Ripper Street/They tried to make me go to rehab...

[thirstforvice]

Jackson loses track of time as he lies on Drake's small bed, the Sergeant safe and warm and alive in his arms, the both of them dozing in and out of sleep. It must be days later, that they're both sufficiently awake at the same time to hold a conversation.

And, as always, Jackson doesn't hang about.

"I need you to do something for me, Bennet. And, no matter what I do, or say, you have to promise me you will do what I tell you now. Even if I change my mind in the future. Can you do that?"

Comments

[thirstforvice]

"Bennet..." There's a growl in Jackson's voice, though it's clear from the state of him he'd never put up much of a fight.

"I need the laudanum."

[thegentlemanthug]

"It'll be all out of you in a couple of days," Drake says, desperately trying to push images from the cells out of his mind.

"You just have t'hold on."

[thirstforvice]

Groaning, a little bit overdramatically, Jackson buries his face deeper into the pillow.

"Cold," he complains instead.

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake wraps his hand over Jackson's forehead, frowning. He pulls the covers over him, tucking him in vigorously.

"Mrs Ramsey said she'd bring us up some tea. You'll be all right."

[thirstforvice]

"Screw tea," Jackson cusses. He doesn't want tea. Tea won't help the ice in his veins, the desperate thirst that no water will quench. If he's going to be refused, the only hope he has is to fall asleep. As quickly as possible.

[thegentlemanthug]

"You Yanks are all the same," Drake says, trying to make light of it in the hope of raising Jackson's humour. "No respect for the finer things in life."

[thirstforvice]

"You're not lettin' me near 'the finer things in life'," Jackson complains, wishing Drake would just be quiet. His voice was too loud, pounding in his head.

[thegentlemanthug]

"Maybe you should look into becoming a Methodist," Drake says, trying to distract him. "Might do you the power of good."

[thirstforvice]

"I'm dying!" Jackson suddenly wails, the noise in his ear too much. "Leave me in peace!"

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake lapses into silence. He knows Jackson's too loud for a dying man, but it still makes him ill at ease watching him suffer.

Instead, he gently runs his fingers through his hair, hoping to soothe him.

[thirstforvice]

Lulled by Drake's fingers, Jackson soon falls back into an uneasy sleep. When he wakes again, it's dark, and his whole body feels as though it's been run over by both horse and hansom. There is not a part of him that doesn't ache, and the room is so cold that he cannot control the violent shivers that run through him. These only make his limbs ache more, and he moans out his misery.

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake has retrieved tea and toast from beyond the door, long since cold when Jackson wakes.

"Homer?" he says softly, rubbing a hand across his back.

[thirstforvice]

Jackson cries out as pain stabs into his stomach, guts twisting, nausea rising faster than he can do anything to quell it. It's a lucky thing for Drake's bedsheets that the doctor's stomach is empty, and he can do no more damage than spit saliva onto the pillow.

[thegentlemanthug]

Alarmed, Drake rubs his back, trying not to retch himself.

"Easy, Homer, easy."

[thirstforvice]

"Glass, in my stomach," Jackson moans, pain like he's never experienced twisting him up as his muscles cramp and tremble.

"Help me, Drake, please..."

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake grips his arms tightly, face lined with worry.

"Tell me how!"

[thirstforvice]

"Laudanum. Cocoa. Anything." Jackson begs. "I can't do this any more."

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake's expression closes, struggling to hide the fear on his face.

"I can't do that. You know I can't."

[thirstforvice]

"Please," Jackson begs, shaking like a leaf beneath Drake's hands.

"This is killing me."

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake swallows down his guilt and shakes his head.

"I made a promise."

[thirstforvice]

Turning his head away, Jackson can't keep a few tears from falling. He just hopes Drake doesn't see, wanting some shred of his dignity to survive this ordeal.

"Another blanket?" He requests quietly.

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake carefully spreads his spare blanket over Jackson, before wiping away the wetness on his Homer's cheeks with rough fingers.

"You're stronger than this," he says softly. "I know you are."

[thirstforvice]

Jackson flinches away, ashamed and embarrassed, wishing Drake wasn't there to see this. He's never felt so weak, so vulnerable, and death actually feels like something to hope for rather than fear.

[thegentlemanthug]

"Shh, darlin'," Drake says softly. "You seen me worse than this. My arms all black and swelled."

He puts his arms around him and presses his chest against Jackson's back.

[thirstforvice]

"Don't... if I die..." Jackson says through clenched teeth, whole body on fire, shakes beyond his control. "Don't let Susan take... everything. Keep something for yourself."