Title: Climbing Pits
Author: WickedRum

Disclaimers: If I owned it, it wouldn't have ended like that, for sure! Not to mention real life Chief Inspector Frederick George Abberline died about 30 yeas later and it was no overdose!! Pft! What the hell!?

Genre: Angst/Romance/AU.

Set: my story starts at the scene where Abberline finds the bit of hair on the last body that doesn't belong to Mary Kelly.

Pairing: Abberline/Mary, Abberline/Godley friendship.

Summary: Abberline will not go endanger Mary, but what if one of his visions tell him she needs his help?

Rating: possibly adult for the drug usage references.

Abberline managed to get himself together in just a few seconds not to give away his significant finding and with shaking hands he placed the bits of hair that weren't Mary's back on the body where he had found them. The Ripper didn't know it wasn't Mary and apparently his own superior, Sir Charles Warren didn't either. That was the only explanation why he would've reinstated him in his job as the chief inspector in Whitechapel and he'd certainly report back to whoever highty mighty he was reporting back to that the killings were finished and dealt with as there were no more witnesses. Abberline could be left in charge to investigate the nothing, cause there wasn't anything left to investigate. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath telling himself to calm down, although there was a badly mutilated and hardly recognizable body, he should distance himself from the human side of it like he always did as the victim wasn't one he did deeply care for. However, the horror and the emotion that was previously cursing through his veins having thought to have lost another love to the ferryman didn't just disappear like that at will. His stomach clenched at the thought of giving anything away in front of Warren's men and endangering Mary Kelly. That could've been her. It almost was, he thought it was. Suddenly feeling very sick to his stomach he stumbled outside and leaning to the wall as he didn't manage any further he got rid of that little absinthe that he had consumed earlier. His knees attempting to give out he looked over to his Sergent, "I trust you can finish this?" It came out very quiet and weak as dizziness added to his troubles so instead of complying the normally harsh Godley who never really gave him any consideration over his addiction ended up standing beside him and holding him up.

"The officer has already started inside, didn't he?" Peter Godley was well aware of their unimportance in the matter, present or not. Abberline and Warren seemed to have agreed about one thing, that the killings were over, even if he didn't know yet why. "Constable, lend us that coach will you? I need to take the inspector home," he guided Abberline into that direction, "what's wrong with you?" He asked a bit more quietly. Although his boss couldn't get himself out the hold of opium, he wasn't used to him displaying such emotions, no matter what life was burdening him with.

Abberline didn't answer, just climbing up into the couch was enough trouble. Godley gave the driver a sign they should be off and sat next to the woozy looking inspector, who doubled over on the seat, clutching at his stomach with a groan. Godley put a hand on his superior's back, whispering, "you do know, that was not Mary Kelly, don't you?"

Abberline nodded, then gulped and leaned back, closing his eyes. Godley let him rest, frequently casting worried looks at his pallid and sweaty features. Being with him every day Godley had a pretty good knowledge of how far gone Abberline really was from any resemblance of a normal life. For the last two years, he hadn't seen him having a proper meal, drinking anything else than alcohol and spending any of his free time anywhere else than the gloomy loneliness of his home or the opium parlor, no matter how many times he invited him for dinner himself. He doubted he ever slept without inducing it with some drug. Sooner or later that resilient body of his was going to give out and Godley feared it was close to it being now. "Abberline," he touched his leg gently, so far from slamming him in the face or pouring a bucket of cold water over him when he was trying to bring him back to reality other times. The inspector gave a quiet moan, then opened his eyes for a moment, just to close them again. Godley frowned. Abberline wasn't high on drugs, he could tell. And yet he seemed out of it, with some added grief marring his face. He didn't understand. "Are you not feeling well?" He tried.

"Need to be alone," Abberline sighed and willed himself to move and step out the couch, wincing.

Godley wasn't convinced. He followed the younger man out just in time to catch him from collapsing. "Driver! Give me a hand! We have to carry him upstairs!" He asked, but then pretty much lifted Abberline up himself with little help, using the couch driver to open the doors for him instead. "Now go fetch a doctor!" He ordered as he eased Abberline down onto the bed, not having a clue what to do with him. It had to do with the drugs and the upheaval with the Mary situation together, but he still didn't know how he could help other than staying by his bedside and going along with the flow. When watching Abberline struggle chaotically in bed he thought of maybe wiping his face off from the sweat. He found a handkerchief in one of the drawers, but when he went back with it, the inspector snatched it off from him and put it over his mouth, fighting dry heaves as his whole body shook uncontrollably. He seemed to calm down a little after a while and Godley took the chance, eased him back on the pillow and squeezed his arm lightly as encouragement.

Abberline wasn't thankful for it though, "what do you want? Go away!" He grunted defiantly, but his voice remained weak. He would've rather been alone, he would be able to get to the cabinet somehow by himself, fetch some absinthe and laudanum. The combination would always ease the pains till he could get to the opium den. He doubted Godley would willingly offer him his poison.

"I just want to help you," Godley said pleadingly, softly, knowing there wasn't much chance of him accepting it.

"You can't help."

"I don't understand you at times," Godley sighed, "let's be honest, I don't understand you a lot. We might not be able to search for the killer, but you saved lives. It has to count for something!"

"You can't help," Abberline repeated and by the look in his eyes, Godley feared he was right.

"I'm going to stay till the doctor I called arrives, whether you like it or not," he said determined, cashing in on the fact Abberline was hardly in any condition to oppose.

Tbc