Bennet Drake (
thegentlemanthug) wrote2014-11-30 09:00 pm
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RS/These streets are in your marrow
After he pulls the man from the river, Ben feels uneasy in his mind, moreso than when he was first lucid after his beating. He had the opportunity to know his past, and he walked away. He is a coward as well as a friend to wretches.
He is returning from an errand in town for the dockmaster, his face apparently trustworthy despite his lack of memory, when he realises he has gone too far on the underground railway. He gets off at the wrong stop and means to return immediately to the right one, except that he knows this place. He knows it deeply and strongly, calling to him with a strong sense of who he is.
Either he can ignore it once more or he can follow it, step out from under this cowardice and learn something of who he is. And maybe he can find out the fate of that drowned man, learn something of him, know his pain and soothe it.
He lets his feet take him where they will, trying to follow his gut and not his better sense. He feels the familiarity in the streets, recognising a street sign there, a flower seller there, and his pace quickens as he draws towards somewhere he knows must be home.
The door calls to him and he runs to it, knocking hard on the wood before he can stop himself.
It opens on an older lady in an apron and, before she can speak, he tears his hat from his head and starts trying to explain himself.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, madam, but I had the strangest feeling I ought to come here today."
He is returning from an errand in town for the dockmaster, his face apparently trustworthy despite his lack of memory, when he realises he has gone too far on the underground railway. He gets off at the wrong stop and means to return immediately to the right one, except that he knows this place. He knows it deeply and strongly, calling to him with a strong sense of who he is.
Either he can ignore it once more or he can follow it, step out from under this cowardice and learn something of who he is. And maybe he can find out the fate of that drowned man, learn something of him, know his pain and soothe it.
He lets his feet take him where they will, trying to follow his gut and not his better sense. He feels the familiarity in the streets, recognising a street sign there, a flower seller there, and his pace quickens as he draws towards somewhere he knows must be home.
The door calls to him and he runs to it, knocking hard on the wood before he can stop himself.
It opens on an older lady in an apron and, before she can speak, he tears his hat from his head and starts trying to explain himself.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, madam, but I had the strangest feeling I ought to come here today."
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News that the dear Captain has passed seems the most likely, and it's that which she steels herself for as she opens the door. To Sergeant Drake.
"Sergeant?" she gasps before pulling him to her, mindless of his words as she hugs him tight, dragging him in off the street lest he turn and walk away again. "Oh, your Captain, he said... none of us believed him but look at you here, alive and well! Oh, Bennet!" And she hugs him tighter still.
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The jacket by the door he knows, he is sure of it, the green of it seared into his memory. It belongs to someone he loves.
"I'm sorry," he has to say, eventually, "but I...I don't know you."
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"This is your home, my dear. And I am your housekeeper."
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"The jacket," he says, freeing one hand to reach for it. "Whose is it?"
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"Your Captain," she tries to explain. "Matthew, to you. He's... he told me you were alive. Said you'd saved him from the river. They put him in that awful asylum for saying so."
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"Dark hair, American..."
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"Did you... save him? From the water?"
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"But I left him there. I...I didn't want to know who I was. If I was...good."
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Her eyes pay close attention to Bennet, and the Captain's coat. "Would you... they put him in the asylum, for thinking he saw you. Would you come with me, to visit him? Show that he wasn't dreaming you?"
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"He lives here? With me?" he says, trying to understand.
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"That's the measure of it. Unconventional, some might say, but I don't see the problem. You love who you love, no matter whether they be man or woman. And God knows you two love each other something fierce."
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Ben raises himself to his full height and drops the jacket.
"We need to bring him home. Right now."
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"Go up there, while you wait. The first door on the left's your room. See if it brings any more memories back." If the Captain's jacket had had that much of an effect, maybe a whole room of their possessions may prove fruitful.
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He pushes open the door and the smell hits him, one he faintly recognises as his own and another that speaks of home, love, lust--
The headboard, a man pressed against it, head thrown back and groaning his pleasure, sweat-slick skin and damp black hair...
Bennet Drake gasps, suddenly back in the room, in his life.
He knows his name. He knows his lover. That is all he needs.
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She will need Inspector Reid's help.
"When you're ready, Sergeant!" she calls up the stairs as the cab approaches the front door. "Our transport is here!"
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Doctor. Did he know that before? Ben holds on to the piece of information, savouring it, and races down the stairs to the waiting cab.
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"We all thought you were dead..." she apologises for her own behaviour, though she doesn't stop her fussing one bit. "We were all so sure. Apart from the Captain. He never stopped believing, and now look where he is, poor soul."
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"Will he forgive me?"
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The carriage slows, before they stop at their destination. Bundling the Sergeant out of the carriage, Mrs Ramsay hands over coins to the driver before leading the way up the steps. At the top, she can see the Inspector, already waiting for them.
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He awkwardly holds out his hand to the man. "Evening."
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"Sergeant," he greets, his hand firm around Bennet's. "Bennet. Do you... do you know who I am?"
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"No, sir - I do not."
Suddenly, his heart seizes with panic. What if he doesn't know the man he loves? What if he does more harm than good by coming here?
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"I am... Inspector Reid. Edmund. We are colleagues, you and I. At H Division, Leman Street. The man within these walls works with us, too."
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He's about to name Matthew, prove he knows something of his life, but something stops him. That is not the name they use between them. Which confuses him all the more.
"We should see him?" he asks.
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"Though..." he wonders how much of Jackson Bennet remembers. "You must be aware that he is not well."
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