thirstforvice | Ripper Street/Escape to the Suburbs

Entry tags:

verse: safe hands

Ripper Street/Escape to the Suburbs

When Drake is cleared to go back to work, Jackson's sense of unease grows tenfold. He's been anxious ever since returning to their room in Whitechapel, very aware that the Vigilance Men are down but not out, and very aware of where they live. But there's always been the two of them, together, with multiple locked doors between them and the outside world. Now, he's alone, mobility still hugely limited by his broken leg, and Drake's alone on the streets where he can't keep him close.

The worries would have driven him to distraction, or drugs, if not for Mrs Ramsay.

Their landlady truly was a godsend, more than happy to care for her invalid tenant, completely unphased in the knowledge of what he and Drake got up to behind closed doors. She was gifted at tending to his healing injuries, and she was very happy to both prattle on to him and listen in turn. She doesn't judge him nor take offence, either, when he admits to feeling unsafe in her lodgings. Quite the contrary, she offers to find him and Drake some place safer. Whilst he doesn't like being left alone, he appreciates the offer too much to turn her down.

It only takes her a few days before she finds somewhere she thinks would be perfect. As she lays out supper for her favourite doctor and his sergeant, she tells him all about the house in the suburbs. It's close to one of those new underground rail stations, she tells him, making the journey into the city easy despite the distance. It's large but affordable, on a combined wage of a sergeant and police physician. The neighbourhood is respectable, and safe. And, she can't help but slipping in, plenty of spare space for a housekeeper, should they choose to take one (which, really, she feels they should. Did they even know how to cook their meals?).

Her enthusiasm is really highly infectious.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Drake's favourite time of the day is coming home to his doctor, even though he wishes his lover was by his side day and night. He fears for him, alone in those rooms - of what The Vigilance Men might do to him, and what he might do to himself.

He's pleased to hear Mrs Ramsay in their rooms, chatting away and accompanied by the smell of dinner.

"Looks fine, Mrs Ramsay," he says as he enters their room.

"Oh, you're here, Sergeant Drake, how wonderful!" Mrs Ramsay barely pauses for breath as the Sergeant appears and takes his seat at his little dinner table.

"Just in time to hear the good news. I have found you and the good doctor a new home. Out of Whitechapel, much safer for the both of you. And much more fitting, too. Captain Jackson wishes to see it as soon as he is able."

Drake should be angry that Homer has been scheming behind his back but instead he just fixes his lover with a look.

"Oh, does he now?"

Jackson does, at least, have the good grace to look sheepish.

"We ain't safe here, darlin', and we both know it. Mrs Ramsay's found a gem of a place, by the sounds of it, right on that underground rail line and everything. And it can be all ours, Bennet. Not just one room, a whole house. A home."

Drake feels awkward having this conversation in front of Mrs Ramsay, but she's clearly already involved.

"We need to...check we can afford it, Homer. Before jumping in."

"Oh, your doctor already set a budget when I went to investigate," Mrs Ramsay natters on cheerfully.

"It's well within the price he set."

"I see the doctor has it all figured out," Drake says solemnly. "I doubt my approval is required at all."

Jackson sighs. He'd expected nothing but scepticism from Drake, but even so he feels somewhat deflated by it. He makes to ask Mrs Ramsay's for a moment's privacy, but the dear lady has already come to the same conclusion.

"I'll leave you to your supper, boys," she says, making her tactful exit.

"Benny," Jackson murmurs when they're alone, pulling his lover close by his jacket. "I was gonna talk to you about this, I swear it. Neither of us feel safe here anymore, no use denying it. Maybe a house in the suburbs wouldn't be so bad, hmm?"

As soon as Mrs Ramsay is gone, Drake relaxes and moves closer to Homer.

"I'm not saying nothing against it," Drake says quickly. "But this is our future, ain't it? Not a scheme."

"The only scheme I'm hatchin' is one to keep us both alive" Jackson promises, reaching for a fistful of Bennet's shirt to pull him closer still.

"That's all I want."

Drake grins and places a quick kiss on Jackson's lips.

"And you want a house for us and us alone?"

"I do. Somewhere we can't be found easy. Somewhere... nice." It's a poor choice of word, but Jackson cannot think of one better.

Reluctantly, he lets Bennet go. Their dinner will cool and be ruined if they do not eat now.

Bennet moves back to his seat and shovels potato in his mouth. Oh, it's good, butter and parsley and all.

"Somewhere Mrs Ramsay will follow," he teases.

"She would come," Jackson answers, sure of that much. "She's been droppin' hints like lead anvils."

He looks almost nervous as he studies Drake's face for signs of what he's thinking, pushing the matter when he realises he can't tell. "Don't tell me you're happy to stay here, Bennet. Not after what happened to us both. It's only a matter of time before it happens all over, and this time those Vigilance Men ain't gonna just assume they've done us in before walking off into the sunset."

Bennet realises then that he hasn't made himself clear at all.

"Homer, I would live in any place - Whitechapel, Bromley, China, Boston. So long as I was with you."

For a moment, Jackson takes Drake totally seriously, and finds himself surprisingly okay with the idea of packing up his London life and moving them both across continents.

But no, Drake doesn't mean that. Not really. He's a copper to the core.

"Then you'll see the house Mrs Ramsay's found us? You're not... angry I didn't tell you sooner?"

"I'd be lying if I said I was happy with you sharing all your plans with our landlady before me," Drake says seriously. "But I'd like to see what the old lady's found."

"I'll tell you, in future," Jackson promises, head bowed over his food, though the taste has suddenly lost its appeal. How many times has this been played out before? He never manages to live up to other peoples' expectations.

"I was just bored, here on my own all day," he tries to justify his actions.

Drake bows his own head to try to catch Jackson's eye.

"Deprived of my company?"

"Deprived of any company," Jackson sighs.

"You're sure that Reid won't let me sit in the corner of the dead room, just in case you get someone in who I can investigate without havin' to use my hands or legs?" Jackson knows as well as anyone that he's useless for work, right now, but that doesn't stop him from being thoroughly fed up with spending all day and night in this one room.

Drake finished his dinner and stretched his legs out under the table.

"I have my afternoon off tomorrow. We could do something nice together."

"I can't walk far," Jackson points out, though dares to hope there's some way to break the monotony of these four walls.

"But I'm not gonna complain about getting some fresh air in my lungs."

"We could take a carriage," Drake says generously. "And a wheelchair."

The mention of a wheelchair earns Drake a friendly sort of glare. Jackson had refused one in the past, when he'd been shot, and he'd been equally stubborn this time around. Regardless of the pain, he's making do hobbling about with a crutch. Wheelchairs are for the frail and elderly, of which he refuses to be neither.

"I can get myself to a carriage." Maybe with an arm to lean on.

"We could go out to the suburbs..."

Drake lets the wheelchair issue slide - for now. "See the parks and the houses..."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject