For a change it was Alex who couldn't sleep; normally she had no trouble, but everything was different now. They were stuck in a whole different century, their choice of course, but neither had counted on all these problems. They were only into their second full night here, and already they were making enemies left and right; Bobby had already been shot at and hurt.
Alex still couldn't sleep, she couldn't get Bobby out of her mind, so she got up out of bed, and quietly walked into Bobby's room to check on him. Poor Bobby, that doctor had really done a job on him. First, the doctor had appeared to be drunk, then he'd neglected to bring any type of painkiller, finally he fumbled around so badly digging in Bobby's arm that Bobby had broken out in a cold sweat and had mercifully passed out for a minute or two. At last they'd gotten some whiskey into him, which had helped some, and gotten him into bed. He'd fallen asleep (or passed out) in record time for him, thanks mainly to physical and mental exhaustion and the whiskey.
Bobby was still sleeping, but not very peacefully. He seemed to be dreaming, or having a nightmare, and periodically moaned softly. Alex hoped he wouldn't suffer any ill effects from all this. Obviously, medicine in 1888 was not quite up to 2005 standards. Watching him sleep (she didn't get to see this very often) he seemed so sweet and innocent, and with his tousled dark curls, almost child-like. The more she watched him the angrier she got—at herself, and that damn doctor. WHY had she let that drunken fool of a doctor work on him when it was obvious the doctor was at least halfway drunk? In retrospect they probably should have waited till tomorrow, when they'd have more options. Now she had to worry whether Bobby would develop some kind of an infection due to the doctor's incompetence. If anything happened to him, she'd never forgive herself. She truly loved Bobby, not romantically; she just loved him.
Going back to her own room, she tried sleeping again, but kept having the strangest thoughts. Although Bobby was not seriously hurt, the worse possible scenario crossed her mind. What if, for some crazy reason Bobby died? How could she deal with that, and how could she explain his disappearance back in 2005? Could she even go back without him? But could she stay here by herself? What if she was the one who died? Stop it! She screamed at herself. God! Was this how it was for Bobby every night? She thought that maybe she'd be a little more sympathetic to him in the future. In the future. That phrase was beginning to sound better all the time.
Alex finally decided she might get a little more sleep if she stayed in here with Bobby all night, so she pulled over a small couch, and finally got a decent night's sleep. At least this way she'd be nearby if he needed her. Also in case the shooter somehow showed up again.
Waking up the next morning Bobby could hardly move his arm. It was stiff, swollen and actually hurt worse than the night before. Looking over, to his surprise he saw Alex sleeping nearby, and smiled. He felt a little better already. He attempted to get up, but the weight on his injured arm was too much, so he just laid back and waited for Alex to wake up.
Before long, Alex began stirring, mumbling something, and soon became aware of Bobby watching her.
"You know, Alex, if you're not careful, you're going to give that housekeeper the wrong impression…" Bobby told her.
Alex smirked. "Just as long as you don't get the wrong impression!"
Bobby feigned disappointment, then sat up, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. He started to get up, using his arms to push himself up, but his arm failed him again. He fell back on his bad arm, grimacing in pain.
Alex frowned. "Still hurting bad?"
"It'll be okay," he said, not looking at her as she helped him up. He started to move around her, but Alex blocked his way. "Let me see it."
Bobby sighed as Alex rolled up his sleeve. "God Bobby!" she said, shocked at how badly his arm was swollen. "This doesn't look good. Can you move it at all?"
"You better get out of here before that housekeeper—"
"Bobby! Can you move it at all!"
He knew he couldn't, but tried again, resulting in even more pain. "Jesus…" was all he said.
Alex was really concerned. "Bobby… if that gets infected, or already is…" She didn't have to finish. He knew exactly what she meant.
"At least let Cromwell look at it. A second opinion."
Downstairs Cromwell, taking one look at Bobby's injured arm, immediately called in a different doctor. The new doctor was somewhat upset at that other doctor for leaving Bobby's arm in such a condition. Infection had already started to creep in, but the doctor thought he could control it since they'd caught it so quickly. He'd brought along a solution of Condy's fluid, and cleaned the wound thoroughly (a rather painful experience for Bobby) using the antiseptic. He then re-bandaged his arm, and put it in a sling to keep it elevated.
The doctor warned them all: if Bobby's arm got worse they were to call him immediately, more drastic measures would have to be taken, resulting in dire consequences for Bobby. He left some of the antiseptic solution with them, along with more bandages, some laudanum for pain and a promise to return in a couple days. And Bobby was supposed to rest.
After the doctor left, Bobby, slightly wornand in more than a little pain from the proceedings, took a dose of the laudanum. Then heheld up the list of suspects. "Chances are, our shooter will be among them," he said, leaving no doubt that he believed the shooting was not random, possibly it was the Ripper himself. "We're gonna need to interview some of these people today."
"Bobby!" Alex said. The doctor just said—""We're three days into our 'vacation' Eames. We don't have time to wait for this to heal… If it starts feeling worse, we'll quit. I promise."
She didn't entirely believe him, but knew he'd get no rest anyway if he couldn't work on the case at least somewhat.
"Okay," she said, "but the minute it looks like the infection is getting worse, we're done. We'll be out of here so fast—"
"You can't," Cromwell interrupted.
Alex looked at him. "What do you mean, 'we can't'?"
"What I mean is, there's no way you can leave without Professor Osmet's help, and he won't be back for oh, about 3 weeks, give or take."
Alex looked at Bobby. "That's just great, Bobby! You could lose your arm, or die, in that period of time!"
"Alex, I promise you, I'll be okay. We're going to solve this, then we'll get out of here."
Alex stared at him, then said, very softly, "You better keep that promise, Bobby."
They decided they would work for a while at the house, then Bobby would rest for a while (as if he could really rest at all!), then they'd go and check out a few of the suspects.
The three of them spent the rest of the morning poring over the list.
"I thought there were supposed to be nine suspects," Alex grumbled.
"Nine thatHammond had narrowed it down to," Bobby said, still studying the list. "I think he wants to slow us down by having us start from scratch."
Cromwell, Alex and Bobby continued going over the list. They eliminated a few of the suspects immediately, and some more with the knowledge that Cromwell already had regarding the case. By the end of the morning they had it down to about eighteen suspects.
"Not half bad, if I do say so myself," Cromwell said approvingly.
"We may have narrowed it down to eighteen, but that's still a lot for the amount of time we have," Bobby said. "We're going to have to start now, if we're going to save any of these women."
"So much for you resting," Alex said sarcastically. "I'll be ready as soon as I adjust these undergarments." She grunted as she tried to hitch them back up.
Looking up, she noticed Bobby staring at her, barely unable to suppress his laughter.
"Go on," she told him. "Laugh. I dare you. You'll have two useless arms."
As Bobby began to protest, they all became aware ofa loud commotion outside, and they all went to the door. Pulling open the heavy oak door, Cromwell spied a young boy he knew.
"Joseph!" he called. "What is all the to-do about?"
"'Aven't you 'eard, Guvnor?" the boy shouted back. "It's the Ripper, sir! 'e's done it again, 'e 'as!"
Cromwell looked horrified. Eames looked shocked.
Bobby stiffened. "SON OF A BITCH!" he said angrily.
tbc