Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: In this chapter, things finally start falling into place for those who haven't guessed the infamous identity of our Jack, or maybe not. It depends on how much you like history.

London, England, January 1882

The old oak stairs creaked under the weight of the tall, lean man who ascended them, though, he tried to tread lightly, as not to wake his wife, whom he was sure was sleeping at this hour in the morning, something he had counted on. Wiping the red-tinted water on his hands away with his shirt, Jack opened their bedroom door, walking softly across the room, and filling the wash basin with water from the pitcher he had thought to bring with him, upstairs.

His night couldn't have been any worse, all he had wanted was to come home early, eat supper, and make love for hours to his beautiful wife, but no, that was something those Danish whores, who had walked by his clinic hoping to make some money off the rich, young doctor, did not want. Whenever he thought he had gotten his life perfect they showed up, always somewhere close by, ready to ruin his happiness, but he had seen to them, and now, they'd never flaunt themselves to him, again.

Smiling, as he thought of his deed, Jack rinsed his hands, again, then his face, using soap to get the blood flecks off. He had been almost ingenious, tonight. They hadn't seen him coming from behind, and the job had been quick and discreet, the bodies now at the bottom of the Thames.

Suddenly, a small noise behind him started him, and he spun around, grabbing his wife's arm, and surprising her, her eyes wide and breath sharp. Realizing that he was still worked up, Jack released her arm, letting his face go back to its normal calmness, and muttering a quick apology, though as he turned, she touched his arm, softly. The softness she reserved for him, and him only, the softness he found calmed his nerves.

"Jack, you are covered in blood. You did not lose your patient, did you?"

"Patient?"

Remembering that he had dismissed William with the story of having to stay late with a patient, Jack blinked and broke out in a smile, as if he had been thinking upon other, heavier matters and only then remembered his work.

"No. It took much work and effort, but I did not lose the lass."

Giving her another warm smile, Jack placed a warm kiss on her cheek, and allowed her to remove the bloodied shirt with the concern his own mother would have showed has she not been busy in her sinful dealings. He soon found, however, that her actions were quite arousing, and in a moment of passion, he lifted her into his arms, her legs around his waist, and her back against the bedroom wall.

Pressing her harder, so she would stay in place, he removed his hands and undid his belt, letting his pants fall to the floor, his under breeches soon following, and her nightshirt joining them moments later as he kissed her neck, hungrily, the adrenaline from his kill pumping through his veins, and finally finding its realize as he made love to his wife, the one woman who understood him and would love him no matter what.

"You're so damn beautiful. I'm the luckiest man in the world to get to make love to a woman like you."

Surprised at hearing Jack swear, even in the heat of their passion, Lena looked down into his lust filled eyes, feeling foolish for ever believing Jack could think her undesirable, and kissed his lips. How happy was he going to be when he learned he was going to be a father? Moments later, the excitement of her baby news and Jack's kisses sent her over the edge, pleasure coursing through her veins, with Jack soon following.

Resting his head on her shoulder, Jack softly whispered his wife's name and allowed his head to rest on her shoulder, breathing deeply and completely exhausted, though satisfied. Finding strength somewhere in his body, he carried her to the bed, letting her gently fall to the mattress, and then joining her, his head still on her shoulders, and her hands in his hair as he fell asleep.

Lena new as she heard Jack's breathing slow and his breathes become deeper with sleep, that she'd have to wait until morning to tell him their good news. She didn't mind, though, rather indulging in the time she had to prepare and stroking Jack's chestnut brown hair, lovingly.

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As the mattress shifted under him and footsteps quickly ran to the washbasin, Jack lifted his head from his pillow, catching sight of his wife retching. Slipping out of bed, he pulled on his discarded under breeches from the night before, and handed her a towel as she finished, which she took gratefully, and sighed as he moved her hair away from her face.

"I am sorry that you are ill."

"It's nothing, if anything, it's getting better, and with time, Margaret says it will fade out."

"Really? Is Margaret a doctor, now, as well as a nosy socialite."

Raising an eyebrow and wrapping his arms around her shoulders, Jack smiled after a moment, looking at his wife in the mirror. She knew he did not care for the pomp and circumstance of the upper class of London, but he did not show so when they where in public, and of course, acted polite around everyone, though later confided to his wife.

"She is not that bad, and you know it, Jack Wyndam-Pryce."

Lifting her into his arms, playfully, Jack laid her on the bed, then collapsed beside her, his face inches from hers, every breath shared. Letting her fingertips graze his face, Lena smiled, thinking quickly, and knowing this was the right moment. Here, in the pre-dawn blue light of morning and their bed, where they were lovers and confidants, she would tell him of their baby.

"Jack, do you think you could leave work for a month or so around June."

"Why, my love?"

"I want to go to Italy, to Sicily and my family."

"Yes, but why, my love?"

"Mm, I don't know. I just don't want to have our babe in England, and Italy's always nice in the summer."

"Babe? You're. . .you've. . .conceived? My child."

Nodding and smiling, Lena giggled as Jack's lips closed on hers, and he grinned like a schoolboy, hardly containing himself as he stood and paced the room with the same silly grin on his face.

"I'm going to be a father?"

Nodding, again, Lena joined him where he stood at the side of the bed, and put his hands on her stomach, where their child was growing. Now, new questions formed in her mind, as she realized they had so much to plan for.

"What do you think it will be? A boy or a little girl?"

"Mm, I don't care, as long as it breathes."

Smiling, as Jack playfully kissed her neck, and wrapped his arms around her waist, Lena giggled, though something didn't feel quite right as Jack laid his head on her shoulder, something was amiss.

"What is it, Jack?"

"It is nothing, love, but everything."

"Everything? The babe? You are not happy?"

"No, no, I'm overjoyed about our child. It's just. . .I have a secret, one I feel I cannot continue to keep from you if we are to make our family work."

"A. . .secret?"

Looking into Jack's calm eyes, Lena felt curious, but not wary, her Jack would never keep something important from her. She knew this, and smiled, lightening the mood, and sitting on the mattress.

"What kind of secret?"

"It. . .it's really not a big ruckus, just a little. . .thing, I thought you should know before the babe was born."

"Well, silly? What is it?"

Seeing the smile on Lena's face, and the way she held her stomach, Jack's courage quickly fleeted. How could he dump this on her, now? What if she decided not to have his child if he told her? What if it upset her so that she lost the babe? He could not have that. He could not ruin the moment.

Stroking her cheek, fondly, he leaned in, softly kissing her lips, and then hugging her, fighting back every part of him that was screaming to tell her as her arms wrapped around him.

"I'm so in love with you it hurts."

"That is your secret?"

"Yes."

"It was not a well kept one, for I am so in love with you, I would kill."

Grimacing as she said this, Jack decided to bury his troubles, they did not matter for he was going to try and be better for his wife, and their child. Letting his hands slide down her abdomen, he jerked away her nightgown, kissing her softer than he had the night before, and following her as she lay on the mattress, a small giggle escaping her as she stroked his brown hair.

"Jack, I am already carry."

"Mm, I know love, I just want to make sure."

Smiling, he quickly pulled the curtains around the bed, giving them the privacy lovers should have, and promising himself the first thing he would do when he was decent was burn his bloody clothes and hide the knife in the attic, where it would never be found, along with his darker side.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Is our Jack really giving up? Or is this something temporary? What about the baby? Italy? Well, next chapter, you'll find out. Please leave a review, small or large.