Hotel, Moscow, Very Late Tuesday, 1902

[bitten_notshy]

The interviews in Dyachenko's office had been slow, uphill work at first, even with Starkad helping as he could. They'd ruled out almost everyone in Starkad's old court for one reason or another before moving on to look at the people the wampyr had known but rejected.

It was the same story: This one had left town. That one had a perfect alibi. And so on.

After a few fruitless hours, Jack started in his seat at a sudden mental leap. "It's not about the vampires," he realized as he massaged his temples. "It's about Irina. Her lovers, her patrons, her friends. And the second murder only happened when we came back to Moscow and started asking about her. Someone must have thought she would be slipping away."

Emma nodded, easily picking up the train of thought as she turned to the girl. "Who wants you and cannot have you, Irina? And has for the last five years?"

Irina's eyes scrunched shut as she shook her head, obviously thinking hard about the question.

"If it helps," Dyachenko added, "we know it was someone left-handed. And someone who could make a good pass at forging Lesya's hand -- her employees got a message 'from' her after she died."

Something seemed to click into place at that. "Well," Irina said hesitantly, "I know a forger."

****

Jack and Emma almost did not follow along with the police as they went after Dmitri Sergeyevich, a professional forger. He wanted to be a painter, and failed at anything beyond copying; he'd also wanted to join Starkad's court and Irina's bed, and had been denied at those turns as well. And now he could add murderer to his list of failures.

They went, in the end, because Irina asked for the support, and Jack could not say no.

It was worth it. If they hadn't, Jack wouldn't have seen Starkad lift Dmitri by his throat to coolly inform him that he was nothing before stepping away, as if the slight effort to kill him would be wasted.

The scene replayed in Jack's head as they got back to the hotel. Soon, as soon as Sebastien was here, he'd go back in the 21st century with Emma. Tomorrow was for those goodbyes. Tonight he just wanted to rest.

[OOC: Loosely based on The White City. NFB. For SP with icecoldfrost and possibly one other. And this is the very end of Jack's canon for now yay!]

Comments

[icecoldfrost]

Emma was just relieved to be out of the layers that going outside required, honestly. Running all over the city with all that extra weight was exhausting.

She sat down on an ottoman, fresh from the bath as she tugged the brush through her hair. "'Come to Russia, Emma,'" she sang, rolling her eyes. "'It will be fun, Emma.' I am still waiting for scandalous hedonism, Mr. Priest."

[bitten_notshy]

"I'm too tired for hedonism," Jack grumbled. He was sitting on the bed in an undershirt and pants, boots mercifully off. "I want to eat about a pound of steak and sleep a thousand hours or so. You can go be a Bohemian if you like."

[icecoldfrost]

"Now I want a pound of steak," she complained, making a face at him over her shoulder. "I could devour my weight in hot food, and still be able to eat more, I think."

"As tempting as Bohemia sounds about now, I am not getting back in that corset."

[bitten_notshy]

"Irina doesn't wear one," Jack pointed out. "You could manage without."

Then, out of curiosity: "How bad is a corset? Really."

[icecoldfrost]

"Irina is a godless Russian artist, and I am a lady," Emma informed him. "They're bad enough, and I would offer to lace you into mine, but you lack the chest to make the reenactment accurate."

[bitten_notshy]

Jack snorted. "My innards thank you. Do you think they'd bring up the steak if I went down to the lobby and asked nicely?"

He didn't want to move.

[icecoldfrost]

"They might," she mused, getting up from her perch to wander towards him. "How much do we have left in our bribery petty cash?"

[bitten_notshy]

"Dyachenko didn't take the money," Jack answered. "We have a few hundred rubles."

He held out his hands lightly to help her onto the bed -- not that she needed it, but touching anyone felt good.

[icecoldfrost]

"An honest policeman. Who'd have imagined?" she said. There was a split-second of hesitation before she took his hands, but her grip was firm and she settled next to him comfortably, without reservation. She wanted contact too, and if she kept fretting about him pulling stitches doing simple things like offering her a hand, he was going to get cross.

"Well, you'll need to put on a shirt, darling, and possibly your boots if you're going downstairs," she pointed out. "I wouldn't walk around barefoot."

"But if giving them fifty or a hundred of the rubles gains us food delivered to the room, I am all for it." Emma rubbed at her eyes wearily. "I simply cannot fathom the dining room this evening."

[bitten_notshy]

"Nor can I. I'll go talk to them," Jack said, resting his head against her for a moment before he started rummaging around for his shirt.

"I swear, I may be going back to 2012 half for telephones."

[icecoldfrost]

"Telephone, electricity, and pants," Emma sighed wistfully. "And, oh god, soda."

[bitten_notshy]

"Email," Jack said longingly. "Gay rights. Women's rights. Supernatural rights in my world, even if there's still ground to cover. Some of the things they're fighting for here became real, even if some will have crumbled."

He jerked his shirt around his limbs and stood. "Wait. I'll be back in a few minutes."

[icecoldfrost]

<<Kosher food that's easy to find!>> Emma called back telepathically, giggling slightly from sheer exhaustion.

She was tempted to get comfortable on Jack's bed, out of habit - although that would send mixed signals - but instead got up and padded into their little shared living space that separated the two bedrooms to put a few more bits of wood on the fire. If Jack was going through the trouble of going down to fetch food, she'd at least manage to clear a space for them to eat it.

[wantstoforget.livejournal.com]

Once Emma was gone, Sebastien leaned back in a chair and permitted himself the indulgence of closing his eyes.

"So," he said, "you plan to return to the future to stay."

That was ... a complication. Not unexpected, and he'd even suggested it. But a complication nonetheless.

[bitten_notshy]

"I do," Jack acknowledged. "I take it you do not."

That was terrifying.

[wantstoforget.livejournal.com]

"I do not," Sebastien agreed. "Abby Irene and Irina both have lives here, Jack. We would be cruel, uprooting them all for something I'm not certain I want."

He'd lived in the 21st century for a year. He supposed he'd appreciate it when it came, but as a traveler it had been too loud, too bright, altogether too much.

[bitten_notshy]

"All right," Jack said, slowly, feeling his heart shatter inside his scarred chest again.

He couldn't find more words.

[wantstoforget.livejournal.com]

Sebastien sighed and leaned forward in his chair, wanting quite badly to touch Jack's hair.

"I have a habit of not dying, cariño. I might well turn up on your doorstep when you get there, very little the worse for wear."

[bitten_notshy]

"A hundred years older," Jack said bitterly. "And you'll have watched Doctor Garrett age and die, and Irina will -- probably she'll leave you, but even if she doesn't, she'll be long dead too, and you'll have had five dozen other companions since, and I'll -- barely be a memory."

[wantstoforget.livejournal.com]

Christ, Jack was young. Sometimes Sebastien almost managed to forget it.

"I once went nearly two hundred years without saying more than three words to Evie, and you saw how hard I mourned," he answered. "And I haven't made a habit of taking in street urchins all these years. I could not forget you."

[bitten_notshy]

That drew a tiny smile out of Jack.

"I still don't like it," he confessed. "And if I find out you walked into the sun, or something horribly maudlin like that, I will come back and find you and chain myself to your wrist. Don't think I won't."

[wantstoforget.livejournal.com]

Sebastien arched an eyebrow. "That will be very interesting when you begin to transform."

[bitten_notshy]

"I'll figure out a way around that," Jack promised. "Or else it will just be too bad for us, won't it?"

He smiled lazily at Sebastien.

"So. Does it feel different, after Starkad?"

Long ago, after Jack's first visit to Irina's bed, Sebastien had asked him much the same question. This was repaying a debt.

[wantstoforget.livejournal.com]

It took Sebastien a moment to recognize the reference. When he did, he coughed a surprised laugh into his palm.

"You mean, did he make a man out of me?" he obediently parroted. "It was interesting. It has been a very long time since I was in a position to -- give myself over to something stronger."

He paused, weighed telling Jack the next bit, and went ahead. "It turns out it's surprisingly easy."

[bitten_notshy]

"I could have told you that," Jack said, still smiling. "Is that a piece of why you're staying? Wanting to be near him?"