A Candle in the Dark

"They're a fake," said Mr Reed, of the Times. He was a respected editor, and didn't wish to inflate the importance of any hackneyed psycho whose legitimacy was questionable at best.

"How do you know they're fake?"

"It's the tone," replied Reed, snatching the letters from William's hand and walking back to his desk.

"Tone my arse. He knows things, man. Knows things about the killings."

"I don't care. It's fake."

"I rather like the name," Williams sat across from the editor, crossing his arms in front of him.

"Well, whoever wrote them I'm certain would be happy to know that you're pleased," he was scribbling a note for a reporter. "Jim! When is the inquest, again?" he called into the adjacent room.

"Thursday!" yelled in Jim.

"What's today?" asked Reed to Williams.

He rolled his eyes. "Wednesday."

"Blimey, we need you to cover that inquest," he said to himself, jotting down some notes. "Here, take this to the inquest tomorrow," and Mr Reed stood up. He was tall, a bit more refined than his counterparts at the Times, and a skeptic in all things.

He didn't buy that this "Jack the Ripper" was in fact the killer.

But that didn't matter, because the Chief Editor had published the letters that very morning, despite Mr Reed's assertion that they were a fraud.

The business, you see, was money. If there was money to be made, well, like anyone, he'd say that Her Majesty was the murderer (of course, he wasn't stupid; he'd lose his head, and then how could he enjoy his money?).

Mr Howard Reed sat down once more. "The killer isn't like this. He is a cunning one…mad, to be sure. But the chap who wrote those letters, he's a show-off. The killer is not an exhibitionist…certainly, he murders in public without apparent cause…but he doesn't want to be caught."

"Tell me Reed, who wants to be caught?" Williams laughed.

"A madman. Someone who wants his work to be appreciated. This fellow, he doesn't care."

"Isn't that worse?"

And Reed looked at him steadily. "Oh yes. Yes, it is."

She held the paper tight in her hand, crumpled it and rolled her eyes. She would need to bring this to Loki…

She was standing outside of the lone bookshop in Spitalfields Market, staring at the door. She hadn't seen him yesterday, despite the assertion that they'd speak then. It was Wednesday, and Jane thought that she had better go and see Loki. Talk about their argument. Talk about the Times.

…talk about how she had dreamed of him rather consistently since their spat and how she felt awful and how she much she desperately wanted to kiss him again…

No…she didn't want to get into all of that.

She wanted things to return to normal.

But what was normal, anyway? She wasn't certain anymore.

Was normal she and Loki sleeping together on fainting couches?

…out at all hours, watching corpses being taken from the street?

Was normal the sidelong glances she'd give him?

…dressing like a prostitute, huddled in alleys, eavesdropping on whispered conversations?

Was normal working at the shop, having him visit her, trading jabs, laughing, having some tea, then kicking him out?

Or him leaving in a huff?

Or her following him up to the shop later, teasing him for his sarcasm, him sometimes walking her home?"

She couldn't say. She missed the old days, but she was happy with the way their relationship had progressed, too.

Sort of.

"Well, are you going to stand there gawking at my door, or do you plan on coming in?"

Jane snapped her eyes to his. "Oh. Afternoon, Loki."

He smiled at her, and stepped aside to allow her passage. "How have things been, Jane?"

"Fine, I thank'ee," she turned toward him. "I think that…we should perhaps…"

"Do you wish to speak of our spat?" he went to obtain something to drink for them both, his hands shaking a touch. He had gone over what he would say to her many times over, but it is always much easier to talk to a person about something uncomfortable when they aren't standing right in front of you.

Jane twisted her apron in her hands. She thought that, yes. They should speak…but she wasn't certain what to say. "If you think it wise," and he returned, handing her a cup.

"Well, I suppose that I said some things that were untoward, and I am sorry that I said them."

Jane nodded. "I grant you that I overreacted to your impropriety…I merely have seen your temper…"

He nodded as well, but interrupted. "Yes. I know that I have a bit of a temper," and he began to close up the shop.

"Quite," she smiled. "Are we friends, then?"

She didn't mention the kiss they shared, the real reason for the heat of their argument…"Of course," he nodded, and then, "Did you see the Times?"

"I did."

"And what are your thoughts?" he asked, sitting down.

"My thoughts?" she thought that this man had a lot of nerve sending letters into the Central News Agency. She thought that he was, whoever he was, positively galling. "I think that this Jack fellow is absurd."

"You mean, you think it a fake?" he sipped.

"Well, I don't know if I mean that, exactly…but if he is the killer, then he isn't very bright."

Loki sat back. He had considered this as a possibility, and was pleased that Jane was thinking along the same lines. "I'm not certain that they are fake, necessarily, but they seem rather forced, do they not? And not at all in line with what we have discovered thus far."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, apart from Jack referring to the killings as his 'work', they do not seem to coalesce with who you and I believe could be the culprit, or at least, his motivation."

"No. I suppose that's right. We don't paint the killer as someone killing for sport."

"No…I have spoken with Selvig. He said that he would be looking into the local universities for information on visiting Americans in the past two years."

"Oh…" Jane smiled. "That's helpful."…then she remembered. "Loki, I was left this this morning. It was shoved under my door…" and she handed him the crumpled piece of paper.

"What's this?" he unfolded it. It read:

Whitechapel Vigilance Committee

Meeting this week to further discuss the plea to the Home Office to increase the reward amount for the capture of the killer now known as Jack the Ripper. Please come Friday, October the 5th, to talk about the things we are doing to ensure the terror ends.

"Whitechapel Vigilance Committee? Why is this the first I've heard of this? The bottom of the flier says the meetings date back three weeks."

Jane sighed. "I think that since we were mentioned in the police reports, it is now known that we have been patrolling, and that's what this group is doing, too. They are patrolling, along with the police, and they, I think, want us to join."

"So…they've been doing all of this covertly?" Loki examined the paper once more.

"Not intentionally, no. I don't think so. But they aren't making a fuss, so there's that," she paused. "Also, George Lusk is the organizer."

Loki groaned. "Good lord," Lusk, while a good enough sort, was a bit too flamboyant for Loki's taste.

Jane laughed. "I knew you'd have an opinion on that."

"Lusk is insufferable."

"It's incredible that he can maintain a low profile the way he carries on…"

"Perhaps he isn't among the patrollers. I am quite certain we would have seen…er…heard him," he laughed.

Jane nodded and giggled. "And he always stares at me. It's rather uncomfortable."

Loki squinted. "He stares at you?"

"Well…perhaps that's a bit severe. Though he certainly looks at me a great deal."

He crossed his arms. "We aren't joining their little 'club', Jane. This is no game. Life and death," he said bitterly. "Let them play cards whilst women are slaughtered in the streets. What's more, they have no connections to speak of. I have a wealthy father happy to contribute to the reward. Does Lusk honestly think that the Home Office will give any time at all to a lot of men who fancy themselves detectives?" and he stood up.

Jane was smiling. "Isn't that what we are?"

"Absolutely not! And Lusk and his ridiculous gang will muck up the whole thing. What is he playing at, anyway? He's likely putting these poor women in more danger through his fliers and whatnot."

"Loki…"

But his jealousy impassioned him, and he began to pace. "Does he even have a connection at the Yard? Is he respected enough to elicit change in the way things are handled?"

"Are you?" she stood.

"I am. Yes. Selvig…"

"Erik Selvig was my doing, Loki. Look," she sighed and went over to him. "We do not need to join their little club, but the let us not lose sight of the material point. We are all acting toward the same end. As long as the killer is caught, then what does it matter who meets and patrols and speaks to the police?"

He swallowed. "Quite right, Jane. So…shall we attend the inquest tomorrow?"

"We?"

"We are a team, a pair, are we not…?" he smirked, and took his cap and coat up from the rack.

"That we are," she smiled and wrapped herself up a bit closer. "Will we be going out again, do you think?"

"Not sure," he locked the door. "As of now, no. I rather think that we need to obtain the information from Selvig, and go from there."

Jane nodded, falling into step next to Loki. She really ought to say something…"Loki?"

"Hm?" his hands were in his pockets, he was staring at the ground.

"Ah…I don't regret it."

He looked at her…his heart began to beat very fast. "Nor do I," he smiled.

Jane returned his smile. "But…I don't think that…that we should confuse things in the middle of this madness…and it will give us time to think," she was staring ahead of her now.

Time to think. "As you like."

"But do you like?" she asked, stealing a glance.

"I have no idea," and that was the truth of it. He was terrified. Terrified of pursuing her, of not pursuing her. Of losing her. Of never having her or gaining her affection…of never, ever having a moment like they did in the bookshop again…or of him pressing against her in a dark alley, all passion and heat and want…

"Well, then. Time can perhaps give us an answer."

Loki swallowed. "I am very fortunate to have your friendship, Jane. I value very much these past two months, for though I have always admired you and thought of you as a friend of sorts, it has given me immense pleasure to have grown close to you. You are as good a friend as I have ever had."

She took his hand in hers. "I feel exactly the same way," and she squeezed it, dropped it, and they continued on their way to Algate.

Mr Langham was a stout man. Short, to be blunt. He had seen the crowds gathered outside, the throng in the courtroom. He hated speaking in front of people.

He cleared his throat, standing at the high table. "Attention!" it was a feeble attempt. He took a deep breath. "Attention!" Nothing.

"Sir, hammer the gavel," said the clerk next to him.

Langham took up the thing, banging it hard on the table. "Attention, attention! We are come to order!"

And the crowd silenced.

The clerk raised his eyebrows, a smirk on his face.

Langham rolled his eyes and sat, calling a Miss Eliza Gold to testify.

At the back, in a corner, pressed to one another, were Selvig, Loki, and Jane. "Do you suppose they'll call us in? After our given testimony?" Loki asked Selvig quietly.

"Doubtful. The Yard doesn't care to mention that civilians are taking things into their own hands. Bad press."

He nodded, then looked at Jane. "Not to worry, Jane…Selvig here does not think that we will be called forward."

She looked at him crookedly. "Oh, well. That's a mercy," and she shook her head. She didn't care if she was called, but Loki expressed some hesitation. He thought that they had gone relatively unnoticed, and to call attention to either of them would be bad, indeed.

Dr Frederick Brown was then called, as he was the surgeon who performed the autopsy.

"Can you tell us what was the cause of death?" asked Langham.

"The cause of death was hemorrhage from the throat. Death must have been immediate," replied Brown.

"There were other wounds on the lower part of the body?"

"Yes; deep wounds, which were inflicted after death."

There was then a graphic description of the mutilated body…

"I understand that you found certain portions of the body removed?"

"Yes. The uterus was cut away with the exception of a small portion, and the left kidney was also cut out. Both these organs were absent, and have not been found."

"Have you any opinion as to what position the woman was in when the wounds were inflicted?"

"In my opinion the woman must have been lying down. The way in which the kidney was cut out showed that it was done by somebody who knew what he was about."

"Does the nature of the wounds lead you to any conclusion as to the instrument that was used?"

"It must have been a sharp-pointed knife, and I should say at least 6 in. long."

"Would you consider that the person who inflicted the wounds possessed anatomical skill?"

"He must have had a good deal of knowledge as to the position of the abdominal organs, and the way to remove them."

"Would the parts removed be of any use for professional purposes?"

"None whatever."

"Would the removal of the kidney, for example, require special knowledge?"

"It would require a good deal of knowledge as to its position, because it is apt to be overlooked, being covered by a membrane."

"Would such a knowledge be likely to be possessed by some one accustomed to cutting up animals?"

"Yes."

"Have you been able to form any opinion as to whether the perpetrator of this act was disturbed?"

"I think he had sufficient time, but it was in all probability done in a hurry."

"How long would it take to make the wounds?"

"It might be done in five minutes. It might take him longer; but that is the least time it could be done in."

"Can you, as a professional man, ascribe any reason for the taking away of the parts you have mentioned?"

"I cannot give any reason whatever."

"Have you any doubt in your own mind whether there was a struggle?"

"I feel sure there was no struggle. I see no reason to doubt that it was the work of one man."

Jane had heard enough. "Can we leave now?" she asked Loki.

He nodded. "Selvig…we are heading out," he took Jane's hand and they wound their way through the mass of onlookers.

It was dreadfully hot in the place, and with the descriptions offered, Jane felt heady…and all she could think about was poor Cate Eddowes…how she said that she was "nothing."

And now, what was she? A missing kidney and uterus…

They fell out onto the road, fell being an apt term, as the crowd very nearly squeezed them out.

"Gah, that was awful!" Jane exclaimed.

"Loki Odinson!" came a booming voice.

Loki was smoothing out his suit, and rolled his eyes.

Lusk.

"G'day, Loki, Jane!" and the massively irritating man came over to the pair. "Listening to the proceedings, are we? Nasty business, this."

"Hello, Lusk," said Loki with a sneer. "And what brings you here?"

"Ah, surely you've heard about the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee?"

"Mm…you mean your card com whiskey club?"

"Now, Loki! What do you take me for? I am a concerned citizen, doing what I can in the face of such reprehensible crime."

"Certainly. And the fact that you are bidding on several decorating commissions in the next few months doesn't hurt, does it?"

Lusk was a restoration expert, housed along the periphery of Spitalfields. "My business has nothing to do with these crimes…"

"No indeed…but advertising and bossing people about can't hurt your chances, can they?"

Jane cleared her throat. "Hello, George," she smiled.

"Jane, looking as fine as ever," he smiled, after offering Loki a particularly potent glare.

Loki then stepped closer. "Jane, we should be off, should we not?"

"Did you happen to receive my flier, Jane?" Lusk ignored Loki.

"I did, yes…"

"I understand that you have particular interest in these goings on."

"Well, as a merchant and a woman…."

Loki was seething. "You needn't answer him, Jane."

Her first reaction was to thank him very much, but that she did not require his permission to speak. She stopped herself, knowing that he meant well. "Thank'ee, George, but I am very able to see to these atrocities without the aid of your committee. If, however, you would like to share any information, I'd be grateful, and Loki and I could certainly intimate to you what we have discovered."

"Apologies, Jane. The invitation was kindly meant…" he nodded to them both, then turned and went into the courthouse.

"He is a cad," spat Loki.

"He means well," she replied, then turning, began walking toward Whitechapel and the East End. "However, I must be more careful in the future, Loki. You may need to accompany me everywhere, indicating when I should and should not speak," she smiled.

He looked at her. "Now, Jane. You know that I only…"

"I know. However, I also know when it is appropriate for me to speak, and it is usually when I am asked a question, or I have a question…or am being deliberately addressed."

"Point taken," he smiled. "Will we really be sharing information with that Lusk man, Jane?"

"Why not?"

"Oh, because he is a self serving, pompous brute of a man with a mustache I cannot abide."

Jane laughed. "What if we add a caveat that we will only be sharing information if he cuts off his mustache?"

"I'll take your suggestion under review."

"Excellent. You are truly a reasonable man."

Erik Selvig was walking down Whitechapel Road that evening patrolling the neighborhood. He had been out and about for some time.

The chill was deep, and not many souls had ventured out. He thought that was a good thing.

The time he spent attempting to discover the American was fruitless. Either it was all a farce, or he just was that wily that the scientist had covered his tracks utterly. He kicked a stone on the road.

But he wouldn't abandon it completely. He thought that there was something to this, too.

Loki hadn't admitted anything to himself concerning a certain apothecary. He wouldn't, because he had been fearful of rejection and abandonment. Reasonable enough concerns, if one thinks on it.

But Jane had given him cause to hope, something he hadn't done in quite some time. In relation to anything, really.

Loki was in his flat, staring at the candlelight and the paper in front of him. What he was supposed to be writing, he couldn't say.

Oh yes…notes from the inquest.

But Loki wasn't thinking about the inquest…not really. He was ruminating on just how odd it was that in the midst of all this pain, he had found some happiness.

He had never enjoyed much happiness in his life.

Some of it was his own doing.

Some wasn't.

But he had vowed that he would ensure Jane's safety throughout the whole of this affair, and now…now it was all the more important that she was safe.

Because…

He downed his port.

He couldn't say it. He just couldn't.

Loki rubbed his face and stood.

And he went to bed after snuffing out the candle with his fingers.

Somewhere…

He was sitting in a dark room with the candle lit. The glow flickered softly on the wall opposite. He had made his contact to the American in the States, and he was waiting for a reply. He knew that it wouldn't be long now…

A/N: benfan1: THANK YOU SO MUCH. You are very sweet.

The testimony given here was taken directly from a website (it is public domain) and is a transcript of the actual inquest. Also, the letters are verbatim in the previous chapter.