemo looked only mildly bemused.
"I am not easily disturbed," was all he said. "Especially not today, of all days. Come with me, Doctor. If you truly wish for peace, I will leave you be, but I would prefer your company."
"Go with him," Edward said suddenly. Enough so that Henry's head jerked towards the porthole, Nemo's stabilising grip on his arm a rare point of steadiness in the world. Edward looked back at him from their reflection, a curious expression on his face. Thoughtful, calm. Intent, in a way that usually came only during a hunt, but there was no edge of violence to it. He looked at Henry, met his eyes steadily. "Go with him, Henry. Let him have us, if he wants us."
An odd way to say it. What a interesting way to phrase it. Henry glanced back at Nemo, found the Captain watching him calmly. Knowing, perhaps, what he was doing. He'd seen it once, after all, though under less disarming circumstances. There was every chance that Nemo knew precisely who Henry was listening to. It didn't seem to bother him any.
"... A nightcap, did you say?" He tried on a vague smile, stepping back towards Nemo and gently retrieving his arm. "I suppose ... it's possible that I could use one. All right. Lead on, sir. I'm sure I shall follow."
Nemo studied him again, held his eyes fiercely and intently. It really was unsettling. There was nothing to be done for it, though. Nemo was as he was. He nodded to himself after a moment. Having seen whatever it was he wanted to see, Henry could only presume. He stood back slightly, the fierceness of his expression softening a little, and gestured for Henry to precede him down the corridor. Or join him, perhaps, since Nemo was the one of them who knew where he was going. Henry stepped up beside him with a wry little shake of his head.
"We'll go to my quarters, I think," Nemo informed him softly, walking ahead with his calm, precise stride. "I have garments you can borrow. It will do until later. I had not realised that you would not have changed."
Henry grimaced faintly. "I would have. Should have. I ... forgot." Nemo glanced at him, and he shrugged uneasily. "I don't know. I am ... not myself tonight. Not Edward, either. I'm not sure what's happened to me."
Nemo's eyebrows raised briefly, but he said nothing to that. From the way he looked ahead, striding more determinedly, Henry had the impression that that wasn't because he had nothing to say, and more because he had no wish to say whatever it was here. Not out in the open, in corridors where anyone could hear. Something he wished to say in private, then? Alarming, possibly. Except that Henry was too tired, really, to be truly worried, and besides he ...
He trusted Nemo. Such a strange thing to think, but he did. Today of all days. Nemo had not failed them once so far. In all that violence, all that peril, all that grief, Nemo had never once let either himself or Edward down. He had never once done them harm, and had done his best to prevent others from trying.
It was a lightening thought. A bubble in the chest, buoying him upwards, so that he imagined for a second that he was less walking and more floating after Nemo, tugged along in his wake. Flotsam, washing up at the Captain's doors. Edward would object to the description, he thought. Edward would not fancy it at all. Henry thought it rather amusing.
Until they reached the door, at least. Until he actually did wash up, flotsam in Nemo's wake, and had to consider what it might mean. He glanced at Edward in the doorknob, nearly laughing once again to realise what he was doing. To realise he was taking comfort from Edward's presence, that he was looking towards his darker self for reassurance or at the least company in his uncertainty. So far had they come, since Edward had almost sacrificed himself in the Nautilus' depths. So far, and Henry still wasn't sure in which direction. Good or ill, he couldn't tell. It should worry him more than it did.
"Come in, Doctor," Nemo said softly, opening the door and guiding Henry gently but insistently inside. He guided him past the stutter of amazement at the room, too, steering Henry onwards towards a seating arrangement in its opulent depths. "Sit down, remove your clothes. You're still cold. I'll find you something to wear."
He moved off without a pause, heading deeper into the rooms. Towards his sleeping quarters and his wardrobe, presumably. Henry didn't know why he'd been so stunned. The Nautilus had never been a modest vessel. Even his own room was comparable to a good cabin on any first class ship. It only made sense that Nemo's, as Captain, would be only more impressive again.
It was only that it reminded him of Nemo's position, that was all. A prince, if only of a private and seafaring kingdom now. A prince and a captain and a warrior, strong as a mountain and fathomless as the sea. Henry laughed raggedly, catching the edges of hysteria once again, and leaned back in his seat, pressing his palms across his face. A ragged piece of flotsam, wasn't he, with a monster in his tow. What a guest for a prince to have.
"Get a hold of yourself, Henry," Edward murmured, a calm, brutish presence flexing itself mildly inside his head. Henry glanced at him, lowered his hands to find Edward watching him from the burnished side of a coffee pot on the table. There'd been no contempt in the admonishment. Edward was only looking at him, as mild and reassuring as any hysterical imagining could wish. What had happened to them? What were they now, that he could look at his monster for reassurance, and have the monster give it?
It was a relief to have Nemo reappear, before he might be forced to try and answer that. Even when the man held out a soft tunic and a pair of trousers, offering them silently and immovably as though expecting Henry to strip there and then to put them on. It was still a more concrete embarrassment than his own tangled thoughts. Henry blinked at him, at the calm arch of an eyebrow that answered him and the way that Edward cackled roughly to one side, and abruptly found that lightness inside himself again. He found a bubble of humour and almost courage, a blithe lack of concern, and stood up to accept the clothes from Nemo's hands.
He was near-naked often enough anyway, wasn't he? He was lucky usually to salvage enough ragged threads of trousers to avoid shocking the world entirely. Dignity should long have been a forgotten luxury, and he didn't think that Nemo would mock him. Or perhaps even care. He was cold. He'd realised as Nemo said it. It had seeped into him as the factory exploded behind them, and he forgotten to notice in all the pain and preparations afterwards. If not for Nemo's coat out there, he'd be very unwell indeed right now.
Edward leered at him casually as he stripped out of that coat, laying it carefully aside and unpicking the hasty knot that had held their trousers on his hips. It was a familiar sensation, though less mocking now than it would normally be. Edward had always disdained his shaking grasps at normality in the wake of a transformation, mocked him for his weakness and his hiding. There was none of that now. Just the leer, familiar and in this moment almost kind.
Henry didn't look at Nemo. Not until he was clothed once more. There was only so far his courage and his dignity could stretch.
"Sorry," he said, fiddling with the embroidery on the tunic. It was a beautiful thing, very fine, if a little too short. It didn't make as much different as it might, when the garment was designed to reach the calf. "Ah. Thank you, Captain."
"Sit down," said Nemo gently. "It's no trouble, Doctor. We have saved each other enough today to be easier in each other's company, I think."
It was said calmly, more as a statement than a question. Henry glanced up, startled, and found the man watching him. Found that same calm, immovable confidence in Nemo's eyes, a man who would stand firm in the face of anything, offering nothing now but the truth as he saw it. As ... as anyone might see it, maybe. Henry hadn't really thought it, but they had fought together, hadn't they? They had done their best, himself and Edward, to keep Nemo safe as well during that jolly little massacre of theirs. Instinct, mostly, but perhaps no less acceptable for that.
He tipped his head back a bit, letting out a ragged breath and a lot of lingering, habitual anxiety along with it. This was not the normal aftermath of a transformation. Hadn't been from the start. They had felt and done things today that neither of them had ever done before, not while they were two, and they were not in unsafe hands. They were not alone, and they were not with anyone who might justly destroy them for what they were. They had helped. This once, at least, or counting the ship perhaps this second time, they had done nothing worth apologising for.
"... You're right," he said at last, when he lowered his head and found Nemo watching him with a slight, vague twinkle in his eye. Henry smiled back as he finally sat down. "You're right, I'm sorry. We did well today. Even if it cost us. We did well."
Nemo nodded, that faint smile curving his lips beneath the moustache. "We did indeed," he agreed, moving to take a seat opposite the one Henry had chosen for himself. Edward pouted at that. Henry moved the coffee pot before he'd thought, turning it so that the spout should not block Edward's view. Only a second later did he think about what he'd done, did he pause and wonder at the ... the absurdity of it. Edward was inside him. What good would it do to turn a reflection to see them both? But Edward sneered gratefully up at him, and Henry could only shake his head and keep his tremblings to himself.
Nemo had watched this little exchange, he realised when he looked up. Nemo had watched the motion, watched his face as he made it and his face when he realised what he'd done. There was curiosity in the man's eyes, knowledge of another presence and a curiosity of how far it spread and how it might be reached. There was no fear. No anger or disgust, as there had been that first night Nemo had witnessed his and Edward's altercation. Nemo wasn't afraid of Edward any longer, to whatever extent he ever had been. Henry ... wasn't sure yet how to react to that. He wasn't sure yet it was deserved. Yet Edward had never harmed Nemo. Edward had never wanted to. In that factory, Edward had given everything they had to keep Nemo safe, even past the point where the formula was gone and only Henry left to try and do anything. Nemo had come for them. He'd come for Edward. They'd both been desperate to repay that, to try and earn whatever had motivated it.
They were desperate still, he realised. It was only that they were somewhat calmer about it now. Worn down some by grief and by cold, the losses of the day numbing fears towards any further ones. And they trusted him. At least the beginnings of it. Nemo was what he was. They trusted him to deal with them as they were in return.
"Was it your first, Doctor?" Nemo asked quietly into the silence. Henry blinked at him slowly. He'd relaxed more than he should inside that silence, he thought. He was tired enough that he'd almost sunk too far. Not for any fear or worry over dignity, but only because it wasn't polite to fall asleep in front of your host. He shook himself, carefully, watched Edward do the same. He forced himself to try and pay attention.
"My first what?" he asked, with curiosity rather than trepidation. Edward grunted vaguely from the coffee pot. Henry almost smirked. Until Nemo clarified, at least. The urge to smirk faded rapidly at that.
"Your first true battle," the Captain said, with that same calm gentility, his eyes soft with a peculiar sort of sympathy, and Henry felt cold clench tight inside him once again. He looked away. Looked at Edward, who looked back with something that might almost have been apology. For Nemo. All of Henry's moral panic over their years, and for Nemo Edward thought to finally be ashamed. The smirk became a snarl. Or would have done, had Henry not been so damnably tired.
"We have fought many times," he said coldly. "Murdered, too. You've heard of us, Captain, and seen us. You know we've fought before."
"That is not what I asked," Nemo interrupted calmly, the words as decisive a halt as a brick wall. Henry blinked, and carefully closed his mouth. "You have killed before and you have hunted, or your other half at least. That is not to say you have fought. Not as a crew or a soldier fights. Among comrades, for a common goal. Accepting the losses afterwards. That is what we did today. We fought, and we won, and we lost. Have you known that before?"
Henry stared at him, mute, the numbness of the Mongolian wastes creeping up through him once again. That confusion, that loss and that bewilderment that had so affected them, left them lost and forgetful of themselves. Quatermain, who they hadn't even been that fond of. Respected, yes, but not much more than that. Not enough to mourn this way, to be so affected by his death. And Skinner, his pain something that had torn at them, Mina and Sawyer, their grief a shock and an echo of their own. It had been ... It had been different, yes. They'd never fought beside anyone. Never been accepted to that extent. Edward wouldn't ... He'd thought that Edward wouldn't. He'd never thought his monster would allow it. Until that moment when the bombs went off, when Edward fought to save the ship. Until then. Until afterwards.
"... I don't know what's happening to us," he said, a little hoarsely. Leaning back, looking at the ceiling rather than Nemo or Edward. "We've never ... I've grieved before, but not ... And Edward, not at all. It doesn't ... happen like this. I don't know what's happening."
Nemo was silent for a moment, a careful, gentle sort of a silence. Strange, from so fierce and so deadly a man. Not unexpected, though. They were coming to learn that. They were coming to understand.
"The first time is always like that," the Captain said quietly at last. "To have fought beside someone and lost them. It is always different. There is more to your response. I cannot say how Mr Hyde might affect things. But it is a natural reaction. To lose someone whose life has been in your hands, and who has held your own in theirs. It is never an easy thing."
Ishmael, Henry remembered. He felt the weight of the man in his arms once more, spending his last breath to warn them. He remembered Nemo's face as he watched his friend die.
Henry swallowed, that tinge of hysterical humour back in his voice. "We only knew him a few weeks. We didn't even like him that much. Edward ... Edward respected him, but I don't think he had forgiven him for capturing us. And I ... I didn't know him. I don't think I knew him. Not enough to ... to feel this ..."
"Liking is not required," Nemo said, with a strange sort of knowing in his voice. "Even an enemy may be mourned, if he was worthy enough. Their worth is measured in the strength of their effect on us. Quatermain captured you, and by doing so he brought you here. To us, to this fight. Being here has changed you, I think. You do not speak of your monster as you used to. You say 'we' and 'us'. You do not revile him as you once did. Quatermain helped cause that. Perhaps that is part of why you mourn."
Henry laughed, struggling forwards to rest his elbows on his knees and scrub desperately at his face. He felt Edward's silence almost physically, felt the coiled tightness in his head and from the coffee pot, where Edward was trying not to react, trying not to feel, trying not to let Henry see. Trying not to be weak. Expecting to be mocked for it, maybe. Expecting Henry to strike at him, to throw anger and grief against him once more. It had been deserved, once. Edward was what he was, and Henry had made him to be that way. His anger and his guilt and his hate had been deserved between them once upon a time.
But was it now? Was it earned anymore. Edward could kill without a thought. He was a simple thing in many ways, and when it came to the death Henry knew he would not hesitate. He remembered Edward's expression, though. In the engine room, while the water flooded away, dozens saved by Edward's actions. He remembered Edward's face when he'd caught Henry's eyes down there, and Henry had answered him. "Bravo, Edward! Bravo!"
He'd said that Henry craved it, the elixir, all the power that came with it. If a ... a not-evil man could long for bloodshed, sometimes, perhaps a not-terrible monster could long for something higher in return. And, as Henry knew so very well, once someone had tasted of their addictions, they were very, very difficult to let go of again.
And then, too, there was ...
"You don't seem to revile him either," he said quietly, looking back up at Nemo once more. Seeing Edward turn too, out of the corner of his eye. A pause first, while he realised what Henry was implying. Either, Henry said. Edward paused to assimilate that. Then to Nemo, the both of them. Then to the man who had half-carried them while their formula ran out, his arm around their struggling half-made form, trying to keep them ahead of the death behind them. A man who had saved their life, and who had been willing to stand in the face of an evil he could not stop to do it. "You don't seem so opposed to having a brute on your ship."
Nemo looked back at them calmly, a strange half smile hidden behind his beard, a curious look in his eyes. "It would be a poor repayment, when he has saved every life on that ship, and my own besides," he pointed out, leaning forward to smile at Henry more openly. "It is a difficult thing to revile someone who has fought beside you. Not always, of course. Treachery will be rewarded as it deserves. But an honest companion? That is a hard thing to despise."
Lightness bubbled up through Henry once again. A silent wonder, that floating, airy feeling. What freedom felt like. Edward's freedom was his. They were bound together. Where one was hated so were both. For one to be accepted ...
"Tell him thank you, Henry," Edward said, his voice thick and heavy as he looked at Nemo. "Thank him for coming when we called. Thank him for staying. Thank him for saving our life. Do it now, Henry. Please."
Henry swallowed, his own throat a little tight, but he answered with a will. He said it, because it was more than well deserved.
"... Edward says thank you," he said, his eyes creasing at Nemo's arched brow. "For coming for him in the factory. For staying. For everything since. I ... I'll thank you too. We're more often hunted than saved. You were another thing that was different. All of you, perhaps, but you most of all." A pause, while his eyes prickled. "Thank you."
Nemo blinked. He swallowed, looked away as Henry had been looking forward and back this entire conversation. He looked down at his knees, and his smile now was a quieter, more knowing thing.
"You reminded me once that my own past was far from laudable," he said quietly, when he looked back at Henry. "It was not a baseless accusation. We each have a darkness, one that was almost unleashed by that madman in there. Perhaps it is for the best, then, that we should guard each other. Not as jailors, but as companions in arms. As ... friends, perhaps."
Friends. Said with a tinge of almost hope, as if Nemo too was not unaffected by all that had passed this day. These last few weeks. It had been ... a hard-fought thing, hadn't it? For all of them, and perhaps Henry least of all. He had more gained than lost, after all. Everyone else, they had lost friends or enemies, been wounded. Been killed. Henry had found something instead. A tentative peace with Edward, an acceptance and a chance like none he had had in years. He had suffered least of all, in the end. And here he was, moping on top of Nemo, as though he had suffered most. Good god. What a truly selfish thing he was.
"... I would happily be your friend, sir, if I had earned the chance," he said, trying to answer Nemo's hope as Nemo had repeatedly answered theirs. "Edward I know would die for you, though I cannot promise he will always be friendly about it. We are ... We have much to learn about each other now. Things we did not allow before. I don't think I am wrong, however, in saying that he would gladly count you a friend as well."
"You're not," Edward agreed, a small growl, and a leer because Edward was Edward, and Henry had made him so. "More than friends, if the man asks. You tell him to say the word."
Henry closed his eyes. "For God's sake, Edward," he managed, pressing his fingers to his brow. "Not ... One thing at a time, all right? Let's wait on that, shall we?"
"Dare I ask?" Nemo asked, rich and amused as he watched them. Henry blinked his eyes open, caught himself staring at the man. At the quiet, fierce strength of him, the light of humour in his eyes. The warmth, just for them. More than friends, Edward said. All the man had to do was ask. It wasn't only Edward. It never was, never had been. Nothing in their partnership had ever been Edward's fault alone. They'd had Nemo in their arms, huddled together with him against an icy wall while death scrabbled at the gate. They'd had his arm around them, holding them up at the risk of his own life. Edward was not alone in remembering that. Henry was a coward of a man, and all Nemo would have to do was ask.
One thing at a time, though. One thing. Let's have a friend first before they destroyed it searching for more, hmm?
"Nothing," he said, offering up a crooked grin. "Edward is just ... He's both eloquent and direct, shall we say. It was nothing, Captain."
Nemo looked briefly sceptical, but accepted that. Seemed to, anyway. "Nemo," he said instead, and chuckled while Henry blinked. "You need not call me Captain, Doctor. My name will suffice. There's no need to fall back on formality."
"... Oh," Henry said, a little stupidly. "Well, ah. I mean. Likewise, Captain. Nemo." He paused, shook his head. "I don't feel much of a doctor at the minute. Henry will do."
Nemo's smile widened. "Henry, then," he agreed, with a warming sort of satisfaction, before he sobered again. His expression became thoughtful and a little hesitant once more. "You will forgive an impertinence, Henry. I think ... I think perhaps you should stay here for tonight." He held up a hand. "I mean nothing untoward. You were in shock earlier. I should have noticed sooner, but there was much to be done. I would like to redress that. These rooms are well appointed. There are rugs and sofas aplenty. Or you might have my bed."
Henry stared at him. He nearly flushed, too, so soon on top of the other thoughts. Edward didn't even leer, as much stunned himself. Henry shook his head desperately.
"I would not put you out, sir!" he said, and hoped it had not come out as strangled as he feared. "That is, I'm sure I shall be fine. I can return to my room, it's no trouble."
Nemo held up both hands, a calming gesture. "It you stayed it would be no trouble either," he assured rapidly. "I would not ask, Doctor, if I did not wish it. I am ..." He hesitated, and then finished. "I would like to have company. It has been a long few weeks. I would like to have yours, to reassure myself that you are safe. We have lost too many, and you and I almost perished together. I was witness to that. If it is too much of an imposition, you do not have to oblige me. If you stayed, however, I would be grateful."
And that put Henry in a neat bind. He could hear the truth in Nemo's voice, could hear something shaking and kept carefully under control. Ishmael again, he thought. More than Quatermain, though he and Nemo had liked each other. It was Ishmael that haunted the Captain though, now that he was properly avenged and nothing left now but the grief. It would be a small thing to stay with the man, to give him another living presence to remind him that all had not entirely been lost, as close as it had come. Or it would be, if Henry didn't want it so much, and for entirely the wrong reasons.
Edward snorted loudly. Loudly to Henry, anyway, grabbing his attention and pulling it firmly in Edward's direction. The brute shook his head, a hint of a familiar contempt back in his eyes again. He had no care for social niceties, Henry's monster. He had no care for reasonings. He cared only what they wanted, and how to make it theirs.
"He wants us to stay, Henry," Edward murmured, the voice of temptation once more. "Didn't we just say all he had to do was ask? He wants us, and we want him. Don't let your nerves get in the way. Tell the man yes. Let him have us if he wants us."
"There is such a thing as wanting the wrong thing, Edward," Henry hissed savagely, instinctively, and only a second later, at Nemo's sudden stillness, remembered why that had really not been the best of ideas.
He looked, very slowly, back at Nemo. Petrified, and yet relieved in a way. Feeling something crumbling back to nothing around him, painful and yet comforting in its familiarity. He looked the man in the eye, wondering idly what he'd see, and then froze. Then fell still as stone as what he saw wasn't anger or confusion or disgust, but rather surprise, and a growing, tentative contemplation.
"... There is indeed," Nemo said carefully, watching him with dark, thoughtful eyes. "If it is my wanting that you find distasteful, Doctor, then know I would not ask anything of you against your will. I am not that sort of monster. If ... If it is another wanting, however ... then perhaps, depending on what it is and from whom it is wanted, it may not be so wrong as you think."
Henry gaped at him. Edward, too. For all his prompting, Henry thought Edward had never once expected that Nemo would ... that there was even a possibility that Nemo would ever acknowledge such a thing, let alone seem to imply ... to imply ...
Nemo stood. Watching Henry all the time, looking for some sign of fear or anger, he came to his feet, that slight, quiet strength, and came the few steps to Henry's side. Edward stirred fitfully, a confused growl in his throat. Henry only blinked, watching the man in bemusement and, he greatly feared, rather a great deal of startled hope.
"I intended to ask you for a nightcap," the Captain said, standing with careful, quiet dignity at Henry's side. "For the reasons I stated before, and for others too. I wanted companionship, your companionship. I would have asked nothing you did not want, and nothing at all had you given any sign of discomfort. That was my intent. But you were ... I realised it would be selfish of me. I could see you were unwell from the moment I stepped into that corridor. I should have expected it. You are in some ways still a civilian, even in spite of your monster. I did not mean to press when you were so unwell. Nor will I, now. I only mean to say ... that if a wanting is mutual, then perhaps there is no reason to fear it?"
Henry didn't answer. Couldn't, struck helpless and mute in the face of the man. Nemo waited, patiently. Edward did not. Edward never could. After a bare few moments, Edward snarled at him.
"For God's sake, Henry! Find a formula and give me our mouth if you can't speak! Say something, damn you. Don't leave the man standing there!"
Henry shook himself. The old gesture, instinctive, trying to shake Edward out of his ear. He looked back up at Nemo helplessly. "... I want," he managed, shaking slightly at the sound of it. "I want. Edward wants. But I ... but Edward wants. Captain. Nemo. I ... You shouldn't. You have to know that we--"
Nemo touched a hand to his shoulder. A light gesture, cutting him off. The man shook his head gently. "I have fought beside Mr Hyde," he said. "I think perhaps he does not mean me harm, whatever else it is he wants. Nor do I think you do either. I trust you, Dr Henry Jekyll. You have fought at my side, saved my life and those of my crew. I am not afraid of you."
"... Fuck," Edward breathed, a shocking and heartfelt crassness. "Henry, we ..."
"I know," Henry whispered, entirely terrified. "Edward, I know."
Nemo paused for a moment at that, waited to see if either of them meant to speak to him in his turn, but Henry wasn't able for that yet. Nor was Edward, not even had he been in possession of their tongue. Edward, even less used than Henry to that kind of casual declaration of trust, had been struck more thoroughly speechless than anyone. And so, after a moment of their silence, Nemo took it on himself to move where they could not.
"Stay with me tonight," he said, his hand warm and careful on Henry's shoulder. "On the sofas or in my bed. It doesn't matter. We will do nothing but sleep." At Henry's stir, his confusion, Nemo shook his head again. "You are not ready for anything else right now, Doctor. I am not so selfish a creature as that. You are confused, you were in shock, you have felt things today that you have not in a long while, if ever before. You will make no decisions tonight, not of that nature. It would do none of us any good. So we will sleep, and nothing more, and we will know at least that the other is alive. Tomorrow ... Tomorrow we will think of anything more. We must bring Quatermain home before all else. We will have time to think, and to decide what it is we might want. Do you agree?"
Henry ... felt a number of things at that, including a hot squirm of disappointment, and another of shamed embarrassment. He felt a warmth too, though. A relief and a gratitude. They had ... they trusted Nemo. Him and Edward both, when he never yet let them down. It seemed that they had not been wrong in that. It was more than lives Nemo might be trusted with. There was a lightness to knowing that.
"I ... I think that would be a good idea," he said, a little thickly, and managed a small, tremulous smile up at the man. "Your, ah. Your bed, if you don't mind. Edward and I ... We would rather be near you. We almost ... we almost died together, as you said. We should like to share a bed, if only for sleeping. I'd like ... I think I'd like to know someone was near."
Nemo nodded wordlessly, that flash of grief and understanding in his brown eyes. The knowledge of his dead, and of those he might have lost alongside them. Ishmael. Henry wondered if it would comfort Nemo to hear the name, or if it would only wound more deeply. Either way, it was not his business. Nemo would grieve in his own time and in his own manner, much as Nemo did anything else as well.
Henry might be there for him, though. He could be another living presence, as much of a comfort as that could be, and gladly so. Edward too, in his simpler, more brutish way. Henry had an idea that, for Nemo as for no one else, Edward might be willing to entertain those frailer, more maudlin emotions of theirs. Nemo drew them as no one else ever had. He made them quiet and unafraid.
"Together, then," Nemo said, drawing him back. "I will agree to that, and happily."
He hesitated a little, and then brought his hand down from Henry's shoulder, brought it to clasp his arm instead. His eyes were fierce and earnest when Henry met them again in startlement. He gripped and held Henry fiercely in his hand.
"I would have you as a friend first, Doctor," he said quietly. "I want you to know that. Even if there is nothing else, I would have you as a friend. A man I have fought beside, who I have saved and who has saved me in my turn. There is enough in that for any man to be glad of. Do nothing you do not want. Decide nothing from any fear. We are alive and we have fought together. That is more than enough for me, if you decide you want nothing more."
Henry stared at him seriously, reached up to grip the man's hand where it lay on his arm. "I believe you," he said, Edward's silence thick and weighty in his head. "Please believe me. It's not the wanting that is the problem. It's ... You must do the same, yes? We don't want to hurt you, Edward or I. I don't think we ever did. Please don't allow us to. Not for any reason."
Nemo studied him, that fierce and seeking regard. It wasn't uneasiness that greeted it now, but desperation, desire, hope. Henry wanted to be seen, wanted Nemo to know how fiercely and how truly he meant it. Before anything else he had said, he needed Nemo to believe this, and to act accordingly. They wanted him safe. They had wanted that since before the factory. Nothing in the world mattered so much between them.
And then, after a second, Nemo nodded. He smiled, that strange, half-hidden thing. "Yes," he said. "I understand. It is a bargain, then. We shall guard ourselves and each other, and keep our evils from destroying us as best we can. Is that the bargain you seek?"
Henry breathed, deep and steadying, and nodded. "It is," he said, curling his fingers tight around Nemo's hand. "Edward is calm for you as he is for almost no one else, but you know as well as anyone that he is not always ... kind. That is not all his fault. Some of it comes from me. We will do all that is in our power not to hurt you, but we are not ... we are not good men."
Nemo raised his chin, looking down at them thoughtfully with dark, experienced eyes. "You are better ones than you think," he said mildly. "You must be, or I would not have been given cause to trust you. Never fear, however. Should treachery come, I shall answer it as it deserves. I shall not fall for your evil. I lay down my life only for what I think right, and nothing else."
Such a strength, Henry thought distantly. Such a fierce and quiet thing. They had not expected it. Since they had first become changed, they had judged strength by Edward first and foremost, and by that measure Nemo, slim and ferocious as he was, was no strength at all. But Edward's was a simple power. They realised that now. There was more in this world than that most simple of strengths, and by those more arcane measures, Nemo was a stronger thing by far. As steady and fathomless as the sea.
"... Then you have a bargain, sir, if you want it still," he said finally, with a strange sort of calm of his own. A patience and a surety, with Edward coiled inside him, such as neither of them had ever experienced before. Nemo smiled, and held his hand.
"I do," he said, and leaned down then to kiss them softly. Only a gentle thing, the press of his lips against Henry's and the tickle of his beard against their cheek. Edward made a noise, a hum of confusion and approval in Henry's ear, a delight for a far softer thing than was his wont. Henry felt a surge at that, an amusement and a fondness, and a light, desperate sort of gratitude for the man who had caused it. He felt a laugh bubble in his chest, and parted his lips to let Nemo have his fill, to let him feel and taste and have them if he wanted them. He opened his mouth and let Nemo fall properly into the kiss.
It was some time before Nemo drew away. Henry thought so, at least. A strange, floating interval, a vague hum of pleasure that distanced him from all concrete concerns. It felt like hours before that languid press of lips came to an end, and for all those hours Edward had not once been discontent. He had been patient. He had been dazed and drugged and delighted. Such a power Nemo had over them, such a force from so gentle a thing. It should have been terrifying. It wasn't. It couldn't be. Not yet.
"... Not tonight," Nemo said, tracing a hand gently over Henry's cheek. Henry blinked, a second too long before the words had meaning him. Nemo smiled carefully. "Not tonight, Doctor. Tonight for sleeping, and nothing else. I will not have of you without your will and your knowledge. Tomorrow, when the world is not so confused. We will decide then."
Henry felt a flash of anger at that, his own and not Edward's, a fitful stir that only confused him all the more. The temper of thwarted desire, and behind it a stumbling bewildered sort of relief. He winced, and recognised the sense of Nemo's words.
"Bugger," he said, softly but emphatically. "Goddamn it. You're right, of course. Tomorrow. When I can string a sentence together without sounding like Edward in the process. We'll leave the decisions until then."
"Spoilsport," Edward commented, but lightly. Dazedly still, and confusedly grateful in his own right. Oh yes. Nemo made sense all right. All the sense in the world. Bugger it all anyway.
The Captain chuckled lightly at them, holding out his other hand until he had both of Henry's hands in his. Henry blinked at him, but allowed it, and allowed himself to be pulled gently to his feet as well. He swayed a bit as he stood, steadied only by Nemo. He flushed, a little, and Nemo's smile went soft and wide.
"To bed with you, I think," he said gently. "It has been a long day, for the both of us. Three of us, perhaps. We should retire then, and let tomorrow come all the sooner."
And that, Henry thought, that there, in that moment, was possibly the best idea he'd ever heard in his life. He said so, even, with only a grunt of Edward's agreement. The day, the weeks they'd had, a bed suddenly sounded the most heavenly promise in the world.
And tomorrow, of course, that promise too, only the sweeter still.