Under The Blade {Sequel to 'In Time'}

Chapter 2; Whitechapel, 1888

Sudden memories of the place flooded back, the original awe of the place you had felt and the happiness and excitement to be in London was all but gone- replaced by the dull shadows of the station under nightfall, dark shapes unrecognisable under the bare minimum lighting. This time you did not linger, head down, as you walked quickly and rather sheepishly towards the stairwell to the underpass; your (hair colour) strands of hair that had escaped did in the harsh downpour of rain breezing softly against the sides of your face as you went.

"Breaking news! This just in!" Came the shouts of a voice that echoed ominously in the underpass as you grounded to a halt and tried to search for the source of the voice, eyes flickering madly left and right until you saw the shape of a young man stood just by one of the pillars.

"Ripper strikes again! Victim murdered in cold blood!" He cawed loudly, as you raised your brow softly. Who was this Ripper? Being from a small Kent town you didn't get to see or hear a lot of news.

A pair of men walked past, wearing black coats and carrying umbrellas as they went.

"This awful ripper business, I heard it happened just two streets away." One man informed to the other, a tone of interest in his voice as you listened with intent.

"Let's go and see what's going on!" The other replied with a little laugh, as the pair continued on down the cobbled, almost shining streets under the light of the oil lamps.

Keeping your distance, you followed the pair between the towering town houses and down a narrow side street, to where by a tunnel underpass there were a huge crowd of bustling people gossiping and trying to ogle through the arch at the crime scene beyond.

"Move back please, would you please move back!" One officer bellowed, gruffing angrily at the pushy crowd who were keen to see the gruesome murders they'd only ever heard about before in their weekly Penny Dreadfuls.

Standing on your tip toes, you tried to see over the many heads of the haggling crowds, begging the police for answers that they didn't not yet have.

"Coming through please, out of the way!" A louder and more authoritative voice barked, as another man dressed in a black suit made his way through the bustle of people, making them part like the Red Sea.

"Sergeant Abberline sir." The officers guarding the tunnel greeted, bowing to their better as he passed through, a rather disgusted look on his face before you could see his features no more.

"Damn it, where are you, Frye?" Abberline whispered quietly to himself, out of the crowds earshot.

The thick of the crowd and the current of the jostling had all but made you want to turn back and let whatever was going on sort itself out, but that was before; past the tunnel and into the small courtyard, your (eye colour) eyes could just about make out the shape of another figure who had joined.

A painful pluck tugged in your heart, you recognised the build of the man, the dark leather of his coat, the shadowing concealment of his hood.

Jacob.

After all this time and all these years, this was to be how you would first see him again. Immovably, your eyes didn't trail away from Jacob's form once, as you tried to keep your gave levelled above the crowd, feeling rather like you were drowning.

The assassin pulled away the hood, revealing his dimly lit features, unbeknownst at this present moment of your presence.

Tracing your gaze carefully over him, your heart melted softly at the sight of him- he still carried the same youthfulness under the slight wrinkles on his face- years of laughter and cock sure behaviour etched into the crows feet beside his eyes. You were surprised and enlightened to feel you could still see the Jacob you loved all those years ago... And the feeling that you were still madly in love with him lingered.

A pressing urgency then took you- you didn't care if the police were there and a crime scene had clearly just unfolded- who knows if you might catch him again? You had to make yourself known.

Pushing off the balls of your feet, you pressed firmly onwards through the people with a determined look.

"Sorry, do Excuse me." You muttered, words of nothing but empty apologies before you reached the front of the crowd, the police men looking at you shocked, the audacity of you just pushing through had alarmed them.

"Jacob!" You called, eyes driving for him to turn around again from your view of the tunnel underpass.

"Madam, please!" The police man gruffed, as you struggled against their hold.

"Jacob!" You screamed this time, loud and and your tone reflecting your great need to see him. Every pained moment, every lonely night, every unanswered letter, every single little glimmer of hope diminished was channel into that one scream.

Sharply, he glanced over his shoulder, his features just as sharp as all those years ago, as warming and wise hazel orbs sketched over to you, and at last, you were met with the gaze you had only ever succeeded in dreaming about over two decades of pure pain.

"(Name)..." You watched his lips mouth, a white sheet, shock horror look about him. A sort of expression that screamed he was both very alarmed and very elated to see you.

Your mind wasn't sure what to make of it; but at least you'd gotten this far.

~~~~

A/N: Daddy Jacob is slaying me so much I love him hella like can I be sandwiched between 1868 Jacob and 1888 Jacob like please God just make this happen for me okay

Thank you for dealing with my writing and my thirst, I love you x