Author's Note: I am supposed to be doing something else. Like work on my other stories. Actually do my homework before the night it's due. But HA! I might as well suggest I solve cold fusion, or world peace while I'm at it. I started watching this and I was instantly hooked, and I must say - I have never been the adorkable type fan, but OMFG, WELLS. WHO IS THE OFFSPRING OF A CINNAMON ROLL AND A CREAM PUFF AND TOO PRECIOUS FOR THIS WORLD. So naturally, I must cause him pain. Because we only hurt the ones we love (in fanfic, anyway. PSA - don't do that in real life. Real life makes you a dick). Anyway. Enough delays. Onward!
Jane stared at the door in front of her.
It was a simple metal door, partially fashionable and in keeping with the modern industrial look of the apartment high rise, the number 930 clearly emblazoned across it. There was a peephole directly underneath, and no welcome mat to speak of. It was identical to the other three doors on the penthouse floor, save for the numbers.
She'd been standing in front of it for almost ten minutes, studying every fine detail with her hand raised to knock but unable to move. Her heart thudded in her chest, not so secretly terrified of what she knew was on the other side of the door.
It'd taken her a while to find it, but she did. She hadn't even told Vanessa she knew. She didn't want her to send Doug or anyone else from her security team with her.
As dangerous as it was to come alone, she knew it was impossible any other way. He would never hear her out, and she would be lucky to walk away with anything less than a door being slammed in her face.
She pulled in a shaky breath, willing her trembling hand to move, to knock, to at least try this absolutely insane idea. She reminded herself that this wasn't her choice – it was a lack of options. She tried to convince herself, if it was the other way around, someone else would do everything possible for her.
Even the unthinkable.
"You can do this, Jane," she muttered to herself, psyching herself up to make a move. "You are not mediocre. You are…absolutely insane with no sense of self preservation and when you get killed your father will never let you live it down."
And before she could change her mind, she rapidly knocked on the door. She held her breath, half turning and completely prepared to run if someone else opened the door.
She heard nothing. No footsteps approaching the door, no turn of the knob, no nothing.
She bit her lip, wringing her hands nervously as she chewed her bottom lip. Maybe he wasn't home. Worse, maybe he was home, and he hadn't heard her knocking over…whatever else he could be doing. Things she didn't want to contemplate.
Or maybe he had headphones on and couldn't hear her? Or was…vacuuming?
Jane vowed to stab her brain with a Q-Tip when she got home for its stupidity and lack of help.
She raised her hand to knock again when the door opened, and she jumped back in surprise, half turning to run away as if this was the most dangerous game of Ding Dong Ditch one could play, but she froze, staring at the man before her.
It helped that he looked just as surprised to see her as she did him, but he recovered much quicker.
"Jane Walker," John Stevenson said, lips curling up in a smirk. "Fancy seeing you here."
Jane's heart felt like it was going to explode. He'd tried to kill her. He held her hostage. Threatened another woman in front of her, stabbed HG, tried to steal the time machine and oh God what was she thinking.
"What are you doing here?" John demanded, though he actually looked moderately impressed. "I would think if you could find me so easily, Wells would've sent his mercenaries after me to drag me back to the 1890's."
Dark eyes ran calculatingly up and down and Jane repressed the urge to shiver. She opened her mouth to speak, trying to remember the words she'd come up with on her journey over. She'd repeated it a thousand times, practicing every line until she was sure she'd come up with the perfect message.
But now that she stood in front of the monster, the Ripper himself, words failed her.
John's sly grin faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. He stuck his head out into the hallway, glancing up and down the empty space before stepping back, his frown deepening. "You're alone."
Her mouth opened to speak, but immediately closed it again, looking down at her feet and shifting nervously from foot to foot, biting her lip as she tried to make her brain connect with her mouth without completely freaking out like she so desperately wanted to.
"Wells is many things, but he's a far cry from stupid. Naïve, to be sure, but not an idiot. He would never allow you to come here, alone, if he knew what you were doing. And I doubt very much you would come here without his knowledge. If he knew how to find me, then he would've come himself. Him and that oaf from the park."
The killer's head cocked to one side, and she could see that fierce intelligence at work behind that calculating stare.
"What happened to HG?" he asked, sounding angrier than she expected. But then, without HG, John was trapped here in present day, and as much as he seemed to thrive here, it wasn't somewhere he wanted to stay.
"They took him," she finally blurted out. It seemed so…insignificant for what happened. It didn't cover the hours she'd spent looking for him, running through city cameras with Vanessa's security team trying to find out where he went. The way her stomach twisted in on itself the more hours passed and they found nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing.
Half the reason she wanted to come here, to stand face to face with the most famous serial killer in history was to convince herself that it wasn't a dream. To believe that the time machine really worked and HG Wells and Jack the Ripper came forward in history and they were real.
"Took him?" John repeated, as if testing the words on his own tongue. Something dark flitted across those intense eyes, something primal and something dangerous and for some reason, Jane found herself absurdly grateful.
Maybe because if John was angry, it meant that he cared. Not the same way she did, but the way a wolf cared when something foreign moved into its territory. She wasn't banking on his humanity to move him into action. She was hoping against hope that his possessiveness and arrogance would.
"Who?" he asked, taking a step forwards, one hand going behind his back where she had little doubt his curved blade rested.
She stepped back, shaking her head. "I don't know. We don't know. But he's gone."
John took another step forwards, and Jane couldn't help thinking he looked remarkably like a large cat on the hunt.
And she was painfully aware that meant he was hunting her.
"How long?" John pressed, eyes narrowing. "I've been calling about his deadline, but there's no answer. He would never ignore me. Not when he knows what will happen if he does. That's been at least a few days."
"A week," she said. "We've been looking for him, but we can't find a trace of him. I thought…I thought maybe you'd done something, or – or maybe he'd gotten the time machine to work and he'd gotten stranded somewhere before it came back or…I don't know." She stood herself up straight, as tall as she could manage and refused to take another step backwards.
She was here for HG, she reminded herself.
"I need your help," she said firmly. "And if you help me find him, I will help you find another time. I'm not going to give you the key, or promise we won't come after you, but I will get you a head start."
She didn't want to give Jack the Ripper anything. If he'd been an idiot, that would be a different story. She wouldn't wonder how fast he could acclimate to any time he chose, or the mountain of bodies he could leave behind just to mess with history. But…but he spared Jules. He could've killed Jules, he could've killed her, but he hadn't. And maybe, maybe that spark of whatever tiny piece of humanity he had in him would be enough to agree to help her.
For a moment, John said nothing, remaining silent as he stared at her, studying with an intensity she would've associated with foxes and henhouses before one human to another.
She fought the urge to fidget under the scrutiny.
Finally, John stepped back, straightening up to his full height as he smiled at her. "I feel like we should be standing at a crossroad to make a deal like that, Jane."
She was pretty sure she could hear Faust in the background, and yes, she was perfectly aware she was trying to make a deal with the devil.
But somewhere in that monster, behind that mask, was a man that someone like HG thought enough of to call a friend and she hoped to God there was a sliver of reality to that act.
For a moment, she was positive he was going to refuse. That he would decide that if HG wasn't around to chase him, then he was fine staying in this era. Killing people here versus killing them there would make no difference to him.
Instead, he smiled, and stuck out his empty hand.
She stared at it like it was going to bite her. Or, more likely, suddenly be wielding a knife meant for her throat.
"Do they not still shake hands to affirm a partnership?" he prompted, his hand remaining unwaveringly extended out to her.
"No, no, they do. I mean, we do. Just…show me your other hand first," she said firmly, keeping her grip on her bag where her father's gifted gun remained hidden.
John seemed amused by the demand, but she saw the subtle movement of his arm. She was right. He had been holding a knife behind him. It was oddly reassuring, because it at least meant he was predictable.
He held his now empty hand up to show her, still smirking. "Satisfied?"
"Not really," she said honestly, but she took his hand and gave it one quick, firm shake before releasing it.
His hands were like ice.
"So, Jane," John asked. "When do we start?"
HG fought to open his eyes, but they felt like they'd been glued shut. Everything seemed disconnected and far away, like he was floating underwater.
He tried to move, to make his hands and arms and fingers work but they remained traitorously unresponsive.
Somewhere nearby, he could hear a rhythmic beeping, which other than being irritating, meant nothing.
There was a bright light above him, so bright he could even see it through his closed lids. It was invasive and all-consuming and despite its intensity, it lacked any warmth.
He tried to work his mouth, his throat clicking as he swallowed without moisture, his own lips chapped and dry as his tongue, but nothing came out. Hardly a breath of air.
"He's starting to wake up. Should we let him?"
HG knew he should worry about that, but his brain couldn't latch onto any one feeling long enough to register and react. He wasn't even sure if he was dreaming the voice in his head.
"No. Not yet."
A warm hand took his freezing one in theirs, and his fingers reflexively curled around it, trying to anchor himself to something real in the abyss he found himself floating in.
"That's cute."
"Oh, shut it."
Something pulled uncomfortably at his neck, pinching slightly as he tried to move his head.
He must've said something, because the hand on his moved, running through his hair as they made shushing noises, trying to be soothing.
But there was nothing soothing about this, and he was becoming more aware by the moment. He didn't know the voices, didn't know who sat beside him, whose hand that was, and it felt wrong. He tried to move his head, but the hand wouldn't let him, holding him firmly in place.
The once steady beeping in the background was starting to pick up the pace, echoing his own heartbeat as he tried to shift away.
"He's getting agitated."
"I noticed. Put him back under before he pulls it out."
There was a flush of warmth from the pinched area on his neck, and instead of floating, he felt himself falling.
The last thing he registered was the hand that hadn't moved, remaining passively on his cheek as it stroked away a trail of dampness.
"Go back to sleep."
And the darkness swallowed him whole.
Author's Note: I know this is a baby fandom - you know, with like all of four episodes aired. But if you read, please leave a review! Drop me a line, let me know what you think!