A/N: Okay, first, because I'm a strange person, I have to address the issue of medicine that arises for the briefest, insignificant moment in this chapter. Tobias prescribes aspirin for a woman with a headache; while they had aspirin as a compound, and were using it for medicinal purposes, the name "aspirin" wasn't coined until the end of the century. I just didn't want to put the scientific name down, and couldn't figure out what it might have been called.

Moving on...enjoy, you clever darling reviewers. I'm sure this chapter will make a lot of you feel very smart!

August 31, 1888
Buck's Row

It was midnight. Tobias had received a runner at eleven o'clock in the evening; a boy who had weepingly told the surgeon that his mother was dying. Tobias had of course leaped out of bed, in so far as much as the decidedly weaker man was able to leap. It had been almost a month since the attack on him, but his limp was, as predicted, worse, and he had found that his stamina was no longer as great. He became winded much quicker than before. Under the circumstances, then, he would have ordered a carriage, but the poor boy who summoned him was so upset that Tobias hadn't the heart to make him wait before they set off, nevermind that once they got the carriage it would have been faster.

Upon reaching the boy's house, Tobias discovered that his mother simply had a very bad migraine. For this, Tobias gave her several doses of aspirin and departed, saying he would check on her again the next day.

Tobias hung around in Whitechapel, though, feeling somehow that it was not time to leave. He strolled around for a bit and ended up near London Hospital. He came into a small back street, and there he stayed.

He had not been there five minutes when he heard footsteps. He looked up and saw, at the end of the street, the silhouette of a woman. He bent down slowly and popped open his bag, reaching in. His long scalpel practically jumped into his hand, but he released it as the woman drew near, straightening up again.

"You look like you're waitin' for summit," said the woman in a thick accent as she came even. She stood close to him, and he could smell alcohol on her breath. He could not see her face, but that was all for the better.

"I may be," he said quietly, reaching up and tracing the line of her neck. She cooed and stepped closer, eliminating the space between them completely. Tobias released his cane and leaned against the wall, putting both hands on her neck now as he softly kissed her cheek.

"Mmm, I'm not cheap, mind you," she said, laughing. "But I promise you, it'll be the mos' fulfillin' night you've ever had."

"I do not doubt that," Tobias said, just as softly. His thumbs and forefingers came together around her neck; they slowly began to overlap as his hands closed. The whore was distracted; Tobias was nuzzling her earlobe; but soon her air became restricted.

"What you doin'?" she choked out. Tobias made no response, only continued to squeeze. His leg may have been lame, his torso damaged, but his arms were as strong as ever, and his hands as vice-like.

He stared off into the distance, at the pinprick of light that was a distant street lamp, as she realized what he was doing and began to fight. He was immovable, though he was soon gasping like she was at the effort of holding her.

After what seemed like an eternity, she fell, listless in his grip. Tobias waited a moment before laying her flat on the ground. He knelt beside her and checked for her pulse to be sure that she was dead, and not merely unconscious. There was no pulse.

Tobias straightened up again and leaned once more against the wall, trying to catch his breath. But he refused to wait too long; if he waited, he'd begin to think about what he'd just done, and he was not equipped to think about it at that moment.

He reached into his bag and pulled out the long scalpel, hardly aware of what he was doing. He knelt, straddling the body, and put the blade against the dead flesh, still warm. His breath came in harsh gasps as he punctured the skin and drew the blade across to the other side, slowly, almost in wonderment. Blood oozed out just as slowly for a few brief moments before ceasing. Tobias watched it with his head cocked to one side.

He waited for realization and guilt to wash over him. Realization came. He had just killed a woman, a prostitute. Her blood was on his scalpel. She had been a whore; one of McQueen's, Tobias was sure. Hadn't he heard Abberline say that McQueen was the self-proclaimed ruler of the nighttime streets in Whitechapel? Yes. She had to have been one of McQueen's.

Guilt hadn't come. Instead, he felt strangely...tranquil, like some burden had been lifted from his chest.

Suddenly, Tobias tensed up. She had to be found, otherwise it would mean nothing. She would be forgotten by McQueen, and a new girl would take her place. The woman had to be found, and it had to be known that she had been murdered. But there was no guarantee that anyone would come down this road in any good time. He stood up and looked around. He had come in by the opposite end the whore had; there had been a stable down that way. She would be found there.

Tobias wiped the scalpel on the inside of the whore's dress and put it back in his bag. He then grabbed the corpse by her wrists and dragged her to the stable. Though it was not far, the going was slow, for she was not a light creature. Tobias limped violently; but soon he had her in position, just in front of the stable gate where it would be impossible to miss her.

And, without another thought to the matter, Tobias collected his cane and satchel and limped his way home.