Ripper: Epilouge

Author’s note: This is my prediction piece on the novel Ripper.

6 years later~~~~~



Carver Young carefully opened the door to his girlfriend’s house, shutting it behind him as quietly as he could.
“Oh hello Carver.” Delia, his girlfriend of 6 years called from the kitchen. “I didn’t expect you to be here today!” said Delia cheerfully.
“Oh well... I wanted to surprise you.” Carver said sheepishly, sticking his hands in his pockets and feeling the ring box.
During the 6 years after the Ripper murders in New York, Carver and Delia grew closer, and were now together. Today, Carver had decided he was going to purpose.
“That’s very kind of you Carver.” Delia smiled, coming over to him and kissing him lightly on the cheek.
Carver blushed lightly. Even for a detective such as himself, she was the one person that could crack his emotionless gaze. Every time he was with her, the act would drop and he would be just Carver.
“I try.” He grinned and hugged Delia close, just happy that she was safe.
He’d been a detective for 4 years now, and each time he went out to find a murderer, or worse, he’d worry about her.
“So, do you have any plans for today?” She asked him, pulling away from him and walking into her living room.
Carver followed close behind. “I thought we could go to that one restaurant you like....Delmonico’s, right?” Carver smiled. He had his plan down to a science.
“Oh my goodness! That sounds great Carver!” Delia said loudly, slightly shocked. They hadn’t been doing much lately, since Carver was caught up in a new case, when really, Carver was planning out his proposal.
“Well, get dressed, we’ll be heading out at noon.” Carver laughed, leaning against a wall.
Delia’s eyes widened slightly, but she rushed to her room to get ready nonetheless.
Sometimes, Carver was reminded of that young girl from the orphanage, the one that knew he picked locks and stole things. He sometimes missed those days, when he wasn’t haunted day to day by the horrid thought of being related to Jack the Ripper.
About 20 minutes later, Delia rushed out wearing a powder blue dress, her hair put up into a neat bun.
Carver whistled softly. “You look beautiful Delia.” He smiled and walked over to her to kiss her on the lips.
After a minute or two of this, Delia pulled back and whispered a soft thank you to him.
Carver then took her hand, and pulled her out of her home.

~~~~~~

When Delia and Carver arrived at Delmonico’s, they were seated immediately and handed menus.
After they ordered their drinks (Carver a glass of water, and Delia a Raspberry iced tea), they discussed the average things, how Delia’s job was as manager of the Times, and Carvers job of a Detective.
“You know that case I’m working on?” Carver said, his hand fishing in his pocket for the ring box. Finding it, he stopped fidgeting slightly and pulled it out and onto his lap.
“Yes?” Delia asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I lied.” Carver grinned and got down on one knee next to her seat.
Delia’s eyes widened as he opened the case, revealing a stunning diamond ring.
“Delia, would you make me... The happiest man alive, and marry me?” Carver asked, looking into her brown eyes.
“Y-Yes!” Delia cried, holding her shaking hand out to Carver, her other hand clasped over her mouth.
Carver smiled happily and slide the ring onto her ring finger looking up at her again.
Overwhelmed with happiness, Delia practically tackled him in a hug/kiss.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The wedding

Carver looked over at his best man, Finn, and nodded at him. He then looked at the person who would be marrying them, the president himself, Teddy Roosevelt. Mr. Roosevelt winked at him and pointed down the aisle, where Delia’s maid of honor, Alice Roosevelt was walking.
The wedding march began playing, and soon, Delia’s two other bridesmaids were down the aisle, standing on Roosevelts left side.
Not a second after the last bridesmaid walked down the aisle, Delia soon started walking.
Her adoptive father, Jerrick Ribe, would be giving her away.
Delia had decided on a long white wedding dress, that cascaded to the ground in layer of tool and silk. Alice had insisted that is would be more poofy, so it had a slight poof in the back. Some layers of silk were pinched up by delicate rhinestones, and the top had an elaborate lace pattern. Slowly, Delia walked up the Aisle, meeting her soon to be husband at the top.
Carver looked over at her and winked, with a sly smile, he looked back at the President, composing himself.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to witness these two wonderful people get married.” Mr. Roosevelt began, his loud voice echoing throughout the church. As Roosevelt continued with saying the vows, Carver couldn’t help but think about having Hawking there. But no, Hawking was a murderer. He was Jack the Ripper for gods sake! But, he was also Carver’s dad.
Should’nt  he be there for him?
“Carver, do you take this beautiful lady to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Roosevelt said, looking at Carver, his brown eyes twinkling with childish joy.
“I do.” Carver said, smiling.
“And do you, Delia, take Carver Young as your lawfully wedded husband?” He asked, looking at Delia.
“I do!” Delia smiled brightly, looking at Carver.
“By the power invested in me, and this great country, I know pronounce you husband and wife.” Mr. Roosevelt said, his brown eyes starting to tear up. “Carver, kiss her!” Teddy said, pushing Carver to Delia.
“Finally.” Carver murmured to Delia, and kissed her full on the lips, savoring every moment of their first kiss as husband and wife.
The crowd of people stood up, clapping as Carver pulled away from Delia, leading her down the aisle.
~~~~~~
Carver looked to the left, smiling at the person congratulated him, when he saw the person he hadn’t seen in 6 years, and was expecting his appearance.
Albert Hawking, or as most people know him, Jack the Ripper.
Slowly, Carver got out of the crowd and went to Hawking, looking him in the eye.
“Why are you here?” Carver said in a monotone voice, looking at Hawking expectantly.
“Is it all that bad for a Father to congratulate his son on being married?” Hawking asked, looking at the young detective.
“When my father happens to be Jack the Ripper, it is.” Carver said, looking Hawking dead in the eye.
Hawking sighed and met Carver’s steady gaze. “Right now, think of me as Hawking, not Jack the Ripper.” Hawking said.
“But you are Jack the Ripper, Hawking.” Carver said slowly.
“That name has been long forgotten Carver.” Hawking growled, looking at his son.
Carver shook his head. “That’s not true.” Carver said, “People are still looking for you... The families of the people who were murdered.” He finished, looking around the crowd.
Hawking flinched slightly, knowing that his son had a sharp tongue now has something he was wary of. “Look, if it makes you feel better, I’m sorry about that whole ordeal.” Hawking waved a mangled hand.
Carver glanced over at him, deciding to think of him as Hawking and not his psychopath of a father. “I still live at Blackwell.” Carver said, deciding to bring up the fact that he lived in a insane asylum. He learned that a lot of the people in there where very good men and women, and he judged too quickly when he first got there at age 14.
Hawking’s grimace split into a grin, and he patted Carver on the shoulder. “Good. They need someone like you to keep them grounded... That place can be a little much.” Hawking said slowly, glad in the change of subject.
Carver chuckled lowly. “I know, that’s what I thought when I first got there, Hawking.” He glanced at Hawking, his emerald green eyes glinting.
“I’m glad you're accustomed to it now.” Hawking said, “Congratulations by the way.” Hawking added.
“Thanks.” Carver said with a polite (and rehearsed) smile.
“Your welcome.” Hawking said with a small smile, something glinting deep in his dark eyes. Truth be told, the tough detective had grown to love his son, and wished the best for him. That’s why he had decided to come to his wedding, he thought that Carver would appreciate a relative there, and it turns out that he only half did.
If he weren’t Jack the Ripper, it would’ve been different. Hawking knew it deep in his gut.
Carver put a hand on Hawking’s shoulder and smiled, a genuine smile this time. “Thank you for coming.... Granted, you aren’t the ideal relative, but you're all I have. Thank you.” Carver thanked his mentor, connecting eyes with him. He was finally tall enough to make eye contact, and he was grateful for that.
“It was my pleasure.” Hawking smiled.
As the night wore on, Hawking and Carver talked, covering all the topics that they needed to. Surprisingly, the topic of his mother was never brought up.
After the night ended, and Hawking left, Carver never saw the man again, and was slightly happy with that fact.
2 years later, Delia and Carver had their first born daughter, and decided to name her Hawk. Strange though the name may be, Carver and Delia both agreed they needed to pay some form of respect to Carver’s father, and their first born could fulfill that.
Soon, Carver found out to Delia’s dismay, that Hawk had inherited Carver’s detective skill, and love of dime detective novels.
Their second born child they decided to name Theodore, in honor of Mr. Roosevelt. Thankfully, he had inherited Delia’s knack of writing, and grew up to be a successful writer.
While Hawk...
She grew up and took her spot next to her father in the New Pinkertons, solving murder cases at age 13.