Ripper's London

(Fall – Out)

19/09/1888 Continued
A/N: Sorry, just so much information. Had to split this date. Darn September 1888 in Whitechapel was one busy month. Thanks to those reading this story still. Hope you're somewhat entertained and educated.

'Yes it's possible' those words echoed through Tony's head as if he was still saying them. He couldn't believe that he'd just dumped his friend deep. What was I thinking? It wasn't possible, but he could read the accusing faces of all the people in the station. It'd only be a matter of hours until the looks would become a reality. Tony was never a popular one in H-division but things were about to get worse. He got the sudden urge to get out of there. An urge to run. He grabbed a couple of things and headed straight out of the Commercial Street Police Station. He had to get away from those accusing eyes.

McGee was about to say something but was unable to. Half an hour later, Gordon briskly walked into the station. "Uh, Gordon…," McGee went to say something.

"Where'd Tony go?" Gordon asked as he noticed that their office was empty. "Well?" Gordon asked.

"Uh, he left about half an hour ago," McGee checked his timepiece. "Really I must," McGee found him self talking to someone's back once again. He shook his head and returned to where the visitor was sitting. "I'm sorry Mister Lees… It's been hectic here today," he extended his hand.

"Yes," Lees rubbed his thick blonde hair. "Forgive me… I tend to not shake hands. Tell the Scotland Yard Inspector that I, Robert Lees will be seeing him again. He has more than likely heard of me. But he mustn't dismiss me. It's imperative for him to listen to me," Lees continued in a worrying tone.

"When shall I say you're coming again?" McGee asked so he could write it down.

"There's always two… Every coin has two sides. Hell has not descended upon Whitechapel," Lees put his dark gloves on before finally shaking hands. "until then, PC McGee," Lees said as he donned his top hat. McGee watched him leave with more of a confused look. There was something different about Robert Lees.

20/09/1888
Commercial Street Police Station

Tony deliberately got to the station early. They hadn't even lit up the street lamps yet. He was there to avoid any person that might have been there. Last night he had spent the night in the darkest dankest room in the Ten Bells Pub. That was so nobody could find him there. When he went home to change he wasn't surprised to find a copy of The Gazette waiting for him at his door. He was sure it was courtesy of his father since the man was intent on reminding him of all his failures. This time, he didn't need reminding. Tony flung the paper across the desk and went to clear his things.

"What are you doing?" The gruff voice in the darkness asked.

"I'm leaving… Haven't you read this?" Tony slapped the paper and pointed out the article.

"Yes," Gibbs answered simply. He had read the article.

"Then don't worry you can say what you want to say while I gather my things. So say what you want to say," Tony said as he gathered his belongings together. Not like he had much around anyway. He knew the dressing down was coming.

Gibbs stood up. McGee had told him what had transpired the previous day since Gordon had told him what had happened. There was talk circulating around the station and that could be damaging. Gibbs couldn't blame the young man for wanting to get out of there before things went to hell. He looked through the article again…

H-Division Police Accuses Another
Dissention in the ranks of H-Division is clearly shown as Anthony DiNozzo junior points out fellow colleague Gordon Cale at Annie Chapman's Inquest. H-Division losing control as the possibility of one who has sworn to protect the public could be Leather Apron.

The paper ended up in the bin. "Did you accuse Gordon of being the Leather Apron Murderer?" Gibbs asked.

Had he? Tony tried to think back over the testimony he'd given at the Inquest. Maybe he didn't say it in so many words but he made Gordon look like a suspect. Surely that was just as bad. "I made him look like he could be," Tony answered.

"But you didn't say you think he could be the Leather Apron Murderer, did you?" Gibbs pressed on.

"Not in so many words," Tony sighed. He wondered if anyone else would see it that way. But there was doubt in his own words. Accusing a colleague could be unforgivable.

"You did the right thing," Gibbs squeezed the shoulder of Tony and was surprised to see the younger man flinch and step back. "You didn't lie to them, you didn't accuse him and they drew their own conclusion. You did what you should have done," Gibbs assured the doubtful young man.

"I doubt that Gordon or anyone else will see it like that," Tony always believed in taking responsibility for his mistakes. That was something his father had drummed into him when he was a child. He who doesn't hold him self accountable is worthless. That's what his father always said.

"If…," Gibbs began to say.

"Don't say that if he's a friend he'd understand. What I did was…," Tony held up his finger to silence the inspector. Gordon was going to kill him as soon as the opportunity arose. Tony swallowed hard, all he wanted to do was hide in a dark corner and leave under the cover of darkness.

"Grab your gear," Gibbs growled out. The order made Tony jump a little.

"Yes, Boss," Tony replied straight away.

Late at Night

Tony was thankful that their four-man team had been split in two. He and Gibbs had been out interviewing more witnesses and canvassing the now useless murder scenes. Any evidence that may have been missed before was either trodden into the ground of picked up by passer byers. He thought that within a year, the murders would be forgotten especially counting for the fact that there was no evidence that lead to anyone being the killer. Tony closed his notebook. There had been no more useful information retrieved.

"We've canvassed the area within a mile radius of the Chapman and Nichols site," McGee said as soon as they entered the office. "We've visited every house of every doctor, every butcher and every veterinarian in that radius. Nothing there to suggest any of them to be the initial murder scene," McGee explained.

"Are you sure?" Tony asked as he sat down on a chair on the other side of the room.

"There was no bloodied rooms, no overly too clean rooms. No signs of struggling, no bad relationships and no connection to the victims that we are aware of and apparently no reason to lie to us," Gordon interrupted. He sat on the edge of the desk.

"That's the known doctors…," Gibbs rubbed his lips as he paced around. His mind was ticking over. "What about if this guy isn't a doctor or surgeon… But a student… One who is training to be one or just plain wants to be one?" Gibbs asked.

"Can you give us two some time alone?" Gordon asked as he looked over in Tony's direction. It was visible that Tony shifted uncomfortably. Gibbs and McGee nodded before leaving. "Now," Gordon adjusted his jacket as he stood.

Tony sat in the chair as far as he possibly could. He thought that maybe if he sat still, the retaliation wouldn't be as severe. "I know what you're going to say Gordon. I was…," Tony used his hands to try and communicate as well.

"You were doing what you should've done," Gordon told him. "You know and I know that we are held high above the general population. I would've been mad as hell if you lied. If they feel like they can't trust us around here then everything will crumble. You did the right thing," Gordon said.

"Yeah right… I doubt anyone else is going to see it that way," Tony said as he stood up. At least he knew that the danger of retaliation had passed.

"You should know by now that people will react depending on how you act by now," Gordon smiled reassuringly.

"Gordon… I think you've been hanging around Doctor Mallard too long," Tony said with a smile.

"Ain't that the truth Tones," Gordon smiled and held it until Tony returned it with one of his own bright smile. He had hoped that his friend had taken notice of his words. At times, Tony DiNozzo was near impossible to read.

22/09/1888 – Saturday Night Theatre
Whitechapel's Famous Guests

There was one bonus to being the son of the rich and famous newspaper man and that was the ability to get tickets to shows coming up. Gibbs had gone to report the progress or lack thereof to his superior. To clear their heads, they were given the time off. Tony had no problems with the others but it felt damn good to get away from them even if it was just for a night.

Tony dressed in his favorite suit with a top hat and all. It wasn't every day that a play of Jekyll and Hyde's caliber came this far east. He was surprised to see the crowd had gathered there already and wondered why the crowd hadn't gone in yet. They all seemed to be eagerly waiting for something. "Hey, Tony," Tony turned around at his name and saw Missy A approaching in her usual exuberant way.

"A," Tony greeted back. She looked better without wearing black.

"You can call me Abby now that you know who I am. Hey, I was wondering if you were going to come tonight," Abby said as she curtsied a slightly. Her green dress just stopped short of the ground. Dressed as she was, Abby looked like a real lady.

"First chance and maybe the last," Tony said cryptically. He was going to make the most of it at least.

The sound of hooves hitting the road as a black carriage came to an abrupt halt at the theatre. Tony's breathing momentarily stopped as he recognized the Royal crest on its side. As a child, Tony was taught about different symbols of power. He was taught what and who to respect.

"It's Prince Albert Victor," someone in the crowd gasped.

Tony had heard rumors about the young prince and how he often visited Whitechapel and its whores. But he had never seen him in person. The son of Queen Victoria was pale and walked funny. Tony noted this as a flash went off. Of course the press would be there to document the famous arrival.

"Wonder what he's doing here," Tony thought out loud. It was good to bounce his thoughts off someone. Missy A, was good at helping him make sense at times.

"He comes to Whitechapel often," Abby said as she straightened her dress. Tony was glad to see her out and about in expensive clothes… She wasn't Missy A for that night.

Tony caught the mischievous tone in her voice. She had always been knowledgeable about certain goings on. "Was he a client of yours, Missy?" Tony asked. He felt her hand slap his shoulder.

"Mister DiNozzo," she admonished jokingly. "It's Abby, Abs anything but Abigail and enough of Missy A, Missy or even A," Abby told him. "I really hope you don't see me as some type of two-shilling whore and that's all," Abby continued on.

"Sorry," Tony responded defensively. That was a problem, he never saw her that way. But the fact that she was a whore couldn't be ignored. After the royal guest was ushered in, it was time for everyone else to take their seats.

To say that the Shakespearian actor Richard Mansfield had the audience manipulated was an understatement. He had members gasping, women screaming and even a couple literally ran when Doctor Jekyll began his transformation into Mister Hyde. It was like a different person had come on stage. The normal, respectable Doctor Jekyll had turned into a demented, twisted monster known as Mister Hyde right before the audience's eyes. Even the potion seemed alive, deadly and brought out the monster within.

Tony was unable to give his full attention to the play. He was looking at the audience. He looked up at the balcony that housed the Royal guest and his friends. Prince Albert was entranced in the play as well. Occasionally, he put his small binoculars down as a way to escape the horror on stage. Tony wondered why the young Royal decided to come here rather than seeing it in a more upper class theater.

Gordon Cale Residence

For a long time the only thing that was of interest to Gordon was the roof. He could tell people how many cracks there was or how many marks were up there. He felt Penelope's arm drape her arm across his naked chest. The only things she knew about the Leather Apron killings was what she had read in the papers. Gordon didn't talk much about it at all.

"Are you alright? You've hardly said a word since you got home," Penelope said to him as she massaged his chest.

"I want to have another child. A boy especially," Gordon let out an elongated sigh. That's what he wanted. For a while now, in between the thoughts of the case, he wanted children. The fact was, was that he felt he needed them. Well a son anyway. But they had never seriously talked about that.

"Where did that come from?" Penelope asked.

"If you don't want to… You can just say so. I'll understand perfectly," Gordon answered, somewhat absently.

"I didn't say that," Penelope responded. "It just took me by surprise that's all," she told him. "I just don't know about bringing a baby child into this," she said. Her mind was still on the horrors of the murders.

"Penelope… With Police on alert, a vigilance committee patrolling the streets… Whitechapel's probably the safest place in the world for a family," Gordon responded. He truly believed that with everything going on… It'd be a perfect time to start a family.

"I don't know," Penelope rested her head on Gordon's chest. The subject was promptly dropped with the following silence.

McGees' Residence

McGee sat on the chair and faced the window. It felt great to be off his feet but he couldn't get the case off his mind. The why and who questions ran through his mind as he looked out the window. He wondered if the killer even knew why. There have been some new advances coming through in the last decade or so. He'd been keeping an eye out on the phonograph and this new light thing. But it seemed the further away from the case his mind wandered, the case drew his attention back.

"Thanks, Sarah," McGee said as he took the tin cup from his sister's hands. He needed something hot to drink. Living with one's sister had its advantages. There was that personal comfort that family could provide but there were no strings attached. He wondered if things got serious with Linda if that would change. Maybe it will or maybe it won't. Maybe it'd be for the better… Maybe it won't. Or maybe things were destined to stay the same.

"Are you feeling alright?" Sarah asked. She was younger than her brother but their roles seemed to reverse if the situation called for it.

"Just enjoying some quiet time," McGee answered. He didn't want to speak on how he was trying to string theories together. Right now, he was clutching at straws. There had to be something to connect the two. And if he could just put his finger on it, then the case could be broken wide open.

Doctor Mallard House

Donald spent a lot of time in his study. There was always something new to learn or something he needed to check up on facts. The medical profession was a forever changing field. He wasn't afraid of giving books away once they had become obsolete. And it was no surprise that most of his books came from Scotland. Medicine had moved in leaps and bounds and Ducky was pleased that he was able to keep up to date.

He had never considered him self an expert on performing autopsies. But knew he was really good at what he did. It wasn't just about figuring out how they died but why they had died that way. He assumed that he was really an investigator at heart. Maybe he was. "Wasn't it William Shakespeare who said a rose by any other name is still a rose?" He asked him self. He never saw his title as important since no title should overshadow the work one does. That's what Ducky always thought and that's why he hated being called by his title.

Ducky pulled out his personal journal and pulled out the ink bottle to write. This was his personal touch with the journal. There were things he needed to think about and writing them was the easiest way.

Exposing Filth
Theory 1

It can not be too much of a surprise that two victims were prostitutes. It is commonly estimated that the number of them working in London is approximately 6000. I doubt that it is by luck that the Leather Apron Murderer murdered prostitutes. I believe this is apparent in the manner that these poor women were killed. The man responsible was personal in his malicious attack.

The intestines are part of digestion. Human waste goes through the intestine on the way out of the body. The fact that they were placed on the outside of Chapman's body could be significant. Maybe the killer is trying to expose the filth of the women and put it in the public eye. This was not done for Nichols however. This makes me wonder if the murderer is trying to tell us something. Has he said what he wanted to say or is there something left?
Doctor Donald Mallard
22-09-1888

He left the journal open as to give the ink a chance to dry. He blew out the lamp and went to get changed. Maybe the next few days will bring something new. One could always help.