John Druitt

John didn't have much on the Island to keep him busy in the way of a formal job. He dabbled in the lab a bit but spent most of his time exploring the island above or Rapture, which he had decided to call home.

There was one task that he had devoted himself to though, scouring the island and various buildings for all the necessary ingredients. It had taken no small amount of creative thinking and trial and error, but John wasn't a stranger to producing much with little to work with. Finally, he was pleased enough with the results to reveal his work.

Which was why he was standing outside of the Children's Office just after it had closed, a small carrier in one hand as he waited for Savannah. Reaching up, he ran his fingers through the short crop of hair that had started to grow there again, amused at how odd it felt when the wind blew through it. Hopefully he'd get used to it soon.

He was still idly playing with it when the person he had been waiting for finally exited the building.

"Miss Curtis," he said, smiling at her. "I had hoped to catch you here."

"And then I said to him, 'Why ambassador, how should I know? I'm merely a coat check.' The look on his face when he realized he had spent the entire time discussing national policy with the coat check was priceless," he said, grinning at Phedre.

He enjoyed the woman's company, she was as beautiful as she was brilliant and kind as well. She could have been arrogant if she wanted, she certainly had the bearing and culture to be so. Instead, she was polite and warm and full of life.

So much so, that John had barely touched his wine, or his dinner. Instead he was enraptured by his conversation with her, finding himself more at ease than he had in a long time. John could get used to these sorts of conversations and outings.

The first person that Jogn went to see after Helen was Nikola.  It was not an unusual sequence, often he went to see the other man for one reason or another after he had a run in with Helen.  Nikola was both helpful and secretive, which made it that much more enjoyable when Helen inevitably discovered that Nikola had been helping him without telling her.

The vampire, or ex-vampire as he was now, wasn't in his lab at the moment so John thought to help himself in,Victorian security being what it was, even for the brilliant Nikola Tesla.  Once in, he thought to also help himself to the man's wine and notes as well.  He thought that Nikola would appreciate that, seeing as it was something that he would do.

He was halfway through a notebook and a bottle of very nice wine when he heard the door begin to open.

"I wish that I could say I was disappointed that you haven't figured out how to get us home, Nikola," he said, looking up from where he sat in the other man's chair.  "But really, I wouldn't have had that high an expectation of you."

It was the smell that first got through to him.  Phnom Penh, especially the slums, had a very distinct smell to them.  As did Victorian London.  John Druitt was familiar with both of those smells, and even through his drugged haze, he realized that something was different.

If it had been any other shift, from Phnom Penh to tropical, or even to a major city, he would have just assumed he had teleported without recalling it.  He had never done that before, that he could recall, but with the drugs in his system it could have been plausible.

Phnom Penh smelled of people, so many people so close together mingled with food and animals and the dust on the streets.  London though, his London from so long ago, was a heavier smell.  Damp with fog mixed with the stink of the Thames assaulted his senses and a strange sense of belonging came over him.

A sense of nostalgia and pain washed over him all at once.  His time with Helen, perhaps the closest they had ever been, and in a way the happiest time of his life, all took place during that time in history.  There were other, darker memories lurking there though.  Blonde women cut open, muffled screams in the night, and so very much blood.  Worst of all, he could remember how good it felt, how much he had enjoyed the killing.  Yes, it had been the creature inside of him that had driven him to do it and it was the creature who had taken pleasure in it, but the memories of those things were as clear as day to him.  Even knowing what had been responsible, it was difficult to differentiate his own feelings of horror and guilt from that of the creature.

For a moment, John was afraid that the setting would awaken the creature more strongly than ever.  Not only were the normally overpowering sensations of the energy being not there, he felt completely devoid of any of its influence.  Purged of them.
He could have given a strangled cry of joy, but already his mind was reeling with the ramifications of this fact.  He had no way to locate the creature now that it was free, and while he knew that must be a priority (it was far too dangerous to be allowed to roam free) he currently lacked the resource to do so.  Besides, if he was in Victorian London and this wasn’t just some sort of drugged induced dream, there was something more pressing to take care of.  Helen.

He had to find her.  Druitt had to warn her about himself, about who he really was.  Depending on precisely when this was, he might not have started his murderous career of Jack the Ripper just yet.  Even if he had, if he could just find Helen he could convince her to act now, before any more had to die.  If not Helen, then Watson would believe him.  Watson was analytical enough to be able to accept what John was saying and once he explained, once he entered the possibility into Watson’s head that John Druitt was Jack the Ripper, Watson would connect the dots.

But Helen, Helen would be the first he would look for.  Had to be.  It was always Helen that he sought out, who he came to when she called or when he needed something.  If they could find his younger self and trap him, free him of the creature, then John might have a chance at the life he had always wanted.  Helen wouldn’t reject him and everything that had happened as a result of that would be fixed.  They could have a family, they could run the Sanctuary together… all of it would be changed.

But first, he had to find her.  All he needed was a moment to get his bearings.  He had to be careful though, he knew how out of place he must look and the last thing he needed was to be picked up by the Constabulary, especially in his current state.  He couldn’t risk teleporting, not when the creature might reenter him, but that didn’t matter much.  Even after all this time, he knew London and he knew Helen.  He would find her soon, and then he would put things right.

The old ways came to him naturally, and perhaps it was more rote memory than anything conscious that lead him to Helen's doorstop.  His mind was still addled, but he couldn't spare the time to sober up.  He had to convince her now, before it was too late.

"Helen!" he called out, pounding on the door.  "Helen, it's John..."