The Descent
Jacob woke sometime later with his head throbbing and vision swirling. His face burned across the left side, his eye now swollen shut. He flinched at the memory of a knife coming down at his face, a sharp reminder of recent events.
He drifted in and out of consciousness as Jack dragged his limp body down the stairs by his coat collar, a small thunk-thunk echoing off the bare walls as each of his boots hit the wooden stairs. He groaned, his head lolling on his chest when Jack pulled him outside and threw him roughly into a waiting carriage, the door slamming shut behind him. The horse whined nervously as Jack took the reins.
The cart jounced along the cobblestone roads, each bump further agitating Jacob's wounds. He tried to push himself up and onto the seat, hoping to get a look out the carriage windows to see where Jack was taking him, but his hands slipped in something wet on the floor. It took him a few foggy moments to realize he was laying in a pool of his own blood. He watched as Jack drove the carriage onward, not even bothering to see if his captive had awoken. Jacob slowly pulled himself up onto the seat as silent as he could, not daring to get Jack's attention.
He craned his neck to look out the window. They were already crossing the Thames; time was not on his side. He took a deep breath in, attempting to ignore the scattered pains across his body and steeled himself for what was coming next. Before he could second-guess his decision he flung himself from the carriage, his momentum rolling him along the road behind the cart until he came to a stop. His entire body protested as he pulled himself to his knees.
It took only a second for Jack to realize what he'd done. Jacob heard the squeal of the horse behind him as Jack pulled the carriage around. He had just enough time to get back on his feet and stagger over to the side of the bridge grunting as he hauled himself onto the parapet. He paused to take a deep breath as he prepared himself for the leap into the icy black waters of the Thames below.
"NO!" Jack hollered from close behind. Jacob tensed to launch himself off the bridge, but his hesitation cost him when a pair of thick, strong hands grabbed him by the ankles and hauled him back down to the ground. His hands were too slow to break his fall. He cried out as his face struck the ground, a small crack as his nose broke against the cobblestones. Jack flipped the dazed Jacob onto his back. One fist clenched his collar while the other beat on him endlessly, hot blood streaming down Jacob's face as he slipped back into unconsciousness.
Jacob came to as Jack dragged him along a cold tile floor. He peered out from his one good eye and in the dim light recognized the sterile atmosphere of Lambeth Asylum. Tables that once held torturous machines now sat empty and bare, save for the blank sheets draped over them after decades of disuse. A glimpse of a memory passed through Jacob's mind of a man strapped to one of the machines, his screams only drowned out by the buzzing of electricity passing through his body. Was this the fate that awaited him?
Jacob glanced out the dark windows of the Asylum one last time as Jack pulled him down the stairs and let out a silent prayer that his sister would find him, though whether he'd be alive for that moment, he became more uncertain of by the moment.
Down they went, past the morgue and along a stone-walled corridor lined with foreboding steel doors. The single light hanging from the ceiling flickered above Jacob's head as Jack pulled him down a spiral stairwell and into the deepest, most isolated chamber. Jacob sprawled across the floor as Jack roughly tossed him to the ground before leaving without even a backward glance. The door slammed shut behind him, the steel clanging with a tone of finality. Jacob pushed himself to his hands and knees and crawled to the far wall, letting out a huff of exhaustion when he sat back against the cold bricks. He looked around at his new quarters as his eye adjusted to the darkness.
The cell was completely empty apart from Jacob. The only source of light shone in through the bars in the door and cast a narrow strip of light across the cell. To his left he heard a faint but steady drip drip drip of water falling from the ceiling and landing in a shallow puddle. To his right, he heard a soft scuttle of paws as they scampered across the stone floor making their way to a small hole in the wall. All around him the brick walls closed in tighter.
It was fitting that this was where Jack determined Jacob was to live out the rest of his days. It was almost poetic, Jacob thought wryly, that he should die locked away in the place he'd freed his captor from. Jack always was one for the dramatics. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eye. The apprehension in his gut and frigid air sent a shiver through his body. He pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees to conserve what little warmth he had left, eventually laying his head on his knees. Jacob sat like this for nearly an hour, eventually allowing his exhaustion to overtake him as he fell asleep.
When he awoke, he kept his eye shut for a moment, still hoping it had all been a dream and that he was back in his bed at home, a warm fire crackling away in the hearth. The new ache in his back and the chill in the air broke the illusion and, to his dismay, when he opened his eye everything was the same as when he closed it. The drip drip drip of the water continued at the same rhythmic pace as before. The thin sliver of light penetrated the cell in the same place. The cold air sat as stagnant as ever. The only change Jacob noticed was the distinct lack of rats scuttling away. He supposed they weren't accustomed to visitors.
He had no way of knowing for sure how long he'd been asleep; his pocket watch had been lost in the scuffle in his flat and there were no windows or doors leading to the outside of the cell. Based on the grumbling his stomach was making he hazarded a guess that it was at least the next morning.
Using the wall for support he stood up, hissing as the motion aggravated his wounds. A fresh wave of pangs shot through his sore body and he shivered has he slipped his coat and gloves off onto the stone floor. His stiff fingers fumbled with his belts and the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt, both torn and bloodied in several places. He peeled them both off, the blood caking his shirt to his skin, and dropped them onto the coat. He stepped towards the light shining through the door hoping to get a better look at the extent of his injuries. Even in the dim light Jacob could see the severity of his wounds. He flinched as his fingers probed the one across his abdomen, a fresh sting coursing from where the blade sliced him. From what he could see the bleeding had stopped, though there was so much blood it was hard to tell what - if any - was fresh.
He examined each of his wounds. Some stung, others only ached dully, but each one triggered a fresh wave of pain of some kind as his fingers poked and prodded as they assessed the damage. He seemed to have stopped bleeding and a small sense of relief washed over him. He wouldn't bleed to death at least.
He redressed but what little warmth his clothes may have contained was gone now and they provided little comfort in the musty cell. As he pulled his coat around himself tightly and rubbed his gloved hands together, a new dread set in. It had been hours with no sign of Jack, who didn't seem even the slightest bit interested in his captive's well-being. If Jack never returned then Jacob would surely starve to death.
Nobody knew where Jacob was and it would be days before anybody even realized he was missing. Even then, what could they do? Certainly no Rooks were looking for him; they were all either under Jack's control or dead. Without Jacob's help, Inspector Abberline's investigation would get nowhere and Jacob wasn't sure he wanted Frederick to get close to Jack. Nellie⦠well hopefully Nellie had done what he'd asked and taken the money and run. No, there was nobody to rescue Jacob. Not unless by some miracle his message made it to India and to Evie. Even then, there was no guarantee Evie would come back, let alone find him before he died of hunger. He was alone, and either he would get out on his own merits or he would starve.
The same stubbornness that got him through life flared. He would not allow himself to die alone in a forgotten pit beneath Lambeth Asylum. He began to formulate a plan of escape. With a renewed purpose, he spent hours examining every crevice in his cell looking for a weakness. He tapped, poked, nudged, and pulled at every brick he could find with no luck. Whoever built this hell built it well.
He was about to give up for a while and rest when he felt one of the bricks shift slightly as he ran his hand over the rough surface. Instinctively, he tried to release his blade to pry the brick loose only to realize that Jack removed both his gauntlet and his second blade whilst he was unconscious. He looked around the dungeon but there was nothing to pry the brick loose with. He tried to pull it with his fingers but, glove or no glove, he couldn't get the purchase on it to pull it out. He yelled and pounded the wall in frustration, the sound echoing through the chamber. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a small chuckle come from outside the door.
"Having some trouble there, mate?" Jacob rolled his eyes, recognizing the voice.
"Thomas," Jacob snarled through the bars on the door. "Jack's got you playing governess, has he?"
"Funny man you are, seeing as you're the one locked up."
"Perhaps, but not for long."
"You tell yourself that. I actually have an important message for the boss and was told 'e was here."
"Oh have you? Telling him that you've finally learnt to change your own nappies?" Thomas' face reddened and his mouth twisted into a snarl as a seething rage simmered just beneath the surface.
"Mister Jack is more of a gang leader than you ever were, Frye. While you had us Rooks all meanderin' about with nuffin' to do besides sticking our thumbs up our arses, 'e has us do real work."
"And I'm sure you're doing just as piss-poor of a job at that as you ever did - what was it? - 'meandering about with your thumb up your arse'?" His rage boiled over and the rogue Rook slammed his fists on the door, startling Jacob who jumped back into his cell several feet.
"I don't have to listen to you anymore, Frye."
"Not like you ever did in the first place, Thomas. Why do you think you were never promoted, hm? You were a poor excuse for a gang member then and you're an even poorer excuse for a gang member now, and that is why Jack has you coming down here to watch over some poor sod locked away in an inescapable cell."
"You know what? I'm going to come in there and beat you bloody senseless!" Jacob heard Thomas fumble around with a ring full of keys trying to find the right one. He stood, waiting for the door to open and ready to ambush the oblivious Rook. But before Thomas found the correct key Jacob heard the squelching sound of a knife plunging into flesh. A gurgling, choking sound came from Thomas's throat as blood poured out of the man's mouth. Jacob moved to the window in time to see Thomas' body slide off the knife and slump to the floor. Jack stood over him, red drops splashing across the stone. His body made a few death throes before lying still, a pool of blood blossoming from his chest. His eyes stared out blankly, his last look of shock still etched across his face.
"You didn't actually think that would work, did you?" The Ripper meandered closer to the door, casting his dark silhouette across Jacob's exasperated face. "For your indiscretion, you'll be sentenced to one week of solitary confinement," he sneered as he left.
"Jack! JACK!" Jacob yelled, but Jack was already gone, and the only response he got was his own voice echoing back.
