WHAT GOOD DIVIDES?
Based on the movie "League of Extraordinary Gentlemen"

The steps of the two men echoed down the nearly abandoned cooridor. Quartermain stared straight ahead, a look of steel cold determination on his face. Tom, in contrast, looked like a kid who had gotten his hand caught in a cookie jar but was still denying the evidence. Finally, Quartermain opened one of the doors, looking into the room. It was empty. Without a word he lightly pushed Tom into the room.

"Alright, Sawyer," he said, closing the door and turning back to Tom, "What is this all about?"

"You tell me," replied Tom, crossing his arms in a stance of defiance, "You're the one who brought me here to talk."

Quartermain frowned but didn't fall to the bait. He had had enough experience with his own son's teenage years to know better. For the moment silence filled the room as the two stood glaring at each other. The silence seemed to be too much for Tom. Turning from Quartermain's gaze, he walked over to the small table and fingered the globe on it. Quartermain remained still, watching patiently.

"I'm just not sure I trust Canodor," Tom finally said, placing his hand on the globe to stop his spinning.

"Yes, that is obvious," replied Quartermain, sounding unsuprised, "But you haven't yet given me a reason why."

Tom whirled to face him. His face seemed torn between anger and something Quartermain could not quite identify.

"Why should we trust him?" Tom replied, barely stopping himself from yelling, "Why should we trust anyone who asks for our help? Look what happened last time. You..." his voice caught.

There it is, thought Quartermain, his suspicions proven. For the past two days he had noticed Tom's reluctance to talk to him. There was a certain amount of fear eminating from the young man and it had worried Quartermain as much as the guilt Tom seemed to feel. He knew he had to talk to the boy, make him understand that he had done nothing wrong. Quartermain knew his actions in killing M to save the world were completely justified and he himself held no anger towards Tom for doing what he had told him. In fact, it was more of a relief to Quartermain, who was eager to reunite with his own son. The only regret he remembered as he had died was that it felt as though he were leaving another behind.

"You know," Tom said, trying to make up for the falter, "You know I'd follow you anywhere."

"I do," replied Quartermain.

"But I don't trust Canodor," Tom continued, "I can't help but think we're being led into a trap. I mean, why else would his sister be here?"

Quartermain's lips quirked up slightly.

"You don't need to worry about a trap with Carmine," he replied.

Tom shot him a confused look.

Quartermain sighed.

"Sit down, Tom," he said, indicating to one of the chairs.

A look of suprise crossed Tom's face at Quartermain addressing him by his first name. Silently, he took a seat. Quartermain crossed the room, sitting in the chair opposite him. A small memory touched Tom's mind. It was one from one of his many adventures as a kid. One of the nights when he and Huck had snuck out into the woods and set up 'camp'. Huck had pulled out an old pocket knife. When Tom had asked how he got it, he had been treated to a tale so outrageous it had to be true. Now, years later, that same feeling came back to him. A feeling that he should be as quiet as a church mouse and not disrespect the sanctity of the story about to be imparted.

"I'm going to tell you how I met Canodor," Quartermain started, "But this must begin after you shot M."

Immediately Tom paled. He opened his mouth in protest, but Quartermain simply raised a hand to silence him.

"Listen to me, Sawyer," he said calmly, "I told you before that you were growing to be a leader of men. That entails a certain responsibility. Part of that responsibility is accepting things as they were and hearing what another has to say, even if you don't like it."

He looked Tom squarely in the eye, not allowing the young man to look away from his gaze.

"Does that mean I have to listen to Skinner's ramblings?" Tom replied jokingly.

"Sawyer," Quartermain's voice held warning.

"Alright, alright," Tom said. Quartermain noted he still looked pale, but a steely determination showed in his eyes.

"The first thing I remember," Quartermain started, his voice eerily calm, "Was waking up lying in a familiar field of dust and insects."

Tom nodded, trying to damper the memories of Quartermain's funeral. The funeral he still felt was his fault.

"At first, I recalled our battle with M. Mrs. Harker going after Gray. You firing at M."

With unwavering tone he told Tom how he recalled his own death, his confusion at being alive, and how he had wondered to the ruins of the government building. He didn't betray the feelings of anger and betrayal he had felt when he realized he was alive and his son was still dead. How he had thought Africa's promise was now his curse.

"I wandered through the burnt ashes and timbers for God knows how long," Quartermain said, "I knew I was being followed."

Tom nodded, remembering how astute Quartermain's skills were. The skills he had only begun teaching him when they had met.

"I rounded behind one of of the standing timbers until I heard them past. I could easily hear two distinct steps. One was brisk, impatient. The other was slower and more cautious The first drove past the timber, she didn't even bother investigating. I took that to my advantage."

He described to Tom how he had grabbed Carmine, demanding her to tell him why she was following him. The girl only gave him an insolent smirk and called her brother. Canodor found himself in a rather interesting scene. Quartermain had his sister by the hand and was looking at him suspiciously and angrily. It had taken him removing his jacket and placing his watch on the ground to showgood faith. At the time, Quartermain didn't understand why he had put the watch down.

"That still doesn't prove he can be trusted," interrupted Tom.

"Patience, boy," replied Quartermain, though he didn't sound angry, "Patience."

Tom's face contorted into a look of almost childish impatience, but he kept listening.

"The Canodors explained their presence to me," Quartermain continued, "At first, I had the same doubts you did, until Carmine said something I would never forget."

Tom's ears perked at that. Quartermain's tone had quivered ever so slightly. Tom worried what the girl could have said. What could be so profound it would sway Quartermain?

"She said, 'Your son was a good person, as is the other one.'"

Quartermain looked at Tom. The younger man's face was set in a look of thoughtful determination. He wondered if Tom truly understood the implications of what the girl's comment meant.

"How did that convince you?" Tom said finally.

Quartermain sighed. The boy still had much to learn.

"It something you wouldn't understand," replied Quartermain, unsure how to put to words the emotions the girl had triggered, "Let's just say, it would have been very foolish to say such a thing if one inteaded to lead me into harm."

"That's all well and good," said Tom, the story telling atmosphere lifting like a breath of fresh air, "But that still doesn't tell me why I should trust her."

Quartermain patted his knee in a reassuring gesture.

"For now, just trust me, boy," he said standing up, "There'll come a time when you'll learn to trust her."

"Not soon enough for my taste," grumbled Tom.

Quartermain chuckled.

"So, are we going to join the others?" asked Tom, stepping towards the door.

" Not unless you have more arguements over the Canodors and this bloody mission," replied Quartermain.

"I'm sure I could figure out some," Tom shot back.

"I'm sure you could, boy," a look of something resembling pride crossed Quartermain's face, "I'm sure you could."

Quartermain began to head down towards the conference room. He could hear Tomexiting behind him, and the breathing of someone else. Pausing, he knew they were being followed. The steps were very familiar. Realizing who it was, he smiled slightly and continued as though he had sensed nothing. The two would have to reconcile their differences somehow.

Tom closed the door, more out of habit then anything else, and jumped back in suprise. The Canodor girl, Carmine was standing behind it. She seemed equally suprised to see him as well.

"What are you doing here?" Tom demanded, thinking the worst.

"Oh, just out for a stroll," replied the girl, her lips quirking in a devilish smirk, "Is that not allowed?"

"Nemo said you were confined to quarters."

"Well, I've never been very good with rules," she replied lightly, "And I won't tell if you don't."

"Just tell me one thing," Tom said, moving closer to her, making him seem larger and more menacing, "Is this all some kind of trap? Are you out to destroy us?"

The smirk faded from Carmine's face. It was replaced by a dark seriousness that sent chills down Tom's spine.

"Why would I need to trick you, Sawyer?" she said, her voice low and deadly calm, "If I wanted to destroy you and your friends I wouldn't need to resort to trickery. I could do it with just a snap of my fingers."

The cold brown eyes bore into hazel ones. Tom knew on some instinctive level she was not lying about this.

"I still don't trust you," he said, "And you better get back to your room or Nemo will be very mad."

Carmine snickered.

"Believe me, there's nothing he can do to me that I probably haven't deserved at one point or another," she said, "But just to humor you."

She turned and began walking down the hall. Tom watched as she disappeared behind a corner. In the back of his mind he wondered if this was the moment Quartermain had talked about. Shaking his head, he turned around and headed the way Quartermain had.

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