Synopsis: Alfred decidedly accompanies an enigmatic British traveller on his journeys. However, the destination is not just simply a place. It's a time. USUK
…
"Hi. My name is Alfred Jones and I'm currently time travelling with a strange alien man that speaks with a British accent and has eyebrows hairier than my great aunt's moustache. We have been travelling for a week – maybe a day or at least an hour. Oh, I don't know how these things work, time is relative-"
"Oh, would you stop with that recording nonsense!" Arthur slapped away his companion's device, tossing it over his shoulder and continuing on with his newspaper. "And for the record, I'm human and my eyebrows are none of your business!"
Alfred whimpered. He was completely at a loss of what to do to pass the time. Gazing around, there was nothing that caught his attention that could be used as a possible time waster. Arthur was a boring fellow. He drowned himself in books and old newspapers, as well as strange trinkets that he collected from different times and places. He was a bit of a lyrebird in that regard. The British man just surrounded himself in his own junk, without need of things such as games or interesting things such as comic books. The internet didn't work within the time machine and Arthur lacked a computer regardless.
The only fun Alfred had within the machine was annoying Arthur and getting a rise out of him. A peculiar thing he had learned about his companion was that Arthur was reluctant to communicate with others. He did not comprehend the concept of general chatter and always needed an agenda to follow when it came to conversations. This meant that the only two forms of dialogue he could muster from the Brit so far were from mindless belts of rage he had from being interrogated about his life or being intentionally provoked and information concerning time travel or the period in which they were travelling.
Since he was not always comfortable with abuse, Alfred had learned a lot about time travel and the machine itself from Arthur. Time machines were strange devices. They were built to allow space so that the travellers had room to move and access basic utilities such as the bathroom and kitchen and such. It was much like a caravan, but instead of going to a new place you're off to a new time. The vehicle also piloted itself without the need for a person behind the wheel. They were also built to be inconspicuous to the common eye when parked in a period. They are the structures in the street that you briefly glance at as you're walking by, but don't quite have full memory of. It's usually a blurry haze when you retrace your steps and it's never quite the same for anyone.
The problem with time machines is you never know how much time you'd have to spend in one to reach your destination. To travel back in time to a minute in the past could take what felt like a year within the machine, however you could go right to the so called 'end' of time itself and it could maybe only take the bat of an eyelash.
"Arthur, how long have we been in here?" Alfred howled, slinking off his seat and onto the floor where he rolled about anxiously. He had begun to feel what Arthur described as 'time lag'. Your body clock becomes out of whack because you have no sense of time, similar to how many people feel when not doing anything in a holiday period. You stay up too late and sleep at strange times, which also cause fluctuations in your eating patterns. You don't have the need to go out so you lack the exercise necessary to maintain what you eat and the problems go on.
Arthur took one look at him, quirking his brow and turning the page of his newspaper indignantly. Alfred already knew from experience that Arthur was not a patient man and did not usually stand for his antics. He had been travelling far too long to be affected by the sickness and the mental stress that came with the joys of time travel and no longer could emphasise.
"Well, technically no time at all. We don't even age in here, Alfred" Arthur muttered shortly, decidedly humouring his fidgeting partner for once. The British man pursed his lips for a moment in thought, translating the complexities of his knowledge into an easier description before continuing. "We're suspended in time and space until we reach our destination. You could come in with a guitar barely knowing a single chord and come out the most talented guitarist in the world. You could write a novel in theoretically 'no time at all'. Fascinating, isn't it?" For a mere second his eyes glinted with a hint of wonder before disappearing under his fabricated aloof manner. Alfred dropped his brows and questioned whether he noticed any change in his mysterious friend at all. He was grumpy and borderline insane from the lack of action.
"Arthur with all due respect, I came into this machine like a baby comes into this Earth – with nothing at all. How do you expect me to learn the wonders of the universe and master some skill like guitar playing and book writing when I didn't bring anything on this here trip?" Alfred droned, snapping with frustration. He rested his head on his hand and watched his adversary, begging for a response contradictory to his normal indifferent mannerisms. He wanted conflicted and he wanted it now. "I'm not doing the best in here and you're being about as useful as a knife in a gun fight!"
Arthur folded the paper carefully and rested it on the table. Alfred watched as he got up and walked directly towards him, crouching so that their faces were inches apart. His expression still remained as blank as a newly bought canvas; his hands reaching slowly out to what Alfred guessed were his cheeks. His guess was that Arthur had seen the error of his ways in not considering the effects time travel would have on him and he finally wanted to open up and give him affection, maybe tell him stories of his first experience time travelling and all the mistakes he made.
Instead of the intimate gesture of cupping his cheek, Arthur had clenched his trembling fists around Alfred's neckline. With a sharp yank Arthur brought their noses together, a light slap echoing through Alfred's ear drums as the tips of their noses prodded against the other's causing Arthur's to crinkle slightly in Alfred's viewpoint. The sudden change made Alfred feel flustered with the unanticipated contact. Arthur's eyes were barely centimetres away from his and it was impossible to divert his vision, no matter how much he tried.
Alfred was at a loss of what this gesture suggested. He was not used to people so incredibly hard to read like Arthur. Was this intimacy or intimidation? He couldn't be wrong to assume that in some far away time it was considered affectionate to firmly press your nose against another's. It could have been derived from an Eskimo kiss except instead of the lightly rubbing of noses together, this was much more intense. Alfred was kidding himself. Before he could develop another assumption, Arthur interjected. "When you're frustrated you do that accent. That accent is disgusting. It's probably the worst noise I have ever heard coming out of someone's mouth. I grew up with loud, obnoxious brothers. I've heard a lot of ill noises, especially in that household. Now, I regret to inform you Mr Jones, but your accent is probably the worst. My brothers do not even compare. So, if you want to leave this humble abode with your tongue intact, I suggest you zip it"
A long thick silence fell upon the two of them. The lack of presence of said sound within that very room made even the dripping of the bathroom tap audible to both the companion's ears, when the bathroom was on the other side of the rather spacious home. Alfred would not let the sudden discomfort shake or discourage him though. He had earned something precious – knowledge about Arthur as well as achieving the most attention he had got out of the other in a long time. A slow smile formed on his face before transitioning into a full blown cheshire grin. "So, Artie. Brothers, eh? Got any cute sisters?"
Another veil of silence fell as the British man made one final attempt to control his rage. Arthur's hand began to shake, his eyebrows twitching from frustration and he had started ventilating. He could feel his teeth chattering and grinding together, his palms moist from sweat. His attempt had failed miserably.
"You bloody yank! You've got all bollocks and no brains. Out of all the people to piss off, you had to piss off me, didn't you? I'm a bloody time traveller! I can throw you out and watch you disintegrate under the sheer force of time and space itself! I can erase your existence! I can erase your mother's existence and destroy any bloodline you could have had, doing the greatest favour imaginable to the gene pool!" Arthur shook Alfred back and forth, his neck swinging from side to side with his stupid grin still plastered on his face.
"Now who has the accent, you limey?" Alfred bellowed, laughing hysterically as the Brit continued to yell obscenities at him.
…..
"Alright, so when are we?" Alfred glanced over at Arthur, crunching into his apple with satisfaction. "Man! I won't ever get used to saying that!"
The only hint Alfred had received was from the attire that Arthur had made for him. For the sake of consistency and to not raise attention, Arthur sewed clothes for the appropriate time period during the time he spent suspended. He had a whole room dedicated to the designing and storing of clothes that he had been made to suit certain eras, listing them in their time periods. Arthur had been particularly busy on this suspension though since he was not only designing for just himself now. He seemed to take more joy out of this than he'd probably like to admit.
For further reference, Arthur possessed an electronic guide and archive of cultures through the ages which he used to fabricate the appropriate clothing and read up on the customs to ensure he did not offend or do something to arouse suspicion. Given his status as a time traveller, he was often delivered all the necessary items he needed to carry out living in a specific time, such as currency and identification if needed. Identification forms were a pain to fill out but the product was crucial.
Arthur had designed a brown coat for Alfred with a white shirt underneath. He wore a red bow tie around his neck which was slightly constricting for him; he was not used to clothes that were tight around the neck. He was of course a boy who was brought up in a small country town which lacked the needs for formalities such as suits. He wore a matching vest underneath that he left visible, decidedly leaving his coat open. The coat was rough to the touch and slightly itchy against his skin. It was mainly used to keep him warm as opposed to a fashion statement he guessed, but he still possessed the appearance of a man of wealth. His trousers were higher than he expected them to be and it made his crotch feel slightly uncomfortable. It wasn't just the exposure due to restriction that gave him discomfort, the itchy fabric also irritated him and he had the constant urge to scratch. Sadly he did not have the privacy to alleviate his problem, which caused him to shuffle about awkwardly before getting accustomed to the sensation.
Arthur had treated himself well in terms of his attire. He wore a black buttoned up coat with the faint outline of a silky vest underneath. Around his neck was a luxurious plum cravat that made him look like quite the cultured gentleman. His trousers were dark and slim, his shoes finely polished underneath. His top hat was well fitted to his head and he wore it with pride, even going as far to brush his fringe back underneath. His eyebrows were barely exposed, which made him feel more secure. The British man carried himself with a fitted cane and white gloves, strolling about like a true gentleman. Alfred had never seen him thrive so comfortably before.
The gentleman quirked his eyebrow and pursed his lips as a way to combat his rising annoyance that seemed to manifest from just mere contact with the American. "We're in the late 1800s, England. It would be good of you to leave behind your accent. You're polluting my mother country"
"You really don't like me being American, do you?" Alfred said offhandedly with a smirk. Arthur seemed to pause for a moment, causing Alfred to tip his hat up so he could examine him accurately. His expression was unreadable to begin with, his eyes focusing on the ground before rising up to look at Alfred properly. This caused Alfred to freeze. Something in that particular statement had caused a sudden change.
"No, I don't" Arthur admitted in a small, tender voice. Alfred noticed that for once instead of looking past him, Arthur was focusing directly at him. His mouth twitched into a sad smile before reaching out and giving Alfred two affectionate slaps on the cheek. He stayed like that, his stony hand pressed against Alfred's warm face for a few more seconds before letting it fall to his side and moving on. It was if his skin just made him melt. Just like that, the moment was gone.
To shake off the lingering awkwardness of the unexplained gesture, Arthur focused on the task at hand. He did not want to explain himself to the American just yet. It wasn't the right time, he decided.
Arthur brought his mouth up to Alfred's ear to ensure that he would be heard. "Let's press on then shall we?" With that, he continued to weave through the crowd with ease, his slim body making it easy to squeeze and dodge through the masses naturally. Alfred was sadly not that agile. He pushed and squirmed and shoved through the people like a raging bull, causing strangers to stumble and gasp at his clumsy force. Arthur glanced behind him and rolled his eyes at how inept Alfred was when it came to dealing with city crowds. He clasped Alfred's arm, feeling the other stiffen underneath his touch. Regardless, he ignored the tension within the other and carried on.
Soon Alfred's discomfort evaporated from the sheer thrill of adventure that encompassed him. He was in absolute awe of the streets and the city. The place smelt of a pig sty and the people around him mostly looked sickeningly dirty, but it was a new place – a new time. It was incredibly exciting. All types of people prospered here. There were mothers with children clasping their dresses like a hen and her chicks, she fawning over them with rough love. There were workers that must have just ended their shifts or were on break, yelling drunk and heartily outside and inside of pubs. Occasionally there were gentlemen dressed similarly to themselves whom tipped their hats to both Alfred and Arthur as they passed. Alfred was most excited when he saw gentlewomen. They wore the most exquisite clothes with their hair in the utmost complex styles, always long and luscious. The women of this period were a lot more subtle than women of his present time. They looked at you with a side glance as you passed them by, a small charming smile forming on their lips. Arthur often expressed himself in the same subtle fashion, always showing acknowledgement for a single moment before becoming calm and collected seconds after, anger being the only exception to this nature.
Arthur gave Alfred's arm a squeeze, ushering him towards something that caught his eye. There was a young boy on top of a tall pile of newspapers, yelling over the mumble and fuss of the travelling crowd. "Hello lad! Would you please sell me one of those?" Arthur inquired politely, flashing him a smile that Alfred had only wished he would similarly receive. The Brit had been indifferent to him from the moment they met, however Arthur was kind and polite when it came to serving staff and those at work. His philosophy was if a person couldn't treat people serving them with kindness and etiquette, they did not possess those traits at all, nor would they exercise decorum if they had the chance to treat you in a similar manner.
"Course I can, sir! I've got a big exclusive on the Jack the Ripper cases. Gives you shivers, don't it?" The boy grinned, jumping off his pile of papers and handing Arthur a copy underneath the duplicate he was standing on. The first thing Alfred noticed was the boy's wrists as he was handing the paper to Arthur. He was unhealthily scrawny and his skin was sickly pale underneath a thick layer of dirt and grime. The boy must not have bathed in weeks and by the slight tremor of his hands, he wasn't the warmest either. It seemed Arthur perceived this as well.
Arthur dug into his pocket for a coin and crouched down to see eye to eye to the boy. "Thank you, child" Arthur said, ruffling the child's hair underneath his cap. "Now, I was wondering about just one other thing. It's rather personal. How long has it been since you've eaten?"
"Beg your pardon, sir?" The boy slid off his cap to reveal messy brown hair and large, dark rimmed eyes. The child must have only been roughly nine years old.
"I want to know the last time you've had a decent meal, nothing out of the ordinary" Arthur reassured, lifting his lips to reinforce the lack of ill intentions. Alfred was too focused on the boy to acknowledge another of Arthur's smiles. He had never seen a child so fragile in his life.
"I-I haven't eaten in three days, sir" The child admitted honestly under his breath. He dropped his head, almost ashamed at the fact that two strangers where bringing attention to his poor physical state.
"And what was the last thing you ate?" Arthur probed, making Alfred cringe. He had never imagined this time period to be this way. Everything he had learned about this time period from movies and teachings, not to mention his personal experience showed this time to be exquisite and full of dapper gentlemen and elegant ladies. He had noticed that most commoners did not bathe, but he did not think to this extent, nor did he think a child would go this hungry.
"…I ate a slice of bread, sir"
That was the straw that broke the camel's back for Alfred. If he did not do something, his grandmother would be rolling in her grave. She did not believe any child should go hungry. He dug into his pockets and produced as many silver coins as he could finger, holding them out to the boy desperately. "I have no idea how much that is worth, son. I just want you to take it and for god's sake just eat something. Please just eat something"
The boy gazed up at Alfred, completely bewildered. "I-I… thank you, sir" The lad mumbled, holding the coins he had received tightly in his small palms. He back away suspiciously whilst still gazing at the two strangers before running off. His papers still sat abandoned on the pavement and were completely forgotten.
….
The two of them had made their way back to their lodgings in their time machine, resting from their exploration. They had bought a decent stock of fruits and staples such as bread and butter, although they had not been so lucky when it came to meats. The meat either looked unhygienic to eat or was too much to eat between the two of them before it would be soiled, so eventually the both of them gave up and decided to go without. Alfred had finally rid himself of his itchy pants and sat comfortably in his underwear on the couch whilst Arthur crossed his legs and read the newspaper he received from the boy.
"Do you think that money would have been enough for the boy to have something decent to eat?" Alfred questioned curiously, lowering his head back to stare at the ceiling. The thought hadn't left his mind all day.
"That would have been enough for him and his family to survive on for a solid month alone, two if they were careful" Arthur turned the page, clearing his throat. "…You did a good thing today"
"You know me. I can't help myself" Alfred sighed, closing his eyes and letting satisfaction take him. That boy was going to have a decent meal for a good couple of months. There was no deed he'd done better.
Silence filled the room but unlike previously it was a comfortable and cosy hush. Alfred admittedly did not know Arthur very well nor had he known him for very long, but he felt as if in that particular moment, they were connecting. They had found something in common that they both possessed which was strong enough to put past their differences and bickering and allow a sensual peace to befall them. They finally saw eye to eye on something. They saw eye to eye in helping people.
For the first time, Arthur began the conversation. He cleared his throat and watched Alfred from the corner of his eye. "Say, have you ever heard anything about Jack the Ripper, Alfred?" Arthur inquired, licking his thumb to turn the page. Alfred was bewildered by Arthur's sudden change of heart but he was curious as to where his companion was going with this.
"Let me see. He was a guy who killed prostitutes. He was never caught. It inspired lots of movies and novels based around it – there was a movie about it made in 2001 starring Johnny Depp titled 'From Hell', I recall" Alfred pondered, tapping his forefinger against his bottom lip in thought.
Arthur chuckled dryly. "From Hell, you say? That's gravely fitting. The person that was supposedly Jack the Ripper sent a message to the police which contained half a kidney. It started with that exact phrase to be precise" Arthur rose from his seat and started to pace the room. "I, however, don't believe that any messages sent to Scotland Yard were from our infamous killer in the slightest. I think it was all enthusiasts" Arthur mused, leaning against the arm of the chair in which Alfred was seated.
Alfred perked up, smiling at Arthur with anticipation. "Do you think that the idea could have spiked frenzy in the media, inspiring other people to continue out the fantasy of this? I mean, the general link between the kills is the fact that the women were prostitutes."
"And that they had their uterus removed or other strange mutilations made towards their private parts" Arthur added, impressed at Alfred's guesswork. He had always thought Alfred was just a clumsy buffoon who couldn't see past his own naivety. He was beginning to think he had misjudged him.
"Not necessarily. I remember that there were two other murders that the police decidedly did not connect. One was with a woman who was attacked by a group of men which we can definitely rule out. In the other case however, the woman was stabbed repeatedly to death. Now, murderers aren't suddenly good at being murderers. They have to learn the trade, much like riding a bicycle." Alfred continued with his theory, gesturing with his hands to emphasise his ideas. Arthur grew more impressed by the minute. "So when you begin to ride a bike, you start off with training wheels. What better person to kill than a prostitute in a shady part of town? Nobody cares for a prostitute. Their client could have just been accidentally too rough with them and just did away with them. Not just that, misogyny is still about in this age. If women are beneath men, prostitutes are at the very bottom of the hierarchy. Prostitutes are the training wheels for an amateur killer and I believe that this 'unrelated' murder is a product of that"
Arthur clapped briefly to commemorate Alfred's theory. The American bowed jokingly, soaking in the praise of his friend. "Well said. Her name was Martha Tabram by the way. She was reportedly stabbed 39 times. That's a bit excessive, isn't it? It was either done out of rage or nerves, I believe"
"Let's not rule out both. I don't think I could possibly imagine the troubles which could come along with falling in love with a prostitute" Alfred reached over to the newspaper, bringing it forward and skimming over the article. He felt a pang of gloom at the thought of the brutality of the murders on women no less, but he quickly disregarded it. He was beginning to understand where Arthur was going with this. "So who have we got left, Arthur?"
"We have Elizabeth Stride and Catherine Eddowes on the same day and then lastly, we have Mary Jane Kelly" Arthur answered, rising to make his way to the kitchen.
"Now, I know how you feel about changing time…" Alfred eased, tapping his fingers together. "But I think this is for a good cause. They're women after all"
"Oh, I agree with you wholeheartedly" The Brit approved, putting the kettle on. "I do generally stick with my guns on this, but I think this is a pretty decent exception. However, I'll have to say no on something like assassinating Hitler for instance. That's where I put my foot down"
….
And that's the first chapter. I haven't written anything in a long time and I'm pretty excited for this!
- Kiddle