Chapter Text
Hyde’s test subject glared up at him, his eyes radiating pure horror and disgust while his tears evaporated into a blind rage. “What sort of question is that?! Of course I am! What have you done to me? What poison did you force down my throat?” He was shouting, though his voice was almost identical to his usual one despite a layer of raspiness that encased it.
The instant aggression should not have surprised Hyde, yet the quick realisation of the extent of what he was dealing with felt like whiplash. Over the past couple of years, he has had his fair share of fighting experience — against men much larger than himself, men who have lived much rougher lives than himself, than the wealthy, rather sheltered doctor. Yet, all his opponents had something in common — humanity, restraint, morality. Despite their violent tendencies, they were regular human beings who knew when to stop, had a line they could not cross (whether that be out of genuine compassion or fear of consequence, they all had a limit). However, Hyde is not a normal person, he is the extension of a person, the part that is impulsive with zero restraints and acts on every desire as soon as it comes to him. That is the purpose he serves Jekyll, that is his entire existence. And as he has recently discovered, with the massacre of poor Sir Danvers, he does not have a limit. Now, he is faced with another man on the same level as him, a man with nothing to hold him back. A man with nothing to hold him back who he has just manipulated, rather violently force fed a dangerous potion to, caused him extreme agony, drastically altered his physical form and likely mentally scarred him for life.
“Just calm down, okay? I can explain everything now.”
Swiftly, Lanyon stood up from the floor and made his way towards his target, seemingly towering over him despite now only being about an inch taller. “Now?! You can explain everything now? How about all that time you had to explain how much excruciating pain that dastardly drug would put me in before you made me take it?”
Hyde took a cautious step back and realised that the other man clearly hadn’t yet noticed his sudden change in appearance, meaning that there is only room for Lanyon’s fury to grow. It wasn’t that unusual — despite his loss of height and his clothes magically becoming too large — since after his own first transformation, he had to check in the mirror to confirm what had truly happened. And, Lanyon is extremely angry, he is too focussed on the pain he has just endured to realise that pain caused him to completely change shape. “Well obviously,” he chuckled nervously, “you wouldn’t have drank it if I told you the truth, especially given you weren’t even going to drink it when it was tainted with my lie.”
The other man breathed hard, he was seething and his breath was hot, it was surprising he hadn’t yet dropped dead from a heart attack.
Seeing Lanyon was unable to respond, Hyde continued. “I know you have no reason to believe me, but please just sit down. I really will explain everything.”
No response.
“I’m also the only person on Earth who can give you the answers you need.”
“I thought Jekyll was aware of this drug as well? Or I’m assuming that was another one of your lies.” He managed to reply, his voice quiet and bitter.
“Hah!” He let out a disturbing laugh, one that faintly sounded like the call of a bird. “Oh, you’ll see, though I can promise you he knows. Everything.”
Eventually, Lanyon obliged and took his seat on the chair he sat on during their previous conversation, and looked up, impatiently.
“Right, I’m not too sure where to start with this — it’s a longer story than simply the actual function of this drug.” He paced around the room, knowing he was walking on eggshells. “From your experience, you’ll have quickly learned the drug is not calming in the slightest. Well, not in the most literal sense, but it actually gives me a lot of relief.”
That sounds very masochistic, Lanyon thought.
“Well it relieves me of my burdens, of my stress and worries built up through life.”
Or he’s just an addict.
“I apologise, I’m just rambling on and being unnecessarily vague,” or you’re stalling for time because you’re scared of him now. “The actual intention of the drug was to split the soul in two — into its components that could be labelled as ‘good’ and ‘evil’.”
He paused to gauge the other’s reaction. Lanyon took a moment to think about what he had just been told, but didn’t share those thoughts with Hyde. He didn’t feel like he was split into two (well, maybe the few moments of torture he had just endured felt like he was being literally sawed in half) but in his mind, he’s still the same man he was before. He had the same memories, held the same beliefs. Sure, he was certainly intensely angry and definitely felt like doing something ‘evil’ right now, but surely that’s only because he was blatantly lied to and subjected to what felt like extreme violence. A man doesn’t need to be drugged up to be enraged at such a betrayal. Though, at least he understood why the man’s first concern was whether or not he was ‘still himself’ now. Now that he thinks about it, he does remember Jekyll going on about this ‘separating good and evil’ thing many years ago, but unfortunately he tuned most of it out as it became too frustrating to bear and neither of them would back down from their stance on the matter. If only I’d paid more attention to it back then, now he’s found someone more insane than him to aid him in this ridiculous experiment.
“When he- I sampled the potion for the first time, we discovered that it didn’t completely split one into two in the way we were hoping. Upon consuming the drug, I found that consciously I was mostly still my normal self, but with one major difference being that I no longer felt restraint towards any of my actions. I was less concerned with consequences, I became impulsive, it was harder to control myself. Emotions such as guilt and empathy also weakened in that state. But I felt free. That was the entire point, to be free.”
“So, you’ve turned me into some maniac that ignores his moral compass and just does what he likes with no regard for others?”
“Well…um… yes, it’s more complicated than that but that is… an accurate summary of what happened.” Hyde knew he couldn’t deny those were his true intentions when creating the potion, but it hurt to hear someone else say it so bluntly out loud, someone who wouldn’t make excuses for him. “Is that how you feel right now?”
“I know I feel absolutely furious and want to kill you,” Lanyon admitted, then almost smiled at how Hyde’s face changed to grow even more concerned. “But truthfully I’m quite sure I won’t actually act upon that, so how can I be certain this is a side effect of the drug and not just me being reasonably angry at you?”
I’m not sure I want to find out anymore, Hyde thought. “Right… whether you’re experiencing the effects of it or not,” oh you most certainly are, if only you could see yourself now, “fortunately the drug is reversible! Back to my initial trial, I was terrified that I’d be stuck in such a state. My only option was to consume another serving of the drug, thankfully, as intended, the potion worked both ways and I was restored to my original state of mind.”
“No. No, you’re not making me drink that thing again,” Lanyon cowered into his seat, a surge of panic electrocuting him. “I feel fine like this, I will have to make do.”
“I don’t think you have a choice,” Hyde gulped, readying himself to explain the most important effect of the drug. “You see, when one takes the drug initially, they are supposed to transform into their isolated ‘evil’ version, and when they take it again they are supposed to transform into completely ‘good’. In the end, it didn’t work out that way, for the ‘evil’ side truly would be considered more evil, yet the ‘good’ side was not at all completely good. The good side remained whole, remained the same, both with elements of good and evil.”
“So the experiment was a failure and you still gave that drug to me.” The seated man was losing his already thinning patience.
“I’ve not gotten to the worst part yet,” Hyde winced as he spoke. “Though yes I suppose it did fail in the sense that it didn’t work in the way I had intended it to. However, it did still achieve what I really wanted all along — to be able to carry out my distasteful desires without destroying my reputation. I understand that doesn’t make sense, but that is because I haven’t yet told you about the… physical alterations that occur. The potion completely alters your body, your face, your voice — that’s why the pain is so great. The drug, though it does have genuine effects on your mind and behaviour, is ultimately a disguise, to make other people believe — and sometimes even yourself — that you are entirely separate entities, and you are not responsible for ‘their’ awful actions.”
In disbelief, Lanyon’s eyes widened as he looked down for the first time at his changed body. He shot up from his seat and darted to the mirror on the other side of the room. Trembling, he traced his new face with his hands in awe, taking in every difference — some painfully obvious, others more subtle that only he would notice about himself.
About five minutes ago Lanyon thought the most terrifying thing he would experience in his life was feeling like he was going to die from the sheer agony the drug had put him through. But now? Now he was looking at a man he did not recognise through eyes that should not be his own. Through the mask of horror on his face, Lanyon sensed a deeply sinister expression illuminating his eyes. He loathed the disturbing way he stared up at himself and he loathed that it reminded him of the man standing behind him.
Not right behind though, Hyde ensured to keep a secure distance as he watched Lanyon absorb his new features. Partially because he was terrified but he also needed to be near the drugs to continue with this inhumane performance. “Unfortunately I have worse news to tell you yet.”
He heard a cry from the mirror. “I’m not sure how much more I can take,” the man weeped dejectedly as he struggled to even hold a whisper. Strangely, he appeared to be much less angry now. Hyde was sure he was still enraged, but the entire ordeal had caught up to him and he was overwhelmed and exhausted. He had always been rather sensitive — it never took much for his typically jolly demeanour to turn into sudden sobs (or anger, he has quite a nasty temper too, one that matches Jekyll’s).
Actually, Hyde finally began reflecting on his actions, getting lost in a train of thought, this is probably one of the worst ideas I’ve ever had. Why have I just given an emotionally unstable man a drug that makes him even more emotionally unstable AND dangerous? What am I doing? But he knew he had to continue now.
Hyde managed to compose himself as best he could. “Do you remember how I said I couldn’t tell you my name until you drank the potion?” He received a slight nod in response. “I had to keep it from you because I couldn’t let you report me.”
All Lanyon could do was shakily and loudly sigh, putting his hands to head as he realised he was dealing with a wanted criminal. One that must’ve been so infamous that he would recognise the name instantly.
“I’m Edward Hyde.” He tried to say it somewhat confidently, but he instantly squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head in shame as if just admitting his identity out loud was enough for the police to storm in and ambush him.
After about thirty seconds of unbearable silence broken only by soft cries still leaving Lanyon, he finally turned to look at the other man, though he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact. “The one that murdered Sir Danvers Carew? Are you going to kill me now?” It took everything left in him not to scream, but he supposed at least that meant he still had some restraint left.
“God, no! Yes I… did do… that. But I’m not going to kill you! Why would I go through all this trouble if I was just going to end up taking your life by the end of it?” He put his hands to the drawer and knelt down, prepared to pick up the potion again. He had also retrieved the flask Lanyon had drunk from (surprisingly it hadn’t smashed) and he didn’t care that it was on the floor and had already been used. “There is so much I need to tell you, but I’m in no fit state to do so right now.”
“Because you’re also under the influence of the drug? That must be why you look so off putting.”
Wow, okay, thanks. “You’re right, although I haven’t actually taken the drug in a while but I’ll get onto that later.” Hyde poured some of the mixture into the flask yet again then measured the right amount of salt with precision he had gained from months of practice. “If you thought everything else was bad, you’re really not going to be happy with me now.”
Slowly, he stood up, clinging to the flask. Knowing he couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer, he glanced at the bubbling red liquid and downed the contents of the flask.
Immediately, he regretted standing. He fell to his knees once again welcoming back the familiar torment he had most recently encountered in the park earlier. At least this time he was intentionally inducing the transformation.
He tried his hardest not to cry out — there had been enough yelling and commotion for one night already, and he imagined there was only more to come after he revealed his secret. His teeth dug hard into his bottom lip, breaking the skin as he felt his face morph underneath them.
As a witness of the transformation, Lanyon felt sick. Knowing that that is what he looked like only minutes ago made the sensation of being in his own skin feel filthy, and only confirmed his belief that this had to be a work of the devil himself.
Foolishly, he assumed nothing could surprise him anymore, but when the transformation came to a halt and he had a glimpse of the owner of that pale, shaking face — he almost collapsed.
It was clear as day, the man who lay on the ground before him was undeniably Henry Jekyll. Maybe everything should make sense now, all the strange events from the past year should click into place. How Utterson invested so much time into being stressed over their relationship (but never seemed to draw any closer to a satisfactory conclusion). How the moment ‘Hyde’ disappeared after the murder Jekyll spent the next two months out of his shell, trying to make it up to the world, trying to make it up to himself. How it was always quite unusual for him to take on an assistant — especially one that was so displeasing to the public eye — given he always preferred to work alone (or since he stopped working with Lanyon, anyway). And most importantly, how it was extraordinarily strange for Jekyll to ask Lanyon to break into his home, steal an unknown chemical, take it back to his own house, then this ‘assistant’ forces him to drink it in the name of science without his ‘boss’ present.
Perhaps he should be able to understand. He should understand why and how this has happened. But how can he? How can he understand, how can he reason with something completely unreasonable? His brain relies on logic, while his friend’s has always relied on emotions. The difference that had caused such a rift between them before had never both separated and united them in such a way before. Now, they were in the same boat, both tainted by the drug, both a part of a destruction of nature. But one man did this to himself, the other was dragged in as an unwilling participant.
If there was anything that Lanyon could understand through his shock, it was that he felt (still) unimaginably enraged. Jekyll had betrayed his trust. He had repaired their friendship, claiming he had wanted to start fresh, failing to inform him that he was starting fresh after killing a man in cold blood. He had written him a heartfelt plea, knowing that Lanyon would come to aid him, just to trap him in his own home and manipulate him again into drinking the same poison he himself was infected with. The same poison that had helped cause him to commit a murder.
If it wasn’t already, his blood was now boiling, he felt his entire body tense and heat up. “You… you’re…” The man barely managed to throw up a single word, he tried to mumble his accusation before trailing off into hard, speechless breaths.
“It’s me, yes. It’s been me the whole time. Hastie, I’m so, so sorry I don’t know what I was thinking-“ It was Jekyll’s turn to get emotional now. It wasn’t the first time the weight of his actions as Hyde built and caught up to him all at once when he transformed back, he often found himself breaking down, wallowing in the guilt of the actions that were entirely his own. Actions that he would always end up committing again. He couldn’t stop. But he truly felt deep sorrow in this moment. He was glad, relieved, that he was still able to feel such emotions, he still had a shred of humanity left.
Despite the heavy breathing, it felt like no air was entering Lanyon’s lungs, his insides burned as he almost choked on his rage. Both his fists clenched and he quickly understood what Jekyll had meant by the loss of restraint. There was nothing holding him back. He had always suspected that Jekyll would cause him trouble at some point in his life, but this was a step (a few miles) too far.
He lunged at the other man, he didn’t care that he was so upset, in fact he was happy he was. He allowed himself to throw multiple punches at his victim, unravelling every drop of emotion and getting revenge for every single lie he has told. Relentlessly, he continued, soaking up the satisfaction that released from his anger. Though he would loathe to admit it, a part of him understood why Jekyll had created the drug. It was quite a relief to be able to take out your frustrations without caring about the consequences, even if he knew this wasn’t the right way to go about it. That didn’t stop him though.
Jekyll, on the other hand, had been anticipating this for at minimum the past hour. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, he knew he had it coming, but there was still something so jarring about Lanyon of all people coming to attack him. He had brought the worst out in him, and he didn’t like that feeling.
Nor did he like the feeling of being beat up, of course, and it was only natural for him to fight back. Well, he wasn’t exactly fighting his aggressor, simply defending himself. He didn’t want to hit Lanyon, he’d done enough damage for one night and he didn’t want to rile him up further. Thankfully, it wasn’t too difficult to pry the other man off of him, despite now being in his older, weaker body, he did still retain the fighting experience gained by Hyde over many months of drunken bar fights, while Lanyon, though fuelled by anger, had clearly not had an undignified scrap with such men in many, many years. He had taken mostly hits to his face before he finally managed to shove Lanyon off of him and onto the floor, fortunately ceasing his violent attack. It wasn’t until he was sure it was over that Jekyll felt the painful throbbing in his cheeks, and silently cursed the panting man on the floor for now he will have to fabricate an explanation for his injuries on the off chance somebody sees him on the way home or in the near future.
Lanyon had banged his head on the floor as a result of his descent, luckily not harshly enough to knock him unconscious, but the jolting pain had somewhat brought him back to reality. He was still red with rage as he looked up at the cause of his anger, but he once again became aware of his surroundings and aware of himself. Aware that he wasn’t himself and that he didn’t like that.
Burying his swollen face in his hands (which did not soothe the pain in the slightest) after the two had remained in a state of silence for at least five minutes, Jekyll was the first to speak. “Hastie, I am really sorry-”
“You kept that little secret concealed well,” he scoffed sarcastically, standing up again. “Well, not really, it was just so utterly unthinkable that nobody would ever have guessed it.” Jekyll could only nod along shamefully. “Did you come here just to prove me wrong about your stupid experiments? Was this worth it?”
Not really. “God, I’m not so spiteful that I’d admit to murder just to prove you wrong. I did genuinely need help — I was stuck like that and didn’t have access to my laboratory for the drugs. That was more of a recent development that I got carried away with…” as he gestured towards Lanyon, who just shook his head. “Look, there is a lot more to this that I haven’t told you, but I don’t think either of us are in the right state to be dealing with even more right now. But you have a right to know, and I need someone to be able to tell. With that in mind, how about we resume this tomorrow evening- or (considering the time) this evening, at my house?”
“For goodness’ sake there’s more? And every time you say that the situation gets even worse,” Lanyon groaned, still not recovered from his outburst. “Though you leaving would be the best thing you could do for me, I’m not sure I want to see you again after this at all, let alone enter your house. Whatever you have to say to me you should say it now, and that is how we are ending things between us.” He told him that firmly with conviction, though a very minute part of him didn’t want that to be true.
“You don’t mean that. Regardless of whether you despise me now or not, surely you want some closure. Surely you want to understand my true intentions for everything before you no longer have the opportunity to. Just come see me at six o’clock if you have nothing else to do and we can have a much more civilised discussion.” Jekyll felt completely drained and defeated, and he still needed to ensure that Lanyon had drank the potion a second time before he could go home to bed.
Lanyon didn’t agree nor disagree to the request, he concluded he’d decide after some much needed sleep, if he could get any.
“You do need to turn back though.”
He sighed. “Oh how I would love to transform back into my rightful body, but I am not drinking that again.”
“Please,” he begged, “I’m so exhausted and want to go home, and I’m sure you are too, don't make me force feed it to you again.”
Complaining, Lanyon took the flask from Jekyll’s hand after watching him mix the ingredients for a third time, and downed the entire drink with little delay. He was tempted to resist, maybe run off into the night like a madman, just to spite the other man, but he too desperately wanted the whole ordeal to end.
The transformation was just as unbearably agonising as the first time, and he couldn’t decide whether he hated his limbs shrinking or stretching the most. But, eventually it ended and he was once again himself, though he still felt fundamentally wrong in some way, and disgusting.
Since he was too distracted by the immense pain induced by the drug, he had failed to notice Jekyll had wrapped himself around him in an embrace.
“What are you doing?” He snapped, yet didn’t move out of the position, partially due to him still being dazed from the pain.
“You were screaming quite loudly, and also about to fall to the floor, so I caught you.” Jekyll replied, embarrassed and letting him go and brushing the interaction off. “Whatever you do, even if you don’t show yourself tomorrow, do not tell anyone about this, not a soul.”
Lanyon was quite certain he would be physically unable to recount tonight’s events to anyone, and if he could the listener would assume he had gone mad, but he didn’t want to give the other the satisfaction or peace knowing that, so he kept the thought to himself. “Go.”
Grabbing the drawer, he left Lanyon alone in his consulting room and made a swift exit. He was unsure of the time, but had a good enough idea of it that he’d be walking home to avoid suspicion and a lengthy encounter with another human being.
Quietly, Jekyll opened the front door to his estate with no more than a small creak so as to not wake any of his servants (mainly because he didn’t want them to ask him questions about his whereabouts or appearance). He quickly padded through the house until he reached his bedroom where he carefully set the drawer and its precious contents down on the desk. Making a mental note to keep it on him at all times from this moment onwards, he picked up the key to his laboratory and stuffed it in his coat pocket before removing it and hanging it onto the chair. Nervously, he approached the mirror to assess the damage.
As he had expected, he had a black eye and his cheeks were purple and swollen. His nose was bloodied but thankfully not broken; he had felt the blood trickling down to his chin on his journey home, yet refused to acknowledge the issue. His lip bled too, but that could just be from the transformation. Even his neck and ears were bruising but overall (though it didn’t remove the pain) he knew it could have ended a lot worse. However now a new problem had emerged — he couldn’t have anybody see him in such a state. God forbid they become worried, or worse — suspicious. Not that that would be too big of an issue in the first place, he’s already decided that he won’t be able to leave the house given he could transform back into Hyde at any moment. At least now his injuries will hopefully provide him with some self control to stop him from mingling with the public.
Whilst cleaning himself up, he couldn’t help but reflect on the decision he had made. It could be said for certain that he did not feel any satisfaction in revealing to Lanyon he was right. There was nothing satisfying in pushing away (traumatising might be a more appropriate word) an old friend after just getting them back in your life. But did he regret it? Only time will tell. If Lanyon came to see him, he would have someone that could somewhat understand him, and something to keep him occupied while he hid from the world. Then it would be worth it, given he didn’t have much going for him in the first place.
With no thoughts left to preoccupy himself with, Jekyll flung himself onto his bed, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time he got to sleep in it.
Lanyon was left stunned as Jekyll exited his house, he was paralysed until he heard the quiet shutting sound from his front door, confirming that the other man was gone. Unsure of whether he was about to collapse or burst into tears, he weakly waded through the room toward the mirror and fell in front of it. He absorbed his surroundings through its reflective surface, noting that the room was nearly exactly the same as when he had entered it aside from a chair or two shifting from its original position. The only thing that had changed was him, yet the mirror no longer told him that. For a while, he stared at himself, grateful that the terrified man looking back at him was actually who he expected him to be this time. But it didn’t make him feel any better.
He couldn’t shake Jekyll from his mind. How could he commit a murder, then only days later look him in the eye, laugh with him, befriend him all over again? The reality of the situation made him want to scream, but he knew there was only one way to find out now, yet he still didn’t want to go see Jekyll, especially if there was a chance he could run into ‘Hyde’.
Betrayal created a nasty feeling inside him, but the horror he felt was worse. He felt unsafe in his own skin, as if one wrong move would cause it to shed and deform back into that monster. The fact such an awful thing was achievable felt unfathomable, and made Lanyon’s blood run cold.
Despite being so dim, the light became too much to bear, so he stumbled over to the lit candles and blew them out, leaving himself in the relief of darkness. For a while, he quietly sat in the dark, hearing only his own breathing and seeing only the outline of the door slightly illuminated by a distant streetlamp through the window. Until he realised that even the room itself was too much and he needed to leave.
With nothing else to do so late, he found himself lying in his bed with fearful eyes wide open, looking at nothing but a wall he couldn’t actually see. Disturbed now felt like a euphemism to describe his current mental state, he wished he could feel only disturbed. The knowledge that this vile shapeshifting act was possible violently unsettled his mind, making him so horror-stricken that he was nauseous. His experience tonight had shattered a part of his understanding of the world, he couldn’t stop himself from wondering what else, if anything else, was possible, or if this one phenomenon was just an odd blip in the universe. Through the dark, blank canvas he stared at, flashing images of other potential existing supernatural horrors tormented Lanyon’s already suffering mind, sending him spiralling.
The thing that broke him out of his trance-like state was remembering that Jekyll was the very man behind all this. Anger came pulsing back to his hands and face in the form of a burning sensation, but he didn’t have the energy to think about Jekyll, so forced his eyes shut despite being fully aware he wasn’t going to be getting much sleep.