His first lover, or maybe the better word would be his first victim, had been one out of love. It was 1888 and Whitechapel was the perfect place to blend in. But because of the many immigrants, it was packed with many people, young and old alike. The overpopulation was one of the reasons for the economic downfall, which caused many women to start prostitution as a way to make easy money. He'd met her one night when he was out on the streets and she was trying to lure him into her bed. She looked beautiful and way too young to become a prostitute.

He'd tried to rescue her and her son from poverty and in the process fell in love. Back in those days, love came easily, it happened pretty quick. He'd been so foolish. Expecting others to feel the same. But that's when the stories started. She'd been a prostitute for a long while by then - and maybe he did have a hero complex - but he felt like maybe if he could help then she and her son could have a better life. It had killed him to see her, to watch her mind turn crazy. To hear her talking about death and to see her actually doing the deed. Right in front of him, she'd slid her own throat. He could still feel the blood seeping through his clothes as he watched her lifeless body fall to the cold hard ground.

He could still see the blood covering every inch of her lovely body. Could see her eyes, once so full of life, turn into lifeless marbles.

"Remember your task." Rang through the air. With tears running down his cheeks he did what he had to do. He took the knife she'd been holding in her hand and began to cut with a surgeon's precision into her body. The witch never told him which organs she wanted so he took his pick. Out went the heart and on an impulse, he cut away one of her kidneys. It would have to be enough. He gathered them in her coat - which he had taken off of her body - and wrapped it up like a bag. With a final goodbye and an intense feeling of pity for her and her son, he left the dark and dirty alley and went in search of the one that cursed him. His clothes and face were splattered with blood and his hands were covered in the sticky substance, so he had no idea why no one noticed him or found it a little peculiar to see him walking down the streets like that. Later he found out that yes, someone had seen, but luckily no one had seen his face. Only it did mean that he had to move houses to not look suspicious. He knew exactly where he needed to go in order to find the young witch and within no time he opened up her door with a bang after he'd kicked it in, and threw the makeshift bag on the ground. The organs flew out of it and landed in different spots on the wooden floor. The woman in front of him didn't exactly look pleased with her trophy of the day, but he wasn't either. The way she had killed herself, it would be forever etched on his retina. Would forever haunt him in his life. But maybe the worst thing about it all was that the witch seemed to enjoy his suffering. The man who had previously latched himself onto her was smiling just like her. He ignored the man as he walked up to the witch.

" What have I done to you that you have to make my life such a living hell?" He screamed and took her by the collar. She never stopped smiling as she probably already knew he wouldn't kill or harm her. It wouldn't mean the end of the curse, he would just live on. So it wasn't even worth the trouble he would have to go through.

" Ah but you forget, I can do whatever I want to do. No mum to hold me back, no nan to tell me what I do wrong. So why shouldn't I make your life miserable, just like your people have made mine." Only minutes later he'd dropped her on the ground and stormed out of the cottage. He'd fled to his home, took everything of any value and travelled to another part of town. There he took a room in the first lodging house he could find. It wasn't even that expensive for him - with having enough money to spare - fourpence a night for a single bed. And it was the perfect place to stay low for a while. But as time moved on and feelings arose, the incident started all over again. It was only two months later and he thought he'd found the perfect woman. She was kind, hard-working, lovely to others, but unfortunately had the bad luck to be born poor. He'd tried to persuade her to take his money, but she would have none of it. She wanted to earn her money fair and square. But her love for him was only a show, something out of a book. Fictional. Never existed at all. The pain, the guilt, the heart-wrenching feelings hit him all over again as he watched her try to claw her eyes out, saw her stabbing herself with the knife and eventually kill herself.

-0O0-

The papers called him Jack the Ripper, several cases of elderly women had been added to the file without ever finding the murderer. He'd never seen them, but as all the bodies had been found with missing guts and an object shoved into their vagina's or a knife in their abdomens the police was sure those murders were all from the same murderer. Throughout the years he'd thought back many times to the women who's life he'd destroyed. He could still remember every detail of their final night together. How he'd shown them the stars, let them see his world and so much more. Every time he did that there was a sprinkle of hope inside of him that he would one day go back to the place where he'd been happiest. In the early 1900s, his death count stood on 20. Every person was one too many, but he couldn't help himself. After the last, Edith, he decided that it was enough for a while. He took his stuff and started travelling around the UK, but then the war started and he got enlisted. The horrors he saw on the field, in the trenches, it broke him more than what the witch had done to him and the women who's life he'd unwillingly taken.

He hated to see how the women murdered themselves. Most stabbed their abdomens and mutilated their bodies before they finally relieved themselves from their gruesome death. Some even clawed at their eyes, trying to remove their eyeballs. He always took their hands and tried to keep them from doing it. But to no avail, the curse was too strong. After they'd died, he took their organs in a bag and left their bodies alone. The morning after when the police found their death and mangled bodies he found out that they had been even more mutilated than how he'd left them. It hurt him even more that there were people, so heartless, to mangle the body even further or worse try to be cool and copycat the events.

He tried, he really tried to keep himself hidden from other people. To not fall in love, but his heart betrayed him many times over the years. Sometimes it ended relatively well, other times a massacre would ensue. One case, in particular, he'd fled as soon as he could, he loved her and he didn't want to see her end as all the others had done. Estelle. Even though he knew that her love for him ran deeper than the roots of her childhood tree went into the ground, he didn't want to risk her death. He loved her too much for that. So with the war going on and all the men having to enlist, he took his chance and ran as far away as he could. If things had been different, and he'd been a normal man, he would've returned to her after the war. Back to her at the farm and back to the lovely people who had welcomed him in as their own son so many years ago. He really missed something like that, warmth, family, love. The love of your family was the strongest and warmest love you could get. Many times before he'd heard the saying, blood is thicker than water. And maybe that was true, looking back he could say that there was nothing better than a loving mother and father. But it could get pretty dark there sometimes too. Nobody was perfect.

As he wandered through the almost empty streets of Cardiff he felt like there was something missing. Something… something was wrong. But he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Maybe the bloody witch had finally died after having lived for over a century. He was sure she had something done to her as nobody was able to live for 150 years. Maybe she'd drank from the elixir of life, or found the fictional ambrosia - if that even existed and wasn't something out of a fairytale. It was then, while he was distracted that he bumped into someone. He quickly apologized before a fight could start and walked further. The young man with his sexy blue eyes and brown hair looked back confused at the immortal man but after that just walked away. Jack let out a sigh of relief, he really wasn't in the mood to have another argument. Someone had recognised him that morning from an old picture out of the 19th century. He'd declared the man crazy, which of course had led to a heated argument why he dared to call him that. But it had done one thing, it had distracted the man enough that he'd been able to snitch the photograph from his grasp. But It had given him a black eye in return. Of course, the blunt man didn't know that his immortality practically healed all his wounds before they could really start to hurt him. At first, the adrenaline would be pumping through his body, which was why he couldn't feel the pain in the beginning. But later, when all the adrenaline had left his body, the wounds would start to hurt pretty bad and heal in no time at all. Cardiff wasn't that bad, it had lots of people and many tourists wanting to experience the Welsh way of life. It was easy to blend in and the best was, people, didn't ask him questions as to why he didn't change. It wasn't like he'd been there long enough for people to notice actually, not long before he'd left the booming city of London. His apartment-like house provided him with everything he would need, it wasn't like he ventured inside much. With a decent-sized living room, a bathroom, storage room, kitchen and quite a big bathroom he felt like he had everything he would need out of a house.

Over the years he'd been able to do his own thing. Love was out of the question, so he'd sought out many lovers during the years. As many male as he'd had female bed partners. But there was always something missing. Something in his heart that missed what he'd had in the past. Love. Being loved and loving another was something he deeply missed in his life. But was it worth the risk?

Love these days didn't come as quick as it did back then. Not as easy as it had been. But then again, had love ever been anything but complex? Only, something told him that it was going to be worth the risk. Worth the pain that would undoubtedly come.

-0O0-

He'd denied himself another shot at a happy life for a while now, more than once he'd bumped into the mysterious man at the coffee bar. His piercing blue eyes haunted him into his nightmares - when he actually slept - and after a while, he finally gave in. It was actually the man that made his thoughts change as he sat on the other bench at the same table on a busy day. He was quietly sipping his coffee while he watched every corner of the young man's body. He was hunched over trying to write something down in that little book of his when he finally looked up and caught his eye. One of the cleaner's later told him that they had been staring at each other for half an hour before they began to speak, but for him, it felt more like seconds. He could drown in those bright blue eyes of his.

"I'm Ianto." The man said to him - after a while - and held out his hand.

" Jack." He said and shook the young man's hand. It had been the start of something new.

" I've seen you here many times before," Ianto began while he closed his little notebook of sorts and hurried it back in his bag next to him on the boot.

"Great deduction, Sherlock. I've seen you here too, but weirdly enough you never seem to be very happy. So… Ianto, care to tell me why you're so down?" Jack asked as he finished the last sip of his cappuccino and put the paper cup down on the table.

" I don't even know you, why should I tell you that?" Ianto asked him hesitantly. His face showed that he had been doubting whether he should tell him.

" That's fair. But you did just willingly told me your name, so. And well, you'll never have to see me again after today, so why not tell me. I can be a great listener when I need to!" He eventually answered. He really wanted to see Ianto again if he was honest with himself, but only if Ianto wanted that too. So if the young man decided against ever meeting up again, then he would respect that.

"Alright, well, come a little closer." He exclaimed after a deep sigh. His hand waved to him and beckoned him closer.

"The coffee here is shit. But it's one of the only places I can get some. My fiance, well, she hates coffee. Despises it really. So it's here, at work or my sister's place. Somehow I managed to find friends who don't like coffee that much and prefer tea later in the day." He shook his head in disgust.

"Tell me about it. My past friends where exactly the same. I have a state of the art coffee machine, but no, all they want is tea or beer." He automatically responded and a smile made its way to his face. Good memories of his past flooded his mind as he thought back about all the friends he'd had throughout time. There were too many to count.

"Then what are you doing here?" Ianto asked confused from his spot opposite him.

"I don't know, really, my best guess is it's for the companion. I mean, everyone's busy living their own life, it gets a little lonely from time to time." He wasn't sure but he could've bet on everything he had that a sad hue had taken over his face. He was still quite heartbroken about everything that had happened.

"I know, it sucks, I experienced the same when I moved away from home. But I was very fortunate to meet my Lisa." It seemed like Ianto was starting to dream away. The love could be read from his face while his eyes averted from him. Secretly it broke his heart to see him so in love. Over time - with every time he saw him, but didn't yet know one another - he'd started imagining starting a relationship with this young man if he'd wanted that of course. So to know that he was engaged to be married hurt him in practically the same way it had hurt to see those women killing themselves. But he kept smiling, kept his spirit up. Ianto didn't need to know his inner turmoil.

"I can only hope that day will ever come for me. Maybe you could tell me about her. How is she? I can see you love her very much." He asked and thought about Ianto's life, instead of the thing he wanted the most, the thing he missed.

I hope you liked it and please leave a review and a fav.

XXXFredAndGeorgeForever