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Before everything, before Wednesday, Gates, and even Mom - Tyler had wanted a sibling. Maybe a sister, or a brother to round out the family. To have someone to talk to.
He said as much once, for Christmas. He must have been eight. As soon as he said it, he knew he could never say such a thing again.
“Oh, bud…” Dad started, until Mom put a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Christmas was a sad time for Mom. Actually, it seemed like the older he got, the more sad times there were for Mom.
Once, he’d swiped a photo album from his parents’ room, to see if he was just imagining it. But it was true - Mom and Dad looked so… happy in all of the pictures, especially the ones where they were waiting for Tyler to be born. Maybe if they had another baby, the whole family could be that happy.
"It’s okay, mon ange,” she said, her smile fragile as she held his face in her hands. To Mom, he was always mon ange, my angel. “You are all our family could ever need.”
“That’s right,” Dad replied, his gaze heavy on Tyler. “You’ve done more than enough.”
So, he stayed an only child. He thought that it was by design - that it was what everyone wanted, including himself.
In a town like Jericho, talking was really the only thing to do. About town business, your neighbors, their secrets. Anything to distract from the fact that you were living in a ghost town. A place where you were either affiliated with Pilgrim World, an outcast school, or a puppet government. Pick your poison.
Anyway, in the not-so grand tapestry of modern day Jericho, the story of the Galpins went like this:
“What a beautiful family,” the good people of Jericho used to say.
“Donovan has always had such strong integrity, what a sheriff he’ll make.”
“And that Franny is as cute as a button. She and Don are so sweet on each other.”
“Where did she come from again? Oh yes, France! So sophisticated.”
“Don’t forget Tyler! What an adorable baby. You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if he broke a heart or two someday…”
But as time went on, it became clear the Galpins were destined for tragedy.
“But not the way of the Gates family, surely! Nothing so harsh as that,” Jericho’s most righteous (and bored) would say.
“Yes, Don couldn’t be drinking at work, could he? Those are nasty rumors.”
“Fran has been having a hard time, but I’ve heard those French are prone to melancholy.”
“And that Tyler has been getting into fights at school, poor thing.”
“Getting into them? He starts them! But, boys will be boys, won’t they?”
“This is just a rough patch - really, they’re such a beautiful family.”
This is what the good, righteous, desperate-for-distraction said until one day, the Galpins were down to two.
Don Galpin and his poor boy.
By then, Tyler knew there was a difference between what people said and what they really thought. He knew they brought consolation casseroles to his door, they’d coo and fuss at him about losing his mother at the tender age of twelve. But he could see it in their eyes - what they really thought of him. His family.
Things like:
The sheriff’s going to drink himself to death, the way things are going after Fran’s memorial.
It’s a shame that she passed away. A boy needs his mother, but. Well, there was always something a little off about Fran, wasn’t there?
And with parents like that, their poor son is an accident waiting to happen .
They thought these things, but didn’t dare lift a finger, didn't dare disrupt status quo. Jericho wasn’t an it-takes-a-village sort of place.
And so Tyler stopped listening to Jericho’s finest altogether.
He was alone a lot, after Mom died. As if to console him (or to ignore Tyler for a little longer) Dad brought Elvis home. It almost helped.
It almost helped to have another living thing in the house on the days where Mom’s absence loomed large and his grief felt like a monster sitting on his chest, constricting him until he was numb to everything else. On the days where the phantoms of Mom’s sobs seemed to seep through the walls and into his bones. On the days where he felt a rage so strong, so oppressive, so inhuman that he found himself waiting for something to give way.
He was a simmering pot that was always on the verge of boiling over.
But a dog could only comfort him so much. For the first time since he was eight, he found himself wishing he had someone else to talk to. And well, one plant serum injection later he realized he got his wish.
Thanks to Laurel Gates and his mom's outcast heritage, Tyler would never, ever be alone again.
During the unfolding of Gates' plan, Tyler learned he didn’t have to fully transform for Hyde to take over. Gates gave him the orders and Hyde stepped in where he saw fit. It was eerie, at first. To be Tyler one minute, only to take a backseat while someone else used his voice and moved his body to fulfill this random woman’s agenda.
There were some things he had more autonomy over. Like, get close to Wednesday Addams? That was pretty subjective. Tyler handled most of it. Keyword: most. As for the killing, well.
Collecting parts for Gates was as straightforward as it could get.
Then again, Tyler was never the most ethical guy. He’d spent a vast majority of his life pretending. Pretending like it didn’t scare him when Mom would suddenly be different at home, not like Mom at all. Like he didn’t get scared when she got like that and Dad would look at him with such insane hate in his eyes that Tyler would wonder if he was really even his son.
He acted like he didn’t care that his mom had tried so hard to be what Jericho wanted her to be for years before she died, always held at arm's length instead.
“I have always been a bit of… an outsider,” she’d say, with her own secret, sad smile.
He acted like he cared about the bullshit anyone his age had to say, as if it wasn’t all so meaningless. As if they weren’t all going to live and die here, acting out the same tired routines contrived by their parents, and their parents before them.
Tyler acted like he didn’t need help after his mom died. He wouldn’t get it. Not from the good people of Jericho, and sure as hell not his dad. Not until he beat the shit out of that Nevermore kid, Xavier, and destroyed his mural for good measure. After that ordeal, Tyler suddenly had court-ordered therapy, a summer at some bootcamp, and his dad asking after how he was like he had a gun to his head.
Too little, too late.
This stupid fucking town had been hurting him for years. Why should he care if Hyde was hurting it back?
It eventually became cathartic to watch Hyde do what Gates needed him to. Tyler even grew to like… the power of it. The chase. The fear. That’s what his life became; slinging coffee and slitting throats. And - seeing Wednesday Addams as much as he could. The girl who was the key to it all.
He didn’t know it was her, that first day at the Weathervane. He was almost disappointed when he found out that he couldn’t keep her to himself. If Tyler was a normal boy, a good Jericho boy, he would call what he felt a … crush. But he was not normal. He was not good. He wanted Wednesday. For her beauty, her darkness, those hidden macabre depths. He wanted to eat her alive to satisfy what he suspected since the night of the Harvest Festival; that Wednesday Addams could be sweet, after all. He hated Laurel for taking the opportunity away.
He really liked Wednesday. And so did the other guy, if Hyde’s takeover to taunt her in the police station was anything to go by.
That was the thing- Tyler didn’t really know what the Hyde thought about it. Gates, the killing, Wednesday. There was never really a … line of communication between Tyler and the monster inside of him.
After the night of their master's failed attempt to rid the world of outcasts, they found her body in a crumpled heap in front of the Gates mansion. The death of their master shattered the pane of glass that kept them apart. For the first time, Tyler could hear him.
She’s dead. She’s really dead. The Hyde rumbled somewhere inside of him.
“Yeah. I can see that, genius.” Being able to hear the Hyde left him... uneasy.
It wasn’t that he could finally hear him. Whatever, add it to the list of all the other weird, fucked up shit that’s happened to him, for all he cared. But he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. This monster was well and truly in his head. A part of him.
A monster whose only allegiance was to the woman that ruined his life. Tyler heard a scoff.
Don't be dramatic. She wouldn't let me talk to you, before. Look, she’s dead, but we’re not. The bond was passed on to another. Hyde insisted from within.
He looked at the body before them in front of the Gates mansion. Here lies Laurel Gates, he thought. The delusional woman that groomed him into being her perfect accomplice. Good fucking riddance.
“Yeah, okay. If it’s not her anymore, then who?”
I think I know who it is. But can you figure it out, Tyler? So, Hyde was kind of an asshole. He should have seen that coming.
But he could start to feel the sense of urgency build. The tug to get to her. He thinks of Wednesday’s leaden stare fixed upon him as she was bound in the crypt.
Let me make this right , Tyler thought. Destroy me, and rebuild me as yours.
Sirens sounded in the distance. He wondered how his dad would make his mess go away. If he even could. Or would he cut his losses and make Tyler go away all together?
That’s not for us to know. We have to leave. Now.
Tyler sighed. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Yeah, they were thrown into a transport van the next day, sedated all to hell and bound for Willowhill Psychiatric Hospital. But of course, it wasn’t enough. What did normies know about keeping a Hyde contained? The outcasts couldn’t do it either. So they broke out and left it all behind. Willowhill, Nevermore, Jericho. Wednesday.
If he could stay, it would be for her. But it was too dangerous - the wounds were too fresh, the blood they'd spilled still warm. They would have to lay low for a while, before returning to their master.
Once they escaped the transport van, they needed a number of things. A change of clothes. Money. A ride.
They took care of all of these things in one fell swoop.
It was safe enough to start hitchhiking when they got two towns over, in Bolton. Some guy in his truck stopped to ask where he was headed (New Hampshire) , what he planned to do there (See my girlfriend), and how old he was (Seventeen, sir ). The guy had no qualms about telling him to get in.
He and Hyde made quick work of him. They took his wallet, his truck, his fear. “This is the last time we’re doing this,” He told Hyde before they went. “I don’t want to do this unless she wants us to.” Hyde could only grumble his assent.
They spent months on the road, working odd jobs, gathering information when they could, and hiding when they couldn’t. The aimlessness, the near-solitude was almost soothing - it gave Tyler plenty of time to think. And for him and Hyde… to talk.
They’re somewhere in Massachusetts, looking for a place to pull over for the night when Tyler asks his million dollar question.
“Why didn’t you… show up, or whatever, when Mom died?”
I tried to. I wanted to. I think it has to do with your humanity. Our normie father’s blood.
“I wish we’d gotten the journal back. I don’t even know what questions to ask.”
I think I can do something about that. Give me something to write on.
He pulls out a pad of paper and a pen.
I think I remember some of it. From Wednesday in the Weathervane. And Gates waving it around on some rant. Can I?
“Yeah. Yeah, go for it.” Tyler feels Hyde take control of his right hand, and starts writing faster than Tyler’s been able to manage in his entire life. In 10 minutes, Tyler holds a stack of Nathaniel Faulkner’s notes on Hydes. Replicated, but complete.
“Holy shit, you could do this the whole time? This is… amazing.”
Well, it’s not just for you. I don’t know everything, either.
They spent weeks like that - poring over what they had , trying to decipher meaning. Adding to Faulkner’s notes based on what they knew. As far as they could tell, it worked like this:
Hyde was dormant in his body until Gates’ serum activated him. Before that, he’d been… Waiting.
What Gates had done to them created a Master-Hyde bond, but there was more than one way to do it. And undo it - when a Hyde’s master is killed the connection is passed on to the person that destroyed them. This new connection, the one they had with Wednesday wasn’t spurred by a serum, or torture - it was a blank slate.
Tyler couldn’t exactly say that he and Hyde were on the same page about everything.
However, they could concretely agree on three things:
- They were better off without a master that wanted outcasts dead.
- Don Galpin is a dick.
- They needed to find Wednesday.
Everything else they took day by day.