Capt. Homer Jackson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thirstforvice) wrote2014-04-14 09:51 pm
thirstforvice) wrote2014-04-14 09:51 pm
Entry tags:
Ripper Street/Relapse
Why Jackson had ever thought that Susan would just let him walk out of her life, he didn't know. He should have realised from the outset, when she'd clawed chunks out of Bennet just for fetching his things from his old rooms. But she'd quietened, after that, and he'd thought that he'd gotten away with it. That he'd escaped.
But it wasn't to be. Perhaps she'd been waiting, hoping that he'd come back to her of his own free will, but if so her patience was up.
It had started a month ago, with nails sharp as talons grabbing him by the wrist on his way home from Leman Street. Jackson always tried to keep to the main roads, after his run in with the Vigilance Men, but for once he was leaving early and even the back streets were still crowded. Nobody looked twice when he was hauled against the wall by Susan; such a finely dressed woman couldn't mean any harm, surely?
Susan - or, should he say, Caitlin - had made herself quite clear from day one. She was still married to a man named Matthew Judge, whether Jackson want to admit it or not. No, she didn't want a divorce; she would not be humiliated so. She would not go crawling back home to her father, admitting that the handsome Captain who had stolen her heart had left her for another man, and was now shacked up with a sergeant. She would not allow it, and her husband would do as she wished if he didn't want his beloved Ben to find out just who he really was, and what he'd done. She'd left him with bruises around his skinny wrist, and even darker welts across his heart.
His decision was an impossible one. Returning to Susan turned his blood cold as ice in his veins, every ache from every fight vividly remembered. She had no love for him, nor him for her, and no matter what Susan said their marriage was not something that could be fixed. But the alternative seemed just as bad; to admit to Drake that everything he was was a lie; that he had fled from the Pinkertons, abducting a woman of a notable family into the bargain, gone to ground in London and changed his name to keep himself and his wife safe. Drake would never look at him the same way ever again. Their relationship would be as broken as his marriage.
With every day that passed, Susan's threats becoming worse and worse, time running out before she swore she'd tell Bennet every last thing about their past, Jackson grew more tormented. He stayed out of his house as much as he could, or went to bed early, keeping himself apart from Drake for fear that his lover would see the truth just by looking at him. His hands began to shake and tremble as he worked, every shadow around every corner making him jump.
The laudanum was the first vice to return to him, and shortly after that the cocaine. His relationship with Drake was already doomed; what did it matter if he broke another promise? At least this way, he thought as he swallowed down a bottle of laudanum, he could face Susan with some small shred of courage. It was the last thought he had before the drug's peaceful oblivion descended on him, sprawled in his living room armchair with the empty bottle rolling out of his hand and onto the floor at his feet.
But it wasn't to be. Perhaps she'd been waiting, hoping that he'd come back to her of his own free will, but if so her patience was up.
It had started a month ago, with nails sharp as talons grabbing him by the wrist on his way home from Leman Street. Jackson always tried to keep to the main roads, after his run in with the Vigilance Men, but for once he was leaving early and even the back streets were still crowded. Nobody looked twice when he was hauled against the wall by Susan; such a finely dressed woman couldn't mean any harm, surely?
Susan - or, should he say, Caitlin - had made herself quite clear from day one. She was still married to a man named Matthew Judge, whether Jackson want to admit it or not. No, she didn't want a divorce; she would not be humiliated so. She would not go crawling back home to her father, admitting that the handsome Captain who had stolen her heart had left her for another man, and was now shacked up with a sergeant. She would not allow it, and her husband would do as she wished if he didn't want his beloved Ben to find out just who he really was, and what he'd done. She'd left him with bruises around his skinny wrist, and even darker welts across his heart.
His decision was an impossible one. Returning to Susan turned his blood cold as ice in his veins, every ache from every fight vividly remembered. She had no love for him, nor him for her, and no matter what Susan said their marriage was not something that could be fixed. But the alternative seemed just as bad; to admit to Drake that everything he was was a lie; that he had fled from the Pinkertons, abducting a woman of a notable family into the bargain, gone to ground in London and changed his name to keep himself and his wife safe. Drake would never look at him the same way ever again. Their relationship would be as broken as his marriage.
With every day that passed, Susan's threats becoming worse and worse, time running out before she swore she'd tell Bennet every last thing about their past, Jackson grew more tormented. He stayed out of his house as much as he could, or went to bed early, keeping himself apart from Drake for fear that his lover would see the truth just by looking at him. His hands began to shake and tremble as he worked, every shadow around every corner making him jump.
The laudanum was the first vice to return to him, and shortly after that the cocaine. His relationship with Drake was already doomed; what did it matter if he broke another promise? At least this way, he thought as he swallowed down a bottle of laudanum, he could face Susan with some small shred of courage. It was the last thought he had before the drug's peaceful oblivion descended on him, sprawled in his living room armchair with the empty bottle rolling out of his hand and onto the floor at his feet.
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He's planning to come home early tonight, ask Mrs Ramsay for a surprise supper, when Hobbs runs down the stairs.
"Sergeant Drake, sir! We've got a message from Bow - Captain Jackson's taken ill!"
Drake rocketed out the door, Hobbs on his heels. "Carriage now!"
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Mrs Ramsay was standing anxiously in the doorway, half-in and half-out of the house, with a young police officer at her side.
"Oh, Sergeant Drake!" she cries, fluttering her handkerchief. "He's done something terrible!"
Drake's blood runs cold as he shoulders past her into the house.
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Drake's eyes alight on the syringe and he knows.
The anger is swift and brutal and he yells, as he swipes the empty laudanum bottle to the floor.
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But it's too late now. Bennet is here, and Bennet is shouting at him.
"It's not..." he tries to explain, but his mouth gets stuck around the words, coming out slurred and drunken.
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"Susan..." he desperately tries to explain himself. "She wanted... she won't let me..." he can't get his tongue to move properly, and he knows he's not doing himself any favours.
"I can't divorce her..." he tries.
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"Susan...she's..."
Without thought, the hand on Jackson's arm tightens into a vice-like grip and he tows him across the room like a rag doll.
"Your wife'll be waiting," he spits and throws Jackson out into the street.
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"You don't understand, listen, please..."
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"Crawl back to your wife. I'm done with your lies, American."
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"Please, Benny..."
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"I don't wish to be disturbed," he tells his shaken housekeeper, and retreats to their bedroom - his room now, alone.