Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

September 30th, 1888, London, England.
“I want to rip myself in two.
There is a difference to me, of the body text of my being, and that in between the lines.
The bit of me that is polite and Victorian is always what I try and fail to present, no matter how much effort I apply. Something is not right. No one seems to understand the attempts I make to fit within the culture of doctors and wealth. So much so that I fear this inability to express properly may be a sign of greater issue. There is something wrong within me.

I wish to separate from my passions even just for an evening. The bit of me that loves what I do, the part that thrives on chemical compounds and the functions of the mind, to be apart from the me that longs for the comfort of society. There is an itch I cannot reach when I look at the rest of the world. There is a yearning to be the gentleman they expect of a doctor, to be someone they can understand too.

Simply, I am a man of Science. I’ve always known such intricacies of the body and what not, yet I have always found myself more devoted to its abilities. To be able to age and change is one thing upon its own, but Why? Why do some change in ways I cannot?

I want to understand it all. Why am I so different to the gentlemen I surround myself with, Professor Lanyon and his nicietes are something I can only strive to compete with. When his same words enter my mouth they become rude and immodest it seems. I once even attempted to mirror the way he spoke with his hands, but it did seem to unnerve Madam Carew when we spoke at the Medical Ball our hospital held.

Something about me is horribly wrong, I will not stop until I spate myself, I must cure the man I have become, medicate it. I must fix it.

I need to rip myself in Two.
I will rip myself in Two.
Dr. Edward Hyde.”

October 1st, 1888.
“Dr. Hyde?” A gentle voice called, the sound of heeled dress shoes clacking down a maplewood hallway. A man asleep in his own paperwork slowly raised his head, peering past the unbrushed hair that was astray across his face. This was a familiar room to Edward, An intricate and private study, full of beakers and books, an overwhelming smell of chemicals. It was the laboratory to the doctor, and more often than not, his bedroom too. “May I?”
“Ms. Pitch, Come in.” Ms. Pitch was an old and chubby woman, a pale maid with blonde hair wrapped up in a long braid down her shoulder. She so shyly seemed to peek through the door of his laboratory, holding a tray lined with breakfast items. She was always a respectful girl, knowing of the doctor's late night habits and how poorly they aligned with the rest of his schedule.

“What is it?”

“Figured you might fancy a touch of brunch, Sir.” She said, with the type of smile that makes your eyes wrinkle, Though her eyebrows always seemed knitted in concern no matter what Edward did. She allowed herself into the room, pushing the door the rest of the way open with her back. Natural daylight finally entered the dark lab, enhanced by the plethora of mirrors littered throughout the house.

Edward Hyde was a man with an obsession with appearance. One would assume he was vain or self centered with the sheer number of mirrors he owned, but truly, he simply liked knowing the world around him and how he interacted with it. He liked to see from other perspectives how his experiments shifted in color and hue, take reference for sketches of anatomy, practice his posture and chat with himself as if he were so gentlemanly, sometimes even stare into his own features and pick apart his traits.
They lined every wall in his house, either cluttered with painting, candlelight, window or mirror. But most importantly they were expensive, and some parts of Edward loved owning expensive things. In a lot of ways these mirrors made his life better, but as the sun beamed and reflected off of each one, in the moment it made his morning unequivocally. Worse.

Edward groaned as he covered his eyes, a particularly strong beam of light from the mirror striking right into his face. “Brunch?” He asked, exhausted and a bit agitated. Edward was not much of a morning man, considering his mornings were never in the morning. “What time is it?” He wiped the sleep from his face and shifted up from the table completely. Ms. Pitch set down the breakfast tray in front of him, knowing by now he wouldn't especially care for eating in his dining room in the morning.

“About eleven in the morning, sir. Your appointment with Mr. Poole is in an hour If you recall.” Ah. Mr. Poole, He’s a lovely man you see, someone always passionate about his work and kind, however. He is notably a bit Much. Especially for Edward, who is notably not a bit much.

“Must that be today?” He groaned, feeling the strain in his body as he stretched and fed himself a particularly nice piece of toast. Though great for a snack space, perhaps his desk was not his most brilliant sleeping spot. He glanced towards the maid with a tired haze, picking up his glasses. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I canceled, or rescheduled perhaps? For tomorrow?” His voice was always rather blunt, if he wasn’t thinking about it, It wouldn’t come out with almost any iflections at all. That is not to say his feelings were not genuine, just that he was one who found no use for using up his vocal cords.

Ms. Pitch crossed her arms and raised a brow to the comment. “You canceled on him last time, Doctor.” Edward simply sighed and tilted his head, giving a bit of a `yes and?` sound as he waited for further reason. “And the last time.” Hell, that’s true. Edward knew it too. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the other, but he’d much rather work on his own projects and what not. Something about speaking with most people made Edward feel unwelcome, even with Mr. Poole, who was an unapologetic fan of the doctor. Edward felt… Out of place at times. He wasn’t quite polite enough nor rude enough to be anything special it seemed, to stand out as anything but weird, the easiest thing to do in his mind is simply. To work.

He had met Mr. Poole a few years back through university, Unwillingly by Edwards standards. They were paired under the same doctor in a shadowing program, following the instructions of Professor Lanyon to grow a custom to the throws of the medical field. At that point in his life, Edward was still rather closed off. Genuinely a bit rude back then, as compared to his now accidental but unshakable unceremonious behavior. He still doesn’t get why Mr. Poole, still an undergraduate, is as attached as ever to him.

“That boy thinks very fond of you, Dr. Hyde. He wants to talk to you about the things you both enjoy, why not indulge him for the night?” He could hardly resist that motherly tone that always slipped into her voice when she wanted something out of him, she knew all the weak spots this man had after her years of service to him.
There was a moment of hesitation before he responded. He knew what the right thing to do was, and he supposed he didn’t mind talking to Mr. Poole all the time. between that and the guilt to speak to him, he never had any choice in the matter.

“Alright…” He finally gave, wiping his mouth of the crumbs he had been leaving with his sleeve. “But I feel we will spend more time discussing gossip than a Medical lecture. I’m supposed to be his tutor, you know. Not his… Buddy.”

“But you are friends, no?” Ms. Pitch asked, placing a hand on Edwards' back. “Just because that was how it was supposed to be doesn't mean you can't grow from that.” He knew she was right, she often was. He nodded begrudgingly before finally rising from his seat. He would've spoken, but her hand clutched onto his back very gently. “You mustn't only focus on your work, Dearie. That would be a dreadful existence, to let anything consume your thoughts to that degree is right unhealthy. I don't know how you don’t ever despair under your own alone time.” To be honest, Edward found no issues working. He loved it even. But something about the way she said it, with such a pity in her voice struck something in him.

He always has known others find him abnormal, his love for science was not often appreciated outside of stitching someone up. One would be surprised at how many doctors find it taboo to speak of surgery at a dining hall, Or the new theory of evolution. ‘Time and place, Dr. Hyde!’ Was an often phrase slung at him, but where was a better time and place to discuss medicine than with doctors?

Edward fell into a bit of silence at the scolding, looking blank into the wall in front of him. “Right,” He muttered. Sighing as he made his way from his proper thinking chair to exit the room. “I best be getting dressed. I’m still in yesterday's evening clothes. Er, Organize some, won't you Madam?” It was a prompt exit, clicking the door closed while leaving Ms. Pitch alone in his study.

Edward’s life had always been this way, assuming the wrong things, understanding differently than others. Being scolded for enjoying the things he loves to do. How he wishes he’d been born different.
The second he was in the hallway he met face to face with one of the many mirrors in his home, peering into his own blank expression. It made him feel uncomfortable in the moment, standing struck by the way he looked into his own reflection. Blank. Dull. His long brown hair was messy, unbrushed for a day or two perhaps. He looked, to his own standards, pitiful.

Edward breathed in deep, tucking those messy locks into a more respectable ponytail behind his head. He straightened his back out, held a hand out to the mirror, and tried his best to put on that smile. All his teeth bared, wide enough that his eyes shut. But that wasn’t right.

No, no. It was too much. A quirked smile at the edge of his lip was about the closest he could get to being handsome he believed. Not that he was especially unattractive, he figured it was the way he carried himself. His nose was sharp and long, and his features were slim, if not effeminate, therefore pretty. Though His tired eyes always lacked some `sparkle` that he didn’t quite understand, and perhaps that was what set people off.

Enough loathing, he figured. Extending his hand, he reached like he was about to shake his own reflection. “Good Morning, Mr. Poole. I do hope you wouldn’t mind a spot of Tea?”

Mr. Poole was around fourteen minutes late, which gave Edward plenty of time to focus on his appearance before he arrived. He finally dressed himself from the previous night's clothes, now in his black dress shirt tucked into his brown slacks, a deep red vest over top it all with an apcot neatly secured underneath. He muttered conversation starters to himself to prepare, feeling anxiety brew deep in his chest. He tried to fight off that almost panic, focusing on the performance he was about to force himself into. He always hated that feeling, that he must be someone different in public. He rocked on the heels of his feet with his eyes tightly shut, his hands motioning back and forth as he tried to pace his thoughts.

“Dr. Hyde?” Edwards eyes snapped open, his breath hitching. That was Mr. Poole’s voice, and here he was rocking like some… child. But here was Mr. Poole, a big smile on his face at the mere sight of Edward. “Having fun?” He asked, chuckling as he took his own coat off. Edward was stunned for a moment, a bit confused on what to say next.

“Erm.” He paused, all of the practice he just partook in falling straight through his finger tips. “Yes, Fun. Hello Mr. Poole.” He tucked his hands behind his back, bowing just slightly for his friend. “I assume Ms. Pitch allowed you inside?” Mr. Poole giggled a bit, pushing up his rather large octagonal glasses so they weren’t slipping down his face.

“Assumed correctly!” He chirped, setting his black day coat right on the rack, joyful as ever. He always seemed so young and spry for only being a year or two younger than Edward. The doctor was just barely an upperclassman, being twenty seven and Mr. Poole twenty five. “You know, you’re allowed to call me Aubery. I quite like the name from your mouth.” He said sweetly, setting his tophat with his coat and revealing his slightly overgrown blonde hair. It wasn’t absurdly long like Edward’s, (Which was rather impolite to keep his hair at such lengths,) But it was starting to obscure his forehead, and you can only hide so much in a Tophat.

“Aubrey is a girl’s name.” Edward stated bluntly, stepping further into his living room to sit on one of his red, cushioned chairs . “It’s rather awkward to call you that, not that I see you as a girl. Because you… are a man.”

“I cant change my name! I think it’s rather masculine honestly, Me parents might have expected a girl but that has nothing to do with me.” He defended, pushing Edwards shoulder at the teasing. Edward couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, this always seemed to be how it went. He’d practically scare himself half to death with the prospects of interacting with anyone, But Aubery often made it easy on him.

“Please. You wouldn’t call me Edward.”

“Oh, but I would, Eddy!” Mr. Poole practically wheezed a laugh, leaning his whole body into his guffaw. Edward felt his face heat up in embarrassment, his eyebrows raising in shock. Out of the many things Edward had drilled into him, one was never to call anyone by their first name.

“Don’t be so playful, Mr. Poole.” The doctor scolded.

“Dr. Poole, soon.” He retorted proudly. He was simply a nurse as of now, Edward having graduated early and two years above him

“Yes, perhaps if you ever intended on me tutoring you. You still have this year to complete.” Edward rolled his eyes, watching as Ms. Pitch made her way from the kitchen with a kettle of tea. She silently poured their teacups, Mr. Poole extending a cup to be filled himself as he muttered a quiet, ‘Thank you, Madam.’ “You know I don’t mind lending a hand, but you only come here to gossip. Perhaps I should view you as a woman.” Ms. Pitch quickly shot a silent glare towards Edward for the joke, who raised his hands in self defense.

“Yes, Yes. I know I’m a bit of a Church-Bell, but there’s simply so much to discuss! You hide away here too often, Ya’ big shut in. Oughta drag you out of here by your ear.” Poole’s eastern brit accent often slipped through when they were in private, all the while Edward had such trouble slipping into his own scottish accent. He’d often been talked down to for it, and he hadn’t let anyone hear it from him in a proper minute. “Besides, I got some real exciting news, but ohh you wouldn’t want to hear such gossip.” He winked, Leaning away fr0m the other.

“I would like to know,” Edward whined a bit, leaning in to make up for the space Mr. Poole had left. “I’m not that much of a priss. Just mean.” He acknowledged. Mr. Poole seemed to have growing trouble to hide his smile and excitement, his thin hand cupping his own mouth as he squealed.

“The circus!” He said abruptly, completely giving up on teasing Edward. He looked towards him with such wide eyes, Edward could swear he saw that sparkle that many said he lacked. Was the “sparkle” joy? Or was the sparkle just completely metaphorical. Hell, all of this confused him.

“The circus.” Edward repeated, raising his eyebrow. “Not much of a circus fan.”

“No, No, Hyde! Not just any circus, The Circus. The Ring of Cacophony! They’re finally here, It’s not even comparable to one of those sad big tops, you know.” Oh god, how could he have forgotten! The Ring of Cacophony. The Ring is a magical place, full of science and herbs the wealthy have at their disposal. Any doctor with their own hand in society would want to be in attendance, to folks like Edward it was utterly spellbinding, yet, impossible. Tickets sell at the speed of light, It’s said there’s even been duels on their front steps for the rights to attend.

“You're kidding!” Edward felt his joy light up inside him, an odd laugh bubbling from his throat. He seemed to have perked up so quickly from his solemn state. The excitement of something so special to him being so close, his heart absolutely yearned to be near it. “They haven’t been to London since I t’was a wee one, I was sure it’d been discontinued.” The doctor felt some of his composure slipping, but he couldn’t quite care. He felt his body rock in his seat in unbridled joy.

“No, not even! They made their way round the middle east, and I'm proper excited about the new recruits.” Mr. Poole gave such a happy chuckle. “When I was about ten I spent my birthday there with my father. To be in the faces of such respectable scientists, there's nothing like it, to be understood by so many at once.”
To be understood. The thought sent shivers down the Doctor’s spine, his uneven, toothy smile breaking across his face. “Doctor, you wouldn't believe the faint I nearly had when I heard. Went straight batty I did, even Mr. Utterson seems interested in attending himself.”

“Is there still time?” Edward chirped, his hands shaking back and forth in excitement. “For… tickets. I want tickets.” His wide smile stayed on his face until he watched the other’s fall. And suddenly he felt as if his throat closed up. He knew those things would sell out fast, he bit inside his lip. Poole shook his head from side to side slowly.

“No, there’s not time.” He said solemnly. But Edward watched as a large smile suddenly blossomed across his face. “Which is why I took the liberty to buy us both Tickets! Dr. Hyde, you must do me the honor of accompanying me.”

“You Scared me!” Edward hissed, clutching his chest in relief. “Why, of course I’d go. It’s only a dream of mine, you know. You must let me pay you back.”

“No, no Doctor. Consider it paid for, I owe you so much.” He often looked so genuine at Edward, In way’s Edward had a hard time replicating. There was something so uniquely Aubery Poole about those glances. He made a good nurse with his impeccable bedside manners. Something Edward had been told he lacked. “The tickets are for this following weekend, I’m sorry I’m telling you so late, but you are rather difficult to get in contact with. Why, I’ve nearly had these tickets for two weeks now.”Edward felt a bit guilty about that, knowing he was definitely the sole reason Mr. Poole lacked the proper time to inform him. He had a present for him and he was ignoring him for weeks because he selfishly spent his time alone. Edward picked at his fingernails.

“I apologize for that, Mr. Poole. That is most certainly my fault. If I was you dealing with myself, I wouldn’t have put in all that effort.”

“You're worth any effort, Edward Hyde.” A silence fell after he said that, the sweet tone in his voice plucked at Edward’s heart a bit. Mr. Poole really was a sweet friend.

“Right.” He transitioned awkwardly.
The afternoon followed with chit chat, Mr. Poole having a never ending gospel of gossip, and Edward a never ending ear to lend. He quite enjoyed just listening, sipping tea and learning the secrets of doctors. Perhaps he was a church bell himself. Though, as he tuned in and out of conversation, his thoughts remained only upon the circus.

Cacophony.

Chapter Text

October 2nd, 1888, Midnight.

“The Ring of Cacophony.

Beauty, All of it. To be a part of the Ring, to breathe the electric air of science. Oh, I cannot wait. The Ring is a bazaar of sorts, delicacies, drugs and herbs from countries far and beyond the grass of europe. Brilliant minds from all stretches of existence, medical and scientific knowledge at the fingertips of the attendee's.

I thank Mr. Poole and his word, he may be a hearsay but he truly has his hand in society. To be like that is a feat of its own. To be someone who is so adorned, someone who people want to speak to. I want to be you, Abuery. It makes me… Hurt that we are not the same.

This is why I have been working so hard. This is why I refuse to let go, to be good enough for the elite. I will continue experimentation. I believe there must be others like me, who don't wish to live in the shadows as I. Unnatural urges and thoughts possess my mind, And I have no ability to hide under any facade.

I wear my heart on my sleeve, but that in fault makes me fit unkindly in this world. Upon no doubt am I alone, but perhaps my research stretches beyond the arms of high society.

I have found myself possessed with this thought of ‘what if?’

What if I can separate these urges from my bonds of obligation, If I can be myself, Pathetic in the night, And in day the person I dream of. It is unnatural to tamper with this, but the agony hits me like no other in times like this.

This arbitrary fate I’ve been assigned may be broken free from, I’m getting closer. If I was someone different, anyone else, I would not suffer with the slings of the generous fortune I’d been given, perhaps I might even enjoy my life.

Maybe I can be happy, too.

Dr. Edward Hyde.”

October 2nd 1888, Dawn. Edward had escaped, Ms. Pitch realized. You see, The workday begins early for Edward, And honestly he would hardly make it there if he didn’t have Ms. Pitch at his beck and call. She was like a mother to the doctor, Who had much trouble taking care of himself on his own. He paid her well to work and live with him, and that meant she knew the doctors schedule like the back of her hand. Much care was put into her work, waking up a grumpy doctor who rarely slept in his own bedroom as opposed to his favorable laboratory desk was just a part of the day. But the doctor swore hadn’t left his lab for the weekend once after his meeting with Mr. Poole. Yet Ms. Pitch swore the night before she saw him slip out the house late, past midnight. Which she scolded him handsomely for in the morning.

“I had to collect laudanum from the apothecary for my experiments,” He said with a groan as she buttoned his vest for him. Her Eyebrow raised up at him. He rolled his eyes. “I mean it, I’m not one for a silver tongue. The best discounts are in the dead of night.”

“I can comprehend that, but you work so early! Surely you know you must sleep, at least sometimes.” Edward laughed a bit at that in disbelief that he was being scolded, raising his head to allow her time to tie his apcott in a neat bow around his neck. “You work with people’s lives, Doctor! Don’t be such a night owl all the time. The streets of London are nothing to toy about with, especially as of late. With that vile murderer on the loose… ”

“Murderer?” He echoed, a bit shocked.

“As I said! some mad man’s been out and about slaughtering the ladies of the night, It’s been all over the papers, his sick letters. He’s In London now!” She said in a willowy concern, smoothing out wrinkles in his shirt out of stress. “You could easily be mistaken for a lady of the night with all that hair” He simply sighed, swiping his long hair back behind his head as he placed his tophat over. He didn’t favor putting his hair in a ponytail most times, he hated the feeling of his hair being tugged every which way, being cut or brushed or tied. He really only tied it to keep up appearances, but if he was honest it truly stressed him out, which is why he chose to ignore it today. Ms. Pitch sighed as she backed up from Edward, Who put on his own black Ulster coat with matching dark gloves.

“Forgive me, but you aren’t my mother, Ms. Pitch, And I am not a woman nor child. I am a grown and educated man capable of defending himself.” He frowned, straightening his cloak. He spoke rather rudely, a cut to his voice, but it was rather tiresome to be scolded for his own choices. To be treated like a child. Ms. Pitch held in a breath, her eyebrows raising in concern for him. She spoke like she was dealing with a little boy.

“Edward,” She was promptly cut off by a glare and a frustrated grunt.

“Stop it.” His voice was raised now, something about this tone was pushing him over. “Please.” Silence followed, as it often did after Edwards sentences. He briefly made eye contact with her before he shot his gaze to the ground. She seemed to understand that, tucking her hands behind her back to bow for him.

“Apologies, Master Hyde.” But he couldn’t bring himself to believe her.

Edward’s trip to work was routine, walk along alley’s to avoid the bustle of early morning London streets, hide under his dark umbrella from the rain, catch a carriage halfway through his walk, and sit in silence until he arrived. He enjoyed this part of his routine, an hour of alone time out on cobble walkways, gliding through his existence like he was fog adrift in the city. It felt nice to disappear, to blend into the gray of British uniformity. Though pleasant, it ended the second he entered the office.

Words flow out peoples mouths like impatient carriage riders, demanding a destination and to arrive there faster than time can allow. He hid away inside, preparing pharmaceuticals for the injured and needy, wrapping bandages and caring for wounds. He was a doctor who worked in silence, his nurses taking care of his manners most of the time. He found himself lost in arranging bottles of medicine, his thoughts not straying far from the ring.

“Doctor Hyde, Good Morning.” A voice behind him rang, earning a gasp out of him in a bit of startle. He turned back to be faced with the, rather short, Gabriel Utterson. A good acquaintance of his with his hand in the police department of London. Mr. Utterson was thin and lanky, a frame which he often covered with his coats and such. Yet he stood tall, like he was compensating for that height gap.

“Mr. Utterson, you startled me.” He sighed in relief, turning around to face him fully. “Good morning, Sir. What’re you doing out so early?” Mr. Utterson was much more of an evening man, someone who crept out of the shadows late in the night and hunted down criminals with merely shreds of evidence, A Sherlock Holmes Type.

“Work” He said simply, stretching a hand out in front of Edward to shake, which he obliged.

“Work? I didn’t know you saw the light of day. Much less for work.” Mr. Utterson chuckled at that, shaking firmly before tucking his hands behind his back.

“No, you’re right. I’m usually out late, scouting the streets and all that. But things have been brewing, I’m sure you’ve heard. Scotland Yard’s out of hands.” He said quietly, stepping closer to allow more private conversation with Edward, Mr. Utterson realizing the other wasn’t quite sure of his implications. “Murder. Right In the open eyes of the street.”

“Murder?” Edward called back to his memory of the morning, the scolding he received from Ms. Pitch. “Ah, right. My maid told me about that, young women, I heard?” He said simply.

“Correct, Doctor. Women of the night, torn right open. ‘The Ripper’ he… So fittingly calls himself. Some silly pet name for the papers.” Utterson’s face scrunched in disgust, his lips turned down in pout.

“Interesting name,” Edward responded blankly, not especially interested in things like violence, as he was one to fix those horrid vexxes. “Hope he’s caught and all that, I’ve heard those letters are right vicious...” Edward nodded in respect before he turned back around, keeping a good eye on the jar full of leeches which squirmed as he moved. “I try to stay out of all that business. Scares me to be perfectly honest.”

“You do?” The Question caught him off guard, for he figured it was rather obvious he didn’t. Mr. Utterson’s tone was dead serious, and unnerving. You’d be surprised how much weight a little man’s voice can carry. “May I ask you, Dr. Hyde, Something simple?” And just like that, the air was sucked from the conversation. Always so changeable, Mr. Utterson was, capable of shockingly excellent interrogation tactics. Edward paused, feeling as though he should be uneasy at this sudden interest. He took in a bit of a shaky breath as he set the jar back down, tilting his head over his shoulder.

“You may, I suppose.” “I’ve heard you frequent the east end, Is that right? Near Mitre square? Whitechaple?” Edward believed that to be true, his eyebrows raising at the question. He didn’t trust this.

“Mitre square, perhaps. The apothecary lives down there, which isn’t too far off. I’m aware it’s a bad part of town, I try and keep my nose out of it.” Mr. Utterson’s eyes bore into him, making Edward’s anxiety spike even further. He couldn’t help but feel he was being interrogated. He probably was.

“Right. Hard to tell with you quiet types, there always seems to be something underneath that… Masquerade.” Utterson finally spoke, his voice always pitchy, but gruff. “Make sure you stay out of trouble, Doc. Especially with that girly look of yours. Wouldn’t want you to be mistaken for a Mistress.” The vague statement put Edward on edge, as this entire encounter had successfully done already. There was a silence between them, and Edward felt he might shatter if Mr. Utterson stared even a second longer. “I best be on my way, haven’t a moment to myself these days. Undoin’ a murders hard work.” Edward nodded his head down, sighing and looking straight into the floor as he ducked away.

“Right. Er, g’bye then.” He felt as though his anxiety gripped him by the throat, locking him under its grasp and crushing the air out of him. His goodbye was far too impolite. God, Was he being suspicious? Did he say something wrong? He quite simply was only honest, and that seemed to make Mr. Utterson distrust him even further. The tone he took with him filled him with dread. He kept glancing at the vision of himself in the reflection of the jars, Feeling as though they reflected everything around him at tenfold its real volume. His anxieties made the world loud, unbearable and bright. Like he needed to hide, cover his ears until time slowed down for him. He couldn’t stand that when those passing by his office saw him, chatting louder than needed, thinking louder than needed, could see him panic.

Appearance was so important to Edward, which is why the second his lunch hour began, he simply did not return to work. A quiet muttering of being faint to a nursing maid, and he was gone. He could hardly force himself to make it to a quiet street. The doctor preferred a nice silent space, distant from woes and cries, distant from chats and squeals, lights and agony. The rain continued on outside, and he found himself sheltered under the awning of a flat, leaned against the wall and listening to the sounds of pattering water down against the bricks and wood all around him. Hell, he left his coat in the office in his moment of… Weakness.

He felt his body waver and falter, allowing himself to sit against the wall and take in those shaky breaths he so desperately needed to catch. This was how it always was when something personal interfered with something he loved. Science, doctoring, they were supposed to be his safespace. When even minor annoyances forced themselves in, he felt as though his heart could snap under the pressure.

Edward couldn’t help but wonder if this was another him problem, as his mother often told him. An “exclusively Edward problem,” she had said in that thick Scottish dialect. “You oughta know that Eddy. Not everyone’s gonna bend ta yae’ will, if you’re the only one witha problem, there isn’t one to begin with.” Whenever he’d ask for some quiet away from his siblings.

He felt like the only one in the world sometimes, lonely, desolate and self important. He wondered if that was what others saw his behaviour as. He tried so hard to believe that it was just him, to hold his breath when he felt like it was slipping away, to close his eyes and make it all stop. To believe there really wasn’t anything wrong, and it was just an Edward problem.

All he wanted was someone else, someone to take this away from him. To leave his Edward Problems to Edward, and flourish under the limelight he never found himself under. To be someone else for even an evening, one night to abandon himself and melt into the arms of women, charm men with his stories, dance along his own words as if it were a Gala and he were a prince.

But here he was, alone. Sat in the alley, in his anxieties and brandished with a pen he kept in his inner vest pocket, He scrawled on his hand a Simple note.

“EH 7”

Chapter Text

October 13th 1888, Evening.

Mr. Poole had begun to worry about Edward, whose usual reclusive habits have slowly become more intense throughout the last few months. He was afraid the man was falling too deep into his own shell, shutting out the world and refusing to open up.
Mr. Poole had known Edward for quite some time, and he was someone he didn’t want to separate from so easily. For all his introverted behaviours, Edward was someone who you could rely on, and if you gave him the time to show it, he cared so deeply for those around him. All Poole could do was hope he returned those sentiments to him, he truly hoped Edward knew how much he wanted to be his closest relation.
Which was why the Nurse decided he must stop by once again. Today was the day, after all, and he would love to accompany his friend to The Ring. A nervous sigh escaped his lips as he adjusted his bow tie, straightening his beautiful green carnation and his smile.

Now for the hardest part. Getting Edward out of his laboratory.

“Ms. Pitch?” He called through the door after a gentle knock, hearing the shuffling around the house to get to the door. The house from the outside was well kept, Poole taking notice of the thriving plant life that seemed to pop up around the yard since the last time he visited.

The home was always well kept, a tall two story building with beautiful dark Victorian architecture, spandrels of detail throughout each place you looked. It was in a rather nice neighborhood, the homes surrounding similar in design, all smooshed so close together to accommodate the growing need for space on the island.

After a tad of waiting, Poole watched as the door opened to, Not Ms. Pitch, But an incredibly disheveled looking Edward. His hair was astray as usual, dark brown and a bit shiny with grease. He was dressed, hardly, a completely unbuttoned dress top tucked halfway into his slacks.

“Hyde!” Poole screeched a bit, his hands flying to his mouth. “You're not dressed at all, My dear!” And Edward practically only blinked in response.

“Good morning, Mr. Poole.” He said through a yawn.

“It's six in the afternoon!” Poole accepted himself into the house, immediately latching onto his friend's arm to drag him to his closet. “We hardly have any time, and you're dressed like a nightmare!”

“I wouldn’t say a nightmare.” Poole deadpanned towards him, his jaw slack at his friend’s words. Edward sighed.”Alright, Alright. Perhaps a tad nightmarish.”

“I sure hope you haven't forgotten about tonight Hyde, I’d be positively crushed!” His voice got whiny as he trotted up the simple starecase, catching passing glimpses of the both of them in the mirrors that filled every corner of the home.

“I. It’s tonight?” Edward hissed, biting the inside of his lip. “Is it already saturday? Oh god, you must help me choose my evening clothes.”

And thus, The dress up began. Poole brushed through Edward's hair with much protest, dressing him politely in a suit that closely resembled his own. Black with a deep waistcoat, his cravat tied with a small, silver skull pendant.

“I look… Stuffy.” The doctor said, pulling at his tie. “I hate these things.”

“Well aware, doc. But you look quite handsome.” Poole gave a sweet smile to him, a soft eye contact, still Edward felt the need to shift his gaze to the floor.

“Right. Thank you.” Silence followed.
Edward watched as Poole’s face tinted a shade of pink, his glasses fogging in a huff of warm breath. He looked to the window to escape the tension that the doctor hadn’t even sensed himself. “Oh, Lord, Hyde! It’s dark out!”

“We’re late, Aren’t we?” He added, chewing inside his lip. He was completely exhausted, wishing to crash and dream of test rabbits hopping over clouds, but at the same time, the excitement brewing inside of him completely consumed any tired feeling, blooming into a raw joy for science. “I apologize… I haven’t slept in a minute.” He felt as Poole tugged his arm once again, this time to drag him out of Edwards' reflective home.

The streets of London in the evening were beautiful on most nights, bustling with folks and shopkeeps, women with dresses hiked up to their thighs, always a drunkard clutching her hips and stumbling.

But tonight, No one.
The empty atmosphere surrounded the city, captivating each breath into fear. Admittedly, it was becoming dangerous. Edward didn’t think he saw a single lady who wasn’t being held close by her husband, shuffling quick into bars and flats before the dark and foggy evening became vile.

The walk was fast in its pace, though both men, It was worrisome to be out with a violent killer upon the streets. Edward watched as Poole shakily undid his mint carnation from his coat, tucking it inside without a word.

“How queer,” Edward said, tucking his arms behind his back. And for some reason, Poole’s face flushed red and looked to him in dismay.

“What’s Queer? Is it the way I’m dressed?” He hissed, chewing on his lip. And further hiding his flower into his suit.

“Hm? No, The street’s are so empty is all. Tad scary ‘innit?” Poole gave an awkward laugh in response, ending it with a cough and a muffled, ‘Mhm.’

The Ring of Cacophony was pitched not too far from Jekyll park, A massive tent of seemingly never ending tunnels, always known for its disappearance act. By night, the park crawled full of scientists, full of medics and enthusiasts, blessing each corner of the event with one’s own magical touch. And by the time the first band of light stretched across the streets, it was gone without so much a trace of carnival confetti.

Edward’s eyes grew full, watering at the sight of red lamplight like a blood moon’s light calling to a moth. The Ring to Edward was not Icarus to the sun, Ophelia to lake, but spring to fauna.
This is where he is meant to be.

The magic bloomed even further the closer they came to the Ring, Edward clutching in raw joy onto Poole’s shoulder, Who smiled at the contact.

“It’s real.”

He’d never seen the stern Dr. Hyde so happy, and he could hardly keep up as he was dragged down twists and turns. The tents smelled of sugar and caramel, the maroon glow illuminating aristocrats with their pipes of opium, causing a makeshift fog and a second hand high. It was euphoric, the wealth and intelligence of the kingdom flourished forth in one place, haughty laughs paired to blissful cheers and drinking. All for the love of science and eclectic passions.

“Do you see it all?” Edward asked, his cheeks flushed red in his joy.

“I do,” But Poole was more infatuated by the man’s eyes, notably glossy, full and brown like tawny. “It’s beautiful.” With such softness.

“Thank you, Mr. Poole.” Edward tore his gaze from The Ring, looking to him like he hung the moon in the stars. “Aubrey.”

Aubrey. His heart beat straight from his chest, the nurse’s breath faltering as his mind melted.
“Edward, I,”

“Oh. My. God!” Edward suddenly shouted, pushing Aubery’s shoulder to move him to the side. “Madame Gomez! She’s here!” His smile wide, he quickly stumbled past him and left his friend standing still in shock.

“Hell.”

Madame Gomez was an unmistakable woman, a large crimson hat atop her head, decorated in flowers the whole way around. She was tall and domineering, dark brown hair billowing down her shoulders in coils. She was utterly powerful, wearing not a skirt, but red dress pants with a matching dresses bodice.

She was a brilliant chemist from Mexico, a brilliant scientific entrepreneur with men often at her side bending to her requests. And there she was, in front of Edwards eyes commanding men with a snap of her fingers, her heeled boot propped on the chair of her pop up chemistry shop as one of her many courtiers shined them. Edward clutched his chest in excitement, giving an overjoyed glance to Poole before he approached, his hands flapping back and forth to exert that excess energy shooting from his veins down his whole body.

“Madame Gomez!” He greeted, her eyes quickly shooting towards the joyous man. She supplied a sidelong gaze, parting her red lips to speak in response before Edward did for her. “I- I am just overjoyed to meet you! You see— I am a scientist too! And I just adore your works, especially your recent publication of your tales in india? Absolutely stunning progress, I mean, starting from the ground up to this? One of the most gifted chemists of our time? I can’t believe I’m here in front of you!” He could hardly catch his breath, his smile making his face wrinkle.

Madame Gomez took a huff of her pipe, letting the smoke slowly glide from her lips and into the open air. “Who are you exactly?” She asked dry, her eyes falling slowly back to her shoes.

“Oh, Erm. I am Doctor Edward Hyde, forgive me for being so impolite I was simply carried away, you must understand i—“

“Tad creepy, wouldn’t you say?” Madame Gomez tilted her head back, looking towards the politely dressed man at her side, holding an extravagant tea set on a silver tray. He nodded curtly, his thick mustache moving as he spoke.
“I would say yes.”

“I. Apologize for that. It was a bit rude to throw myself towards you, but,”

“Quiet.” Madame Gomez groaned as she took her leg down from the stool, kicking her boots against the ground and placing her hands confidently on her hips. She was tall over Edward even, standing at a good six foot four with her heels on. “You apologize far too much, you realize. What do you need from me?”

“Right. Pardon me. Or— Don’t? Sorry,” He stuttered, his smile dimming a tad. “No. Um. I just wanted to… Applaud your brilliance. I wanted nothing but, perhaps, may I ask for you to sign my copy? Of your studies? I’ve been a fan of yours since your first publication. My, even my current experiment is based on your studies of botanical separation! I’ve always wondered, what if I could separate the human psyche. As man, we all have that in the agonised womb of consciousness, Good and Evil. These polar twins should be continuously struggling. within one’s mind and soul. How, then, were they dissociated? Is there someone who is purely one or the other?” He spoke fast, Not quite noticing the way Madame Gomez’s eyes thinned to his interest.

“Stop it.” She introjected, stepping closer to the man and twisting her pipe around her pointer and middle finger. “Seriously, is this how you converse all of the time? To approach a woman with all your teeth bared like a dog? How absurd.” She laughed to him in a haughty manner, watching the doctor shrink under her words. He quickly put that smile away, his eyes once full of glamour now to the ground.

“I’m Sorry.” Edward breathed in, his voice falling dry and awkward as it usually was in public. God, there he was. He did the stupid thing he always does when he’s happy, he spoke too much, he thought too much, he was too much. It was happening again, the same as it did when Ms. Pitch scolded him, the same as when Mr. Utterson suspected him. The world closed in, the air left his lungs and he couldn’t even gasp to regain it.

At some point, Aubrey was by his side again, holding onto his arm and taking him away from the place he stood, and at some point Edward left him again. He yanked free from his grip on him, heart faltering as he carried on past. He didn’t speak, his voice dead in his throat as the ever present atmosphere crushed his lungs. Edward ignored the other’s pleas to stay, pushing past the dark drapes and walking fast through the makeshift hallways.

Why? Why did he do this every time? He thought he was plenty friendly, but had he approached with too much confidence? Is the victorian not meant for confidence at all, and shall one only truly be meant for internalization and suffering?

Edward found himself hiding again, this time, down corridors in the Ring. The walls in this quarter were striped in deep purple hues, a style which extended to the furniture.

Edward hitched his breath, sitting on one of the extravagant couches he’d found in the room. It was dimly lit inside, the sources of light emitting from the dim gas lamps that hung from the ceiling, all in varying lengths but still cascading downwards like a waterfall of quiet light. Focusing on the gentle sway of the lamps, the clinks they made as they ran against each other, calmed the doctor down tenfold. He let out a shaky sigh as he stared up at them, lost in the sounds of wind outside and patterns of motion. He didn’t even notice as the sounds of two, no, three feet shuffled across the dirt of the circus floor.

“I Know I left that beaker inside, Eury.” A sweet voice chimed, snapping Edward out of his soothing trance.

“I know you did not, however. This whole trip is useless.” A deeper, yet incredibly similar voice replied.

“You’re Useless! Dead weight!”

“Skin suit!”

“I should’ve eaten you fully in the womb.”

“Well then Finish the job, Coward!”

“Stranger!” The sweeter voice suddenly shrieked as she turned the corner, raising one of her hands in self defense. Edward couldn’t help but let out a gasp at the sight of her.

Them.

The two girls were stuck together at the side, their shoulders fusing, with one of each having their own arm. The one with the sweeter voice had thin eyebrows and short, straight, black hair that ended in a bob above her chin. The one with the deeper voice was also adorned with black hair, hers however was far past her shoulders, venturing down her lower back. Her face was blank as her sister panicked over Edward’s presence.

“Missey, calm down.” The long haired twin said, raising her sharp eyebrows in confusion. “He’s whimpering and all that. I Don’t think he’s here for us.”

“Why must it always be our quarters they come to cry in?” Presumptively Missey replied, clutching the corners of her short and frilly lavender dress. Usually, it would be socially vile for a woman to expose that much of her skin, but it was clear it was meant to show off the young girl’s extra leg, one in the middle of the other two to share.

“I—“ Edward stuttered, still a bit in shock and incredibly embarrassed to be in some teens quarters. “Pardon me, I didn’t mean to intrude, I was trying to er. You see, I was,”

“Crying?” The flat voiced twin said, earning a flick from her sister.

“Eury! Be nice! He’s clearly a broken man, look at his hair.” She whined, still pulling at the corners of their frills. Edward blinked and only took a little offense.

“Perhaps. Are you alright sir?”

“Yes, Yes I am. Thank you, dears.” He sighed, standing up from the couch. He stood tall, straightening his back and pushing his round glasses up his face. He tried to brace himself as he thought about the perfect expression to keep his face in. “My sincere apologies, My name is Doctor Edward Hyde. Surgeon and Scientist at Saint Norths.”

“Our name is Misseury!” Missey cheered, curtsying to the best of her ability with no help from Eury.

“ ‘Our?’” Edward replied.

“Our.” Eury finished. “Her name is Missey, and mine is Eurydice. Get it? Miss…Eury.” Edward frowned.

“That’s… rather unfortunate.” He tilted his head a bit like a puppy, his eyebrows knitting together.

“Well, when life gives you an eternity of being stuck with the worst and most forgetful creature. You make lemonade.” Eury rolled her eyes as she spoke, though Edward had absolutely no clue what she was implying with the phrase. Teens, he supposed. “Don’t perchance you’ve seen a beaker in here, aye? Full o’ our blood? Need it for an experiment.”

“An experiment?” Edward questioned. “Are you both… Scientists?”

“Rude of you to assume we both are! We have different interests, you know.” Missey hissed, her face all scrunched up like she had a slice of said lemon in her mouth.

“My apologies. I assumed incorrectly.” Edward still felt awkward, but he slipped into the state he should have been in when he met Madame Gomez, calm and collected, not too excited for the medical miracle in front of him. “It must be difficult then, living two different lives in one body.” He hummed, his focus on the middle of their body, where they met and intertwined. “You must feel… Restricted. Stuck. I understand that.”

Eury sighed, looking away from Edward. “Sometimes.” She agreed. It made Missey frown, but her sister continued. “Sometimes we both feel stuck. But it’s not our fault others won't accommodate for us.”

It struck confusion in Edward. “By that you mean…?” He paused to search for words, almost angry at the way they spoke. “You don’t feel stuck… Together. But by others?” He scoffed.

Missey sensed the change in his tone, raising her chest and huffing air. “Why would we feel stuck together? We’ve only ever existed this way. We have no reason to change for others.”

“Life would be easier.” He furrowed his eyebrows, coils of jealousy sprouting in his heart. “Pursuing interests, passions. To separate yourself and finally, truly live.”

“Excuse me, Doctor, but we have our own volition.” Missey’s face was rather expressive, her anger festering in a dramatic frown and bitten lips. “How could someone exist without their whole self? Frankly, It’s none of your business how we function. We do it just fine.”

Edward couldn’t fight this thought, this feeling of anger, anguish, this thought of ‘Why are you happy, and I am not?’ If he was able bodied and minded, why? Why was he even here, at this point. This mania of jealousy struck his heart.

“But you are not one person.” He felt aggression rise in his typically flat tone, biting inside his lip to keep his voice down. “You said that, How can you possibly be satisfied with your existence? How dare you be satisfied with this fusion of personality and taste.” What he wanted to say, was Why? Why not him? Instead, his jealousy manifested in poisonous spit.

The cheerful Missey’s face dropped into something more serious, her eyebrows furrowed with an upset she must be familiar with. “You’re no different than us.” She spat out, the joy lost from her voice. Edward felt his own joy sucked from his body, his own existence.

He was no different.

“Leave.”

Edward snatched his tailcoat from the back of the lavender couch, and pocketed the vial he had seen earlier with a scowl upon his face. It was full to the brim of a slick red liquid, labeled “Misseury.”

Chapter Text

Promethean Heartbreak
Chapter Trigger Warning,Suicidal ideoligy & Self harm in the name of science. This scene ends in chapter 5.

October 14th 1888, 1.am.

“This very well may be my final writing.
Production of EH7 is complete. Please send regards to the Hyde Family in Scotland in the case of my death or disappearance for more than three months, as I am unsure of the success of my potion. In sound mind, I leave my wealth to My siblings to be evenly distributed, and my home to Cathrine Pitch. Aubery Poole has my studies, and my wish for him to continue his education.

Aubrey, please forgive me. I don’t think it’s wrong of me. To want to change.

I’d change for you, I’d change to make you smile. But I don’t think you’d like it this way.

I’m starting to think it’s selfish, taking my own existence out of this world and destroying it. Rebuilding it. I’m starting to think many things— ethics and devastation.

I start to think of your face— and kindness.
But one man’s love cannot stop me now, I don’t think at least.

So I won’t think anymore.

Human experimentation for EH7 shall commence with myself as the subject. I beg it to tear me in two like a laboratory rodent. I want it to rip me in half and burn me like the rising sun into unknowing eyes, look at myself and see no human left.

Perhaps Edward Hyde should cease to exist.
Consumed ten centiliters of EH7. I feel hysteria slip into my breath. It’s hot against my tongue. Chemically vile. Tastes of iron and lavender.
Aubrey, I’m so sorry, I care for you like no other, but this is how it must be.

It. Hurts

Dr. Edward Thomas Hyde.”

October 14th 1888, 1.15am.
Edward Is home now, he had tore into his own townhome and shut his doors tight behind him. It caused a disturbance he had earlier realized, because Mrs.Pitch scolded him handsomely for making such a racket in the earliest hour of the morning. And he could not hold his tongue, his explosive agony wrung a shaky hateful comment from his throat. He couldn’t even remember what he had said, but he didn’t care anymore.

He didn’t notice when his tears fell into this chemical concoction, he didn’t notice the pain when he cut blood from his palm with freshly broken glass, allowing this element into his potion.

He scrawled the notes of what exactly his experiment contained, all previous elements of EH6, now with the addition of his own blood, with the sister’s blood. His breath was hot steam into cold air as he stared into the vial he had just drank, his chest heaved and his mind melted. His heart ripped from his chest as he sobbed, the papers he wrote on dotted with his tears.

“Edward,” He remembered his mother’s voice, brushing her fingers through his hair as he whined. He hated the touch of his hair, the way he felt almost connected to the tangles. “You will not be able to live as an adult if you can’t even brush this mess. You’re going to be a man, boy. It needs to go.” And he would pull and hit, fighting the grip she kept on his long hair. The sound of a knife raking through tangled lock, the knick on the back of his neck from the way he fought, it was all too much. It felt like he had been shredded in two.

Shredding. Ripping.

He gripped his journal once again, His pen leaking ink in messy patterns as he wrote.

“I’m burning— Grinding in the bones, deadly nausea, and a horror of the spirit that cannot be exceeded at the hour of birth or death.”

He choked, his tears now raging against his eyes in sharp shots of pain. Color had drained from his face, pale and sickly as he fell to his knees and clutched his chest, He looked into the mirrors around in desolate fear. For a moment, his heart panged. He thought of Aubrey, thought of his hands brushing through his hair with a gentleness no one had touched him with before. Thought of his face hearing he had died. He’d never met a man who made him feel so seen. Who made him feel. Other things.
But that was over now. There was no going back, and no moving forward.

This is the end.

“I am dying.”

His pen scratched down the rest of the page, bleeding obscenely into the next ones as he stabbed through it, a blinding, agonized scream tearing through his body.

Hair fell from his head in clumps as he ripped his own fingers through it, brown fading into a crisp white mess as his heart fell into thousands of pieces until it stopped, His final glance into the world being into his own mirror, blood pouring from his eyes, nose, mouth and ears.

And he couldn’t help but smile.

Edward Hyde was Dead.

Chapter Text

October 14th 1888, 1:30 am
“Edward Hyde is dead! Joy to the world! Blessings upon thee and thine neighbor, the damned creature is crushed under my own achilles heel! Pip pip, cheerio and all that, Doc! Wooooooohooo!

Lookie me, so cute and charming. Goodness, I look so different! My hair is absurd! Long, long and white. I’ve never seen it this way before, like I have the finest of shampoos laced through my soft pearly head.
I am filled with the joy of a mother looking at a newborn, and it’s me! I am the newborn!
What is my purpose in this new body? Who am I? My new blue eyes pierce straight through my existence, I shimmer with new thought.
I shimmer!

I’m so high!
Me.”

October 14th 1888, 2:30 am.
Down cobbled streets, up hills and marshes of grass, lies a monastery full of religion and new dawn. The man with long hair stumbled past, blood on his clothes and deeply disheveled.

The streets of London in deep dead night were often terrifying, with only gaslights holding the sun in momentary quiet. But there was the familiar and soft bustle of drunkards in Bars far off, speaks of illegal trades and sexual delight. Blasphemy at its finest, and the long haired man felt delighted to Slip past it.
He shakily Clung to the lamp post on the outside of the small church, leaving his own blood on it as he heaved for a gasp of air. He couldn’t help the smile and bliss that filtered through each thought, stunningly out of his own mind from the concoctions contaminants.

“Hello?” His voice rang, cracking as he stumbled from the post to the large, black, church door. “I don't suppose a goodly Christian may offer a hand to the injured?” He Spoke as he used the large, cross shaped knocker to further his introduction. Frankly, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, if anything. His thoughts felt as though they floated forty feet above his body and danced along clouds and dew drops, his physicality relieved of the pain he so often carried in his sternum. He wasn’t afraid to speak.
The man with long hair sighed at the lack of response, whistling idly as he let his grip go on the knock.

“Please be holy, priests? Nuns? I beg thee for a brief visit, that of a chat,” he spoke rather playful this time, trying his very hardest to be convincing, but nothing changed. “Please?” He drew out, finally sighing and collapsing on the floor. That was when he heard the voice.

“What are you doing?”

The man with long hair sat Back up in a sharp shock, grabbing at himself as he searched for the source of the sound. But it was everywhere and nowhere all at once. It was deep, brooding and familiar. Like honey left to boil.

“Who goes there?” The man with long hair yelped, chewing on his lip nervously.

“Hyde,” The voice replied, but the man couldn’t find him ever yet. “Edward Hyde. Where are we? Where am I?”

Edward Hyde. The sickening devil. The name filled the long haired man with rage, his eyes darting about. His sharp gaze locked with this Silhouette in the ground, a shadow from the water. And all be damned, it was Edward Hyde ghosted before him in the reflection.

“Are you dead?” The man’s voice shook, praying that was the truth, and not, “Are we both dead?”

“Perhaps.” Hyde said, his voice flat and Rough, Back Turned to the reflective world and the Man. He sounded like he’d screamed the same agonizing way the man had earlier, like his spine was ripped out through his mouth. “Who is really to say? I believe only I am dead, though. For I removed myself from your equation. Allow yourself to be free. We are not one anymore.”

“We were one?” The man asked, leaning so close to the puddle that his white hair dipped into the water.

“Good and evil.” Was the doctor's depressive response. “You’re my better half. It’s my medicine for the mentally sick.” He explained.

“I don’t want to be your half, Hyde. Better or not. Leave me be.”

Hyde sighed, slipping further into the puddle, his appearance became more foggy the more he backed away from the forefront.

“I— I didn’t mean actually leave!” The man squealed, leaning closer to the puddle in a panic.
“What? What do you—?”

Hyde was silenced then, a large foot coming crashing down against the water, keeping his stance right in the puddle. The man looked up with a gasp, his eyebrows raising in concern as he scrambled away from the other.

He was a middle aged man, black hair struck with white, and A thin nose with a politely groomed mustache underneath. He was dressed in robes, black and falling above his ankles. “Young man, What are you doing here?” He said in holy worry, kneeling down like it was for prayer, not noticing the puddle he sat in. “You’re bloody!”

The man with long hair simply laughed, realizing the other was just a priest with no threat.

“No, no, don't worry, father!” He smiled, accepting the hand offered to him to tug himself from the cobble ground. “Its my own blood, not another’s. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind though, Catholics always do love a drink of that blood.” He joked, his smile lighting up across his face naturally as he nudged the Father. He promptly collapsed. His vision was blurred as he clung onto the priest. “Cheers.”

“Are you not catholic, young sir?” Father asked, guiding the Long haired man inside the monastery. It was a beautiful church, tall and gothic, with stained glass windows allowing colorful moonlight to shine on the man’s wide eyes.

He simply shook his head, trying to tear his eyes from the windows. “Man of science, myself.”
“Why don’t I pray for you while we clean you up?”

“We?” The long haired man asked, his voice tilting in curiosity as the Father clapped his hands twice and firmly.

“We!” He said cheerfully. At this point, the long haired man couldn’t tell if it was the opium or reality, but priests seemed to emerge from the walls, from hidden doors he didn’t see before. They carried gas lamps, illuminating themselves and their robes as they drifted seamlessly through the pews. “Let’s take care of this sinner, my friends.”

The long haired man lit up in laughter, patting the Father on the back. “Yes! Let’s get to it!” Though, this wasn’t exactly what he meant when his fantasy was ‘men with their hands all over him’, It certainly was fun! Oh god, he’s never acknowledged that thought before. Especially not in church. He kept that thought to himself.

He felt a warm cloth press to his mouth, steam rising as one of the men wiped his bloody lips. “You gentlemen are far too kind!” He cheered, a bright smile lighting up across his face as he was so carefully taken care of.

“We’re a caring community, sir. We must give love to the injured man with a violent killer on the loose.” He said, ruffling those long white locks of hair. “While your hair is beautiful, Not quite appropriate for a man, wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose not! You wouldn’t happen to have shears would you?” But the moment he said it, they were in front of his face. “Oh, you kind bastards! Look at you!” The men around him laughed, and he felt this ecstasy rise at the idea of being so… adored. That was when he felt hands tangle into his hair, and inside this agony suddenly brewed.

They were going to cut it.

This made his heart stop, but he couldn’t bring himself to express it. He simply smiled, allowed it, feeling the shredding, ripping through his whole skull. He had so much hair, the agony didn’t seem to end, but no one who glanced upon his laughing figure, his joyous smile, his glittering eyes, that he was writhing inside. He wanted to cry, turn away from the tearing and rock himself till he felt safe again. But he stayed still. This wasn’t normal. This didn’t feel good.

“Perfect. You look stunning, young sir!” The father said, The long haired man hardly noticed he was no longer the long haired man. His head felt light, breeze on the back of his neck that he hadn’t felt in years. He hated it, he hated the anxiety that crushed his chest. But as the father rose the mirror to his face, he drew in a gasp.

He looked… So different. He had Hyde’s glasses lazily slumped down his face, seldom change in his actual bone structure. His crisp white hair was cut close and neatly to his head, leaving a silightly longer, but polite amount for him to style. The man with short hair raised his hand to run through the cut, his fingers shaky from the anxiety, but his smile still wide. He felt… Normal. Normal at least, to the naked eye. He’d hardly call his body ripping and changing “Normal,” but everyone has their flaws.

“I look…” The priests leaned forward in anticipation, looking for the man with short hair’s answer. “Positively charming!” He clapped his hands, and the priests around him laughed jovily. “Isn’t this wonderful, chaps? Look how you’ve done me! I look right stunning!” He reached his hand to shake theirs, he’d never seen so many people smiling at him. He felt so seen, with these strangers, than he ever had at The Ring. With people he was supposed to fit in with. “Father, please, I must know the name of my devilish barber! Tell me sir, if the devil can keep a pleasant form, can he not be a barber too?”

“Father Lanyon, sir. And yours?”
Lanyon. Lanyon.

“Father Lanyon!” The man with short hair shrieked, “As in— The Lanyon, Like Professor Hastie Lanyon?”

“My father, sir. Are you a student of his?”

“Why yes! That would make you Sterling Lanyon! Lord, I haven’t seen you in years!”
The man with short hair watched as the other blinked in confusion, not recognizing who was in front of him. The man quickly realized his mistake, shaking his head. Sterling Wouldn’t know what he was now. He was a stranger, even to himself. “Only in passing, I mean. Many years since I was in college.”

“I See.” The father said, his gentlemanly smile blooming across his face. “Perhaps my father had mentioned you, Your name, Sir?” And that was the question that struck him, his breath hitching.

“Ed—“

His voice died in his throat, biting his tongue. He stuttered a bit in a pathetic way. “I… don’t know. I think I’ve forgotten.” He felt the hand of another priest behind him touch his shoulder, reaching for his unbuttoned shirt in order to hand him a neatly folded pile of clothes. They were black, The man presumed the same garb the priests were in without a robe.
“I don’t think I want to remember his name.”

“That’s alright sir, you seem lost. Lost in the ways of sin. Would you say that?”

“I would say that.” The man replied, a frown setting in his features. He slowly further undid his own blood stained shirt, shedding the layer and offering it to the priest.
“Lost.”

“Maybe a new name would do you some good. To shed that skin. Grow, and find your way again. Sometimes being someone else for a while lets you step out of your own shoes. Catch your own breath.” Sterling soothed him so sweetly, watching as the man dressed himself with gentle eyes.

“What name, Father Lanyon? What can help me change?”

“Why not…” He paused, rubbing his chin with his thumb in thought. “Henry sounds rather nice, Wouldn’t you say? A gentleman's name.”

“Henry…” The man with short hair repeated, feeling himself further distance from whatever pitiful existence Edward Hyde was. Shedding his own skin, living apart from the side of him that always found its way to ruin him. That wasn’t him anymore.
He was Henry, dressed in priest's garb.

“I think I like that.”

Chapter Text

Mr. Henry Jekyll And The Disappearing act
October 14th 1888, 3 am

“I Think i have chosen it. My name, I mean. Henry! Henry is a gentleman’s name. And I am the Gentleman Henry. It is beautiful to be me, I am the Hyde that did not grow up doing dirty work, farming, cleaning. I am the Hyde that grew up with Spare change in my pocket and had my clothes tailored to me. I am the Hyde that was the youngest sibling, pampered and cute and social, not the oldest, not the one who worked, not the one who's been orphaned in his twenties. The one who is loved. Embraced by new and old folks alike.

I encountered my mentor from university! I used to study with him! I never impressed him as Hyde, a rude student who cared not for others' studies, jaded and alone. But as Henry, I bloomed like a caterpillar to a butterfly. He chose my name for me, when I met him at the monastery. I never would’ve assumed the man to be a Father now. Well, at least a Holy Father.
I Think I should retire from Hyde.
—Henry!”

“I don’t know about that.” A voice spoke, familiar once again. Hyde. This time, he was reflected in the window of the church. Henry couldn’t see his own reflection, instead Hyde stood once again with his back turned for the most part. He made passing glances back when he’d speak, but he seemed solemn in his hiding space. Henry felt that spike of sadness he knew Hyde was living in, afterall, they were both perfectly content with dying not three hours ago. But that didn’t make Henry Any less defensive.

“What? What do you mean, beast?!” He yelped back, pointing his pen aggressively at his mirrored friend.
“Hush.” Hyde hissed, glancing over his shoulder to stare Henry down. “I can hear you think, there’s no need to speak to me. You’ll look crazy, I don’t think anyone else can see me here.” Henry seemed to quiet at that, allowing the doctor to continue his speaking. “The potion should work to return me to our body. We need to live our lives, still. Otherwise we’d be broke-poor and all that.”

“I have—“ Henry bit his tongue, stopping his sentence to instead try to think it in a harsh tone. “I have every bit of doctoring knowledge you have, hyde.” He huffed aloud to add that extra sass he felt not speaking lacked.

“But not the title.” He said simply. “My degree is in my name, afterall. You’re just a stranger who knows pharmaceuticals.” Hyde seemed to be almost floating in this space between reality and his mind, leaned back against nothing, and most certainly but a hallucination. If Henry stared hard enough, he could see through Hyde and see the faint image of himself. “I’d love to live as you too, Henry. But that’s just not… How it works. It’s foolish to think that way.”
Henry bit his lip in worry, fighting the tears in his eyes. “I hate being you.” He said simply, looking down and to his notebook.

“I know.” The doctor glanced to his own hands, pushing them away from himself in disgust for his being. “I like being you as well. But after tonight, I have matters to attend to. Let’s enjoy this night while it lasts.”

And Henry knew he was right. He picked his pen up to continue his writing.

“Fine. Maybe I will wait to retire Hyde. But I must enjoy today while it lasts. I will… Be so gentlemanly at The Ring! I still have my ticket!”

Henry looked up from his book, A perfect smile across his face, not too wide, not too mild, but beautiful. Perfect. He saw a glimpse of Hyde’s own smile, who’s own remained small, but content.
“That sounds like a wonderful plan, Henry.” He said, soft and quietly. Henry had to live tonight, his first night in existence, as charming as he was, he must live it.

That was why Henry took off as fast as he could, tucking his tiny, stuffed journal inside the little pocket on the inside of the black capelet that was draped over his shoulders. He practically danced through the streets of London, the euphoria of his existence earning adrenaline to keep him going. Though much quieter in a deeper evening, Jekyll park was the only place in London still lit up with life with the presence of The Ring. Energy filled the night, cheers from aristocrats in extravagant clothes, bustling scientists in their eccentric gear. This time, Henry would belong.

This time he’d make it right.

The Ring was as confusing as ever, a place difficult to navigate as folks pushed past and around each other. Henry found it to be the most diverse convention The Kingdom had to offer, but also, the most chaotic. If you paid close attention you could tell it was thrown together, one would know it must be. To only come into existence by the end of the day, and disappear by the beginning of the next, meant it must be as easy to put away as easily as the next glow of sunlight on the foggy London streets. That was something Henry could relate to, existing beautifully for only a night. This was his night.

As he managed inside, he knew his one mission was to once again find Madame Gomez, Show off how normal and polite he was now. He felt this biting anger eat away from him, this urge to outcast her the way she did him. The way she did Hyde. But he wanted to prove himself better than that too, to be just so gentlemanly that she felt she was rude for simply breathing. That painstaking awkwardness that Haunted Hyde’s every action and thought he wanted inflicted onto her. Kill her with kindness, he figured, that passive aggression was how most dealt with him until tonight.

As Henry made his way through, passing noisy scientists who at one point may have interested him more than aristocracy, He found himself utterly… Lost.

This part of The Ring was more maze-like than others, twisted down hallways that the alter ego had quite a hard time navigating. Frankly, he was following the sound of people, music, and the smell of booze to find civilization once again.

These hallways he trapped himself in were striped red and white, hanging lamps dangling from the tent top downwards, emitting a warm light. The scent of caramel and carnival was always strong where there were the most people, and as Henry finally ducked into another curved hall, he turned his way into a tight little bar. It was bustling with people, mostly men in their tailcoats at each other’s side.

He figured this may be a good place to find the Madame.
There were very few women littered about, strangely, also at the sides of other women. But everyone seemed to have their eyes on each other or booze or… this very tall, shapely performer. She had quite the figure, Henry noticed, her chest almost exaggerated, with her hips swaying as she strut down the crowd. He wasn’t usually the type to stare so pointedly at a woman’s… bosom. But they were just out! What was a man to do?
She wore a rather low cut, shimmery black dress, and her hair was in an extravagant white updo with several green carnations sticking out in great detail. She seemed to catch the staring eyes upon her, as Henry's jaw was obviously slack at the sight. And all be damned she winked! Henry’s face lit up in a red haze, but he didn’t glance away, rather smiling back at her with a new found confidence.
As she made her way down, Henry noticed several men make reaches for her body, cheering as they tucked money into her hands and clothes. So that was the kind of show he found himself in. He felt his embarrassment burn inside him again, but as he was just about to run out and search for the Madame in another tent, he caught a sight that truly knocked the wind out of him.

“Aubrey!” He shouted, watching as his friend laughed and stumbled as he tucked a rather outrageous amount of money into her chest. His head turned harshly at his name, taking his hand back and searching through the crowd of men for his caller. But Henry panicked, hiding behind another patron and slapping his hands over his own mouth.

“Idiot!” He heard a voice hiss, recognizing it well by now as Hyde’s.

Henry bit his lip again, giving a quick and sharp whisper back of ‘‘Shut up!”

The man he hid behind looked to him with such confusion, his eyebrows furrowed judgmentally as Henry simply smiled back, slipping away with his head ducked to get a better look at his friend while staying well out of his line of sight. ‘What was he doing?’ He thought, looking to Hyde’s response for any sort of answer.

“I don’t… I don’t know. I never saw him as the type of man to frequent a place like this.” The doctor responded, his voice quiet and a bit judgmental. “Ask him about it.”

‘What?’ He huffed. ‘He doesn’t know who we are like this!’ Henry was far too focused on the silly little voice in his head to pay close attention, but Hyde had his eyes (Wherever he was,) Set on his close friend. A strike of jealousy shook through the both of them, and Hyde fell silent again.

Aubrey seemed to have forgotten about the sound of his name, his attention diverted back on a stranger neither of the duo could recognize in their memory. The sight made Henry… Hurt.

There stood Aubrey, laughing, back pressed into a small bar table, with a tall and dark man leaning far too close into him. They looked to chat happily, his friends hands snuck up around the others neck, while his were around his waist. While Hyde stayed silent in his mind, Henry’s thoughts raced through friendly explanations for this touching, But even Aubrey didn’t touch Hyde this way. And he didn’t understand why that made his heart feel like it fell out of its socket and straight through the dirt floor. Just as the two’s faces seemed to move together, closer and closer, Henry sucked in a sharp breath and stumbled his way out of whatever he just walked into, still reeling from the thought of his dear friend with another man. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable by the action itself, he thought, He wasn’t a man of religion despite his current look, but just a bit… Shocked. And a little hurt that Aubrey never told him about these habits.

Did he not trust him?

No, No. He must not trust hyde. Hyde isn’t trustworthy, he’s rude and uncaring, and just earlier he yanked away from him when he should’ve been thanking him, it now seemed obvious why Aubrey didn’t view them as truly close, Hyde ruined everything, and it seemed Aubrey must agree too.
Henry did his best to draw his thoughts away from what he saw, the weird feeling that twisted inside him, bringing his memory back to finding Madame Gomez. It was easy to forget once you think of it, Victorian repression was a practiced art Henry had grown much accustomed to in the skin of Hyde.

Henry felt the need for sleep set in his bones, but the need to prove himself was ever greater. He shook his head sharply, shedding all of those feelings to leave to Hyde. The curves of The Ring were harder to navigate with less energy, but he was bursting with more excitement than he first arrived with. As he approached a massive opening in the tent, his eye’s filled with wonder.

Madame Gomez was sat on a man's shoulder, a bottle of liquor in her hands as she spoke to a group of scientists around her. She was a main event, Henry realized, and to have approached her so callously with stars in his eyes. How foolish, he cringed, biting his lip and glancing away in embarrassment.

“To be man is foolish,” She yelled, raising her bottle into the air. “That’s why I became a woman! These men lap at the blood of the poor, suckling our skin till it bleeds. Abandon your manhood, leave it in dust. Women, we are the future of science!” Cheers erupted from the crowd as she popped open the bottle with her teeth, champagne fizzling out in spouts that she poured for the crowd. And Henry noticed this must be where all the women were. He cheered with them, fighting the urge to cover his ears and hide his face. Hyde wouldn’t be able to fight it. He was better than him. He was better than Hyde.

“Young—? Man!” She said, taking a swig and pointing the now empty bottle to Henry. “What’s your name?”

“Henry, Madam.”

“Henry—! What a Man’s name! Tell me, would you abandon manhood?” She was clearly a tad… Drunk. But Henry shook his head side to side.

“No, Madam. I feel no connection to man, no connection to woman. We are all human alike in the glasses of science— So scientifically, what is a man to a woman, if not human?“ He said with a grin on his face, earning cheers from around him. He blushed at the attention. “An enemy to the suffragette.” Henry felt as he was jostled with other’s joy, knowing both him and Hyde shared this opinion at least.

“I’d drink to that!” She tilted her head back with a grin, raising her champagne only to be disappointed by the lack of liquor in it. She slumped against the man’s head in defeat, and her red hat slipped over her eyes. “After I get more Booze. Henry— Henry, tell me,” She hiccuped. “What science do you partake in? Under what family?”

His heart stopped for a moment for three reasons. First being, Oh my god, oh my god, Madame Gomez is actually interested! The second, Hell, I’ve already told her! And she thought it was weird! Third and finally, Henry has no family name. Lies to invent shifted through his mind, worrying his hands as he gave a fake, yet joyful laugh. “Uh—!” He stammered, blinking rapidly for a moment.”Henry uh—Jekyll! An orphaned name, so under no one.” Damn it, damn it! They were in Jekyll Park, it couldn’t be a more obvious fake name. “I study… Chemicals.” Not a lie, but a half truth.

“Brilliant.” She gave, rustling the hair of the butler she sat on the shoulders of. “Women, We can study—!” Another hiccup. “Chemicals too!” Most would see this as ludicrous behavior, but as it is known, The Ring of Cacophony was a massive party, full of rich folks higher than Icarus, and more boozed than a drunkard.

Her eyes seemed to narrow suddenly towards Him, a deep brown, almost red in the gaslights. “You look familiar, Jekyll. Have we studied before— Together?” Henry felt the blood drain from his face, suddenly struck with the panic and the wonder of if he really doesn’t look that different? They never studied together, so perhaps a drunk woman's ramblings. But just as the alter ego opened his mouth to speak, Deafening bells began to ring, hung from the circus top tents.

“Sunlight!”
Madame Gomez seemed to somewhat sober so suddenly, pointing her finger to the bells that rang so loud, that made Henry want to rip his ears out his skull.

“Dawn is coming!”

“What—?” Henry squeaked, fighting every single urge that Hyde could indulge.

And thus, the Ring began its disappearance act.

Chapter Text

The Will
October 14th 1888, 7 am

“In the name of God Amen.
I, Edward Hyde of London, England. Motherland, Scotland, being in bodily health and of sound and disposing mind and memory, Provide my last Will and testament.
Should my remains be discovered, I commit my body to science— fully and wholly. My funds to the Hyde family of Scotland, Home to my maid Catherine Pitch, of London. and other such belongings.
But, should I be missing in action for more than three months, I present all of my earthly possessions, livelihood and monetary, home and all, to Henry Jekyll. No exceptions, he will be my sole beneficiary in the case of my disappearance.
I do hereby nominate and appoint my Lawyer, Xavier Enfield , executor of this my last Will and Testament.

Dr. Edward Hyde.”

“Your will?” The woman in the yellow dress peered up through her thick glasses and into Edward’s eyes, which made him shift his gaze.

“Yes. My will.” He confirmed, setting the red wax sealed envelope on the oak wood desk. He looked so tired, his hair tucked out of his face in a tight ponytail with messy strays, a rare sight for it to be put up. He was rather proud of it too, having done it himself as Ms. Pitch had seemed rather hurt at his outburst the night he created Henry. His suit was pristine blacks and reds, but that wasn't the odd part yet. His hair had what seemed to be strands of gray peeking through the dark shades of lacquer, like they’d appeared overnight.

Gabrielle huffed and took the letter.

“Please have your father look over it when he returns from France, I need this verified with the court rather soon.”

She gave a sharp glance at it, peering with almost a detective's gaze. “Oh please. Do you plan on dying anytime soon, Dr. Hyde?”

“Who knows.” He responded, ever the one for dry humor. Though he didn’t sound quite playful. Just… deprived. Of what, she wasn’t sure exactly. Maybe it was sleep- judging by his dark eye bags and sunken cheeks. Or maybe the way his hand shook when he handed it to her. But to her, maybe it truly was depravity. She stuck the letter into a cubby in her desk.

“Aren’t you only… what was it, forty five?” She muttered idly, scrawling notes in her rather messy handwriting as she detailed Edwards visit to the law firm, always the one archiving for her father.

“Twenty.” He sighed, a bit disappointed. “Twenty seven.” She’d be lying if she didn’t say she bit back a pity laugh.

“Right. Apologies. Why’re you turning it in so early?”
He seemed uncomfortable, his eyes glued to the ground as he stuttered a bit, ungentlemanly. “I’d rather discuss this with your father.”

As much as Gabrielle wasn’t perfectly fond with him, and her theories about the man were diving deeper into uncanny, a bit of worry struck her. A frown across her rather stern, blocky face.

“You’re Not a gun owner, are you Doctor?” He raised his eyebrows in shock, like she wasn’t being perfectly reasonable.

“No-! It’s. It’s nothing like that, alright? It’s just rather… Personal. I don’t want to detail it, Madam Enfield.”

Gabrielle couldn’t fully say she trusted Edwards intentions, and as much as she found his behavior often unsettling, he seemed in a rough state. And the presence of this will is truly… disconcerting to say the least. She sighed.

“I’ll hand it to my father. I presume you want a meeting scheduled as well? When are you free?” And Edward nodded, His hands moving to toy with the small chain that peeked through his coat. It had silver, skull shaped pendants attached to a pocket watch, and he held it in his gloved hands as if it was a calendar that could tell him what days he was available. It was practically a relic, Gabrielle noticed, it looked nearly thirty years older than either of them and torn with war.

“Erm… As Soon as he returns.” He hummed finally, closing the rickety thing before sliding it back in his vest pocket. He glanced back up to Gabrielle for the first time in what seemed like forever. “What an unfortunate time for him to go… it’s. Urgent. And i’d pay a significant amount for priority. Do speak to him, I best be heading out.” And as he said that a small, shy push of his lips into a smile came across him. He looked almost sweet, a quiet blush on his pale cheeks. “I have breakfast with Madame Carew.”
And suddenly, Gabrielle’s heart sank.

“Madame Carew?” She tried hard not to show her shock. “Interesting. Didn’t think she was taking suitors.”

“Suitors—?“ Edward blushed darker this time, shaking his head quick. “Nothing like that! I think so at least. She doesn’t- not that— ah,” he stuttered, clearly a bit infatuated with her with the way he placed his hand gently over his heart, smiled a bit too intensely. “Much too lovely a woman to court a… Doctor instead of a Prince. Her father, Sir Danvers Carew, he would never allow me.” He paused in an ‘unworthy for Madame Carew’ silence.

“Alright.” Gabrielle responded, standing to rise from her desk, not thinking to offer much comfort. Her voice was thick and low for a woman, her features strong, and a personality to match. Domineering, Edward thought, and rather unladylike. Though he didn’t mind at all, he felt he was the same way as her. “Do you need anything else?”

“Not at all. I’ll bid you farewell for now, Madam Enfield.”

“Just Enfield is fine. Good day, Doctor Hyde.” And he bowed to her politely, though it was fairly noticeable he did not smile and he did not look happy. But Gabrielle did not feel guilty for what she was about to do.

But as it were, Edward would have no clue.
He left the building and into the cold London air, wishing his longer hair wasn’t constrained to hide the chill that struck his neck, the winter breeze pressing bitter kisses to his skin.

He touched his gloved hand to cover his neck a bit, and brisked himself for the walk to Clare Carew’s Manor.

His heart sped up a bit at the thought of her, and he tried his best to fight off the little smile that tugged at his lips. It was odd, he realized, usually he’d hate to be going anywhere, hate to have Clare or Aubrey look at him when he knew he couldn’t compare to their glamour. But he felt… good. Happy, even. He felt like he was on top of the world, basking in cold sunshine and—

“Hyde!” A pitchy voice hissed, coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Edward drew in a sharp gasp, glancing up from the floor in his bout of panic, and as it was, he tripped on his own feet and plummeted to the lightly snowed street. He groaned quietly, feeling the eyes of onlookers faster than he felt the pain rupture in his chin and chest. He felt like he heard something crack, but it could’ve just been his imagination. He sat up rather quickly, attempting to search for a reflective surface and avoid the gaze of londoners.

“Henry.” He hissed in a quiet whisper, wiping the blood off what he now recognized was a minor busted lip. “What the hell was that for?”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Chimed his new, but not unfamiliar alter ego. Henry. Edward glanced to the window of a butchers shop, where he saw his floating lookalike look ominously in the reflection of where he should stand. “I thought we talked about this! Thoughts, not whispers!”

Hyde felt a bit of embarrassment rise to his face in a blush, his eyebrows furrowing. Resentment, he quickly realized, was the emotion he felt. Prick.
“I heard that!” Henry whined, before quickly offering a new topic. “What do you think you’re doing!? You can’t meet Madame Carew! Not like this!” It was pathetic, a bit scared even.

“But I will.” The doctor thought back, a strange, new confidence gliding through him. This was the first time in so long he felt as though he was apart from the nagging in his skull, the guilt that sat in his chest for being who he was. But it seemed that now it just meant all of his leftover teenage angst manifested as a middle aged fake priest. “Why do you care?”

“Because!” Henry’s apparition pressed against the window, stress forming on his strikingly similar face. “You will embarrass us, her father, if you can’t remember, finds us— no, you! Weird and uncomfortable! Your weird romantic feelings will go nowhere, nowhere at all Hyde!”

The response almost made him laugh aloud, slowly but surely catching onto his purpose. The potion didn’t necessarily… separate them completely, but rather gave this fear a body to possess. It made The doctor shake his head firmly, pressing his fingers to his temple and breathing a firm breath. Silent rejection, he figured, was the best way to eliminate this for now. But the nagging didn’t end so long as he passed a mirror, a reflective surface, Edward was sure If he looked into someone’s eyes hard enough Henry would find a way to pop out.

But he was used to this, just without the addition of an auditory material.

Edward kept his focus in front of him this time, the soft crunch of snow under his dress shoes, the way his nose nearly froze as he tucked it into the thick, brown woolen scarf Aubrey’s mother had made him back in university draped across his neck. He pressed it to his cheeks, wet from the snow where he’d crashed, and it filled his heart and body with a warmth that made the doctor smile.

Before long Edward made his way to the manor of what could only be considered as the Belle of London. Madame Carew was the daughter of a well loved member of Parliament, one Sir Danvers Carew, a man with money and respect on his name.

When Edward first received the invitation to her home for lunch, especially after last time, he was astonished and a bit nervous. When he first met Madame Carew, barely a few years back, she had danced with him at the first Doctors Ball he had ever attended at the Carew Manor. He was nervous, his hair cut short at the time to attain his position at Saint North’s hospital as a surgeon, and he felt shame in his inability to hide behind his shaggy hair. Aubrey at the time was still in the midst of a school year, so he had utterly no one to chat away with as he snuck into a seemingly unattended hallway. The moonlight filled the hall with a gentle blue glow, and Edward settled his breathing to try and at least make some production of the useless evening.

He raised his then gloved hands to the empty air, one in the place of a woman’s waist, and the other grasped in her imaginary hand. He imagined swaying with Aubrey, like they had one night drunkenly after his own graduation. He had never danced with anyone else before, only watching as a boy as his mother swayed with his father when they thought all of their children were asleep, and how their feet tiptoed around each other with such a graceful precision that one wouldn’t expect from two farmers, and one he definitely did not hold drunk.

Edward had held his breath as he danced with the no one woman, his feet stuttering as he tried to move awkwardly to the distant orchestra. It was frankly, horribly incorrect, and just when he had assumed it couldn’t get more embarrassing, he heard a beautiful young woman’s voice echo through the long corridor, not quite too far from him.

Madame Carew had found it very funny, and very endearing that a young man as him had better imaginary women to dance with than her, a “Real gem,” She called herself, and Edward couldn’t help but agree. They danced the rest of the evening, and they’ve kept in letter correspondence since. She was still his dance partner.

As Edward approached the familiar home, it was impossible to ignore its beauty, as white and crisp as the frigid snow that laid on its doorsteps. He straightened out the overcoat he wore and shook his head to clear stray thoughts as he knocked his fist against the overtly extravagant door, with ornate details that seemed the homeowner to be eccentric and painfully wealthy. He was barely even a second knock in when his fist met with air as it was swung wide open.

“Eddy!” He suddenly heard, being barreled into a tight hug in a flash. The doctor only barely had time to stop himself from collapsing a second time into the snow today, smiling as he returned the tight hug.

“Madame Carew.” He chuckled, quickly pulling her away at the indecency. “That was rather unladylike.” The doctor chimed. He finally got a good look at the being that attacked him, a black woman with beautiful, deep curls that laid warmly against her cheeks. He could recognize her joy anywhere. She always wore a blue frock, currently covered up in weatherly daywear that kept wrapped up in beautiful layers of fabric more expensive than Edward’s entire wardrobe combined.

“Oh, hush up doctor!” She scolded, her sweet, deafeningly english, accent kissing his thoughts any time she spoke. “Come in, Oh come in! You must be frigid!”

“Tad cold, Innit?” He smiled, following inside the stunning home. He neglected to kick the snow off his feet as he entered, tracking some into the home at the dismay of the many butlers that ran around the manor. “It’s lovely to see you, Madame.”

“You would sooner die than ever let yourself call me Clare, Huh Ed?”

“Sounds right.” He chimed, a bit awkward in his delivery.

“That is so you.” Clare confirmed, beaming as she drew the other further into her home. It was as extravagant inside as it was outside, full of unnecesary detail and clutter, all managing to be meticulously clean. Edward even caught eye of Sir Danvers, Who seemed to shy at his notice.

“Sir Danvers,” Edward hummed, taking the tophat off of his head to tip, and to set on their hatrack. “Pleasure.” The way he phrased it had an impolite tone, though not his intention as usual.

“Dr. Hyde.” The old man replied, he was tall, with the weight that comes with age, and had gray, short cut curls on top of his head. He had a monocle that hung low on his nose, and he seemed to shy from the attention more often than not. Some could say he had a scary demeanor, a man of money and Law with a silence that could raise tension in a church, but truly he was just that, shy and sweet. Though he never was fond of Edward as a Suitor.

“Papa, Don’t be so shy!” Clare beckoned, motioning for him to come closer and take a bite at the conversation, but it flustered the old man, and he pulled away from the two mumbling something about paperwork.

“Oh, Pish-posh. Don’t mind him, Eddy. He’s a real brat sometimes.”

“Don’t talk about Sir Danvers like that.”

“Right dastardly the man is.”

“He’s been knighted!” Edward didn’t seem to catch onto her teasing and she broke out into giggles, earning a groan from him as he began to take off his coat.

“Oh—! Wait!” She chirped, stopping Edward’s hand with her own. “I wanted to walk with you, in the garden.” Oh. That brought a warm flush to the Doctors face, and he didn’t bother to fight the smile that toyed at his lips. “Before breakfast is served.”

“That sounds wonderful, Madame. I’d love to.” He tilted his head downwards to both avoid her gaze and slip is coat back up his shoulders, buttoning the dark attire and tucking his tie inside. “Garden?” He bit inside his lip for his over casual tone, always recognizing the awkwardness but never quite getting why. Clare didn’t seem to mind, and took the arm Edward offered to her. Clare snuggled into her white fur coat, a massive, fluffy thing that must’ve been impossibly warm inside the home.

Edward had a few times accompanied Clare to the garden, walking her to the usually beautifully trimmed hedges that stood now dead in the near winter frost. They walked in a silence Edward believed to be comfortable for awhile, but Clare could’ve cut the tension in two with a blade of the ripper. She bit her lip as the two walked down a stone path, the garden still decorated in great detail.

“Ed?” She squeaked, quiet and soft compared to her usual charming extravagence. The nickname was painfufully simple, but still rose a blush to his cheeks that was difficult to notice in the cold.

Edward glanced down at her, a good six inches above her excluding the extra height her curls and heels provided her. He attempted his most practiced smile, shaky and odd, and tilted his head. “Madame? What is it?”

“Rather serious, I’m afraid.” She sighed, stopping in her tracks to stand blank still before she lead them both to the wintered gazebo, it was wooden and laced with dead branches that were sure to bloom once spring rolled around. Edward suddenly felt his heart sink in a panic that gripped him so suddenly at her words. Oh God, He thought, biting his cheek like a leather gag.

This was it. This was how she told him she didn’t want to be his friend, that he wasn’t fit to be around a Carew. He should've known, after last time he’d been over he made such a fool of himself.

He remembered approaching Sir Danvers after dinner, his heart pounding out of his chest as he sweat hard and visibly shook. He asked so gently, too quietly to hear the first time, for his permission to court Clare not four months ago. A doctor, a man, asking to marry into wealth when he himself could not compare as no land owner. No member of the court. It was pathetic, to be denied so intensely by a man known for his kindness. Edward wanted his permission before he even tried to ask Clare, he didn’t want to disappoint himself, but he did, and he stood humiliated by his firm brow.

Edward held his breath and stared into the snow, he felt the need for comfort, the need to rock overcome him, so he hugged his body tight for warmth and shifted on his feet; something he usually hid from others.

“Edward?” He Heard her soft voice ring, and her gloved palms gently rub a circle into his shoulder. “Dear? Did you hear me, I’d like to talk.” And he would’ve loved to not speak, to sit down and have her understand he’d like to wait, maybe have dinner first before he was told this. He frowned.

“Ah— yes. Go on.” He muttered, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to cope with the thought. He had Henry now, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still want to be normal, to maybe love.

Clare sat down on the bench inside the gazebo, dusted by the snow, and framed with intricate little details. She Pat the spot next to her, waiting for Edward to sit. But he stood, holding onto that bit of power he had in being able to run away.

“I know you asked my father to court me,” she said quietly, in a gentle tone not to embarrass him too bad, but it was clear he was beyond that with the way he hid his face in his hands, fingers under his heavy glasses frames.

“Madame— I’m sorry about that,”

“No! No, Don’t be.” She interrupted with a fervor, but she sunk back into her now awkward disposition. “I’m sure you’re aware I don’t usually take Suitors. Right Eddy?” He simply nodded. “That’s because I don’t take to liking men.” She paused. “Er. All too often,that is. But, ah. I don’t think I’d be able to find a man for my father to approve of on my own, and I truly would hate to be stuck with a partner I didn’t choose, you know? Someone who… doesn’t understand.” She watched as Edward dragged his hands down his face, and she offered her hand for him to take. He slowly did, his black glove clasping her white one gently. “Edward, I love you, I truly do. But not in the way I fear you may love me.”

She mirrored the way the frown set on his features, but the way his cheeks were bitten red could not have come from the cold.

“Clare…” He sighed, his gaze centered on the ground.

“But I’d like to marry you.”

“What?” The voice in Edward’s head hissed, Henry, shocked and utterly baffled.

“I-Madame, What?” Edward stuttered, his eyes wide suddenly and his hand taken away in a stunted shock. “I don’t... I do not understand.”

“I don’t either, Hyde! She isn’t being transparent!” Henry’s voice was like an icy bite tearing into his skull.

“I would like to… Perhaps, if you’d agree to make an arrangement. Ed, I can’t ever marry who I’d like to.” She seemed to sadden, holding her fur coat to her figure as her dark curls shadowed her face. The thought of marrying him made her sad, he recognized that much, and it hurt to be given into rather accepted with open arms. “I’ve spoken to my father after you asked his permission, and he has allowed me if I were to choose you, to be your wife. And I ask this because I trust you, I know you wouldn’t hurt me the way another man would.”

Edward felt that anger rise up in him again, like he was being looked down on somehow, seen as less. He breathed in shakily and hid that initial reaction, but he bit his lip hard at the thought of being a second choice.

“No.” He shuddered, suddenly the want to be Clare’s was twisted, he wanted to be Clare's first choice, not her fall back plan. “Madame… No. I do not think you can understand, I. God, when I think of people I love, I think of you. I love you.”

“Ed, I think of you too!”

“Not like that.”

And silence followed for a moment. Clare truly did not mean to break Edward’s heart like that, it was clear by the way her eyes teared up, and the way her lip and voice shook. She felt guilty. Edward turned his back to her and considered his plan of running away, physically fighting himself to stay where he stood, but allowing his own teary eyes to be hidden behind his back.

“Please don’t go, you have to understand, Ed. Ladies like me, in my position…. It never was an option, never for love. If it were up to me, we could be friends like we are now. I still feel dedicated to you, but I could never feel attracted to you. Nor any man.” Her voice was desperate, not in the way anyone should be desperate for love, but desperate for union. Desperate for understanding.

Edward actually scoffed a bit, Her denial of men made him think of Aubrey’s strange… Interest in men. Not that he was disgusted by it, but it seemed everyone he was interested in had some queer interest in well, The queer. But she didn’t strike him as the type, she would’ve said so otherwise.

Interested. Was he interested in Aubrey as well?
“Don’t think about it.” Henry hissed. Right.

“I couldn't, Madame. I feel it would… Hurt too much to be so close to you and not be yours.” He heard a sniffle, and turned his gaze back to see that he… had made Clare cry. Sweet tears rolled down her cheeks as she hid her face, and Edward gasped at the sight. Oh, god. Why this? Why always? “Madame— Please don’t cry.” He spoke nervously, kneeling to the ground at her feet and feeling panic rise in his throat, like he could break into tears too. He really hoped not a maid nor butler was passing by, God forbid Sir Danvers. She shook her head, a quiet sob from her sweet voice utterly shattered the Doctor.

“I— I’m so sorry, Eddy. I feel so guilty. I know I’m not like you, and I wish to the lord I could be. Do you ever feel that way?” She paused, her voice buckling as Edward gazed up to her with worried eyebrows.”I wish I could be normal, the way women my age are.”
“I… do understand, Madame.” He sighed, and she took his hand, holding it in one while she pressed her own palm against Edward’s face. “I feel we understand one another most.” He leaned into her.

“I feel the same.”

She laughed through her tears, always doing her best to smile. It warmed Edward’s heart in a way he found bitter. Like it would burn to the touch. Maybe there was something about Edward that she just couldn’t bring herself to love, that this invisible wall that seperated his functions from others. That separated his ability to love and be loved. Henry, perhaps, she could love.

“Clare?” He muttered, kissing the back of her hand before he stood, only to sit down next to her on the bench. “Ah, soon I may be going away. For. a while… And there are a lot of things I must deal with until then. One of them was, well, you.” He paused. “There is someone I would like you to meet, perhaps, to go to Saint North’s ball with?” Clare tilted her head at the sudden jump in conversations.

“What…? Edward I don’t think you understood, —“
“Just.” He cut her off. “Perhaps, go with him just once. I think you may find him more charming than I, and if I’m away for longer maybe you will love him where you could not love me. He is… I’d say lovelier me.”

Clare realized that Edward had no clue what she had just confessed, and that she could not risk a clarification to a heartbroken man. Not even her dearest friend. She couldn’t combat this admission to unworthiness to the Doctor in her shock.

“I’ll have him send a letter, I’m sure you will find no need for a loveless marriage.”

He smiled at her with such an exhausted look in his eyes.

Chapter Text

October 14th 1888, 11 am

“Breakfast with Madame Carew proceeded to be incredibly uncomfortable after the discussion of our relationship, I wish she did not confess to me her unwillingness before asking me to court her, and I have since been hurt by it. Perhaps her intentions were pure, but it is becoming more and more obvious that the longer i exist, the longer i hinder Henry’s development for these situations.
It’s alright. It is all alright. It’s okay. It is all okay.
I will make it okay.
EH7 seems to have temporary drawbacks on my physical motor abilities. I've found my head to bend in and out of headaches, but for the most part have been mild. I feel tired as well, but I am also beginning to think it may be the exhaustion. Tonight I will attempt to sleep more adequately to prevent further strain to my body. For now I must work.

Dr. Edward Hyde.”

Edward closed his Journal with a shaky hand, far too tired to be working, but acknowledging he was beginning to not be quite as on top of it as he usually was. His alchemy had quickly taken him away from the world of doctoring and head first into ripping himself in two. But he wasn’t in so bad a state that he couldnt work without causing harm, so he allowed his hair from his ponytail, drew in a breath, and fell into the cycle.

He lifted his calendar from his personal desk, looking for the day's schedule, as they often blended together in such a way he forgot where his attention should lie. But he loved that about his job, there was such a cemented schedule that he didn’t have to change much every day other than which procedure he would do, or who he’d diagnose with what.
Scrawled in his notes, he recognized Aubrey’s last name etched into the side of the date. As he recalled, He had a surgery to work on with the nurse at his side today. It made him smile, they always worked so well together, and Aubrey always asked insightful questions while Edward worked, supplying the comfort he needed to hear more than patients' cries. He hadn't actually spoken to Aubrey since that night in the Circus, nor has he slept since then.

The image of Aubrey with his hands around someone’s neck like how he’d imagined Clare to cling to him, he thought of swaying with Aubrey, drunk and giggling, of swaying with Clare, wide eyed and heart stopped. It was so easy to pretend others love for him came naturally like that, that he charmed and won people over with his personality. But it just was not the truth, and Edward wished he could be there, be theirs. He wanted to be the one. Maybe those charms had been Henry in his skin all along.
His thoughts spiraled for a while as they often did, his mind weighing heavy in his head as he pulled out a small suitcase from underneath his desk, It was full of surgical knives, notably for amputation. He removed the bonesaw blade from its case, and held it up to the light. Edward gazed into his reflection from the saw, Catching glimpse of Henry, Who startled him beyond measure.

“Henry!” He hissed, nearly losing half his lifespan in one startle, his hand fumbling to keep the blade from dropping. “What are you doing?”
“We need to chit chat!” Henry’s accent seemed to get more and more British by the day, making Edward roll his eyes as they bickered. He was a Scott at heart, after all.
“It can wait,” Edward whispered, attempting to scrub away his reflection with a bloody rag. “Don’t bother me at work.” He was starting to feel like Henry was an excited child he had to keep on a leash, tugging at him when he threatened to disrupt his work.

“But—,”

“No.” Edward firmly stated, wiping up the final drop of dried blood off his bonesaw.

“Hyde?” A voice suddenly chimed, spooking Edward a second time out of his skin. He turned around sharply, blush across his face from speaking aloud to his alter ego. There Aubrey stood, dressed in his uniform, an off white short sleeved button up with black gloves covering the immodest wear up to his forearm. His collar was high on his neck, and he wore his bloody apron over top of it all. But the first thing Edward noticed before all of the other details was his hair, which had been cut from its usual shaggy length, (Of course it was never as long As Edwards, but it was still long for most standards.) and it was down to a sharp, clean cut with his remaining hair swiped out of his face.
“You cut your hair.” Edward said blankly, lowering the bonesaw to get a better look at Aubrey. He glanced up and down at him, finally offering a soft smile at the end of his gaze. It was comforting to see someone he knew was on his side, who didn’t favor Henry at the moment.

Aubrey looked a bit stunned for a second, blinking before touching the back of his head. “Oh! Right.” He muttered, rubbing his now cold neck. “Got a bit too long…”
“I like it.” Edward hummed, approaching him slowly as craned his neck down to look. He was just a bit taller, most people could note Edward as uncomfortably lanky and skinny, though a totem for the Victorian look, he often did not fit inside his body quite right. He reached his thin hand out to touch the now short hair, soft like it had been washed rather regularly. His hand brushed some of the stray locks away from his cheek, tucking it behind his ear. He watched the way Aubrey’s face lit up bright red, and the stuttering noises it earned from him. “Are you alright? You feel warm.” He asked, his other hand feeling his forehead so now both were right on Aubrey’s face.
“I— Uh,” He stammered, his jaw trembling as he tried his best to keep in mind this was most likely not Edward’s intentions.

“Right. Um.” He hardly got the word out before Edward’s hand once again traveled, grabbing firmly at his collar.

“What’s this?” He asked, and suddenly all of the color drained from aubreys face. Edward had caught eye of a dark bruise on Aubrey’s neck, only noticeable by the proximity he had on him. It was Edward’s turn for his face to turn red, remembering the evening he saw Aubrey with another man, and his hand was promptly smacked away.

“Stop.” His voice shuddered, his eyebrows suddenly furrowing. “Ed— Hyde. What has been wrong with you recently?” He backed away from the other, his head down to the ground and his eye’s refusing to meet Edwards.

The Doctor tilted his head, his own look of confusion making its way onto his features. “What?” He questioned, taking a step back as he no longer felt the want to be close was reciprocated. “What do you mean?”

“It’s really confusing, okay?” He whined, his hand covering the bruise on his neck as he tried to pull his collar further upwards. “First you— You won’t talk to anyone for God knows how long, and your friends get all… worried about you, you run off on me and now, what, you're being all affectionate? I just. I don’t get it. It’s hurtful.” Aubrey was odd like this, expressing his feelings in a way that was clear and made perfect sense. “I feel like I'm doing something wrong.”
Edward stuttered, his eyebrows raising as he pushed his thick glasses up his face. “You’re not doing anything wrong.” He said, holding his hands together behind his back. “I didn’t say you were.”

“You don’t have to say everything for your intentions to be clear.” He sighed. “But. I get that’s not how you communicate. Listen Hyde,”
“I thought you wanted to call me Edward.” He asked, his heart waning. He didn’t like change very much, that was unless it was by his own choice, so it was hard for him to put effort now into calling Aubrey… Aubrey. Was he joking when he asked for him to call him it?

Aubrey looked up to him for the first time in awhile. He looked so confused, his eyebrows knitted together. “I do. Alright… Let’s just save this for later, okay? We have work to do.” And Edward felt like something bad were to happen if the conversation continued personally, outside of a work standpoint. It filled him with dread, and he felt him bite so hard inside his lip it bled.

“Alright.” He managed. “It’s um. A surgery, Amputation below the knee.” He looked away from Aubrey completely, picking his bonesaw back up and setting it in his case with his other tools.

“Right. What’s wrong with him?”

“I believe a degenerative sickness, but it’s hard to say. Either way the leg needs to go before it travels. I’ve already tried letting his blood, but the color stays rotten.”
“Jesus. Well, i’m not on hold down duty am i?”

“Just tools. And water.”

“Thank you.” The conversation seemed to lose energy, becoming all work and no play, which if it was anyone else Edward would’ve taken as comforting. But right now the energy was tense, uncomfortable. He felt out of place more than ever these days, and he was beginning to feel that sadness that rested in his sternum return. He realized Henry must’ve been the one to take it away, this angst that filtered through him must’ve been what kept him from others, from being close with Aubrey or Clare. He sighed.
The pair made their way in an awkward silence, Edward with his own knives and Aubrey pushing a small cart with other supplies. The hallways were long in this part of the hospital, the cart ricketing over wooden planks as it was pushed over them. It wasn’t that far of a journey however from Edwards office to the surgical theatre, a giant circular room with layered seating surrounding the center of the gladiator's ring. There were university students lined up in every seat, and Edward groaned at the sight.
In the center of the room, a man sat on a strapped chair, and this was when his nurses would take over his bedside manners, supplying their own words of comfort while Edward set his equipment on his desk. His patient was rather drunk, as you would hope to be before being worked on.

“Hold him down.” Edward muttered, raising his knife as he began his work.

As the Doctor made his first slice quick, he glanced at Aubrey, who blotted a washcloth on his patient's forehead, such caring words spilling from his lips. His kindness made his heart flutter, which earned a smile out of him, though notably a bit disturbing as he de-legged someone. He focused himself back on his work, ignoring to the best of his abilities the way his patient fought back against him, men holding him down as he worked.

“Nurse Poole, my bonesaw.” Edward was known for his fast work, not quite with the physical strength of any Robert Liston, but with precision as if Henry Gray’s anatomy was part of the transcript of his mind.
Aubrey handed his weapon of choice to the doctor. Their hands brushed for a second, Edwards own giving Aubrey’s gloves a gorey detail.
“Would you like to finish our conversation?” The Doctor asked, grunting rough as he pushed the man’s other leg down, motioning for another nurse’s help as he began his sawing.

“Whah—“ Aubrey stuttered. “Now?” He made an awkward sound as he prepared his next tools, his gaze suddenly shooting to the others around. “Ed, No, Not now!”

“Why not?” A third slice.

“Because it’s… Personal.” He whispered sharply. A fourth slice.

“Are you upset with me? I don’t enjoy playing guessing games.” Five. His voice was frustrated as he ground his saw. He was getting agitated, and Edward was known to have a slight temper. Aubrey had known him since their freshman year in college after all, understanding his easy to anger state on some days.

“I’m not upset, I just. Ergh, Don’t make me talk about it right now?” Six.

“Aubrey.” Seven.

“Edward— Hyde. Please, Nurse Poole in public,” he offered nervously. Eight.

“See, now you’re doing this on purpose! You’re confusing me because you think it’s funny, right?” Nine. Ten. Edward’s sawing was more intense.

“I didn’t say that,” eleven.

“You didn’t need to say a word. I get it. What’d you say? You don’t have to say anything for your intentions to be clear.” Twelve. Edward raised his voice and cut through the bone, pulling his needle out of his apron.

“Stop it!” Aubrey suddenly snapped the room quiet for a second, excluding the patient's now barely conscious whines. “You— you can’t take no for an answer Hyde. That’s not okay, you can’t do that to people.” He heard Aubrey’s voice crack and that drew his eyes from the bleeding. He should probably stop that up, he thought, but he blinked in confusion for a moment. The rest of the surgery was silent. Edward stitched the wound closed, and he wiped the blood from his glasses with a dry part of his apron.
Aubrey knew he would be the one to clean up, and frankly Edward felt his mind fall blank as he couldn’t even process a reaction without finishing his job. He sighed as he gazed at the now empty surgery table, university students filtering out of the room as he stood blank faced, listening to their mutters of gossip as he wiped his blades clean. Aubrey stood there, cleaning his own blood stains with a hot washcloth.

“Okay… Edward?” His quiet voice hummed, Edward didn't look up as he approached, but he felt his hand press a new, hot washcloth into his palm. He squeezed his hand through it. “I’ve gone about this wrong.”

He could hardly bring himself to respond, but he did of course, He’s an adult. He can speak. He took the cloth to wash away his upper arms.
“Right.” Edward sighed, avoiding Aubrey’s gaze.

“I just… I am worried about you.”

“Why?” Was the simple response, he leaned his back against the surgery table and dropped his bloody cloth into the cart.

“You’ve been distant.” It was Aubrey’s turn to sigh in discontent, closing the gap between them as he leaned into him, their shoulders grazing. “Well, more so than usual, enough so that it’s worrisome. It’s like you’re a ghost.” Edward held his breath, but he didn’t pull away from the contact.

“I’m not a ghost.” Even he could recognize his protest was pathetic. He hugged his arms as he felt Aubrey’s warm hand wrap around his shoulder, his thumb petting gentle circles into him. Up this close Edward could notice the scent of pine and blood, which entangled like a mysterious and deadly cologne, laughably unfitting for the nurse. But it was a comforting scent, one Edward wanted to get used to.
But not one he deserved to.

“I care… about you, Ed. And I know you think a lot. Overthink, maybe. But your mates love—“ he stuttered over the word, and it almost made Edward smile if his face would stop the droop of sleepiness. “And. We, i, Want the best for you. So… please? Talk to me?” He finally made the fight to get a glance at Aubrey, who’s round features were tinted red in embarrassment. He had such gentle cheekbones, a nose that was a bit puggish, all lit up in the presence of intimacy.

“Erm.” Edward managed, only now realizing how close together they were. The way their hips pressed into each other but rather than a squished, overwhelming feeling, it was tender. “I suppose I’ve been… tired. Recently.”

“Tired, alright. That’s a good place to start. Why have you been tired?”

“I haven’t slept. I haven’t… had time. It’s awkward to talk about this, you know?” He flushed, hiding his face behind his unkempt hair as he ducked his head. “I’m alright inside and all. Emotionally, I mean. Just tired.” It was a half truth, he was tired, he wasn’t able to sleep, but it was a loss acquainted to Henry and his creation.
Edward didn’t like that look Aubrey gave him, and the way they locked closer made his heart sputter in an odd discomfort. He felt watched, and too intimate for two men. But he loved it at the same time, it was the same closeness he craved with Madame Carew, and he dipped his neck down a bit to be even closer, despite his panicked heart pounding. Aubrey reciprocated. “Don’t look at me like that, I don’t like it.” He said, tone flat. Were it anyone else, Edward wouldn’t have expected a laugh at his joke, but he watched the way Aubrey’s toothy smile came across his face and gave a weak smile of his own, his giggle like drinks clinking.

“Right.” Aubrey gave a gentle gaze to Edward, nervously giving a look to the floor here and there, and the doctor's own eyes traveled down his face, down to his neck again. The
bruise on his neck screamed at him, it bore into his mind as he knew how and why it was there, he bit his cheek.

“Aubrey…” He spoke in a gentle whisper, the way their faces were so close either could hear each breath they took. “I wanted to ask about that night, about the Ring—“
There was a clatter suddenly, and Edward felt Aubrey’s hands push their chests apart as they both looked around the room that was supposedly empty. Aubrey’s breath hitched in a panic, their head’s spinning to the window.

It had shut closed with a heavy thud, and both of the two knew the thick frames of the glass only were able to open from the inside. Edward’s eyebrows furrowed, making haste to the window by hopping over the stands in the viewing gallery, and lifting it open with a nervous fervor while Aubrey followed suit. Outside it was still snowy, the sun hidden in dark clouds as the weather came down. Edward stuck his head out the frame, his face chilling as his hot breath made condensation in the cold.

This part of the building was the second story, and on the short overhang’s tiles, snowy footprints lead to a silhouette with a brown coat that quickly disappeared past a corner.
“Hey!” Edward shouted, sticking his body out to his chest. He felt Aubrey grip the back of his apron, reigning him in so he didn’t fall over the edge.

“Ed,” He wheezed, yanking him back inside. “Bloody hell! You just about jumped out the window!” Aubrey held him by his apron, practically shaking the doctor's whole body.

“I—“ Edward gasped, his eyebrows furrowed in a blind anger. “He’s stalking me! Aubrey, goddamn it, Utterson is stalking me!” There was the ‘Edwardian rage’ as Aubrey coined it back in university, where he cursed and huffed and bit. He was often one to lean more on the inexpressive side, but now Aubrey shied away from his intense stare.

“Ed, stalking? We don’t know who that even was!”

“No, no. When he was running! It’s his coat, I-I saw it. I swear it, Aubrey.” He heaved, his head shaking fast, back and forth to self soothe. Aubrey reached for the back of his hair, his eyebrows worried and his lip bitten in concern. He pulled his friend to his shoulder, and Edward hunched to hide in his touch. His fists gripped the back of Aubrey’s button up, and the Nurse watched the biting breeze blow through the still open window. It ruffled Edward’s hair, which he noticed was brushed today.
“He’s following me. He’s following me.” Edward felt as his friend pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his head, holding him dear. “Ah, stop that.” He whined, feeling entierly overwhelmed. But he didn’t fight it.

“If that’s true, and I’m not saying it still… couldn’t be Utterson, I’m still here. I think it might just be er, part of his job? To investigate?”

“The prospects of needing to be investigated is teryffying. I haven’t done a thing, not that science cannot explain. Nothing outside of my medicinal practicies.” The dread hung thick over the room, neither quite wanting to acknowledge the severity of being investigated with a murderer on the loose.

“I believe you.” He always would. “Youre not a crooked man, Ed.” He pulled back from their embrace, his hands resting on Edwards shoulders firmly, like an anchor. Edward didn’t feel awkward for the touch, and he smiled a bit, as if calmed from this panicked state he’d found himself in most times since this whole mess started. But he hated it, he hated it because it felt good. It made his gut twist.

“Thanks.” He said informally, reaching to pat the hand on his shoulder before gently moving it off. “Er. I mean it. Thanks. I’m sorry for… acting erm, I don’t know—“

“Like a priss?”

“Like a priss. You’ve got it.” They both laughed, Aubrey’s nose always scrunched up when he laughed, like his smile was too big for his face. Edward didn’t like that he was noticing these things, that his eyes were following his friend's soft jaw line. “Listen Aubrey, I…” He paused to breathe, collect himself, and sighed harshly. “I better get back to work, I have more patients today and I’m sure you do too.” Edward stuck his gaze to the ground, and he watched as Aubrey did the same. They both took a step back, Aubrey nodding dutifully to his doctor’s words.

“Right. Right. Um, Keep me updated? On the whole Utterson thing?” He spoke in a soft and brittle voice, clearly expecting more than the curt nod Edward supplied. Even for Edward and all his bluntness, he was a bit much even now, with the way he had already begun his exit.
Edward didn’t think fondly of his fond thoughts right now, there was already so much wrong with him, he didn’t want to indulge whatever feelings Aubrey gave him.

“Right.” He agreed. “ Goodbye.”

“Why are you thinking about him!” Henry’s voice burned, watching as Edward stormed down the hallway, the wide doors to the theater swinging slightly with the sudden intensity.

“I don’t know.” He thought back, feeling his hands twist and tug at his cufflinks . He pulled and pulled on them, feeling overwhelmed with his thoughts now being duplicated.

“Stop it, stop it!” His voice was biting, like a mean lap dog. “You’re thinking of him like a woman, God’s sake, Hyde! He’s a man!” Hyde shook his own head briskly, nodding him away and covering his head as he ducked into a restroom, ignoring the glances of worry from nurses and patients. Other doctors.

“Henry.” He locked the door behind him, his patience snapping as he tore off his own cufflinks, placing them on the ceramic of the sink. “Leave me alone.” There stood the man in his own clothing, but distinctly Henry himself reflected in the mirror. He was angry, a scowl as he stared down at Hyde, who’s fist gripped the edge of the sink.

“Let me out.” He stated sharply, a parental tone to his voice that must’ve been picked up from his own father. “You clearly cannot handle yourself. You’re far too weak without me in equal control. Look at you, practically as queer as him!” Hyde could feel the burning in his chest that possessed him through Henry, it was odd, to say the least. To feel your own, such familiar emotions, through another beings thoughts. Hyde wondered if this was the type of bond most had with others, and he hated it.

“What?” Hyde hissed back, looking away from the mirror as he turned his attention to undoing his suit. Everything felt too heavy, too much on his skin. “Seriously? Leave… Aubrey out of it.”

“You don’t want to leave Aubrey out of it! But I do.” He reasoned, strict with his words. Hyde breathed heavier, undoing his buttons. He just needed to breathe
. “Doctor. Listen. Let me out tonight! I can’t just have one evening! Think about it, you won’t have to worry about this… pig chase nonsense when you’re in my skin.”
“My skin, technically.”

“Not the point! Utterson won’t think to investigate me.” It did get Hyde to pause, and he sat, leaned against the small poof that was in the corner of the restroom, making occasional glances to the reflection. He had a point, he knew it too. But he was getting so… Tired. And as much as Hyde loved being Henry, his body needed a break from the mind breaking science. He felt dizzy as he leaned against the chair, half undressed and his head heavy.

“Henry…” he sighed, crossing his arms across his chest. “You’re brilliant, and I agree, but we need… time. To recover.” He heard the groan, and he felt a headache churn in his skull. He wanted to go home. And he wanted to retreat into Henry’s comfort. “Before you get too upset, Henry. I’m… very happy with you. Your existence, were there actually any God, is a blessing. I intend to let you come further into fruition. I love you.” The words fumbled out of his mouth, such a genuine relizatation. Words he has never spoken to himself. While the self hatred burns in the back of his throat so intensely, waiting to shoot poison into the mirror, the hatred never comes, it rolls over him in waves that he loves this version of himself. This was the first time he’s stared into a mirror, and didn’t want to look away. Henry looked down through the mirror at him, silent in the understanding for just a moment.

“I despise you.” His voice shook.

Edward smiled, his head hitting the wall gently, and closed his eyes. He did not cry.