Habit
Written for Gil.
His hand turned the knob silently, his fingers curling and his wrist turning down, while his other hand went to the worn edge of the door. He eased it open, and felt the knob press lightly against his hip. Then his fingers slid around the edge of the door, and he said softly:
"Nemo?"
Nemo looked up sharply from the organ. "Shut the door behind you. Tightly, please."
"Yes, of course." Henry slipped through, shutting the door immediately and pushing it in. He always remembered that he should do that, but Nemo nevertheless always reminded him.
Once he'd asked why, and Nemo had given one of the usual cryptic replies about things getting through. Henry supposed Nemo meant Skinner. Well, that was understandable. Ms. Harker and Mr. Quartermain both complained about the fellow, too.
Besides, as he had realised from quiet observation, they all had their own quirks (well, he called them quirks. Anyone else would probably call them paranoias or idiotic habits). He himself always looked behind doors when he entered rooms. He often told himself it was stupid, and he knew it wasn't because he was afraid of someone hiding behind the door, but he did it anyway. He just wanted to make sure the shadows were empty. And Ms. Harker always saved everything. She said she didn't like losing things, and if anyone's things went missing, she became agitated. Edward secretly was ailurophobic. He said cats had evil eyes.
Even Mr. Gray wouldn't touch a book until someone had read it and told him what was in it.
So Henry shot a quick look behind the door as he was pressing it shut, saw that there was nothing, and then moved over to the organ. Nemo was playing again. He only played black keys, with his long, dark fingers striking them and pressing them all the way down, so that the sound was huge and filled the room.
"Nemo?"
The organ music went on.
"I wanted to apologise--"
And on.
"--For yesterday night. I was--I lost my temper--"
And on, never stopping or missing a note; just the same heavy, dark music going on forever in some sort of wild, angry hymn at a dizzying speed. Henry began to feel disoriented, and Edward was laughing at him.
"--lost my temper..."
He shook his head unhappily, turned, and went out of the room. As always, he remembered to shut the door tightly. Then he leaned upon it, putting a hand over his face.
Didn't Nemo want him to apologise? He wanted to explain, about how he hardly ever was angry, about how it was just that it was getting harder to keep Edward inside and he was frightened, about how Edward wanted Ms. Harker and he didn't, about-- You want to go crying to Nemo, do you? He won't hear it. He doesn't like snivelling little buggers. Maybe if you could pretend to have a spine he'd let you in--think of that! --If he could just make things right, then--shut up, Edward--
"So, Nemo's shutting you out too?"
He looked up, and saw Mr. Gray smirking a little. "Er--"
"Oh, I'm not surprised. He's been in a terrible temper since this morning, and that ass Sawyer is paying for it the most." Mr. Gray shrugged. "His own fault, of course. But I wonder at Nemo's keeping you out. You two seem to have an..." Another smirk. "An understanding."
Henry coloured. "I--"
"Am I intimidating you? Good heavens, it appears I am. Well, I wouldn't worry about it. I only want you for a minute. Mina says you were the last person to have that book by the Shelley woman, and I want to know what it's about."
"All right..."
Nemo was in the salon, so they went to Mr. Gray's room, and Henry sat in a chair by the door and explained the book. Edward stayed quiet. He didn't like Mr. Gray, which, Henry thought, was probably a good thing, or it would take ages as Edward distracted him the whole time with laughs and prods and... unkind remarks.
As it was, it took nearly an hour and a half to put in all the little details Mr. Gray wanted to know especially, and by the end his mouth was very dry. He licked his lips uncomfortably as Mr. Gray nodded.
"I see. Good. I'll read that." He smirked again. "You're wondering why I ask, aren't you? You haven't the beginning of an idea. Well, it's just a habit." The smirk widened. "A habit that a friend of mine introduced me to, and which one might say was a very prudent habit to have. But he didn't know that.. --His name, by the way, was Henry."
"Really."
"Yes, really." Mr. Gray raised his eyebrows. "Now, if you don't mind--"
"Yes, of course." Henry left hurriedly and shut the door tightly behind him. He could hear Mr. Gray locking it.
He made his way back to the salon and was on the verge of knocking when the door was opened slightly.
"Ah. Come in, doctor. Shut the door behind you."
Henry obeyed. "Nemo," he said quickly, before he went shy or miserable or tongue-tied again, "I apologise for having lost my temper yesterday and shouted. I spoke in an ungentlemanly manner and said things in haste which I didn't mean, and I'm sorry."
Somewhat stiffly, Nemo bowed. "Your apology is accepted."
They were so formal! Henry thought despairingly. But he comforted himself with the thought that Nemo was always formal anyway. Perhaps it was all right. "I want to explain--"
"Doctor, please." Nemo touched his hand. "Your apology has been accepted. You need not explain anything."
"All right," said Henry quietly. They were standing by the organ, and he lifted his hand and rested it on one of the long, slender pipes. "Isn't this pretty? --Nemo, nothing's been affected by--?"
"Of course not." For a moment, Nemo looked as though he might be amused, and said plainly, "Lovers quarrel."
"But that was the first time--Nemo?" Henry blinked.
"I apologise for not acknowledging you earlier," Nemo said, as though he'd not just spoken. "When I play," he touched the keys gently, "I never look up. I simply continue to play until the song is over, and I never seem to be able to see or hear anything else. I think Aronnax, too, was unsettled by my playing."
"Oh," Henry said softly.
"I don't always like it, either. I have considered getting rid of the evil thing; however, somehow, I can never bring myself to. I've also considered ceasing to play, but that resolution, too, I fail to keep. I always play, whether I like it or not."
"But if you don't like it--Why?"
"Habit," said Nemo, and he pulled the lid down over the keys.
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