Chapter Text
Edward Hyde is almost 100% certain that he is pretty fucked.
No, seriously, the creaking of wood shattering behind him, and the whistling of something heavy falling through the air and splattering painfully down below as a feared yelp rips through the air, are tell-tale signs that he has messed up. Big time.
Back track; those actions are all part of his plan. The actual issue? The roar of a fire catching the splintering, dry wood he’d sent tumbling down, and flaring so brightly and hotly that he could feel it from some ten feet above the inferno. It is a crooked, ghastly thing, breathing as ragged and as vile as Moreau, trapped in its clutching embers. The fire sears at him, licks his skin in the most unpleasant, wrecking way, making him stumble back from the edge of the roof, emerald eyes still nervously glancing down as red dances around and begins turning the street to ash.
Yes. Something has gone terribly wrong.
As the flames climb and reach the summit of terror, all he can feel rising with them is an overwhelming, screaming sense of panic, beating against his chest. Jekyll’s voice- anxious and so afraid - hisses hotly in his ear. ‘You really have messed up, now.’
“Yeah, no shit.” He replies, softly, screwing his eyes shut as if not looking at the mess would make it go away. Edward’s hands tremble glaringly. “Bye bye, Blackfog.” He mutters, bitter to his core as he pries his eyes open to survey the situation, and then survey it again. His heart won’t stop beating, loudly, thunderously with the fire. Why does it have to be so loud?!
He can be logical about this, right? Surely there’s a way to stop the fire? “Doc, you gotta help me out, here.” His voice is far too frantic for his liking, and he takes another stumbling step back from rising smoke. ‘ I- ’
“ Oi! Stop right there!”
That is his cue.
The police whistle some few metres away and the very loud, very clear voice of a sergeant means that he’s been spotted- staying around any longer is a death wish. With this, he tries to justify his mind, slow the beating of his heart. Edward makes a swooping observation of his surroundings: the burning street below; the policemen staring him down and fast approaching him one street behind; Jasper and Rachel, crouched in an alleyway, unknowingly trapped by the fast approaching flames from the east and a horrified mob of policemen and fleeing civilians from the west.
Wait. Rachel and Jasper.
A sudden, disgusting dread halts the frantic beat of his heart, and all sounds- from the glare of the fire to the shrieks of the officers and Lodgers- quieten to the low murmur of the wind, and the fearful way they are hiding from it all. The mess Edward had caused.
That feeling in his chest translates haltingly into the jolting leap he takes towards them, into the way he inhales (smoke. A bad tonne of smoke that should’ve made him cough.) to soothe his fear and focuses solely on a raging need to protect them. The need courses deep through his blood, burning as bright as the fire beside him and makes his legs move with a certain sort of desperation.
It’s almost like it reaches out of him, grasping at the air as he focuses on them, on getting to them, on keeping them safe.
Something warm and writhing seeps between his fingers, not thick, not thin, barely material at all, not really noticeable. It sputters and heaves- he can hear it now, above the murmur, above the fire and the beating in his heart, and Jasper’s distant, fearful voice- something about it pops and grows and pops again, like a snake growing longer, spreading its wings to form a dragon of some new fear. He’d stop to see what it is, to try and understand it, but he’s too concerned, too focused on fixing this one thing to notice how the fire is killed, how the street around him falls cold, and the noises of fearful people stop and all watch, how a single, mellow light glares and expands until it is nearly blinding him, until he has to stop because it is all too much and-
His hands are glowing, with something cool and moving. They’re glowing bright purple, wafting out into wisps of light, glowing from his palms to the street below- where there is now no fire, and it is clear, as if there never was one- in flailing grasps at the air. A tingling warmth slips behind his eyes, and it is as if they are open to the world for the first time.
It takes Edward a minute to clock what he’s done, to figure out that this is not a hallucination because the police are still screaming after him. ‘ Oh my gosh-’
He hears Jekyll whisper, equally as dumbfounded because he may or may not have just…put out the fire with magic? The officers are approaching, footsteps echoing at the end of the street. Despite himself, and the fear he should feel- the fear Jekyll feels- Edward spares himself a glance towards his friends, still cowering in the alleyway. Rachel meets his eyes, with her own so wide because she’s quite literally just witnessed a miracle. She’s safe. They’re both safe.
Edward smiles, and a dulled ache begins to curl into his hands. ‘ Edward- get out of here. ’ A glance back across the street reveals a rallying force of five officers approaching him, and now the surprise and anxiety kicks in. He can worry about everything else later; he just needs to get away, right now.
“Right on it, Doctor.”