Heirloom [3/?]
Title: Heirloom [chapter 3/?]
Author: kiki_fan187
Rating: general
Category: general/angst
Characters: James, Helen, John with Ashley later on.
Summary: James finds something whilst investigating a murder scene.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Just taking them out for a spin and leaving them exactly where I found them.
"I can't have this child."
Helen left the necklace back into its box and closed it, putting it away from her sight. John had commissioned the chain for their unborn child; it would have been a gift for when the child was born. John and Helen had fleetingly discussed their impending stork visit.
"I can imagine our child now. A girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. Just like yours."
"Helen."
"I can't, James. I can't bring this child into this world knowing what its father has done. Knowing that he's out there. What if I give birth to a daughter and in twenty years time he'll slit her throat with this necklace around her neck? I can't take that chance,” Helen argued.
“Also, Helen, we don't know if these 'gifts' we have developed will be passed on through the generations," John posited.
"But even so, what if the same insanity befalls this child? I cannot in all good honesty bare this child . . . but I can't terminate it."
James could hear the anxiety in Helen’s voice. It was crystal clear that she didn’t know where she stood in the dark. Internally, she was waging a war between two faces, Helen and Magnus; Helen, the heartbroken lover, a mother-to-be and Magnus, a rational thinking academic who pushed the boundaries of science and pushed far into the unknown. Now here they stood, in the unknown, an unknown that neither of them expected to be caught in. One half of Helen Magnus would try to find a solution, a solution that came from a laboratory. The other? The other half couldn’t see a way to solve it. How could you solve this; a baby?
She refused to confess it but she was afraid of this man that her love had become. She had read the autopsy reports in the dawn of each murder. Her eyes digested every single undiluted detail of the mutilations that once gentle hands had inflicted on innocent women. But one autopsy report now began to haunt her.
Catharine Eddowes. A forty-three year old prostitute who had been mutilated unbearably after her death at the hands of John. One paragraph of the autopsy report sat in front of her mind's eye as her memory drove her to it as if it was something she needed to see beyond all reason. It wasn't what she wanted to see but couldn't silence her fears.
'The lining membrane over the uterus was cut through. The womb was cut through horizontally, leaving a stump of three quarters of an inch. The rest of the womb had been taken away with some of the ligaments. The vagina and cervix of the womb was uninjured. '
Her stomach churned at the thought of a womb being torn from a woman's body. She feared that anger would blind John so fiercely that he would repeat these mutilations on her. Catharine's body was simply a test subject to see how quickly he could get to her womb and remove it. Her imagination and fears married and forced the hypothetical premonition to grab her by the head and force her to watch; John would grab her and restrict her breathing so much until she suffered asphyxiation and collapsed to the floor below, like so many of his victims. There, almost dead he would easily slice through the cartilage of her throat, causing an instant death. Her blood would seep from the slit and drip to her blonde hair below her neck, sticking to the silken locks when it clots. Once he was satisfied she was dead he would begin his deathly ministrations. He would have a tainted smirk on his face that could only come from this kind of pleasure and slice open her stomach in methodically thought out strokes and pull back the-
Helen ripped herself from the vision not wishing to see more. She had to believe that John would never allow harm to come to their child regardless of what he felt for her. She just had to. She had another life to think about now. She couldn't gallantly and foolishly put her own life at risk to get John back.
“We will sort something out, Helen,” James believed. He had to.
----------------------------------------------------------------
There had not been a whisper or tremor in the air since Molly’s death. It seemed that John had disappeared. Nothing could allay her concerns. Helen could almost feel that he was still out there somewhere.
Watching her. Waiting.
Her hand traced an elegant line over the page in front of her, the black ink obediently following as she lost her mind to the books scattered before her. Her companionable pistol sat nearby with the intention of firing the bullet inside into John Druitt if he dared to appear. Over the intervening weeks, a light dust had coated the weapon but it still lay in wait.
A tender knock on the door interrupted her concentration.
“Come in,” her voice rang out absentmindedly.
The door opened and James entered the room.
“James,” Helen smiled setting her pen down.
She stood up, rounding her desk to greet him.
“Helen,” James replied as he dutifully kissed her on the cheek, “How are you?”
“I’m well, thank you. Please, sit.”
“Thank you.”
They both seated themselves in ornately embroidered chairs that decorated her study.
“Would you like anything to drink?” Helen asked, ever the consummate lady.
“Thank you but no. I’ve come to discuss a matter with you.”
“Oh? What about?”
James took a moment to word his sentence.
“Your situation.”
She didn’t care to be reminded of her situation, of what people in her social circle would phrase as a ‘delicate condition’. It was anything but delicate.
“What about it?”
James rested on the arm of his chair, leaning towards her.
“I think I may have a solution," James began, "We could remove the embryo-”
“I told you I was averse to termination, James.”
“Let me explain,” James said, “I’ve been thinking about it and I believe that I could construct a device that could potentially freeze the embryo once we remove it from your womb. In essence, we would stop it from developing further, effectively suspend its gestation; stasis if you like. There it would remain frozen and then, when you feel you can bring the child to term, we could remove it from its stasis and implant it.”
Helen’s brain absorbed the idea that James proposed. It seemed absurd, almost impossible. Is there such a device that could do this? Freeze a living embryo that would potentially, one day, be unfrozen and allowed to grow into a human being? It seemed preposterous but Helen took into consideration James’s advanced intellect. He wouldn't even be suggesting it if he hadn't thought of every possible variable and had exhausted all other options.
“I’m not sure, James.”
“I’m not asking you to go under my knife and take that leap at this very moment. All I’m asking is that you think about it.”
James delved into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a leather-bound notebook. He passed it to Helen. Curious, Helen opened it and saw that the pages were filled with his handwriting. Equations, diagrams and descriptions attached to arrows littered every available space on the sheets.
“You’ll find in those pages all of my notes.”
“You seem to have been quite thorough.”
“I wanted to put everything down on paper.”
“I appreciate that. I'll read it tonight,” Helen said as she closed the notebook and stood to set it on her desk, “But, I do get the feeling that this will be a ‘time is of the essence’ dilemma.”
“Indeed it is. There is a time limit we are under regarding foetal development. Once it reaches a certain stage of gestation, it would be dangerous to remove it.”
“What period of time are you suggesting?”
“Between eight and twelve weeks.”
“And I suspect I’m broaching ten weeks,” Helen added, “Have you the containment device under construction?”
“I have and don’t worry, those building it don't know what it is designed to house.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Every precaution will be taken.”
“And you think you can safely remove the embryo?”
“I do," James replied without little hesitation. He wanted to be absolutely sure that he would do this. He thought about the embryo that was growing inside Helen and how it was a part of his friends. He couldn't put into words what he was thinking but he needed to absolutely certain that there was not the smallest chance that the child could be lost by Helen entrusting him with its premature life, "I know I can safely remove the embryo and suspend its growth until you feel ready to bring it to term."
Embryo. Three syllables. Helen’s heart skipped a beat at the scientific dehumanization of her child. Her child. John’s child. It was their child. Helen thought that way but Magnus fought her. Magnus refused to let herself get hurt again. She refused to let her emotions hurt her. She refused to let herself get this attached to this child this early on when she could potentially lose it.
“I’ll think about it,” Helen finally answered in a low voice.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 6 | 7 | 8
Author: kiki_fan187
Rating: general
Category: general/angst
Characters: James, Helen, John with Ashley later on.
Summary: James finds something whilst investigating a murder scene.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Just taking them out for a spin and leaving them exactly where I found them.
"I can't have this child."
Helen left the necklace back into its box and closed it, putting it away from her sight. John had commissioned the chain for their unborn child; it would have been a gift for when the child was born. John and Helen had fleetingly discussed their impending stork visit.
"I can imagine our child now. A girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. Just like yours."
"Helen."
"I can't, James. I can't bring this child into this world knowing what its father has done. Knowing that he's out there. What if I give birth to a daughter and in twenty years time he'll slit her throat with this necklace around her neck? I can't take that chance,” Helen argued.
“Also, Helen, we don't know if these 'gifts' we have developed will be passed on through the generations," John posited.
"But even so, what if the same insanity befalls this child? I cannot in all good honesty bare this child . . . but I can't terminate it."
James could hear the anxiety in Helen’s voice. It was crystal clear that she didn’t know where she stood in the dark. Internally, she was waging a war between two faces, Helen and Magnus; Helen, the heartbroken lover, a mother-to-be and Magnus, a rational thinking academic who pushed the boundaries of science and pushed far into the unknown. Now here they stood, in the unknown, an unknown that neither of them expected to be caught in. One half of Helen Magnus would try to find a solution, a solution that came from a laboratory. The other? The other half couldn’t see a way to solve it. How could you solve this; a baby?
She refused to confess it but she was afraid of this man that her love had become. She had read the autopsy reports in the dawn of each murder. Her eyes digested every single undiluted detail of the mutilations that once gentle hands had inflicted on innocent women. But one autopsy report now began to haunt her.
Catharine Eddowes. A forty-three year old prostitute who had been mutilated unbearably after her death at the hands of John. One paragraph of the autopsy report sat in front of her mind's eye as her memory drove her to it as if it was something she needed to see beyond all reason. It wasn't what she wanted to see but couldn't silence her fears.
'The lining membrane over the uterus was cut through. The womb was cut through horizontally, leaving a stump of three quarters of an inch. The rest of the womb had been taken away with some of the ligaments. The vagina and cervix of the womb was uninjured. '
Her stomach churned at the thought of a womb being torn from a woman's body. She feared that anger would blind John so fiercely that he would repeat these mutilations on her. Catharine's body was simply a test subject to see how quickly he could get to her womb and remove it. Her imagination and fears married and forced the hypothetical premonition to grab her by the head and force her to watch; John would grab her and restrict her breathing so much until she suffered asphyxiation and collapsed to the floor below, like so many of his victims. There, almost dead he would easily slice through the cartilage of her throat, causing an instant death. Her blood would seep from the slit and drip to her blonde hair below her neck, sticking to the silken locks when it clots. Once he was satisfied she was dead he would begin his deathly ministrations. He would have a tainted smirk on his face that could only come from this kind of pleasure and slice open her stomach in methodically thought out strokes and pull back the-
Helen ripped herself from the vision not wishing to see more. She had to believe that John would never allow harm to come to their child regardless of what he felt for her. She just had to. She had another life to think about now. She couldn't gallantly and foolishly put her own life at risk to get John back.
“We will sort something out, Helen,” James believed. He had to.
----------------------------------------------------------------
There had not been a whisper or tremor in the air since Molly’s death. It seemed that John had disappeared. Nothing could allay her concerns. Helen could almost feel that he was still out there somewhere.
Watching her. Waiting.
Her hand traced an elegant line over the page in front of her, the black ink obediently following as she lost her mind to the books scattered before her. Her companionable pistol sat nearby with the intention of firing the bullet inside into John Druitt if he dared to appear. Over the intervening weeks, a light dust had coated the weapon but it still lay in wait.
A tender knock on the door interrupted her concentration.
“Come in,” her voice rang out absentmindedly.
The door opened and James entered the room.
“James,” Helen smiled setting her pen down.
She stood up, rounding her desk to greet him.
“Helen,” James replied as he dutifully kissed her on the cheek, “How are you?”
“I’m well, thank you. Please, sit.”
“Thank you.”
They both seated themselves in ornately embroidered chairs that decorated her study.
“Would you like anything to drink?” Helen asked, ever the consummate lady.
“Thank you but no. I’ve come to discuss a matter with you.”
“Oh? What about?”
James took a moment to word his sentence.
“Your situation.”
She didn’t care to be reminded of her situation, of what people in her social circle would phrase as a ‘delicate condition’. It was anything but delicate.
“What about it?”
James rested on the arm of his chair, leaning towards her.
“I think I may have a solution," James began, "We could remove the embryo-”
“I told you I was averse to termination, James.”
“Let me explain,” James said, “I’ve been thinking about it and I believe that I could construct a device that could potentially freeze the embryo once we remove it from your womb. In essence, we would stop it from developing further, effectively suspend its gestation; stasis if you like. There it would remain frozen and then, when you feel you can bring the child to term, we could remove it from its stasis and implant it.”
Helen’s brain absorbed the idea that James proposed. It seemed absurd, almost impossible. Is there such a device that could do this? Freeze a living embryo that would potentially, one day, be unfrozen and allowed to grow into a human being? It seemed preposterous but Helen took into consideration James’s advanced intellect. He wouldn't even be suggesting it if he hadn't thought of every possible variable and had exhausted all other options.
“I’m not sure, James.”
“I’m not asking you to go under my knife and take that leap at this very moment. All I’m asking is that you think about it.”
James delved into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a leather-bound notebook. He passed it to Helen. Curious, Helen opened it and saw that the pages were filled with his handwriting. Equations, diagrams and descriptions attached to arrows littered every available space on the sheets.
“You’ll find in those pages all of my notes.”
“You seem to have been quite thorough.”
“I wanted to put everything down on paper.”
“I appreciate that. I'll read it tonight,” Helen said as she closed the notebook and stood to set it on her desk, “But, I do get the feeling that this will be a ‘time is of the essence’ dilemma.”
“Indeed it is. There is a time limit we are under regarding foetal development. Once it reaches a certain stage of gestation, it would be dangerous to remove it.”
“What period of time are you suggesting?”
“Between eight and twelve weeks.”
“And I suspect I’m broaching ten weeks,” Helen added, “Have you the containment device under construction?”
“I have and don’t worry, those building it don't know what it is designed to house.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Every precaution will be taken.”
“And you think you can safely remove the embryo?”
“I do," James replied without little hesitation. He wanted to be absolutely sure that he would do this. He thought about the embryo that was growing inside Helen and how it was a part of his friends. He couldn't put into words what he was thinking but he needed to absolutely certain that there was not the smallest chance that the child could be lost by Helen entrusting him with its premature life, "I know I can safely remove the embryo and suspend its growth until you feel ready to bring it to term."
Embryo. Three syllables. Helen’s heart skipped a beat at the scientific dehumanization of her child. Her child. John’s child. It was their child. Helen thought that way but Magnus fought her. Magnus refused to let herself get hurt again. She refused to let her emotions hurt her. She refused to let herself get this attached to this child this early on when she could potentially lose it.
“I’ll think about it,” Helen finally answered in a low voice.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 6 | 7 | 8