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?"

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[thirstforvice]

"You'll kill me," Jackson cries into the pillow.

"I can't do this. I can't!"

[thegentlemanthug]

"Shh, love, shh," Drake begs of him, hands working at his shoulders to ease some of the tension he finds there.

"Not long now, Homer. Soon be over. Soon you'll be right as rain."

[thirstforvice]

"I'm thirsty," Jackson complains, needing something even if it won't make him feel better. Water would be better than nothing.

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake pours another glass of water.

"Lean on me," he says, putting his arm behind Jackson's back to draw him upright.

[thirstforvice]

Slumping heavily against Drake's chest, finding himself unable to sit up straight under his own strength, Jackson has no choice but to let Bennet hold the glass to his lips and tilt it up.

Drinking until he starts to cough, Jackson pulls back and drops his head down heavily on Drake's shoulder.

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake holds Jackson against him, wanting to have him close despite the stench of sweat and vomit.

"Better?" he says, taking the glass away.

[thirstforvice]

Not really, Jackson thinks, but instead just gives a non-committal grunt, closing his eyes. He hopes that, if he manages to fall asleep, he'll feel better next time he wakes.

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake holds Jackson close, wrapping his arms around him.

"It'll be all right, love," he says again, hoping it's true.

[thirstforvice]

Minutes turn to hours, hours to days, as Jackson drifts in and out of sleep. He gets worse before he gets better, sick and shaky and furious with Drake before the drug's spell finally breaks. Finally, he starts to feel that little bit better every time he comes to, rather than worse, and a week after this whole process started he finds himself able to think with a clear head of something other than the next bottle, or syringe.

Instead, he's mostly thinking about how desperately he needs a bath.

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake is exhausted.

Mrs Ramsey has stayed clear, as he instructed, but he has tried to feed and water Homer as best he can. He has struggled to comfort and soothe the aches and the terrors.

And now he lies in a stupor, clutching Jackson to him as if he might break and be lost to him forever.

[thirstforvice]

Waking up with the dawn, Jackson pulls feebly out of Drake's grip, sitting up slowly to try and keep his aching muscles from complaining too loudly. He feels beyond weak, not surprising since he can't have eaten for many days. And a bath, oh how he needs to wash.

But there's nothing he can do whilst Drake slumbers, and he wouldn't wake the other man for anything. Not after all he's done to look after him.

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake stirs as he feels Jackson move.

"Homer? Where you going, love?"

[thirstforvice]

"Go back to sleep," Jackson whispers at once, wincing at himself for waking Drake up. With the loss of the drugs in his system, he has refound his ability to be considerate to others.

"It's early."

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake sits up, blinking blearily at Jackson.

"You're up," he says stupidly.

[thirstforvice]

"I've been asleep for days," Jackson points out. "I'm done with sleep. But you, darlin', you should be having at least another couple of hours."

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake's sleep-deprived brain tries to make sense of what he's seeing.

"But...you have your health again? It is over?"

[thirstforvice]

"It's over," Jackson promises, lying back down in the hope that Drake will follow suit.

"I feel terrible, but nothing a hot bath and a good meal won't fix."

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake sits up, wincing as he stretches.

"I'll ask Mrs Ramsey to fetch us up an 'ot meal. And the girls can fill the tub."

[thirstforvice]

"Later," Jackson frowns, reaching up to pull Drake to him.

"It's your turn to rest now."

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake accepts the embrace.

"You stink, you know," he says conversationally. "We'd both sleep much better in clean linen."

[thirstforvice]

"I don't want to disturb you," this new, conscientious version of Jackson frowns.

"I've done enough of that."

[thegentlemanthug]

"Disturb me?" Drake says with amusement. "Look at the state of my rooms, Yankee!"

Drake keeps Jackson in his arms a few moments longer before releasing him.

"Bath and breakfast. That's what we need."

[thirstforvice]

Seeing this as a fight he has no chance of winning, Jackson gives in and follows Drake to the edge of the bed. A week of bedrest, however, coupled with no food, leaves him barely able to get up, never mind stand unaided.

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake pushes him back to the bed with little effort.

"Stay put," he says firmly. "Last thing we need is you falling down the stairs."

[thirstforvice]

Jackson moves back at the push, obeying silently, head bowed down. It had been stupid to even try and stand up, what was he thinking?