Devils in the Details

Chapter Two // Sojourn in London

ON THE STREETS OF LONDON

Will Graham had what he liked to call a natural affinity for the atmosphere of London. Even though he had only spent a select few weeks of his life within the city, he felt as if it were his home away from home. It just seemed to suit him, in a strange way. Then again, there was very little about what surrounded the FBI special agent that wasn't strange.

At the moment, he glanced up at the grey clouds hanging low in the sky like bait on the end of a line. The skies were going to open up and pour down a deluge of rain any time soon, and he was not prepared for it. He mentally chastised himself for not bringing an umbrella or anything.

The predictable unpredictability of the city's weather was one of the things Will appreciated best about London. Aside from one rather uncomfortable experience when he visisted during a freak heat wave where it didn't rain it all, he saw the day go from sunny to rainy and back in just minutes. Many people found it irritating, but he didn't mind it for the most part.

Jack Crawford kept on telling Will that he needed a vacation. The first place that came to his mind was London. Just about a week after Crawford mentioned it for the first time, he was packing and getting ready to fly across the Atlantic Ocean and head to the city. It was a natural thing for him, as if he didn't have to think about it. It just happened.

Of course, he wasn't really doing much of anything. He wasn't a typical tourist - he wasn't a typical anything, for that matter. There was no desire within any part of him to go sightseeing at all the usual places: no Big Ben, no London Eye, nothing. Instead he wandered the streets aimlessly, just trying to get his thoughts out of his head.

Jet lag was definitely affecting him at that moment. On the plane ride across the Atlantic he had barely gotten a wink of sleep. If he were to be honest with himself, it was because he was afraid to. Sleeping led to dreams, dreams led to nightmares, nightmares led to all sorts of horrible things. He was sick of them, and didn't want to invite them back into his life.

No, London was going to be good to him. Even if he were exhausted from things that were mostly beyond his control, he wasn't going to let them stop him from relaxing. The only thing he truly missed that was back in Virginia were his dogs. He had hired a dogsitter, of course, but he'd prefer to be there for them himself.

But they were dogs - no matter how much he cared about him, his mental health had to come first. With all of the problems that Will had been forced to battle in recent days, everything seemed to revolve around his mind. The crimes he investigated ended up poisoning his mind. For the FBI, his empathy was a gift that allowed them to be far more successful.

For Will, his empathy was nothing short of a curse. Even if it ended up solving murders and helping the world, there were still people he could not quite find out. The Chesapeake Ripper had been haunting him most of all, likely because he could relate too well to the circumstances.

He could see himself killing people in those hideously grotesque ways. It played out in his dreams and followed him around during the day. The thought of the Ripper even caused him to hallucinate on a regular basis, a nightmarish stag appearing in his field of vision when he was walking around.

Will was doing his best to escape all of this by going to London. Instead of dwelling on the Chesapeake Ripper, he tried to think about Jack the Ripper. His mind was struggling to adjust back to the thoughts of London and being able to relax. It was just barely out of his grasp, but he knew he was capable of getting himself to slow down and focus. He would just keep reminding himself that he was in the city to relax.

Will went looking for some sort of sign to figure out where he was. The first thing his observant eyes laid upon were the words carved into the exterior of a large stone building: St. Bartholomew's Hospital. The name certainly sounded familiar, but there was nothing particularly extraordinary about it. He figured that he could just use it as a sort of landmark to make sure he could keep track of himself.