First fic (
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, but I wish I did.
Based on the movie From Hell. Not a slash. well not really( can be taken
anyway the reader chooses.
One Rainy Night
A crescent moon glared out like some malicious grin twisting and laughing at the citizens who were unfortunate enough to get caught in the sudden downpour of water. People hurried or huddled in the streets. Two completely contrasting things brought on by the rain. The pounding water also brought an unusually loud calm silence. The sound of the rain was the only sound audible in the vast busy city, which was a pleasant change from the sporadic shouts, clangs, and cracks of the East End.
The rain did go unheard by a certain number of people. The drumming sound fell on the deaf ears of Frederick Abberline, or Inspector Abberline, who was presently far away from the busy crowded streets. Where Abberline was only God and the Dragon knew. Abberline himself lay in the usual couch in the usual opium house, but where his soul was no one could guess. Drifting somewhere between sleep and consciousness and ignoring the rude world that swirled around him. Unfortunately, recently a certain Sergeant Godley had become increasingly concerned with Abberline's addictive habits, and had on numerous occasions attempted to bring them to a halt. This new spark of interest in Abberline's personal preferences did not please the inspector in the least bit, for Godley always seemed to pick the most inopportune times to interrupt. The interruption usually came swiftly and violently; this time was no different.
"Abberline... get up." No response... not even a little twitch. Bastard, Godley thought annoyed. These three words drifted slowly into Abberline's head in a misty cloud of confusion. Get... t.... p...., Abberline not understanding and deciding not to make any further attempt at deciphering this strange message groaned a no and rolled over. Godley, being a bright opportunistic man, saw the inspector's body rolling closer to the edge of the couch promptly pushed the semi-conscious man completely off. The result was Abberline ending up face down on the tiled floor.
"...hmm...ow...Godley..." came a half murmur half moan from the body that was now lying on the ground.
"Why, sorry sir, but it appears as if you've rolled off." Godley said grinning in complete amusement at the suffering of his friend. Abberline, finally discovering that he was now laying face down on the floor, began to struggle to roll over and sit up. Abberline could only get as far as moving his right arm and slightly turning his head before his body gave up on him and went limp again. Seeing his friend's predicament Godley stood over him for a moment, the initial amusement had not yet worn off, then proceeded in "gently" yanking Abberline off the ground by his shoulders and dragging him towards the door.
After the pair had reached the door of the fine establishment they then headed out into the dark rainy streets. The water came as a bit of a surprise to Abberline and the watery droplets being blown into the inspector's face aided Godley in bringing his friend back to his senses. Godley, though dragging Abberline back to his house, promptly decided to take the long way. Thinking that dragging a half-conscious police officer through the wet dank back alleys of East London was probably not the best thing to do. The stroll lasted only fifteen minutes and by the time Godley and his companion arrived at his dwelling Abberline was nearly completely awake.
Godley unlocked the door with little difficulty, which was odd since he was supporting Abberline with both hands. Godley hauled Abberline in and pushed the inspector into an old armchair, which had affectionately become Abberline's 'post-opium seat'. Abberline muttered something inaudible at Godley who merely gave a fleeting glare at him and then returned his attention to the fireplace. Godley proceeded to preoccupying himself with the fire for a good twenty minutes while he waited somewhat impatiently for his friend to recover. Then Godley moved slowly into his favorite chair, which was facing the chair where Abberline was now sitting, head back, eyes gazing into nothingness.
Godley loudly cleared his throat. The small distracting noise did not arose the sought after affect of rousing Abberline from his thoughts, so Godley continued.
"Fred." Godley said sternly as if to force out the story, the reason, the excuse from Abberline's mouth. Abberline who had been distractedly staring at the carpet merely slowly raised his eyes to meet Godley's. After a long pause and a dirty look from Abberline to Godley, Abberline let out a small sigh, but answered Godley by mimicking him.
"Peter." he said mockingly still locked in the staring contest with Godley. Godley broke the contest by rolling his eyes dramatically. Godley's face was beginning to turn red from rage. The flushed color started at his tie and spread up and over his face, nicely finishing off at the tips of his now glowing ears.
"What was it this time?" Godley nearly spat the words out.
"So..." Abberline's placid face nearly shattered, but he caught himself and anger flashed across his own face, "... what now? I need a reason to do whatever I want to do? You've suddenly taken on the job of my mother have y..."
"Dammit, Fred! Can't you see you're killing yourself?!" Godley shouted into Abberline's face finally snapping. Abberline shrunk back a bit into the chair at the sudden out burst, but Godley didn't seem to notice. "What was it this time?! ... because I refuse to except that you're just doing this to yourself! Was... was it work? Stress?"
There was a long uncomfortable pause when the only thing that could be heard was the pattering of rain outside. Godley's eyes suddenly shined with recognition and regret as he saw his friend's glassy watery eyes had not been induced by the rain or the drugs, but from tears. "Still?" Godley whispered, "still her? I... I know you miss her Fred, but you've got to move on... it's been... God knows how long..." he trailed off into a whisper as he saw a single salty tear slowly trickle down Abberline's face. Abberline was looking at the ground once again. Godley swallowed down the lump in his throat... he hated seeing Fred this way.
"Fred... I..." Godley started, but knew he had failed before he had even begun.
Abberline shook his head causing his wavy half-wet half-dry hair to fall into his face.
"Just... stop..." Abberline sputtered. Anger, sorrow, pity, and disgust all mixed into two simple words.
"I... I'm sorry Fred, but I hate to see you doing... I hate to see you... like this..."
"Well, I hate to see me like this!" Abberline suddenly yelled. It was Godley's turn to take an involuntary step back from his usually stoic friend. "I hate seeing me... without her," he continued, "so... I don't. I don't see anything. ... escape... escape into illusions of ... happiness."
"You mean your... visions?" Godley whispered after Abberline had trailed off into silence.
"No, I mean illusions..." Abberline stuttered. Only seconds after that statement Godley, still whispering, said something along the lines of "but why do this to yourself?". Sometime during his tirade Abberline had stood up, but now he was finding standing to be an extremely hard task. Abberline's knees suddenly buckled and Godley barely caught him in time. Abberline's sad dark eyes looked up into Godley's searching for an answer to Godley's question. "Because... because reality hurts like hell, Peter."
Godley grinned bitterly at the overused statement, but didn't have much time to think about it. Abberline, being completely exhausted from the emotional stress, passed out on Godley's shoulder. So, for the second time that night Godley pulled Abberline's unconscious body over to the couch.
Peter looked at the clock just before he nodded off at around 3 AM with Fred's head resting on his lap while the rest of his friend's body lay sprawled out on the remaining area of the couch. Peter sighed loudly... he had never enjoyed sleeping siting up... so he decided to come up with a half decent speech to give to Fred when he woke up the next morning. Somehow Peter would have to help his friend break this horrible habit.
~*~*~*~*~ Any feed back would be great. I'm thinking about continuing but. I dunno.
One Rainy Night
A crescent moon glared out like some malicious grin twisting and laughing at the citizens who were unfortunate enough to get caught in the sudden downpour of water. People hurried or huddled in the streets. Two completely contrasting things brought on by the rain. The pounding water also brought an unusually loud calm silence. The sound of the rain was the only sound audible in the vast busy city, which was a pleasant change from the sporadic shouts, clangs, and cracks of the East End.
The rain did go unheard by a certain number of people. The drumming sound fell on the deaf ears of Frederick Abberline, or Inspector Abberline, who was presently far away from the busy crowded streets. Where Abberline was only God and the Dragon knew. Abberline himself lay in the usual couch in the usual opium house, but where his soul was no one could guess. Drifting somewhere between sleep and consciousness and ignoring the rude world that swirled around him. Unfortunately, recently a certain Sergeant Godley had become increasingly concerned with Abberline's addictive habits, and had on numerous occasions attempted to bring them to a halt. This new spark of interest in Abberline's personal preferences did not please the inspector in the least bit, for Godley always seemed to pick the most inopportune times to interrupt. The interruption usually came swiftly and violently; this time was no different.
"Abberline... get up." No response... not even a little twitch. Bastard, Godley thought annoyed. These three words drifted slowly into Abberline's head in a misty cloud of confusion. Get... t.... p...., Abberline not understanding and deciding not to make any further attempt at deciphering this strange message groaned a no and rolled over. Godley, being a bright opportunistic man, saw the inspector's body rolling closer to the edge of the couch promptly pushed the semi-conscious man completely off. The result was Abberline ending up face down on the tiled floor.
"...hmm...ow...Godley..." came a half murmur half moan from the body that was now lying on the ground.
"Why, sorry sir, but it appears as if you've rolled off." Godley said grinning in complete amusement at the suffering of his friend. Abberline, finally discovering that he was now laying face down on the floor, began to struggle to roll over and sit up. Abberline could only get as far as moving his right arm and slightly turning his head before his body gave up on him and went limp again. Seeing his friend's predicament Godley stood over him for a moment, the initial amusement had not yet worn off, then proceeded in "gently" yanking Abberline off the ground by his shoulders and dragging him towards the door.
After the pair had reached the door of the fine establishment they then headed out into the dark rainy streets. The water came as a bit of a surprise to Abberline and the watery droplets being blown into the inspector's face aided Godley in bringing his friend back to his senses. Godley, though dragging Abberline back to his house, promptly decided to take the long way. Thinking that dragging a half-conscious police officer through the wet dank back alleys of East London was probably not the best thing to do. The stroll lasted only fifteen minutes and by the time Godley and his companion arrived at his dwelling Abberline was nearly completely awake.
Godley unlocked the door with little difficulty, which was odd since he was supporting Abberline with both hands. Godley hauled Abberline in and pushed the inspector into an old armchair, which had affectionately become Abberline's 'post-opium seat'. Abberline muttered something inaudible at Godley who merely gave a fleeting glare at him and then returned his attention to the fireplace. Godley proceeded to preoccupying himself with the fire for a good twenty minutes while he waited somewhat impatiently for his friend to recover. Then Godley moved slowly into his favorite chair, which was facing the chair where Abberline was now sitting, head back, eyes gazing into nothingness.
Godley loudly cleared his throat. The small distracting noise did not arose the sought after affect of rousing Abberline from his thoughts, so Godley continued.
"Fred." Godley said sternly as if to force out the story, the reason, the excuse from Abberline's mouth. Abberline who had been distractedly staring at the carpet merely slowly raised his eyes to meet Godley's. After a long pause and a dirty look from Abberline to Godley, Abberline let out a small sigh, but answered Godley by mimicking him.
"Peter." he said mockingly still locked in the staring contest with Godley. Godley broke the contest by rolling his eyes dramatically. Godley's face was beginning to turn red from rage. The flushed color started at his tie and spread up and over his face, nicely finishing off at the tips of his now glowing ears.
"What was it this time?" Godley nearly spat the words out.
"So..." Abberline's placid face nearly shattered, but he caught himself and anger flashed across his own face, "... what now? I need a reason to do whatever I want to do? You've suddenly taken on the job of my mother have y..."
"Dammit, Fred! Can't you see you're killing yourself?!" Godley shouted into Abberline's face finally snapping. Abberline shrunk back a bit into the chair at the sudden out burst, but Godley didn't seem to notice. "What was it this time?! ... because I refuse to except that you're just doing this to yourself! Was... was it work? Stress?"
There was a long uncomfortable pause when the only thing that could be heard was the pattering of rain outside. Godley's eyes suddenly shined with recognition and regret as he saw his friend's glassy watery eyes had not been induced by the rain or the drugs, but from tears. "Still?" Godley whispered, "still her? I... I know you miss her Fred, but you've got to move on... it's been... God knows how long..." he trailed off into a whisper as he saw a single salty tear slowly trickle down Abberline's face. Abberline was looking at the ground once again. Godley swallowed down the lump in his throat... he hated seeing Fred this way.
"Fred... I..." Godley started, but knew he had failed before he had even begun.
Abberline shook his head causing his wavy half-wet half-dry hair to fall into his face.
"Just... stop..." Abberline sputtered. Anger, sorrow, pity, and disgust all mixed into two simple words.
"I... I'm sorry Fred, but I hate to see you doing... I hate to see you... like this..."
"Well, I hate to see me like this!" Abberline suddenly yelled. It was Godley's turn to take an involuntary step back from his usually stoic friend. "I hate seeing me... without her," he continued, "so... I don't. I don't see anything. ... escape... escape into illusions of ... happiness."
"You mean your... visions?" Godley whispered after Abberline had trailed off into silence.
"No, I mean illusions..." Abberline stuttered. Only seconds after that statement Godley, still whispering, said something along the lines of "but why do this to yourself?". Sometime during his tirade Abberline had stood up, but now he was finding standing to be an extremely hard task. Abberline's knees suddenly buckled and Godley barely caught him in time. Abberline's sad dark eyes looked up into Godley's searching for an answer to Godley's question. "Because... because reality hurts like hell, Peter."
Godley grinned bitterly at the overused statement, but didn't have much time to think about it. Abberline, being completely exhausted from the emotional stress, passed out on Godley's shoulder. So, for the second time that night Godley pulled Abberline's unconscious body over to the couch.
Peter looked at the clock just before he nodded off at around 3 AM with Fred's head resting on his lap while the rest of his friend's body lay sprawled out on the remaining area of the couch. Peter sighed loudly... he had never enjoyed sleeping siting up... so he decided to come up with a half decent speech to give to Fred when he woke up the next morning. Somehow Peter would have to help his friend break this horrible habit.
~*~*~*~*~ Any feed back would be great. I'm thinking about continuing but. I dunno.