Bobby stared hard at the object in his hand. It was Alex's gun, the one given her by Cromwell.
"I'm sorry, Bobby," Cromwell started, as Willie hung his head, too sad for Bobby's sake to even look at him.
Bobby's eyes took on a steely glint. "Yeah, well she's not dead yet!"
Both Cromwell and Willie looked sharply at Bobby. "What…?"
"He's changed his M.O.," Bobby said, thinking fast. "It's different with her. If she were already dead her body would be here, right where she was killed, like all the others. He wants her for something…he's keeping her alive…"
Willie hopped back onto the carriage. "Where do you think—"
"Hammond," Bobby said brusquely. "Where does he live?"
"About two miles east of here," Cromwell said, already turning the horses in that direction. "You think he took her there?"
Bobby didn't say anything, just silently prayed she was there and still alive.
""
In the dark and damp cellar of Hammond's house, Alex was just waking, to find Hammond standing over her. She was lying on some kind of table, wrists and ankles tied down, and her dress pulled up to her chest, exposing her abdominal area. She tried to get up but her efforts were wasted.
"Bobby…"
Hammond looked down at her and smiled. "He's dead," he repeated, staring at Alex, who choked back a sob. She had never been so afraid in her life; she was terrified. She couldn't believe she was actually still alive; when he had been choking her and she was losing consciousness she thought it was all over. Why hadn't he killed her on the spot?
"You're special," he said in answer to her unvoiced question. His finger traced an imaginary line across her belly. "You're not like all the others.
They sell their worthless bodies for money. They let their children go hungry, leave them to fend for themselves. They are the scums of the earth. All women are…but you, you're different…"
Alex stared at him in horror. "W-what are you going to do?"
"You're special," was all he'd say.
Then Alex had to ask. "What did you do to Bobby?"
Hammond smiled. "Your 'Bobby' suffered." He watched her eyes, enjoying this. "Harris didn't treat him kindly…beat him senseless…cracked his skull…"
Alex's stomach lurched. She'd seen what Harris did to that other prisoner; she could only imagine what he'd done to Bobby, whom he hated.
"I had to pull him off your Bobby, so he'd be alive to torture. Harris was real good at that." He looked at his pocket watch. "If he even survived at all, Harris should be putting a bullet in his back right about now."
A sob escaped Alex. Hammond was leering now. "Yours won't hurt quite so much. But the end result will be the same." Taking his knife out, he cut a very shallow line across her belly, leaving a thin trail of blood. "This is where I'll cut you. You'll hardly feel it. Then I'll pull your insides out—"
Alex shuddered, and Hammond laughed. "You can live like that for some time…you had to ruin it, you and your partner… but you'll pay…"
Then he heard it, the unmistakable neighing of a horse, close by. He listened intently, clamping a hand over Alex's mouth.
Outside Willie and Cromwell clamored down from the carriage. Bobby tried to also, despite being practically unable to move. Cromwell wouldn't let him.
"I have to help Alex!" Bobby insisted.
But Cromwell was adamant. "You're smart enough to know you won't be of much help! Not in your condition. If anything, you'll be more of a hindrance!"
Bobby knew he was right, but didn't like it one bit. "Then go!" He fully intended to go too, after they had left. He tried to stand up, but could not do so, falling back onto the seat of the carriage. He cursed vehemently.
Hammond knew they were coming for him; how they'd managed to figure it out crossed his mind briefly; his only thought now was escape. Quickly cutting the ropes holding Alex, he grabbed her and shoved her in front of his body for a shield. Climbing out of his cellar, he pushed Alex out the back way, only to encounter Willie.
"Stay back!" he said threateningly, holding the gun to Alex's head. Willie backed off, as Hammond backed in the opposite direction. They were almost out of sight in the fog when Cromwell appeared. Catching just a glimpse of Hammond, Cromwell yelled, louder than necessary, "the carriage! Willie! He's headed to the carriage!"
Hammond took advantage of his luck, and went straight for the ready and waiting carriage. About ten feet from the carriage, Hammond and Bobby faced each other.
"Get out of there or I'll kill her!" Hammond snarled viciously, the gun on Bobby, still holding Alex in front of him.
Bobby, who'd finally managed to barely stand up, was holding Alex's gun on him.
Unexpectedly, Alex twisted a bit, leaving an opening for Bobby. Hammond and Bobby both shot, Hammond's bullet whizzing past Bobby's head. Bobby's shot was dead on. Bobby looked down at the dying Hammond. "They are going to love you in Hell," he said.
Two days later.
Things had calmed down quite a bit. Cromwell had decided to come out of retirement, just long enough to properly train Willie to take his place. For his work in helping to solve the case, Willie had been given a big promotion. And the guard, Thomas Harris, already arrested, was to be charged with various crimes, including assault with intent to kill an officer of the law, and many other assault charges.
"I just wish you were going to be there to testify," Cromwell said. "But with your written testimony, and Willie's and my testimony, plus all those other prisoners he beat, Harris should be in prison for a very long time."
Bobby just nodded, and Alex said, "It'd almost be worth it to stay and see just how well he fares in prison." That got a smile from Bobby.
For his part, Bobby was ready to make the trip home. It had been pretty rough going for him. Although he could stand a little, he still couldn't walk, and lying on his back was almost impossible. Lying in any position was painful. And he was still having blinding headaches from the crack in his skull. A doctor had somewhat fixed his arm, but it and the rest of him was going to need to see a twenty- first century doctor immediately upon arriving home.
After another delicious dinner of roast beef, potatoes and Yorkshire pudding (they still kept plying Bobby with potatoes, and Bobby didn't have the heart to refuse them) Bobby and Alex knew they had to come up with a good reason for Bobby's condition. Sitting around the great room with Cromwell on their last night there, they tried to come up with something.
"Skiing accident?" Alex suggested.
"I don't ski," Bobby muttered, then joked, "hence, the injuries!" After they all laughed about that bit Alex decided Deakins would never believe it.
"I got mugged?" was Bobby's suggestion.
Alex snorted. "Even worse than the skiing. I can hear Logan now: 'YOU got mugged?'"
"Not as bad as 'YOU went skiing?'"
Alex had to give him that.
They finally decided on the mugging.
So, after a lot of drinks, smokes and talking, they all finally called it a night.
""
Finally it was morning. They got up early, kind of excited to be going home, and kind of sad, too. They went downstairs to find Cromwell up and waiting. Along with him was Professor Osmet, who greeted them fondly, and congratulated and thanked them profusely.
"Ready?" Osmet asked.
"In a minute," Bobby said, as he and Alex walked over to Cromwell. Bobby extended his hand, and Cromwell shook first Bobby's, then Alex's hands. "Bobby, Alex… I, and I speak for all of England, want to thank you both for all you did. Jack the Ripper would never have been stopped if it weren't for you. And on a personal note, I want you to know that it has been one of the greatest pleasures in my life to make your acquaintance, and even more of a pleasure to know you personally. I hope the New York Police Department knows what they have in you, and appreciates you both. I'll…never forget you." Cromwell looked like he might cry.
And despite her initial reluctance to even make this trip, Alex felt like crying, too, and hugged Cromwell fiercely. "I'll never forget you, either!"
Then Bobby paid him the greatest compliment he ever could have. "You've…been like a…a father to me… Thank you." As Bobby and Cromwell hugged, Cromwell somehow, without knowing the reasons, understood the significance of that statement.
"You take care of yourself," he said roughly, "I don't want to have to worry about you for the rest of my life! Literally!"
"I will," Bobby promised.
"And you take care of each other. Alex, make him go to the doctor when you get back. And you, Bobby, watch her. She's feisty."
They all laughed again. Then Bobby and Alex looked at each other, and Bobby said, "That's one thing you won't have to worry about. Alex and me, we're partners. And we watch out for each other. That's what we do."
Then Professor Osmet, reluctant to break this up, but working within a specific time schedule, again asked then gently if they were ready.
"Ready," they both answered.
New York City 2005
The first thing Alex and Bobby did upon arriving back in NYC was get Bobby checked out by a doctor. His injuries, for the most part, were not life threatening, in fact, some were already starting to heal. His dislocated shoulder was repaired and immobilized so it would heal and his arm placed in a sling. They didn't know what to make of the bullet wound in his arm, which was so botched they couldn't even identify it as being from a bullet, which was a good thing; Bobby didn't want to have to explain a bullet hole in his body. His face was still swollen and all different colors of purple and blue, and his broken nose would eventually heal on its own. All of these injuries would heal in time.
The worst injuries were his back and head. The ligaments and muscles in his back and legs had been strained and were now stiff (a mystery to the ER docs) and they were going to try a series of back strengthening exercises to help. But by far the worst injury was the head injury. X-rays showed that, indeed, his skull had suffered a slight linear fracture and because of his headaches and the fact that he had lost consciousness for so long they admitted him overnight for observation.
The following afternoon, Bobby was released with a prescription for pain and a list of symptoms to watch for concerning his fracture, some of which included vomiting and more of his excruciating headaches. If any of these symptoms came up he was to return immediately. And he was to be on bedrest for at least two weeks.
"Like that will happen," Bobby muttered.
"It better!" Alex said forcefully. "You promised Cromwell."
Thinking of Cromwell, Bobby agreed. "Deakins is going to love this," he added.
"Well, we already knew this wasn't going to be easy." They had decided to talk to Deakins in person, at Bobby's insistence, then they'd take Bobby home.
One Police PlazaOnce on the eleventh floor, as luck would have it, the first person they ran into was Mike Logan. "What the hell happened to you?" he asked, shocked at Bobby's appearance.
"I got mugged," Bobby answered sheepishly.
"YOU got mugged?"
Bobby and Alex looked at each other smugly. Logan was so predictable.
"By a gang," Alex explained.
"And yes, I'll be okay," Bobby said, wanting to end the conversation, just waiting to hear Logan's little "heh, hehs."
It wasn't long. "Heh, heh…remind me not to book with your travel agent," he said as he left.
A minute later, they were in Deakins's office.
Taking one look at Bobby he too exclaimed, "What the hell happened to you?"
"I got mugged."
"Mugged?" Bobby was beginning to wish they'd come up with a better story. "Yeah, by some punk gang members."
Deakins let out a low whistle. "Wow, they beat the crap out of you!"
You have no idea…
"Are you okay?" Deakins continued.
"Yeah. Doc says I need to be on bed rest for two weeks. Then I should be good to go."
"Did you report it?"
"Huh?"
"Did you report it? The mugging?"
"Uh, yeah. I think so."
"You THINK so?"
"He was unconscious!" Alex jumped in. Deakins turned to stare at her. "He, um…told me."
"Memory loss, too," Bobby added. "But I'm pretty sure I would have reported it."
Deakins turned back to Bobby. Dammit, they were up to something. "Don't suppose you remember where this took place? What city?"
Bobby shook his head. Deakins sighed, then noticed the bruises on Bobby's wrists. They could only be made by one thing. "Alright, you two. I don't know what little game you're playing, and I'm not sure I even want to. But I don't like it one bit when one of my detectives gets the crap beaten out of him and can't come up with a reasonable explanation. I think I deserve that much."
Both Alex and Bobby felt a little guilty. "You probably wouldn't believe it…" Alex started, getting a startled look from Bobby.
"Try me."
It was Bobby's turn to sigh. "Okay. It was this Jack the Ripper thing. We actually—"
"That's enough, Goren! Go home. You're obviously delirious. At least I hope you are. You've got two weeks sick leave. And when you get back I'm going to work your ass off. Alex, take the day and get him settled at home. You're on desk duty, as of tomorrow. Now both of you, leave." He turned, somewhat disappointed that they felt they couldn't confide in him. Turning back, he watched as they slowly started for the elevators, only to be stopped near their desks by that damn Professor Osmet! That crackpot! Where the hell did he come from?
He quickly left his office, coming to a dead stop about ten feet from them all. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Osmet was standing between Alex and Bobby, and presented each of them with a book. On the inside was written a little note, saying "To the World's Best Detectives, with grateful appreciation from Professor Osmet." They were new history books, and a particular page had been bookmarked with a blue ribbon.
Bobby had already read it before Alex even got to the page. "Wait, Eames," Bobby said, digging a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Remember this?"
It was the paper Bobby had photocopied from the library. Alex read the highlighted part aloud. "The Jack the Ripper case has never been solved." Alex grinned. "Well it has now!"
"Now," Bobby said, reading from their new books. "… And the Jack the Ripper Case would never have been solved without the help of two unidentified American detectives, a male and female team, practically unheard of at the time." There was more, but they had read the important part.
"Omigod, Bobby!" Alex exclaimed, jumping up to hug him. "We did it Bobby! We changed history!"
"We did!" Bobby agreed, returning her hug.
Professor Osmet had to leave, and again thanked them, telling Bobby how sorry he was that Bobby had gotten hurt.
"No, no!" Bobby protested. "It was worth it, I'll be better soon. It was an incredible journey. Thank YOU for the opportunity."
Deakins suddenly felt dizzy, and headed back to his office to sit down. Did I just hear what I thought I did? Those history books…Nah, I'm thinking crazy. Like Goren. Couldn't happen in a million years…could it? Nah! But over the course of the years, there was a little part of him that would always wonder.
Bobby and Alex were still standing where he'd left them, watching as Professor Osmet disappeared.
"I still can't believe it," Alex said. "We actually changed history. Changed history!"
"You know, Alex," Bobby said, his arms still around her, "in the course of changing that history, we made some of our own. Just like I always knew we would."
The End
""
A/N I had to do a little research for this story. There are some actual facts in here. The nine JTR suspects were actually real, as were the names of several of his victims. Whitechapel was actually the site of several of the murders, and there really were about 80,000 prostitutes working in London at the time. Harder to find (facts are always easier) were things like what people wore, what they ate, and what the times were actually like. But I tried. Oh, and as you know, the case really has never been solved.
I wrote this for pure entertainment. It's a fantasy, none of which could really happen (I think). And I know it's a little out there, but I hope you liked it anyway. Let me know what you think.