AN: A warm thank you to my beautiful friend, klcm. Thanks for being my eyes in London. On a side note: Remember folks, this is literary license. I'm taking not proven Ripper facts and using them. Kricket

I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter, I got a bit side-tracked this weekend. - Naidoo

"I figured out what I want to do today," Derek said, sitting at the little table in her hotel room. He had tea and crumpets he picked up from the lobby for them.

"How's the crumpet?" she asked, then flicked on her blowdryer.

He took a bite of the bread, and shrugged. "It's an English muffin, only flatter."

"What do you want to do?" she asked, hanging upside down from the waist.

Derek watched her. He never figured out why women did that when they blew their hair dry. She was also straightening out any curl she had in her hair with this big paddle brush. He thought that was a pity, also. Why fight nature? Besides, she had the most gorgeous hair. Lots of blonde ringlets he wanted to touch. She turned, presenting him with her rounded posterior, and he had to fight touching that, too.

She flipped her hair back and shut off the dryer and caught him baldly staring. "Derek. Answer."

"Oh, yeah," he remarked, taking another bite before answering. "I want to do the Jack the Ripper history tour."

Penelope made a face. "Yuck. Doesn't that remind you of work?"

Derek grinned. "Exactly. He's the world's first serial killer. I'd love to see if there is anything left to profile. You know... stand in his footsteps, get into his brain."

She rolled her eyes. "It was a billion years ago, Derek. Besides, who wants to think of blood and gore and yucky icky stuff on vacation?"

"Hey," he said, arching a brow. "I went to castles and looked at jewels and all that stuff."

She opened her eyes wide. "You said you didn't mind."

"I didn't. I wanted you to be happy," he answered in just the right tone to make her feel guilty. Damn, he was good! He raised his fingers into a small, inch like approximation. "Just one tiny murder scene, P, that's-"

"Alright, cupcake. You win. Let's go."

Although Penelope had sounded like she wasn't that gung-ho to go on the tour, she was rather excited by the time they'd reached the tube stop. It was misty and gloomy, but Penelope had seemed happy about that, too.

"Adds to the mystery of the whole thing," she explained. "You know… it was a dark and stormy night."

"It's 11:45 am, Baby Girl."

She huffed and slapped his arm. "You have absolutely no romance in you, Derek Morgan."

"You haven't seen me in action, sweetheart," he grinned at her, wiggling his eyebrows. "Otherwise, you wouldn't say that."

"That's not romance, honey. That's smut."

He shrugged. "One in the same, sugar. One in the same."

xxxxxxxxx

They reached the main office where the Ripper Tours began, and purchased their tickets. They were part of a large group of other people. They stood at the Statue of Caesar, where their tour guide was waiting.

"Welcome to the home of the most famous serial killer of all time, Jack the Ripper," the guide began dramatically. He was dressed in a trench coat, had a Sherlock Holmes' hat on, and rolled his r's when he spoke. "We are going to bring you back in time to 1888; London, late nineteenth century. A few preliminaries before we go."

"Theater student?" Derek quipped quietly, and Pen giggled, thinking the same thing.

"If you are squeamish, if you cannot take descriptions of ghastly murders, you should not go on this tour. Speak now, or forever hold your peace."

Pen didn't think she'd have a problem; she'd seen pictures of ghastly murders for years now. They still bothered her, but she could deal with it.

After a listing of a few other preliminaries, they were off on a short walk to Dunward street. "This was formerly Buck's Row, the site of the first murder. Picture this area as very poor and filled with many immigrants. Here, Mary Ann Nichols, a local prostitute well known in Whitechapel, was found with two deep cuts to her throat and abdomen. She was ripped open, a very rough wound."

Penelope looked up around at the big brick building. It looked so normal, like something so horrible couldn't have happened at that site. Despite thinking she wouldn't feel squeamish, she reached for Derek's arm and leaned against it. Her heart broke for the woman. She lived an unsafe lifestyle, but she didn't deserve this.

They wandered down to Hanbury Street and saw the murder area of Annie Chapman, an even more brutal murder. As they continued to walk, she learned there were so many brothels, so much suffering of women.

They ended at Miller court. She stood in front of a sealed door in the musty alley. Inside that room, the last victim, Mary Jane Kelly, was murdered. She was an engaged woman, but still worked as a prostitute. She was also pregnant. The desperation hit Penelope hard, the life that they must have lived in order to keep that job under those conditions.

"Here, you see that the Ripper had perfected his trade," the tour guide began with vigor. "Her throat was cut to the spine, her abdomen completely emptied of organs. He removed her heart, and removed her unborn child and placed it on the bedside table."

"Derek, we need to go. Now."

He glanced at her very pale, tear streaked face. Derek blanched himself; he couldn't believe he didn't notice how much this was bothering P. He was paying close attention to the things that affected his daily job: how the media polluted the case, how the crime scenes weren't preserved, the early profiling methods that were used, the unfair scapegoating and misguided attempts of the police.

He rushed her out of the alley and put his arms around her, holding her close to his chest. "Shhhh… baby. I am so, so, sorry."

"Her baby, Derek," she cried softly against his chest. "That baby…"

Derek realized then, Penelope did what she always did in a case; put a human face on the victims, felt for them in her heart. She was remarkable that way, never losing the ability to feel. He envied her that; there were times when he broke everything down to the science of profiling.

He cupped her face in his hands, his long thumbs brushing the wetness off her cheeks. "Angel, it was a long, long time ago. We've learned a lot from these cases, how to do things better. We've got to take that and move forward from it."

She sniffled. "I...I know."

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You okay now?"

The tour group turned the corner and rejoined them.

"Yes, I'm fine," she replied.

"Lots of drama for our last day in London, hmm?" he teased, winking at her.

She smiled back as Derek looped his arm around her shoulders. She looped her arm around his waist, and they continued on.

xxxxxxxxxx

After the gore and drama of the Ripper tour, Penelope had one last thing she really wanted to see in London.

"Where're we going now, baby?" Derek asked, munching on some popcorn her picked up from a corner store. He never complained, not even once, about any of the places she wanted to see. He was turning out to be exactly what he made himself out to be: the perfect traveling companion.

"The Royal Botanical Gardens," she said, looking at her map. "I just wanted to spend our last afternoon in an English Garden. Pure relaxation, filled with peace and serenity. A beautiful garden, you know, like the kind you see in the movies."

He gave her a blank look.

"Pride and Prejudice? Sense and Sensibility?" When the blank look stayed on his face, she giggled and continued, "Come on, honey. You'll love it. Lots of pretty flowers and benches."

Grinning, he reached for her hand, then kissed her fingertips. "If my Baby Girl wants it, I'm game."

Arriving at the Kew Gardens, they paid the entrance fee. First stop was a massive greenhouse, really more a conservatory, called the palm house. The building was massive and ancient, like a lot of the buildings they'd seen in London. Huge domed glass ceilings let the sun shine down on them and the massive palm trees, making the room warm and humid.

"It's like walking in a tropical rainforest," Pen said in awe, looking up a the enormous palms in the center rotunda, "except the bugs and snakes are missing."

Wiping some sweat off his forehead since he didn't have hair to catch the sweat, he nodded his agreement. "Gorgeous, though, isn't it?"

She smiled and reached for his hand, and they walked through, looking at tropical flowers and plants that graced the lower levels. He was right; it was exquisite, and very peaceful, just like she had hoped.

They'd been so busy, so excited, cramming tons of things to do into their itinerary, they hadn't had much time for peace. Penelope wouldn't have changed a thing, but it was so nice to just be with Derek, especially in an environment like this.

They stepped outside to the Rose Garden, which was next to the Palm House. There was a paved walkway with rose-covered arches, decorative ponds, and more roses. There were over fifty rose beds. Pen felt like she was walking in heaven, the scent itself was so beautiful, it made her sigh.

She leaned over a particularly beautiful damask rose, and sniffed. "This smells so beautiful."

Derek smiled and leaned over next to her. "You smell better, but this is damn good, too."

She grinned over at him. "Predictable compliment, but I'll take it."

"Come on," he said, reaching for her hand. "Let's sit for awhile."

Finding a bench near the middle of the path of roses, they sat and watched the crowds passing. It was very busy, probably because it was a sunny day. Pen watched as other couples held hands, like she was doing with Derek right now. The women would laugh and lay their heads on the shoulders of the men they were walking with, similar to what she'd done with Derek earlier.

Then she'd watch as the couples kissed. There would be no denying the love the other couples felt for each other; it was radiated in the magic they had when their lips touched. A sharp pang struck Penelope in her heart when she realized just somewhat she wanted that, too. It was the second time in their trip so far that she'd thought about relationship, thought about love, and thought about her best friend, too.

She glanced over at Derek, who was looking at a bumblebee that was getting pollen from a yellow and orange rose. She wondered what he thought, if he ever thought about that kind of thing with them. She was thinking he probably didn't. He didn't seem the truly romantic sort.

"If I were sitting here with you, back in the eighteen hundreds when this garden was formed," he murmured, turning to smile at her, "I would have picked one of these flowers, then dropped down on my knee..."

"Well, that-"

He interrupted her by sliding off the bench to land on one knee. He was still holding her hand. She began to blush at the highly romantic gesture. "Derek, get up. You're being an idiot!"

He placed one hand over his heart, and began to announce, "Fair lady, I couldn't pick that flower for you for fear of deportation, but know that I still hold you in the highest regard..."

"Derek!"

He leaned over and kissed her hand, before standing up and dusting himself off. Then he winked at her and helped her stand. "Come on, sugar. We have the rest of this garden to see."

xxxxxx

After leaving the garden, they'd originally decided on an early night back, as they were flying to Italy in the morning...

However, Derek learned quickly during this trip: With Penelope, plans had a way of changing...