This is a story I wrote celebrating the first year of a LXG yahoogroup I'm on.  It has two parts and just a bit of fun.

Rated PG for language and action

I don't own anything concerning LXG or it's characters.

A special thanks to Paula and Sarah from my LXG group!  Hey Ladies!

Special hellos to Ten and Clez, and eveyone else who wrote to comment on my stories.

And yes, I will update LXG 2 in the near future.  Been involved in a fic challenge.  Sorry it's taken so long!

THE SPECIAL DAY

"Thomas, sit down and stop fidgeting about the place," Allan Quatermain said in a chiding tone towards the young man whose impatient wanderings was keeping him from his reading.

Special Agent Tom Sawyer, of the American Secret Service, shrugged his shoulders. He looked at his mentor and the leader of "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" smiling. "Aren't you the least bit curious?"

The renown hunter and adventurer sighed, reluctantly placing his book down. He would get no peace unless he quelled whatever has gotten into the boy's mind this time. "Bond will tell us shortly what he wants," Allan replied, speaking of Campion Bond, the new head of British intelligence and their usual liaison for dangerous missions. "I, for one, can wait a day before rushing into another 'save the world' situation."

"But if we're to save the world...why wait a day?" Tom persisted eagerly. His hazel eyes danced in animation. "And especially call us all together on that very day?"

"What are you talking about, lad?" Quatermain frowned at the sudden look of disappointment that crossed the handsome spy's face. It was similar to the looks his wives had given him when he had forgotten an anniversary or birthday. It wasn't Sawyer's birthday, that was a few months away.

"You don't remember," Sawyer answered for the adventurer, stuffing his hands into his pockets, and turning towards the open porthole on the submersible sea craft, the Nautilus.

"Son, I'm an old man, and I do forget things...," Quatermain said in response, trying to soothe things over.

Sawyer shook his head dismissively "It's nothin'."

With an irritated huff, Quatermain stiffly rose from his seat, directly placing himself in front of the young man. "I have heard those two words uttered more times than I care to remember...," he said brusquely. "You bloody know it's something...so you better say it!"

"Tomorrow...it'll be a year tomorrow," Tom replied.

"What's been a year?"

"The League."

Placing his hands behind his back, Allan rocked back once on his boot heels. So that was it. "You think this meeting tomorrow is about that?" The old hunter let out a soft chuckle. "I don't think Bond is the least bit interested. Why should he be?"

Picking up on the tinge of sarcasm in Quatermain's question, Tom guessed his mentor and father figure wasn't interested either. He thought it was a very special day...a day that brought them all together to form this League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. It sure as hell meant something to him!

"Why shouldn't he be?" Sawyer chose to respond. "I mean, if it wasn't for us...there'd be total chaos right now, Venice would be in the sea, and M would be in control."

"And that's why we were formed, Sawyer," Allan reminded the spy. "It's our job. All Bond and the other world governments see is someone to save their arse." Patting his young protege on the shoulder, Quatermain returned to his seat. "I seriously doubt if we'll receive a proper thank you. Does your government throw you some sort of party or something?"

"No," Tom answered in a flat tone, "they don't...but they're bosses...."

Allan laughed out loud. "And Bond isn't?" Seeing the sheepish expression on Sawyer's flushed cheeks, the adventurer regretted his bit of fun at the boy's expense. "They should show a bit of gratitude, but other than a few words or some monetary compensation, they don't give a damn."

Tilting his head towards the discarded book, Sawyer offered an unfelt smile. "Sorry I bothered you, Allan," he spoke quietly, beginning to leave the room.

The hunter caught the young man's arm before he could leave the area. "You're never a bother, and if I ever hear you utter an asinine comment like that again...I'm throwing you over my knee!"

A grin formed on Tom's full mouth. "Wouldn't want to throw out your back...."

"What?" Quatermain blustered, rising from his chair. He could only smile when he watched the young man's quickly retreating backside. "I'll show you one day I'm not too old to handle the likes of you, Thomas Sawyer!" the seasoned hunter threatened without the usual bite.

His blonde haired protege gone, Allan settled back down in his plush chair, picking his book back up. After re-reading the same passage three times, he sighed while closing the novel. Had it been a year all ready? It seemed like only yesterday they had been assembled, going after a madman known as the Fantom, only to discover that he was the very man who had recruited them. It was all a ruse to utilize their special abilities for an evil purpose, but in the end...the League was victorious.

Looking back to where Sawyer had ambled from view, the adventurer began to realize the boy's point. They had become a family of sorts, complete with their share of sibling fights and antics...and in Sawyer's case...he had found a surrogate son.

Smacking his hand on the hardcover book, Quatermain made up his mind. If the lad thought the League should have a celebration in honor of their first year together...than dammit...he was going to get it.

"Skinner!" Allan called out in the seemingly empty room. "Show yourself!"

"How'd you know?" former thief, Rodney Skinner asked in awe, finding a hat nearby to allow one area of visibility on his otherwise invisible form.

"Heard your snickering," Quatermain said smugly, not wishing to get on the topic of how he could smell the invisible snoop as well. "Now, since you overheard my conversation...what are we going to do about it?"

"I'm sorry, Allan," Rodney replied in his thick, cockney accent, "old habits die hard. I'll be a better gent...honest."

"No...no...the boy! What are we going to do about Sawyer?"

"I thought the threat of a whack on his bum was a good answer."

His dark brows furrowing, he scowled at the hat, since there was no face to see underneath it. "I want to throw a surprise party...."

This brought a chuckle from the invisible rogue. "You would know all about surprises wouldn't you? Coming back from the dead like you did."

"I want you to sneak in and see the others," Allan ordered, "but don't tell Sawyer anything, he's the one I'm going to surprise."

The hat moved back and forth in mid-air. "Sounded like he expected Bond to throw the party," Skinner concluded, "and he's almost as nosey as me...how are we going to keep something like that from him?"

"By keeping him busy," Quatermain countered, a smile on his weathered, but still handsome face. "Now go summon the others while I find something for the lad to do."

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Back inside his cabin, Tom pulled out a worn, extra-sized book full of newspaper clippings his Aunt Polly had collected of his adventures over the years. Flipping towards the back of it, he found the new articles he had collected himself of the League's exploits.

A soft smile lit his winsome features as he thought back to how he had joined this motley band of misfits. It had started with the murder of his best friend, Huckleberry Finn, by the hands of the Fantom, that ultimately led to him to fight alongside the League. His only goal was to destroy the Fantom and avenge his friend's death, but in the end he had found a group of unique individuals who had grown to become an extended family.

Closing the thick book, he placed it back inside the white storage locker at the foot of his bed, and then flopped himself upon the mattress. He couldn't let this momentous occasion go by without doing something! Wracking his brain, he finally found the answer, a big grin encompassing his mouth. It always worked wonders when he was a kid back in Missouri.

Captain Nemo, Mrs. Mina Harker, Dr. Henry Jekyll, Dorian Gray, and Rodney Skinner snuck quietly inside the deepest hold of the submarine, glancing furtively around for a certain American youth who could spoil everything. Quatermain had orchestrated the meeting, seeing to it himself that Sawyer's attention was diverted elsewhere.

"This is pointless," Dorian Gray huffed irritably. "I don't see the need to throw a party just because that juvenile wants one."

"Aw, c'mon, Gray," Skinner said, elbowing the dashing immortal, "you didn't hear the poor kid. Tomorrow means a lot to him...what's the harm?"

Rolling his liquid, brown eyes in a dramatic fashion, he snorted, "I can see it all now...all of us seated together, festive decorations everywhere, maybe even a cake." He waved his right arm in a sweeping gesture. "Tom walks in, his eyes growing misty over the thoughtfulness of his friends, fumbling for words to speak."

"I think it'll be wonderful," vampiress Mina Harker chimed in.

"It'll be embarrassing," Dorian hissed. "You expect me to watch him open and close his mouth like an ignorant fool? Something will probably fly in, he'll choke and die..and for what?"

"Can't you show any concern for what Tom might like?" Dr. Henry Jekyll remarked coldly. "Sawyer's as much a part of this League as any one of us. He's the one who holds us together in a way."

"Kind of like a pesky baby brother," Skinner chuckled. "He annoys the living hell out of you one minute, but you're willing to do anything for him the next."

Mina laughed at the analogy. "I guess that is one way of looking at it, Rodney. He is a lot like a younger brother. We could be considered an odd sort of family unit."

Sashaying up close to the beautiful half-vampire, Skinner winked behind his dark glasses, his paint covered face showing a lustful sneer. "Now you on the other hand, Mina," he crooned, "I see as the naughty Aunt...." He was rewarded by a hard shove that sent him sailing backwards into a metal pipe. "We can discuss it privately some time, Auntie...," he recovered with a smile.

"If that ever occurs," Mina said curtly, "be assured you won't survive!"

"Oooo...going to be that good, eh?" Rodney jabbed, rubbing his hands together.

"Skinner, shut up!" Allan Quatermain barked, coming up to the group.

"Is young Sawyer...occupied?" Captain Nemo asked with a hint of a smile under his heavy beard and mustache.

"No, he's napping," Quatermain answered.

"Sawyer?" Henry seemed amazed by this concept. "Do you think he might be coming down with something? Maybe I should visit him to make sure."

"There...we have it...he's sick, so no party," Dorian offered with a relieved grin.

"A party might perk the kid up," Skinner pointed out.

"Or make him sicker," Dorian added. He did not want a stupid party! It was bad enough he had to kowtow to the American agent for his continued immortality, but now he had to throw him a celebration?

"I checked on him," Allan interrupted. "Think he was so wound up last night thinking about the anniversary that he didn't sleep much."

"I suggest we get started before his rest is over," Nemo suggested. "We have a lot to cover in twenty-four hours."

Giving the group a sly smile, Quatermain nodded. "Then the party is on."

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Figuring the coast was clear, Sawyer threw off his light blanket, quickly replacing his shoes on his feet. He thought Quatermain bought his lame excuse for a nap, but he better hurry in case the old hunter decided to check on him again. At least the idea of him not feeling well was planted in Quatermain's mind.

Opening one of the portholes in his cabin, Tom shimmed through the round hole, carefully climbing sideways outside the Nautilus, using other portholes to latch onto. With his agility and youthful speed, he was at his desired destination in a few minutes. Tapping on the glass window, Sawyer caught the attention of Nemo's head chef, Anonin.

The India native smiled at the young man on the other side of his kitchen, all too familiar with Sawyer's climbing expeditions. Sneaking a tasty treat this early in the day?

"You just had breakfast," Anonin chastised as he allowed Tom to crawl through his porthole. "Can't be hungry so soon?"

"I really need your help on somethin', Ani," Sawyer began, his hazel eyes big and pleading. "Do you know anythin' 'bout makin' them fancy cakes like you see at weddin's and stuff?"

"I have studied under some of the greatest pastry chefs in Europe," Anonin said with a tinge of pride. "What do you need of a cake such as that?"

"Well, it's a year tomorrow that the League was formed...and I want to surprise the others with a big fancy cake and all the trimmin's." Sawyer shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged sheepishly. "I know it's askin' a lot at such short notice, but I gotta make 'em see how important tomorrow truly is. Can you help me, Ani?"

With a slight sigh, the tall chef smiled and nodded. "For my best eater, I will do my best."

Sawyer eagerly shook the chef's hand in gratitude. "I can't thank you 'nuff, Ani! Don't worry, I'll be here to help out tomorrow myself."

"How will you keep it from the others?"

"There's a big meetin' tomorrow in London, so I'll figure out a way to stay behind, and we can have everythin' ready for when they come back," Tom explained with great bravado. He paused and looked again at the chef with pleading eyes. "Is there any way you can kinda make everyone's favorite dish? Or maybe their second favorite? I'm more'n willin' to help fix 'em."

The chef laughed. "All those different scents will surely mask the smell of the cake! I will see what I can do, Mr. Thomas." He patted the young spy on the shoulder and turned to leave. "But stay out of my kitchen...otherwise there would be nothing left to serve."

Thanking the chef once more, Tom climbed back through the window he entered, making his way as quickly as possible back to his quarters before someone came to check on him.

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"Are we agreed then?" Quatermain asked the group. "When we get done with the meeting with Bond, we'll walk right into a nice surprise for the lad."

"I will go arrange it with Aninon immediately," Nemo said in parting.

"And I'll go see how Sawyer's doing," Allan added, also making his exit. The other three League members exchanged glances and left the dark hold, each with their own missions.

He had just kicked off his shoes and climbed back into his bed when he heard the soft tap on his door. Burying himself under the extra blanket on top of his bed, Sawyer answered in his sleepiest voice, "Who's there?"

"It's me, son," Allan replied, quietly entering the room. Seeing the blonde agent still in the same position he had left him in, the elderly adventurer placed a fatherly hand on the youth's forehead, checking for any sign of fever. The boy's cheeks did look a little flushed, and he had obviously been sweating. "You feeling all right, Thomas?"

Slowly lifting his tousled head from the pillow in great dramatic fashion, Sawyer barely peeled his eyes open. "I'm just a bit tired," he half-whispered.

Fearing his young protege was getting sick, Quatermain frowned. "Maybe I should get Dr. Jekyll...."

Resisting the urge to bolt up in alarm, Tom calmed himself. "Don't feel like upchuckin' or anythin'," he provided in explanation, "just wore out a mite."

"I will be keeping a close watch on you," Quatermain warned, pulling the blanket up closer to Sawyer's chin.

"Thanks," Tom said, snuggling further into his pillows as he shut his eyes. "I'll be fine...."

Having fulfilled his paternal duty, Allan ruffled the boy's longish, shaggy hair in parting. "I'll let you rest," he spoke in his unique, Scottish tinged voice.

Closing the door softly behind him, Quatermain hurried to find Jekyll and Nemo. If Sawyer was getting ill, that would put a damper on everything. As much as it bothered him to think it, he hoped the boy was just a bit down over the lack of enthusiasm over tomorrow. The party would erase any disappointment Tom was feeling now.

As if on cue, Captain Nemo almost collided with the explorer in the hallway, his mind occupied by something. Upon seeing the person they were seeking, each man began to open their mouth, instantly closing them when they saw the other had something to say as well. After a brief moment of silence, Quatermain gestured for the Captain to speak first.

"I have bad news on the cake end," Nemo admitted. "I just spoke to Anonin, he doesn't think we would be able to hide the fact a cake is being made from our young comrade."

The hunter frowned; the chef was absolutely right. "Thomas can smell sugary concoctions a mile away," he grumbled. "I think the boy might be coming down with something as well."

"He seemed fine earlier," Nemo remembered.

"Yes, and I'm hoping it's a bit of disappointment that has him so down." Stroking his greying beard, Allan rethought his plans. "Maybe we can have Skinner and Mina get a cake in London, and have it delivered after the meeting? If Sawyer is sick, we can delay the party a day. Anonin can put the cake in the freezer hold, and it should stay fresh a bit longer."

"I think that would do nicely," Nemo nodded in agreement. "I shall seek out Mrs. Harker and Mr. Skinner immediately."

"Thank you, Nemo," Allan replied. "I'm off to find Jekyll. If the boy's not feeling well, maybe our good doctor will have something to fix him up." The two men parted ways, and rushed to tie up any loose ends concerning the party.