Title: Empire Dreams
Author: Lieuwe Caritas
Summary: We know what Mina, Hyde and Griffin were up to after the incident on the commons. But what were Allan and Nemo doing? (Spoilers for Vol. 2, issue 2)
Rating: PG/PG-13ish
Disclaimer: Jules Verne and H. Rider Haggard owned them first. Alan Moore and Kevin O’Neill moved them around a bit. I moved them around a little bit more. Fox Studios and Mr. Moore and O’Neill didn’t give me permission. I’m not making any money, though, and I figure Mr. Verne and Haggard will forgive me my trespasses, as they forgive those who trespassed against them already.
Archive: Sites started by lxg_slash members have carte blanche on archiving. All others please ask. [email protected]
Notes: Forgive me, Mina!

~*~

“Tell me what you’ve come for
Moving like a hunter through my back door
Leaving the perfume of all you adore
To die nameless on my floor.

Yeah, well, we both know that you don’t play fair
I guess you really think that you’ll get me there.
Let’s be honest perhaps this little ride
Is too much for even you to bear.

You’ve got some nerve to come back here.
You’re not the only one who can smell fear.”

~ Poe, “Wild”

~*~
He couldn’t stand being stared at, particularly not by those eyes. Not when they regarded him with the same precision, the same mechanical detachment they might a broken boiler or a particularly troublesome piece of equipment. It was not only unnerving, it was also absurd. And frustrating as hell. Especially after the day they’d both had.

“Damn it all, stop looking at me like that,” Allan said as he rolled away from that gaze.

“Stop looking at you like what, Mr. Quatermain?” The voice’s light, almost undetectable lilt that betrayed its owner’s foreignness deducted nothing from its formal and disinterested tone. They might as well have been talking over breakfast, Allan mused darkly. “You know bloody well how you’re looking at me. Dash it all, Nemo! We -- you just --“

“I did nothing of the sort, Mr. Quatermain,” Nemo paused briefly, thoughtfully. “Unless you are honestly accusing me of using you the same way your countrymen have used my former homeland this last century?”

Allan rolled his eyes. “You and this damned colonial business! It all comes back to that in the end for you, doesn’t it?”

“So I’ve been told,” The bed creaked slightly as Nemo shifted his weight. “But you are, nonetheless wrong to think so. As I have said on numerous occasions, I no longer regard myself as Indian. If I still did --”

“Then, you would not have –“

“Mister Quatermain, I will remind you once again that I did not do anything. You were certainly willing enough. And no, if I still regarded myself as Indian I would have been significantly less inclined to acknowledge your presence, let alone attempt anything else.” The mattress shifted again and the blanket slowly slid from Allan’s side.

“Confound it, Nemo, I’m an old man! I get cold without a blanket!”

“It is the middle of July.”

“And we’re in England, not Calcutta!” Allan sat up and glared at the captain’s back. Different situation, same perpetually stoic and unreasonable Nemo. He reached for the blanket only to have Nemo roll further away from him. Lowering his hand, Allan sighed. “Nemo, please….can’t we talk about this?”

“There is nothing to discuss. Now go to sleep, Mr. Quatermain. We have all had an exhausting day.”

“If it was so exhausting, then why did you come over hear instead of falling asleep in that hammock of yours?”

“I think the more pressing question would be why didn’t you tell me to go back to my hammock when I came over?”

“Dammit, we’re getting nowhere,” Abandoning all hope for the blanket, Allan rolled onto his back and stared angrily at the bedroom’s ceiling. Today had been the most horrifying day of his life – far worse than any perilous quest into King Solomon’s Mines. And he could not say why. Was he more frightened by these otherworldly invaders or by the words that ran though his mind at the feel of Nemo’s lips against his neck.

Oh, thank God. Thank God…at last!

A disturbing thought, indeed. The former explorer sucked in a breath and took a moment to collect himself. “Nemo, this whole situation is …well, frankly….difficult for me to understand.”

“Mister Quatermain, as difficult as this may be for you, I assure you it is far more difficult for me.” Allan blinked in surprise. He had expected terse silence, even bald-faced anger – anything but this. Moved perhaps by his companion’s stunned silence, Nemo sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He remained there shoulders slightly slumped as the silence stretched from moments to minutes. At last, Allan couldn’t stand it any longer. Careful to mind his aching back, he crawled across the bed and gingerly placed a hand on Nemo’s shoulder.

“Why is it difficult for you?” A slight blush scattered across his cheeks. Really, was he Nemo’s analyst now? But to his surprise, the captain made no move to push him away. Instead, he merely sighed heavily and bowed his head. Suddenly Allan felt guilty – as if he had just interrupted the captain’s prayers. Reluctantly he withdrew his hand and moved to sit beside his companion. They did not speak until the grandfather clock in the foyer announced the hour with a single melancholy strike. Even it sounded uncertain.

“Quatermain, I suspect today’s incident is only the beginning of a much greater crisis; a crisis that may very well end with the destruction of Europe, if not the entire world.” Nemo closed his eyes and inclined his head slightly. “I once thought it would do my heart good to see all of Europe – especially England – in flames. After today’s horrors, I feel I can no longer in good conscience delight myself with such thoughts.”

When Allan found his voice again, the best answer he could formulate was (he hoped) a knowing and sympathetic ‘aaahhhh’. That was all very good, but what had it to do with the rest of the day’s events? As if he’d just read Allan’s mind, Nemo continued. “Upon reaching this conclusion, I similarly decided I had to rid myself of another misconception. The misconception that I would have been happy indeed to see you perish along with the rest of your country’s populace.”

After this, not even the faintest of ‘aaahhhh”s, knowing or otherwise, could make it past Allan’s dry lips. Nemo shook his head, the faintest of uncomfortable smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You are disgusted by this, and you have every right to be so, particularly after tonight’s events. But this changes nothing. When I first met you in person that fateful day in Cairo, I took one look at you – frail, sickly colonist that you were – and wanted immediately to throw you back to that Mohammedan rabble and have done with you. You see, in your sickness you may not have known who I was then. Nonetheless, I knew all too well who you were.”

“And who was I?” Allan asked almost without thinking. Truly, this situation was becoming more and more uncomfortable by the moment. Perhaps he could get Nemo to stop this by saying he had a headache? His excuse would be at least half true.

“Allan Quatermain, bastard son of a bastard empire. Of course I’d read the stories about you – your exploits though King Solomon’s mines, your so-called adventures in Africa. Each of them made my gorge rise and I was only too happy you had never visited India. Nonetheless, I swore then and there that if I ever met you, I would not hesitate to take my sword to you. I cannot tell you how much self-restraint I had to use to keep from doing this on several occasions during our last adventure.”

Allan almost thought he might prefer the Martians to this. “Yet – you did not,” he stammered when Nemo seemed to have finished. “Instead you –“

“Yes,” Nemo replied as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He sounded almost pained. Perhaps he, too, had a headache. Before Allan could determine whether or not this was so, Nemo’s hands were on his shoulders and the captain was staring into his eyes with a ferocity Allan had not seen him display since the night the League had stormed Moriarty’s airship. Before he could pull away, Nemo had him by the nape of the neck.

“Do not think for one moment that I did this in deference to you. I am not some naive native flunky who sees you as his god, nor do I think for one moment that I am in love with you or you with me.” To emphasize this point, Nemo dug his fingernails into the back of Allan’s neck. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly! Perfectly!” Allan cried. Horrified at both of their outbursts, he squeezed his eyes closed and prayed they hadn’t woken anyone – particularly Miss Murray. Dear God, what would happen if Miss Murray were to come in and see them like this?! The thought made his stomach churn.

“Look at me. Damn your eyes, Quatermain, I said look at me!” Nemo barked. Allan’s eyes snapped open at the command. Horrified, he discovered that Nemo’s face was now only inches away from his own. The air between them was heavy with the heat of their mingled breaths. Nemo’s lips parted and for a moment Allan wasn’t sure if he was to be kissed or bitten. In the end, the captain did neither.

“Did you learn nothing in all your travels? You never close your eyes when facing an enemy. And despite what I have just told you, Quatermain, I am still your enemy and you mine. Our pasts make at least that much clear. And yet,” Allan shivered involuntarily as Nemo’s hand traveled slowly down his back, “how strange for two enemies to do the things we have done tonight. Do you not find that strange, Mister Quatermain?”

Allan’s eyes flicked anxiously towards the open door before returning to Nemo’s face. Why the devil hadn’t the man closed it before getting him in such a position, anyway? Yet a deeper question pressed upon him; why hadn’t he resisted when Nemo tried to get him in such a position in the first place? “Nemo, you don’t understand,” he said breathlessly. “I don’t see you as my enemy. I never have.”

“Maybe you do and maybe you don’t,” Nemo’s hand came to rest in the small of Allan’s back. “But what you think matters very little here. As I said, our pasts have brought us to this uncomfortable present, and our pasts are irreversible. Do you see now?”

Vaguely Allan wondered if Nemo had invented some kind of time machine. He decided against mentioning this, however, as the question might only serve to further anger the captain and slowly shook his head. Nemo’s thumb rubbed against Allan’s back as he chuckled. “No, I suppose you do not, though I had expected better of you. In my experience, I have found that Europeans understand very little, particularly the English. Very well. Do you remember that night at Coote’s School for Wayward Gentlewomen?”

Allan cringed at the memory, despite the thrills Nemo’s touch sent up his spine. “All too well. That damnable Murray woman made us share the servant’s room.”

“Do you remember what you said to me there?”

Allan truly wished Nemo’s hand would stay still. The man was making it damnably difficult to think. “Yes,” he said after a long pause “You referred to me as the great colonist and yourself as the great colonial rebel.”

“Yes. Keep going.”

“And we also admitted that we had both consented to join Miss Murray’s league because it was difficult to put keep from going off on adventures once one had spent a lifetime having them. Dash it all, Nemo. I don’t understand where this is going! It’s late and I’m old, Nemo. My mind’s bloody well going. Can’t you just answer a simple damned question without making me play guessing games?” He received a throaty chuckle as his answer. “Dammit, this is just a jolly good laugh for you, isn’t it?” Allan retorted, suddenly feeling more irritated than he had all night.

“Oh, that it were only that. No, Quatermain. This isn’t a game for me – for either of us. Not anymore, indeed not ever. Didn’t you learn anything from all those safaris you supposedly went on?”

Allan was stung. “Well, whether or not I did it’s none of your business.”

“If so, then prove it to me. What is the first thing one must learn in order to be a successful hunter?”

Allan wondered dimly if he this could possibly be a nightmare. “Well, I should think one has to learn how to track the thing, how to fire a gun properly and –“

“In other words, one has to become the very quarry one pursues.”

“Yes, well, in a sense…yes,” Allan stammered helplessly.

Nemo nodded severely. “Then might not one even argue that hunter and pray are indeed the same thing?”

“Well…” Truly he’d never thought of it quite like that. But the intensity of Nemo’s expression made him consider the possibility for a moment, albeit reluctantly. “I suppose in a sense you’re right. Nemo, for God’s sake, what’s the point of all this?” Really, couldn’t the man just admit he was frightened and wanted some manly comforting? Did Nemo honestly think he, Allan, could not understand such a simple thing without couching it in all this pointless rigmarole?

“Colonist and colonial rebel, hunter and quarry…and today on the Commons we were almost burnt alive. Until the moment I threw myself on top of you and Miss Murray, I was attempting to avoid the inevitable. But when that Mars-machine opened fire, I knew I could no longer put it off. Quatermain – Allan. We are not only headed for war, but quite possibly for annihilation. I would hate for either or both of us to die without truly realizing who and what we are to one another.” When Nemo’s fingers lightly caressed Allan’s cheek, the former colonist did nothing to pull away. Nemo’s touch was respectful now, indeed almost tender. Despite himself and the gnawing guilt in the pit of his stomach, Allan closed his eyes and leaned into it. If Mina – if Miss Murray were to come through the door and see them together…

“Nemo,” he whispered, “We can’t – after tonight we can’t possibly ever do this again.”

“Of course not,” Nemo’s hand traveled slowly down Allan’s neck and came to rest on the adventurer’s frail shoulder. “Otherwise Miss Murray would be quite upset with you then, I imagine.” When Allan’s eyes flew open this time, he found Nemo laughing. It was a strange sight, and not only because of its rarity. The captain’s face had contorted into a virtual carnival mask and shoulders were positively shaking with mirth.

“It’s not funny!” Allan protested weakly. This only seemed to make Nemo laugh harder.

“Oh, you will forgive me but it is. Watching the two of you dance about the subject reminds me of…” Nemo shook his head and wiped at his eyes. “But, no. That is in the past now. Yes, Quatermain, Miss Murray is quite taken with you. I am not so careless not to have noticed as much.”

Once again, Allan found his cheeks turning red. “Damn you,” he scowled as Nemo began laughing again. “How long have you known and why didn’t you tell me?”

“It is none of your business how long I have known, just as the particulars of your mutual attraction are none of mine,” Nemo replied simply. Stifling a yawn he ran a hand through his hair and moved to lie back down. Strange, Allan thought. In the moonlight Nemo looked so much older. “In any case, you have nothing to fear from me. I have little regard for Miss Murray, but I am not a rival for your affections. Indeed, I not only caution you refrain from attaching any additional significance to this night, I demand it.”

Feeling suddenly too tired to argue any longer, Allan merely nodded before lying back down next to Nemo. How peculiar to lie abed with a man in this context! Particularly when the captain’s hair smelled inexplicably like cedar and metal. Allan inhaled happily. The smell was both comforting and strangely soporific.

“Nevertheless, I still demand that you kiss me.”

Allan groaned. “For God’s sake, I was ready to fall asleep.”

“And that, sir is precisely why I asked you when I did,” For the second time that night, Nemo rolled over to face him. Once again those dark eyes stared across at him, but this time they did not regard him coldly. Had Allan not known better, he might have almost thought Nemo was smiling at him. And it was this smile the explorer kissed hesitantly and awkwardly.

The clock in the foyer chimed twice before their lips parted permanently, and both men seemed surprised to find themselves in each other’s arms.

“If Mina were to come in and…”

“She will sleep late after today’s events. We will both wake long before she does.”

“Thank God,” Allan closed his eyes and rested his head against Nemo’s shoulder.

“You will never repeat this, and if you ask me about it later, I will deny ever having said it. But I have, unfortunately, grown quite fond of you.”

Allan chuckled. “You’re still insufferable.”

“Indeed. And that is precisely why you are going to kiss me again.”

Allan hated it when Nemo was right.

(The End)