3801FIC: Through the Years IV: All that You Can't Leave Behind
- Nov 12, 2001Title: All That You Can't Leave Behind
Series: Through the Years
Rating: R, violence, adult content
Author's Notes: It has been speculated that after the murder of Mary Kelly,
the Ripper was at the end of his emotional rope. Something snapped inside
him and he no longer functioned as a capable and cognizant individual. One
of the top three suspects in the case was placed in an insane asylum between
December of 1888 to the late winter of 1886, the man was later re-released
onto the streets in his state, and was never heard from again.
In February of 1896, the body of a man nearly matching the description of
the asylum patient was found in a river. He was never officially identified
as the same man, but evidence points toward that conclusion.
Another note, is that the mentally insane generally fell victim to
experimentation by deranged psychologists (or alienists as they were more
commonly referred to at the time) and doctors. In an effort to relieve the
insanity in their patients, lobotomized were performed. A small hole was
knocked into the forehead and temples of the patient, or a single hole was
drilled into the top of the head. Needles to say, it did nothing but
deteriorate the patient's mental condition.
Also, the title comes from a U2 album of the same name.
Thanks to Karen and Jonas for all their help, though this draft is a lot
different than the one they saw. So it if's terrible, the blame rests
squarely on my shoulders.
The duo made their way up the narrow street until they reached the building
bearing a rusted 1013 address sign. Nicolas unsheathed his claws and
quietly slid the door from its hinges. The boys entered the flat and were
immediately assaulted by the pungent odor of vomit and dried urine.
The moonlight shining through the cracked window provided just
enough light to illuminate the claustrophobic room. The sparse furniture
was limited to only a tattered chair, a table and, a narrow bed. The table
had a black satchel on it, a black nightstick that the boys recognized from
the Institute, and a half-eaten bowl of stew. Victor strode toward the
table as Nicolas crept towards the bed.
Nicolas, claws outstretched advanced on the sleeping figure and plunged a
single claw into Donaldson's shoulder. He drug it upward, effectively
severing the ligaments and tendons. Donaldson woke with a start and howled
in pain when he moved the left side of his body.
"Who're you?" he demanded.
"Take a good look asshole. It's the last face your sorry ass is ever
gonna see," Nicolas said and spat in the man's face,
Donaldson snapped to full attention as he recognized the young man before
Victor's scuffling drew Donaldson's attention and his eyes grew wide at
the sight of his youngest victim. Nicolas' claws drew him back to his
surroundings and he shook in fear, too terrified to move as five other
lethal-looking claws shot from the youth's hands.
Nicolas slid the six claws quickly down Donaldson's naked chest, tearing the
flesh and drawing blood. The man screamed in pain and was rewarded with a
punch in the mouth from Nicolas' now closed fist. He grabbed Donaldson's
head roughly and slid all but one claw back into his arm. He brought the
razor-sharp claw up, prepared to slit the man's throat; the blade close
enough to draw a thin line of blood, and suddenly stopped. He couldn't do
it; he wasn't a cold-blooded killer. Frustrated with himself, Nicolas
punched Donaldson one final time and muttered, "You're not worth it." before
stalking out into the street.
Nicolas' ears picked up a sickening 'thud', then a moan, and he
panicked when he realized Victor wasn't with him. Just as he turned around,
he saw the boy exit the flat with a satchel tucked under his arm and the
nightstick clutched tightly in his hand.
Breaking the tension between them, Nicolas gently took the satchel, and
after pulling the contents out, he turned to the boy. "So Vic, do you want
to stay in this God-forsaken country or go to America?"
"America," came the barely audible reply.
Nicolas swung his arm around the boy's shoulders and steered him toward the
only place in town that they could get a cheap bed at this late hour-
Reaching their destination, the boys discovered that much had changed in
the lower east side. Miller's Court had long since been abandoned and was
simply a pile of rubble, save for the last room on the lower level. The
door had long been torn off, and all that remained of the window was a piece
of a dirty rag.
Victor started forward toward the tiny room as if in a trance. Nicolas came
up behind him and the younger boy turned and spoke. "This is where my mum
was killed. By my own father," he said with such heartbreaking sadness that
Nicolas moved toward him and pulled the now sobbing boy into a tight hug.
As they sank to the ground, Victor's statement kept playing in his
head. If what he'd said was true, then the two boys were brothers. If that
was the case, then going by the fact that his father had been a ruthless
murderer, and his brother a child murderer, Nicolas' chances of getting
through life without blood on his hands appeared to be slim.
An hour later, Nicolas had pulled a sleeping Victor into the small
building. with his keen sense of sight, Nicolas could see the faded
bloodstains that had splashed the wall behind the bed. The sight made his
stomach churn and he was more than anxious to leave. However, Victor needed
his rest and this was the only place available to stay at the moment.
Nicolas knew it was risky to still be in the same city as Donaldson's body,
but he doubted that the inspectors would trace the crime back to a ten year
The child began to toss and turn in his sleep and mumble words that
sounded like pleas for mercy. The dream shifted directions and Victor's
face grew tight with what appeared to be anger and hatred. He shook
violently and eventually woke himself with a blood curdeling scream. He
collapsed against Nicolas' chest and began sobbing hysterically. Nicolas
eased the child closer to himself and began rubbing his back in soothing
"I couldn't stop him Nicolas, I couldn't stop myself." Victor spoke aloud
in an anguished voice.
"Shush Vic. I know. It's over now, just sleep. Just sleep now. It'll
be alright." Nicolas attempted to reassure the child.
It seemed to work and Victor slipped back into unconsciousness all the
while holding onto Nicolas with a death grip.
Nicolas kept watch all through the night and as the day broke he noticed
a slumped, beaten down figure stumble across the lane. Ever wary of the
fact the person might present a threat to Victor, Nicolas slowly pulled the
boy back from the doorway and slipped toward the shadowed figure. Creeping
quietly near the figure, Nicolas took the time to carefully study the man
lying on the ground.
His dark brown hair was laced with silver, and Logan realized it was
eerily similar to his own. The man's head held three strange holes in the
forehead and each of the temples's. The lips were open, and spittle ran out
the sides of his mouth. Finally, Nicolas locked gazes with the man, and was
startled to see the glazed hazel eyes gazing back at him. A block of ice
settled in his stomach as Nicolas realized who he was staring at- William
The cruel irony of the situation hit him fully and Nicolas turned and
wretched until the meager content of his stomach had been emptied onto the
ground. The man lying near him groaned and rolled face-down into a nearby
puddle. Nicolas was at war with himself on weather to pull the thing from
certain death. Justice beat out morality and Nicolas ran back into the
building where Nicolas was located.
Three hours later the two boys were on a ship heading to America. It
was their unwritten future. England represented the past, and everything
else you can't leave behind.
Marie and Victor sat in silence, watching Logan's face twitch with the
memories he had recently been reunited with. Marie felt a closeness growing
between herself and Victor. She'd already shed countless tears for the
things Victor had faced in his early life.
He'd told her everything he knew about his and Logan's shadowed past, and
Marie in addition learned of Logan's point of view and take on the
situation. Neither story was a tale that even the Grimm's' brothers would
touch with a ten foot pole.
As Logan stirred, Marie walked over to him and began gently stroking his
arm. His eyes flooded open and a look of unimaginable anguish crossed his
beautiful features. Too weak to even move, Logan silently begged for Marie
to come closer to him.
She climbed into the bed behind him, and pulled him up until he was
cradled in her lap. She silently rocked him back and forth as the damn
broke and Logan began to weep. Sobs racked his large frame, and he turned
around to cling to Marie in the same manner Victor had held on to him all
those years ago.
Marie held him and spoke words of acceptance, empathy and comfort to the
broken man as he continued to purge himself of guilt that nobody should ever
carry. Marie's litany reached his ears and for the first time in days, a
glimmer of hope shown itself in Logan's otherwise dark life. He could only
hope Marie's hope would sustain him through this journey into his hellish
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