Archive of Our Own ^beta

The day had started out as promising. Lanyon had awoken, and he’d helped Henry plan for the Exhibition for a few hours. The way the sunlight had glinted in Henry’s hair, the way his smile had split his face had been major benefits. Lanyon had then said his goodbyes and headed to his house. He’d fallen asleep to the light of the moon, memories of Jekyll’s laugh reverberating in his mind. It had been, all in all, a fantastic day.

Lanyon was now awake at 3 am, Rachel dragging him to the Society. No longer was it a fantastic day.

“Rachel,” he gritted out. His hands were losing feeling because of her ironclad grip. “Can you at all explain what is going on?”

“I can’t because I don’t know,” she said, face set in a grimace. 

“All you can tell me is that Henry just- collapsed? No explanation, no obvious reason why?” 

“Yes, and none of the lodgers are giving me a straight answer. Jasper’s talking to them now, but-” Her face warped; she sighed. “You’re his friend. You should be there to help.”

Lanyon was, indeed, Jekyll's friend. It had given him so many migraines before, and it seemed that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. “Fine. Now, can you let go of my hand?”

“Oh. sorry.” She released it.

He rubbed his wrist– it was slightly pale– and squinted his eyes as the Society’s doors opened. The entire population were mad scientists: this meant they never seemed to keep consistent sleep schedules. They were too busy getting random bursts of inspiration and running around, trying to perfect their most recent idea. Henry had done that countless times during college.

“Alright,” Lanyon announced. 12 heads swiveled in his direction. They all paled considerably. “What’s going on?”

The room was silent. All the lodgers kept glancing at each other furiously and avoiding any eye contact with Lanyon.

He stared back.

Finally, Ito pursed her lips and stepped forward. “We don’t actually know. Lavender and Cantilipe were working when they heard a thump from the upstairs offices. They went inside and Jekyll was just on the floor, surrounded by these.” She held up a red vial. It seemed to have a green tint in the glare of the light. 

Lanyon frowned. He’d certainly never seen Jekyll make anything like those. “Do we know what they are?”

“Not yet. We think it might be a clue, but it’ll take a moment to test it.”

“Right.” he rubbed his eyes. God, he was tired. “Is it possible those things caused him to faint?”

“Not likely– none of them were open. The other thing in the room was an alchemy set, but he wasn’t using it.”

It wouldn’t be a regular chemical issue, like Jekyll getting a whiff of cholorform– if so, the lodgers wouldn’t be panicking. Something actually odd had happened, and Lanyon had to get to the bottom of it.

“Alright, I'm heading up.” He gazed across the crowd, picking out who could help. Probably one of the extremofaunic zoologists and Ito. “Ito, Lavender– follow me. Rachel, keep a watch on the rest of the lodgers. I’ll be a moment.”

Lanyon went up the stairs with Ito and Lavender following his footsteps. He tried to focus his mind. Jekyll wasn’t actually harmed, only asleep, so that was already a good sign. It was also clear that the unknown accident hadn’t turned him into a giant lizard or burnt down the building, so that was also good.

Dear god. He was going mad with all this mad science.

Lanyon opened the door. Ito had been quite right with the description: the entire room was in order besides the unconscious Jekyll. The alchemical stand was prepared, along with a few ingredients, but nothing dangerous stood out. In fact, it was all relatively benign.

The only odd thing was the dozens of red vials that surrounded Henry. There was a box in front of him; it had splintered into dozens of pieces across the carpet. There were then countless red-green vials– thankfully not broken– rolling around the room, all of which looked practically identical. 

“Was this part of a Lodger’s exhibition?” Lanyon asked as he picked one up. Henry had been too busy to do significant alchemy for the last few months, so where had these come from?

“No. I’m the only other alchemist, and my presentation does not involve this.” Ito picked up another vial.

Lanyon couldn’t help the gnawing feeling that he was missing something, something important. It only amplified as his reflection stared back from the glass vials. The reflection grinned for a moment, green glowing eyes winking back at him; it disappeared after a second. Lanyon shuddered.

“Ito?” He gently placed a vial against the table. “Can you start testing this right now? Perhaps using his alchemical set.”

Ito blinked, but she nodded. Lanyon knew that she was surprised, but he needed results as soon as possible. His gut was usually right, and it was screaming that something was deeply, deeply wrong. 

“Lavender-” he turned to her. She was frowning at the ground, head tilted. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said absently. “Just- that looks an awful lot like Hyde’s cape, doesn’t it?”

Lanyon froze. He then, as slowly as possible, looked to the spot she was staring at. There was a ratty, tattered black cloak there.

“I wouldn’t know.” There seemed to be cotton in Lanyon’s mouth. “I’ve only met the man once.”

“Hm. He didn’t like Jekyll, you know.”

Lanyon suppressed a hysterical laugh. Hyde’s reaction to him– one he was not going to properly think about until much, much later– had shown his clear disdain for Lanyon. That strong of an emotion probably extended towards Jekyll, especially if he had been one of Lanyon’s flings from college.

That issue hadn’t stopped nagging him for a while. Lanyon would’ve remembered Hyde; Hyde was irritating, yes, but he had a spark of personality in him that felt similar to Henry’s. Something about the vivaciousness, the clear passion of emotion, had been so similar. He would’ve remembered someone like that. Besides, he was quite attractive. A face like that wasn’t so easily forgotten.

“I’m quite aware,” Lanyon said. “Do you think he caused this?”

She shrugged. “It’s the only explanation so far.”

“Hm.” Lanyon walked over to Jekyll. He jostled his shoulder slightly, waiting for any sort of response. Jekyll twitched away.

It wasn’t a normal unconscious spell. Jekyll certainly hadn’t fallen into regular sleep– his pulse was far too slow for that. He also wasn’t actually in a coma since that touch had caused such a visceral reaction.

Lanyon jostled him more, keeping a finger on his pulse. Jekyll continued to twitch, but there was no sign of him waking up, nor did his pulse change.

“Thank you, Miss Lavender,” Lanyon said, still staring at Jekyll. This was perplexing. “You can leave, if you would like.”

There was no verbal response, but Lanyon heard the door open and close.

“Anything you’ve noticed?” Ito called from across the room.

“Well, this was definitely caused by something alchemical. He’s just asleep, but can’t wake up, it seems.” Lanyon pinched Jekyll’s arm, but the arm just moved away. Jekyll’s eyes didn’t flutter for even a moment.

“Well, it’s not this potion, for sure.” 

Lanyon frowned. Ito’s tone of voice was not one of simple facts– it was one of confusion and awe. Awe was never good for a mad scientist. He stood up and walked over, carefully stepping over Jekyll. “What do you mean?”

She had put on goggles and was furiously testing, jotting words down at the speed of light on a stained notebook. “This brew is insane. It’s not active right now, that’s for sure, but it has some of the weirdest ingredients I’ve ever seen. Half are from India, a few from the Middle East, a couple from America, of all places.”

Henry had only visited America once, and that was years ago. “Do you keep them in stock?”

Ito laughed. “God, I wish. No, he must’ve had them special-ordered.”

That was especially odd. Henry, of all people, knew how tight the financial situation for the Society was. This potion had to be necessary for drastic measures like that.

“Do you know what it does?”

“Possibly?” she said, voice lilting at the end. “It seems to be focused on a person’s mind, and physical transformation. Until I can find the activating agent, I won’t know for sure.”

“Alright.” That was a concerning potion for Henry to have stocked. Lanyon certainly didn’t like that, but he quashed his unease. Any emotion like that wasn’t going to help him– he just needed to focus.

The potion seemed to be drastically important, but what was more important in Lanyon’s opinion was getting Henry awake. He could be able to explain all of this, after all. “Is there anything you can make so I can wake up Henry?”

Ito’s hand stilled, pencil still on paper. “Hm. you said the sleep wasn’t natural?”

“Definitely not.”

“Then I might actually have just the thing. Just give me a moment.”

Lanyon nodded, and Ito rushed out.

Alright. Hyde’s cloak was there, Jekyll was unnaturally passed out, face-down on the floor, and it was 3 in the morning. What was he missing?

Well, Hyde had to do something with this. He had gone so far to insult Lanyon where it hurt most, and he’d caused severe distress. He wouldn’t mind doing something like that to Jekyll, and that included drugging him. There wasn’t clear motivation, but did a madman need clear motivation? 

Maybe he had known something about Henry– something useful for blackmail. If Hyde traded in illicit information, it would explain both the will and his knowledge of Lanyon’s younger years. Lanyon hadn’t met him in college, for certain, and yet the man had known everything. It was uncanny.

The door burst open.

“Right,” Ito said, handing him a vial. “This should do it.”

Lanyon blinked at the odd concoction. The drink was pale gray like the moonlight, and it sparkled. It certainly looked beautiful, but definitely didn’t seem like something a person should digest. “What is it?”

“It’s a potion that helps you enter someone else’s psyche.”

Lanyon’s jaw slackened. This potion had possibly appeared from his literal nightmares. Something that could let anyone know your wants and desires? Absolutely horrifying.

“And what the hell does that have to do with waking up Jekyll?” He said instead. He knew he sounded like an asshole, but it was 3 in the morning, and Ito had handed something that could destroy his entire life if managed improperly.

“Well, you can’t wake him up with physical movement. You’ll just need to enter his mind and talk to him. It should take less than a minute, if all goes right.”

“And if all goes wrong?”

She paused. “You’ll be there for far longer. Time there will pass the same as time here, so try and keep track.”

God, Lanyon needed to be tested for some disease considering he was going to do this. “And how do I leave?”

“You’ll leave his mind from the same place you entered.”

“It’s all, what, physical representations?”

She shrugged. “Mostly. Our mind makes up reasoning for everything, so it makes sense for there to be perceived doors in the brain.”

This made so little sense, and Lanyon was so tired. But, hell, it was only supposed to take a few minutes. Henry was more important. 

Lanyon pulled a grimace and swallowed the drink.

He frowned.  The world seemed the same so far. “How quickly does it take effect? I don’t seem to-“

He hit the floor right afterwards.

Waking up to blinding white light was certainly odd enough that it threw Lanyon off. Normally, he wasn’t one to wake up and stare at the sun, so something had to be wrong.

He blinked his eyes open, and he saw, right in front of him, a huge library that had a plaque titled “Hall of Memories” . Along with that, he was a light blue.

His memories rushed back, none of them particularly pleasant. It was good to know he was in the right place, though- if anyone had a library in their mind, it was certainly Jekyll.

Lanyon stood up and brushed his lapels off. He couldn’t feel his hands. Well, it was more accurate to say he felt the absence of them. Any movements he made blurred slightly. It was like he was underwater, but all movement occurred at a normal speed. It was incredibly off-putting.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

His voice echoed back throughout the hallowed halls.

Well. He just had to find Jekyll, and then he’d be done. That was all he needed to do. Relatively simple, if he kept himself on track.

Lanyon walked into the library. The stacks towered into the sky, looming over him. They should’ve fallen over, but they seemed to be suspended in this dream-like state. There were also numerous floating books.

Lanyon picked one up at a whim. It read “the essence of nightmares; a study by…” but the name was blurred. He flipped through the pages, and nothing was there, except a few paragraphs.

Well, this was the Hall of Memories– It probably contained what Henry recalled at any given moment. Considering it looked to be an academic textbook, he certainly wouldn’t remember the name of the author.

Alright, a relatively nonchalant discovery that didn’t strike fear into Robert. Good so far. Why had Henry been thinking about nightmares, though? He certainly hadn’t been sleeping enough to have one.

That was another thing Lanyon was worried about. Granted, he did want to quit the Society for purely selfish reasons, but Jekyll’s health was also a concern. He’d had so many emotional swings– like what had happened outside the gala– and there was no sign he was going to improve. Lanyon needed to help him somehow with that.

He felt something tug on his socks. Hm. Maybe there were animals here too, as a representation of… something. This entire realm seemed very vague and abstract.

Lanyon turned. A maggot-infested dog was biting his leg. The maggots writhed within the dog’s eyes, and blood dripped onto the ground, somehow vividly red in the midst of the blue expanse.

Lanyon knew he should’ve felt a far more visceral fear, but all he felt was a mute sense of disgust. He slowly stepped away. The dog stepped forward.

“Oi! Mutt!”

His voice had shouted that. The problem was, though, that Lanyon hadn’t said it. Those words hadn’t been said by him, but the voice sounded almost identical. 

The dead dog’s head whirled around. Lanyon followed its gaze, trying to ignore the decomposing head.

At the end of the hall was another Lanyon. Specifically, it seemed like a Lanyon from his own nightmares. 

The (apparition? illusion?) image was wearing the stuffiest possible suit in the entire world. There was an army of assumedly British ghosts with mustaches and monocles, all of whom seemed to be equally stuffy. This Lanyon also had a glint in his eye that made the real Lanyon shudder. It reminded him far too much of his father.

“Get lost,” Fake-Lanyon ordered. The mutt bowed its head and trotted away.

Lanyon stared at Fake-Lanyon. The impostor looked up to see him.

“Gah!” it shouted, jumping back. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Robert Lanyon,” Robert tried to say as calmly as possible. It didn’t work, though– he sounded closer to deranged. The panic was seeping in, then. Lovely.

Fake-Lanyon’s face contorted into a frown before its eyes widened and its eyebrows rose. “You mean the real one?”

“Yes, the real one ,” Lanyon hissed. “What are you?”

“I’m- wait, no, that can’t be right.” Fake-Lanyon stalked its way over, the ghosts following. They pulled out multiple oversized magnifying glasses and started to, seemingly, investigate him. “You’re a separate human being. You wouldn’t be able to enter here.”

“Ito figured out a way to enter Henry’s mind.”

“Hm.” Fake-Lanyon’s face was still frowning, but it sighed and stepped back. “I assume this is about the fainting spell?”

Well, at least this illusion was competent. “Yes, actually. Are you- are you part of Jekyll?” If that was true, Lanyon felt he was allowed to be a little disturbed. To see such a warped version of himself in Henry’s mind was definitely distressing. Was this how Henry saw him?

“Not really, no,” Fake-Lanyon said absentmindedly, the ghosts already clustering back around it. “I’ve only existed for the past few years.”

Lanyon blinked. While being a relief– that meant Henry didn’t view him as some ghost-hoarding maniac– that didn’t make much sense. How could an element of a person exist for only a few years? “ What?”

“After-” after a moment of silence, a wave of bone-crunching nausea passed over Fake-Lanyon’s face. It doubled over in pain. “Christ, I guess I can’t tell you that.”

The entire situation was just getting more ominous by the minute. Lanyon was in Henry’s brain, standing next to some cartoonish version of him, and it was currently doubled over in pain. “Fine. Can you at least tell me who you are?”

Fake-Lanyon straightened, pulling at its cravat. “The better question would be ‘what,’” it said drily. A mass of ghosts swarmed near it, all appearing with different papers and reports. They kept trying to shove them in Lanyon’s face. “I’m the part of Henry's mind that represents morality.”

That was… interesting, for certain. A better word would be perplexing. Lanyon had never been good with morals, not to the extent of becoming a person’s moral compass. College was a prime example of that.  

“You tell him what’s right and wrong?” Lanyon asked. That could not be its job. That was the actual antithesis of Lanyon’s abilities.

“I don’t tell him anything,” Fake-Lanyon said imperiously. “I’m part of him. I make sure he can distinguish proper and improper.”

Lanyon blinked. “I thought you said right and wrong.”

“Same thing, in the end.” It took back the ghost’s seemingly endless reports, unaware of Lanyon’s eye twitching.

This thing didn’t seem to understand how incorrect that statement was. Proper was, in Lanyon’s book, very rarely the right thing to do- it was just the more infuriating one. The ideas of “proper” and “improper” had boxed him into a cage from early on, so to see anyone tout it as the ultimate moral division was baffling. 

The more interesting– and disturbing– part was that a version of Lanyon was saying it. He hadn’t researched what a person’s mindscape meant (he hadn’t had time after Rachel forcing him to the Society) but it had to mean something. Did Henry associate him with bureaucracy? God, that was horrifying.

Lanyon opened his mouth, ready to contradict this maddening apparition, and then closed it. He had more important things to do, like actually finding Jekyll. “I just need to wake up Henry. How do I do that?”

“Oh. You can’t.”

This night– or, morning, as it was 3 am– was just getting better. Lanyon could almost feel a forehead vein throbbing out of rage. “What?”

“I’m afraid it’s been self-induced. Or, well, as close as it can get to that,” Fake-Lanyon said with a sigh. Then, out of nowhere, it pulled an honest-to-god sword from its back. The sword seemed to be half its height. “I was actually leaving to take care of it. Someone’s got to get Henry into shape. You can tag along, if you want.”

“Is there any other option?” Lanyon asked wearily. He was not going to ask about the sword, dammit.

“Hm. Not really, no.” 

The apparition’s face was too smug to be trusted, but there were no other options. He had to stick around with this thing.

Lanyon didn’t normally like poking into other people’s business. It was wildly enjoyable depending on who, but it led to such difficulties that it was better to avoid it entirely. However, there were two things that made him determined to learn more about whatever the hell was happening in Henry’s mind.

For one, Henry was keeping a secret. Secrets were fine, all in all, but one so intense to cause part of him to double over was concerning. It had to be a secret if it was so important to cause psychic pain just by revealing it, and Lanyon was now too curious to not at least look into it. They were friends after all, weren’t they? Friends didn’t normally keep secrets this large. He wouldn’t know from experience, of course– Henry had perhaps been his first true friend, and second one in total– but it was an assumption based on years of hearing what it meant to be friends.

Secondly, there was something deeply wrong with this Lanyon. This- this thing was the opposite of everything Lanyon wanted and believed. How the hell was it living in Henry’s brain?

“So, you’ve existed for a couple of years, and can’t tell me how you were created. Can you at least tell me why?”

Not-Lanyon stopped in its tracks. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m one of Henry’s closest friends. If whatever caused you was truly important, I should be able to help him somehow.”

Not-Lanyon stared. It tilted its head, and the neck seemed to move a fraction more than a normal human neck would’ve. “Fine. I was created as a response to Henry’s lack of morality.”

That stopped Lanyon right in his tracks. “I’m sorry, lack of?” He had to half-jog to catch up with Not-Lanyon again, as it seemed the prick didn’t seem willing to stop even a second.

“Of course. Henry’s never been good at control.”

That was bizarre. That was wild. That was even bonkers. “Are we talking about the same Henry Jekyll here? The one who is able to entertain crowds of socialites at a moment’s notice even though he’d prefer to be making experiments?”

“I…” 

Something very odd happened. Lanyon watched as Not-Lanyon’s face flickered. It was as if someone was dimming a light, and the face had gone out with it as well. After that brief second, the Not-Lanyon’s face returned, but it was different. It looked confused, and it was almost penciled in. It no longer looked like Lanyon: it looked like a drawing of him.

“You wouldn’t say that.”

Lanyon scoffed. “I just did.”

“You are absolutely nothing like me,” Not-Lanyon said slowly. It turned its head, and it began to truly look at him, eyes scanning for something. “Why do I look like you?”

“That’s what I'm trying to figure out.” Lanyon stopped walking for a moment, observing his surroundings. The walls had heightened considerably, now disappearing at some point because of their sheer size. It was all quite menacing now that a good portion of the books’ spines were crossed out. He walked over and picked up one.

“Oh, that?” Not-Lanyon said. “Happened when I was created.”

It couldn’t tell Lanyon why that “creation” had happened, or probably even how. Still, there had to be potential answers. “How is your creation related to erasing memories?”

Not-Lanyon scoffed, then noise ringing in Lanyon’s ears as a perfect facsimile of his father’s laugh. “It’s not erasing memories– more just making them less easily accessible. I was meant to keep him on the straight and narrow; making sure certain temptations are ignored include that.”

Dear god, this thing sounded like a preacher. “What counts as temptations?”

“Well, h-” Not-Lanyon’s face contorted into pain again. “Nope, can’t tell you that either.”

This was infuriating to an extent Lanyon hadn’t known was possible. “Fine, then.”

“If I could tell you, I would, I promise,” Not-Lanyon said with odd solemnity. “You were the first person to stop him from falling completely into an indecent life.”

Lanyon stopped walking. “What?”

Not-Lanyon opened its mouth, but before it could respond, a loud, deeply Scottish voice rose from across the infinite hall, behind a door labeled “The descent.”

“You BASTARD!”

Not-Lanyon rolled his eyes and unsheathed his sword. The swarm of british ghosts got out their own little daggers as well. “All right. Come help me deal with this mess, then, will you?” he said as he began to open the door.

“I can’t really help you if I don’t know what’s going on, can I?” Lanyon shouted out in frustration. All he’d gotten were cryptic answers and infuriatingly snide comments from this apparition, and now it was asking for his help. Absolutely awful.

There was no response from the other side of the door, except for the sound of a bookshelf falling.

Christ, something was going wrong. Lanyon decided to throw away caution and at least enter. Maybe whatever was going on could explain this absolutely bizarre situation. He walked into the room.

Absolutely nothing inside explained what was going on.

The singular decent, hopeful thing was the fact that Henry was there. Granted, Henry had a black eye and seemed to be in the middle of a brawl, but at least he was there.

Then there was the environment. There were thousands of books, and, from a first glance, they seemed to be appearing out of nowhere. Books were literally raining from the ceiling, and were labeled the oddest things. One read “The Picture of Dorian Grey,” which made dozens of questions leap to Lanyon’s mind. The weirder ones were the books that simply said, “first night,” or, “day in library” . They seemed more like diary entries instead of actual books.

Finally, there was the truly oddest part. There was an Edward Hyde in the room, currently being shackled by ghosts. It truly was Edward Hyde, and it made no fucking sense.

“Oh, Lanyon,” Henry began, “there you are. I just-” he then froze. He turned to where Lanyon was standing, right next to Not-Lanyon. 

“Er,” Henry said. “Why are there suddenly two of you?”

“Because I'm the actual Robert Lanyon, not this-” Lanyon waved his hand at Not-Lanyon, ignoring the rolling of its eyes, “this impostor. Henry, what the hell is going on here?”

Henry blinked. Henry completely froze. Henry, then, became paler than the actual ghosts in the room. “Robert?” he said faintly.

“Yes, I'm here.” Lanyon was quickly reaching the conclusion that, whatever piece of the puzzle he was missing, it was going to completely infuriate him. “Why do I see a copy of Hyde here?”

“A copy?” Not-Hyde shouted. “I’m the real thing, you bleeding idiot!”

Lanyon scoffed; he frowned a second later. Not-Lanyon hadn’t denied being a copy. He’d quickly admitted it. Still, maybe this copy of Hyde was as much of a contrarian as the other.

“Never mind him,” Henry said quickly. A little too quickly, in Lanyon’s opinion. “Why are you here?”

“You fainted! In the middle of the night! Everyone was worried about you, Henry!”

Henry then had the gall to look surprised. “They- they were?”

God, this man was an idiot. “Yes! Rachel practically tore my arm off to get me here out of fear!”

“And were you?” 

Lanyon blinked. That seemed like an absurd question, and was about to reply with typical snark, before the copy of Hyde responded from the back.

“Of course he wasn’t, you loon,” he shouted. “He’s never worried about you.”

“Of course I was!” Lanyon shouted back, and he immediately froze.

 Being honest was a bit like being stabbed, in Lanyon’s opinion; both involved a roiling sensation in the gut, a feeling of nausea, and the knowledge that something supposed to be kept inside your chest may very well start spilling to the outside. With all that said, it shouldn’t have been a surprise how shocked Henry looked. Lanyon didn’t try to talk about his feelings often, on the assumption that Jekyll probably knew if it was important. It still hurt to see that expression, no matter what logic stood behind it.

“For god’s sake, Henry, I've been by your side for over a decade now,” Lanyon muttered. “I’m helping you run this godforsaken society just so you don’t run yourself into the ground. Of course I care.”

Henry’s face, which had been stuck in pale shock, started to soften. “Robert, I…”

Not-Lanyon started to scream.

Lanyon whipped around to see it clutching its head as it began to flicker in and out of existence. It seemed to be almost getting scratched out. After a few seconds, the flickering stopped, and a half-erased version of Not-Lanyon sat there, panting into its hands.

It got up, storming over to Henry. “Why the hell do I look like him?”

Henry blinked. “I-I’m sorry?”

“What I’m supposed to be is nothing like this- this dandy.”

Lanyon choked back an affronted laugh.

“This man has never once shown priorities towards civilized behavior, never cared about what I do. I’m part of you, so answer me,” Not-Lanyon said with a poke. “Why do I look like him?”

“I…” Henry frowned. “I actually don’t know.”

“That’s a theme of yours, Jekyll,” Hyde yelled from the back of the room.

Not-Lanyon spun around, brandishing his ridiculous sword. “Shut it. I may not be an actual copy of Lanyon, but I still have a job to do, and that job is to get rid of you.”

Henry blanched again, rushing over to Hyde’s side. “You can’t do that.”

Not-Lanyon raised an eyebrow. “Why not? It’s just a simple progression of events, Henry- You separate the evil, and then you remove it.”

“It’s not that simple, I need-”

“Sod that.” Not-Lanyon moved forward, and it pressed the sword against Hyde’s stomach. If Lanyon tried to look, really tried, he probably would’ve seen a deep-seated panic in Not-Lanyon’s eyes, as he began to be further erased. “I think you just do.”

Not-Lanyon twisted its sword, and Hyde screamed.

Lanyon may not have liked Hyde– he actively disliked him, for that matter– but murder wasn’t something he was on board for. It may not have actually been murder, what with being in a literal mindscape, but the blood and the guttural noise emitted from Hyde were all too real to bear.

“No, stop-” Lanyon started to shout.

As he jumped forward to try and do something, however, the oddest thing happened: the entire building shuddered.

It was like the rattle of a rib cage; the pale white shelves of books cracked, inhaling and exhaling. Books began to rain again, and one fell squarely on both Jekyll and Not-Lanyon’s head. They both fell to the floor.

Lanyon blinked. He then looked to Hyde. Hyde, thankfully, looked just as confused as he did.

“Is- is Henry alright?” Lanyon stuttered out.

The unreadable look on Hyde’s face was replaced with irritation. “God, of course that’s your first question.”

“What do you mean, ‘of course?’ he’s my friend.”

“And I’ve just been stabbed!”

Lanyon blinked, eyes quickly falling down to the perforation in Hyde’s stomach. It was… concerning, how tiny the hole was, yet how much blood was leaking out.

“Oh. Shit.” Lanyon took Henry’s pulse- still thankfully working- and got to work getting rid of Hyde’s chains. Some suspiciously cartoonish keys seemed to be hanging on Not-Lanyon’s keychain, and they’d fit perfectly with the cartoonish locks keeping Hyde secure. He picked them up and unlocked the first few.

“What are you doing?” Hyde asked, voice right next to his ear. They were uncomfortably close.

“Getting you out of here.”

“Why?”

Lanyon raised an eyebrow, stepping back. “Do you not want me to?”

“Course I do! Just- can’t trust you if I don’t know why.”

Lanyon didn’t quite know why, either, except that Hyde reminded him of Henry in some odd way. Bizarrely, he wanted to help him. He wouldn’t tell that to the loon, though. 

 “Look. Henry’s passed out, I’m stuck in his mind, and you’re the only one still awake who might know anything . It’s in both of our best interests to help each other,” Lanyon said, pretending he was a consummate business professional.

Hyde narrowed his eyes. “How am I supposed to help you?”

A plan began to form in Lanyon’s mind, mainly based around Henry’s suspicious behavior. “Simple. Tell me why you’re here, and why Henry fell asleep,” he said as the last lock broke.

Hyde fell, groaning. He clutched his stomach wound. “That’s it? Not going to try and kill me?”

Lanyon scoffed. “Please. I’m not evil.” He offered a hand.

Hyde looked up. He looked down, and then up again, something flickering across his face.

He took Lanyon’s hand. Electricity skittered through Lanyon’s veins. Hyde’s hands were warm and soft– everything else in the mindscape, including Henry, had felt like cold plastic. It was strangely unnerving. It was also strangely welcome.

“So I'm supposed to just tell you everything, then?” Hyde grumbled, getting up. 

Lanyon rolled his eyes at the man’s drama, but decided to focus on the more important part: bandaging his wounds. He began to search the room. “Anything that would be helpful, yes. Do you know where bandages would be stored?”

“Bandages?”

“For your wound.” Lanyon spotted a box behind two books- “Nights after” and “soul-splitting” - and grabbed it. “Or did you forget about it?”

Hyde was strangely silent. When Lanyon turned around, Hyde was simply staring at him.

Lanyon frowned. “What?”

“You’re actually helping me,” Hyde said, voice flat. His gaze was oddly detached.

“I told you why; I can’t very well get you to show me any answers if you’re busy limping.”

Hyde blinked again, but then scoffed. “Course that’s why. God, you’re as annoying as I remember.”

Lanyon felt like a shark who’d sniffed blood in the water; finally, a way to press. More specifically, a way to do it by making Hyde even more uncomfortable.

Lanyon, very calmly, walked up to Hyde. He kneeled and began to unwrap bandages and gauze. “Lift your shirt up.”

Hyde completely froze. “What.”

“I do know basic medical care. Had to when I was Henry’s roommate. I need to at least see the wound to treat it.”

The entire mindscape was in greyscale, but Lanyon had the sneaking suspicion that, in the real world, Hyde would be blushing. “...right.” 

Hyde removed his shirt, and Lanyon felt warmth stir in his stomach as he gazed at his chest. He would not have forgotten this man, goodness gracious. He was nearly exactly his type, negating the general rabble-rousing and poor behavior. Although, he loved Henry “Mad Scientist” Jekyll, so maybe that wasn’t quite a major strike against him as he thought.

Lanyon got his bandages out and began to prepare them. “So, you remember me from somewhere then?”

Hyde froze again. “Er.”

“That would be odd, Mr. Hyde, since I don’t know you at all.” Lanyon looked up to see pure panic on Hyde’s face. Good. Panic meant he might reveal more in confusion.

“I-”

“From what you know, I’d think college, but I certainly would’ve remembered you.” Hyde hissed as Lanyon started to apply gauze. “And I distinctly know I haven’t met you while you’ve been employed. In fact, I suspect you’ve been avoiding me that entire time.”

Hyde didn’t respond.

“I don’t know why that is, after all, since I never advocated against your employment. I didn’t even know you were employed until Henry mentioned it. So what did I do to make you so angry at me?”

“...I don’t know.”

Lanyon blinked. He looked back up to Hyde. The man’s eyes were wide, and seemed to be fixated on Lanyon’s hands. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t actually know,” Hyde continued to say, slowly. He seemed to be parsing out the words. “Considering everything.”

“What do you mean by ‘everything'?’” Lanyon pressed.

But, before he could further respond, Hyde’s eyes finally locked in on Lanyon’s. His face instantly shuttered; he grabbed the bandages and started to bandage his own wounds.

“None of your fucking business,” Hyde grumbled. 

Well, he may have clammed up, but Lanyon was rather sure that he was at an advantage. He had caught Hyde off guard, after all, and gained three pieces of very interesting information.

Firstly, they had a complicated history. Normal enough by itself; lots of people had complicated histories with others. That was only made more interesting by the second fact; that Lanyon had never met Hyde before. Having a complicated history with someone was incredibly difficult if you didn’t know the damn person. Things were made even weirder with the third fact: Lanyon knew this man, deep in his bones. He knew Hyde, and he’d seen his expressions a multitude of times on Henry instead.

An odd theory began to crystallize in Lanyon’s mind– a crazy, absolutely wild theory. He kept it in the back of his mind.

That was all for later though, no matter how tantalizing the mystery was. The problem at hand was waking up Henry.

“Fine, don’t tell me anything about yourself.” Lanyon stood back up, brushing off his pants. “Just tell me how to wake up Henry.”

Hyde continued to bandage, but a catlike grin slowly began to grow. “You want to wake up Henry?”

“Obviously. That’s why I’m here.”

“Well, you can’t.”

Lanyon blinked. It had been one thing when Not-Lanyon had said so, but this was the second time. “I’m sorry?”

“He’s not waking up until he sorts his shit out.” Hyde stood up, grimacing, but started to walk away.

“He can’t do that if he’s passed out,” Lanyon shouted.

“NOT MY PROBLEM!” Hyde shouted back.

Lanyon felt real irritation bubble up in his veins, and he walked over to Hyde. he grabbed his arm.

“Listen here,” he said, low in tone, “I’m not leaving until Henry wakes up. So, if you want me gone, then you should at least make that possible.”

Hyde paused. His eyes roamed up and down Lanyon. “You really won’t leave?”

“No. I won’t.”

Something flickered across Hyde’s face– if Lanyon was a fool, he would’ve called it longing. Whatever it was, it led Hyde to sigh and yank his hand free from Lanyon’s grip. “ Fine. ”

“Fine?” Robert repeated.

“Yes, fine. But first, tell me why he fell unconscious.”

Lanyon blinked. “I’m sorry?”

Hyde’s grin turned wicked. Lanyon ignored the spike of heat in his gut. “You heard me. You’re his best friend , after all, so I think you should be able to figure it out.”

“Well, it’s clearly not naturally induced, and, more importantly, I’m not a bloody alchemist.”

“So you’re not up for the challenge, then?”

If it was a different day, Lanyon may have been. As much as he detested being forced into things, he had his own streak of curiosity. But he was tired, and exhausted, and wanted to wake Henry up and leave.

“No.” Lanyon swallowed past his pride. “No, I don’t think I am. I just… I need him awake.”

“Need?” Hyde repeated. His voice sounded a bit strangled.

“Well, I–” Lanyon swallowed. He turned to Henry, unconscious on the floor. His chest was rising up and down a little bit, his hair had fallen, and his face looked just the slightest bit scared.

“Yes, need,” Lanyon found himself saying. “I– He’s my friend, Hyde. I can’t leave him like this.”

“And only your friend?”

Lanyon whirled around. Hyde’s question dripped with malice, but his face was completely blank. “I– excuse me?”

“Don’t–” Hyde’s face contorted; he looked like he was fighting off significant pain, just for a moment. “Fuck, where was that from?” He muttered.

Lanyon scoffed. He felt off-kilter. Something was going on here beyond Hyde’s bizarre existence in Henry’s mindscape, and it had to do with Lanyon and Jekyll’s relationship.

Lanyon, of course, could tell the truth. He could say, yes, more than a friend for me because is it really a friend when you would remove the sun and stars for them? Are they really a friend when your every thought revolves around them in some way, when you allow sadness to pierce your heart every time you see them since it still means you get to see them? I love him, Edward Hyde, and nothing will change that.

Saying that made him feel queasy, though, so he swallowed it down instead. Lanyon decided to go with the cold hard truth instead.

“I care about Henry,” Lanyon said sharply. Hyde winced, but Lanyon pressed on. “Nothing will change that, certainly not whatever– deranged self-hatred he’s conjured in his own mind. Now, Edward Hyde, help me wake him up since I assume you’re part of him, and stop this madness.”

Hyde frowned. “‘Deranged self-hatred?’”

Lanyon blinked. Was that really what he’d taken away? “Well, yes. Henry always had a knack for finding flaws in himself no matter what, and I suspect that’s why you’re here. How else would Henry personify his worst traits than that scoundrel Edward Hyde.” 

And it was true. Back in college, Henry had always thought of himself as less worthy, as less of a true academic than his posh British peers. Lanyon had spent actual time and energy convincing him otherwise– convincing Jekyll that his knowledge surpassed most of the people in his class, that he was actually worth time and energy, that he deserved a spot here. That would, at least, also explain why Hyde was here– it was Henry’s shame over his own failings. Lanyon had certainly dealt with his own version of that countless times.

“Scoundrel?” Hyde squawked. “What have I ever done to you?”

“You insulted me, and told me I’d never cared about anyone in my bloody life,” Lanyon shot back. “Or– not you, but the real Hyde. Christ, this is confusing.”

“Are you really that determined to care about Jekyll?”

Lanyon rolled his eyes. Can it be called determination if it’s a permanent affliction? I don’t choose this– it chooses me. “Yes, I’m afraid,” he said drily. “Henry, if you can hear me, I’m not letting you try and convince me to leave you alone and asleep. I’m waking you up.”

“You’re… you’re fucking devoted to him,” Hyde murmured.

Lanyon flinched. He looked away. Was that truly a way to phrase it? Yes, he supposed, but it felt odd for it to be laid out so plainly. “I…”

“And the bastard doesn’t even deserve it,” Hyde muttered. Lanyon watched as clenched his fists, as he began to walk off in the distance. “He has you, and he doesn’t– he doesn’t–”

Hyde slammed the door to the outside. Lanyon hesitated, glancing back at Henry’s body, but decided to follow.

He ran to catch up with Hyde: he seemed to be heading to the Hall of Memories.

“What’s this for?”

“You wanted to fix Henry’s shit, didn’t you?” Hyde said. His voice had an odd note to it; it almost sounded hysterical.

“I… yes, I did, if it means he wakes up.”

“Well, to do that, you need to know what the hell he’s done.”

Robert’s stomach began to sink. More precisely, he felt as if a rock was sinking through it, tearing his guts apart. “Does this have anything to do with you?”

Hyde’s head turned back. “Yeah, it does.” a feral grin split his face in two. “Your dear Doctor has made some missteps.”

That was bad. That was very, very bad, because there were so many bad things one could do with alchemy. “What has he done now?”

“Why, he made me.”

That stone finally crashed through Lanyon’s ribcage and into the ground below him. It might’ve jostled his brain somehow on the way down, as his head was now spinning. “I- what.”

“Oh, indeed.” The grin was almost maniacal as Hyde opened a door labeled “1881.”  

Lanyon cautiously stepped towards it.

The most pitiable version of Henry possible existed inside the door. This version of Henry was as pale as a ghost, all the more evident with his eyebags that were as dark as coal. This Henry was dressed in proper attire, but it was wrinkled and mussed. His hair was greasy, his skin was waxy, and his eyes were empty of anything.

Henry- or, that version of Henry- picked up a vial. It looked the same as the ones that had been littered near Jekyll’s unconscious body earlier. He stared at the vial, before sprinkling some salt. He then drank it in one go.

Suddenly, bright green appeared in a flash. Henry’s skin began to melt, forming puddles of goo against the carpet as he wailed in pain. It was the most haunting sound of Lanyon’s life.

The skin, slowly, reformed, crawling back up in reverse- almost as if it were a bead of water rolling down a glass pane. In the end, Henry’s eyes were visible through his hands. They were bright green.

The hair quickly became blond, and Hyde was born.

Lanyon couldn’t help but fall back a step. “I…”

“Will you try and wake him up now, I wonder?” Hyde mused as he slammed the door shut. “After learning about all the awful things I’ve done? I burnt down a city street, for christ’s sake. How could you possibly try and fix a man as broken as Henry, now that his soul is split in two?”

Lanyon froze. His heart was running a mile a minute at that moment, but two fundamental truths struck him with the force of lightning.

The first was simple; he loved Henry. He had been in love with Henry for a while. Lanyon wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d invented being in love with Henry, for Christ's sake; he was certainly the uttermost professional in the field. He had loved Henry for years, and if it were a competition, he’d have won for the last 14 years. It’s impossible, the judges would complain. No self-respecting man would be the champion of being head-over-heels for their best friend 15 years in a row. Lanyon would then have to miserably tell these judges that no, Lanyon really was just so embarrassingly in love with Jekyll, and would be until the sun exploded. It was impossible for Lanyon not to be in love with Henry. Unfortunately, that meant he would do anything for him.

The second point was even simpler; he was completely pissed at Henry, and Henry was going to hear his complaints no matter what.

“Yes,” Lanyon said, squarely meeting Hyde’s shocked gaze. “Yes, I will, actually, and you’re going to help me.”

“But- I- I’m half of him,” Hyde squawked.

“I’m aware.”

“I’m literally part of him. I’m his darkest side, his evil properly represented.”

Lanyon scoffed. “Of course you are.”

“And you just- you don’t care?”

“Of course I bloody care,” Lanyon hissed at Hyde. “I'm pissed. But I’ve never given up on Henry, not once in my life, and not even you could stop me right now.”

Hyde blinked. He blinked again. “I- why?”

Now that was just insulting. Lanyon rolled his eyes and stalked off back to the library room. “I shouldn’t need to tell you why.”

As he re-entered the dome, Lanyon focused. So Hyde and Jekyll had been a soul split; fine. He would find a way to re-merge them from Henry himself.

“What do you mean by that?” Hyde said, still walking back. Lanyon crouched down and began to jostle Henry.

“You know exactly what I meant; our entire relationship is determined by the fact that I am maddeningly in love with you while you could have anyone you want.” it was dizzying to say it out loud; the mixture of anger and relief and fear was completely destroying any previous restraint, and now Lanyon just needed to get his mission accomplished.

Hyde choked on air. “I- what? What the hell are you talking about?”

Lanyon ignored him, shaking Jekyll once again. “Dammit, Henry, wake up.”

“You’ve, what, been in love with Henry secretly for years?”

Lanyon paused at this. He turned to Hyde, who’s jaw had nearly dropped. Fear shot down his spine. “Since college. Did you not know?”

Hyde slowly shook his head.

Before Lanyon could respond to that shocking fact, Jekyll’s eyes fluttered open and he groaned.

“Oh, thank god, you ridiculous man,” Lanyon muttered under his breath. Hyde seemed stuck in the corner, staring at his hands.

“You… it doesn’t even matter what I do,” Hyde muttered. He ran a hand through his hair, almost pulling on it. “You’ll love him. No matter what I fucking do, you’ll love him.”

Lanyon tuned Hyde’s ramblings out. Henry was waking up, and that was more important.

“What is it?” Henry murmured groggily. He sat up; his face fell into disdain once his gaze landed on Hyde. it turned back to fear once it fell on Lanyon. “Oh. Er. You’re still here.”

“Yes, and I know about Hyde.”

Henry was as still as a corpse. “You- no. You can’t.”

Now that Lanyon was looking, the differences really were obvious. This Henry- the Henry he’d known for the last two years- didn’t have that spirit behind his eyes. There was nothing there.

“You should’ve tried better to hide it, then.” Lanyon stood up and began to peruse the bookshelves. “So, you’re going to show me how to fix this.”

“I- Robert-” Jekyll scrambled to get up behind him. “I promise, I was just trying to-”

“I don’t actually care, Henry,” Lanyon said with a sigh. “Not right now, at least.”

Henry blinked. It was almost how painful it was to see that expression of fear telegraphed on Henry’s face and then compare it to Hyde’s. Hyde’s was far more real; as milliseconds ticked by, it was as if Henry changed to match Hyde, not the other way around. It was almost as if Hyde was the true core of Henry Jekyll. “You don’t?”

“I need you to wake up first. Then I can yell at you, and call you a fool.”

“Oh. I- I guess that’s a relief.”

“Indeed. Now, if you can help me learn what the hell is going on, it’d be welcome.”

“Of course.” Henry went over to the bookshelves, picking a few out, and he began to speak. “I’m not an expert on mindscapes. However, when Hyde-”

“I can wake you up.”

Both Lanyon and Jekyll turned to Hyde, who was staring at the ground.

“I can wake you up,” Hyde said slowly. As he tilted his head up, green blood dripped from his eyes. “But it’s going to be painful, Jekyll.”

Lanyon instinctively took a step back. Jekyll took a step forward “I- what’s going on, Hyde.”

“I can let you wake up. I’ll do it.”

Jekyll opened his mouth, but then hesitated. “There must be a catch.”

The catlike grin appeared again. “Oh, no catch, Doctor. I won’t even try and take control.” Hyde offered out a hand; it was dripping with the odd green substance that sizzled when it hit the ground.

“Hyde, what’s actually going on,” Jekyll muttered under his breath.

“I’m being destroyed,” Hyde said with a cheerful grin. “I’m built on a lie, it seems, because you’re an idiot.”

Built on a lie? How could Hyde be based on a lie, if he was simply the incarnation of evil?

Maybe that was it- Hyde didn’t seem evil at all. He just seemed… emotional. High-strung. impulsive.

The fear on Jekyll’s face went back to outrage. “Excuse me?”

“But I'm willing to overlook your complete idiocy if you let us wake up today. That’s all you have to do; I’ll stay under your control.”

Jekyll stared at the hand with trepidation. 

“Just do it, Henry,” Lanyon said. “We can sort anything else out later, but it’ll be easier when you’re able to communicate with everyone else.”

Jekyll paused. He, then, slowly took Hyde’s hand. “Fine. I agree.”

Hyde’s grin turned sharp, and the streams of green acid started to travel up Henry’s arm. “Good luck, then.” 

Fear flashed across Jekyll’s face. The green liquid coursed up his arms, across his body, and onto his face. It began to sear into Jekyll’s arm, causing burn marks to appear. Jekyll fell to the ground.

Lanyon whipped around to Hyde. “What the hell did you do?”

Hyde hummed, and, when he looked up, his eyes were suddenly red. “I’m giving myself another chance, since I’m apparently a bloody idiot. I don’t think you’ll disagree, though.”

“I- what do you mean?”

In the background, Henry began to scream.

“You see, Robert,” Hyde said as he began to crunch in on himself, voice strained from pain. “I think I was created because of you. I think I was made because Henry bloody Jekyll didn’t want to deal with his emotions, and I think that, unless I force us back together, I'll never be free again.”

The room around them began to crumble.

“But,” Hyde said with a shrug, “it’s all worth it, even if I'm back to what I used to be.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’ll have always annoyed Jekyll to the very end, for one. But, for another…”

Hyde looked up, eyes green again, and Robert fell out of surprise. All across Hyde’s face was pure adoration.

“I’ll get to do this.”

And then, Hyde leaned across and kissed Lanyon.

It tasted like acid, first and foremost, but it was Henry’s mouth against his. Lanyon could feel it from the grit of the teeth, the hunger in his mouth. It was pure autopilot to lean back into it, to press deeper as Hyde bit his lip and drew out a stifled groan from Lanyon.

Hyde pulled away. Absolute wickedness danced in his eyes. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Robert.”

“I-” 

But, before Lanyon could begin to respond, he fell out of the ground and into a void.

Robert woke up with his face pressed against the ground. It was uncomfortable enough to make him briefly forget about the last hour or so of events.

Then he remembered, and he sprung up out of fear.

Thankfully, Ito had stayed awake, if her frenzied notebook was any indication. She jumped when Lanyon stood up.

“Lanyon! You’re not going to believe what’s in this potion,” she began, but Lanyon started to push her out.

“It’s a soul splitting potion, I'm aware. Just– go and get some medical supplies, please.” he pushed her outside the door. “And don’t come in until I let you.”

“I-” her fear was replaced with curiosity, and then replaced with resignation. “I don’t want to know, do I?”

“Very much so.”

“Right. I’ll be back.” Ito turned on her foot and left. Lanyon ran over to the door and bolted it as soon as she was outside.

He was lucky; Henry only started to scream afterwards.

It was absolutely blood-curdling, and Lanyon had to throw his hands against his ears out of sheer self-defense. Jekyll's veins and muscles were visible, actively being disintegrated, falling apart at the seam.

Fuck. The lodgers would have many, many questions about this, and there was nothing Lanyon could say. My good friend Henry Jekyll accidentally drank something to fall asleep, and now he’s begun a complete body reconstruction? Ridiculous. It wasn’t as if Lanyon quite understood what was happening himself.

Hyde was Jekyll. Ok, fine, that was one thing. Hyde seemed to be… not the evil of Henry Jekyll, but something else. Understandable. Why had Hyde hated him, though? How had he not known about the fact that Lanyon had loved Jekyll for years? Why had he agreed to… re-merge, as he’d called it? Why had he kissed Lanyon?

“I… Lanyon?”

Lanyon whirled around. Jekyll was on the carpet, hands twitching. His eyes seemed to be green.

“Is… is that you, Jekyll?” Lanyon said cautiously.

Jekyll blinked. He grinned: it was catlike. “Oh, no, I don’t think so, I’m afraid. Still me.”

“Hyde,” Lanyon groused. He fell to the floor, kneeling next to him. “What– do you have an explanation?”

“Not many, no,” Hyde said. His voice was oddly airy and light. “Depends on what you ask.”

“What are you?”

“I’m Henry Jekyll. Technically,” Hyde amended. He sat back, stretching, and his shirt lifted, revealing his stomach. Lanyon swallowed. “He made me about two years back in some desperate attempt to do… something. The reasons are rather blurry now.”

“You’re the same Hyde that yelled at me in Queen Lucy’s, then?”

Hyde winked. It was unnervingly attractive. “The very same.” His face quickly fell into a frown. “I’m supposed to be evil, but considering I used what I thought would be my last moments to snog you, I fucking doubt it.”

“Er. Yes.” Lanyon coughed. “What–”

“Impulse,” Hyde said with a shrug. “It’s all impulse for me. That’s what actually gets me, you know– I really hated you, I truly did, then I heard how much you liked Jekyll, and suddenly, I was jealous of him. What sort of reasoning was that?”

“I– I don’t–” Lanyon sputtered, but it seemed Hyde was just using him as a sounding board; he didn’t respond at all.

“Even now, I find myself wanting to slap you, but then I see that throat of yours, and…” Hyde’s eyes looked over it appraisingly.

Lanyon flushed. He leaned back. 

“Oh, I'm not going to jump you, you idiot,” Hyde said with a wave of his hand. Lanyon didn’t quite know how to say, “ I’m actually afraid of my disappointment in your hesitance, not afraid of you,” so he kept silent. “So you love him, then?”

“I–” Lanyon’s jaw finally dropped. This absolute buffoon of a man.

Lanyon paused before he could shout, or reprimand, or be properly annoyed. He looked Hyde up and down.

Even in Henry’s body, it just… he just looked like Henry. The mannerisms, while unrestricted, were oddly similar to the passion Henry had in the thrall of his experiments when he was truly delighted.

Something clicked in Lanyon’s mind. It had to do with the sleepless nights, with the constant way Henry would flip between two versions of himself when they were together.

It had almost been like there were two of him, hadn’t it?

“I love you, yes,” Lanyon said slowly.

Hyde froze. “No, I asked you if you loved Henry. Can you not fucking hear, or–”

“And you’re Henry,” Lanyon said simply. He swallowed. “It’s– you’re him, Hyde. You’re really him, and that’s what matters.”

Hyde blinked. He looked… unmoored. His eyes were wide, his jaw was slack, and he leaned forward, just a bit.

His eyes turned brown.

“Robert, you don’t…” Jekyll hesitated. He looked at his hands. “Oh,” he said slowly. “I suppose it’s me, now.”

“So, the Henry Jekyll that’ll give me answers?” Lanyon said dryly. He stood up.

“Robert, don’t– I’m sorry, ” Jekyll said. “I needed to– I just–”

“Henry, I'm not going to yell at you right now. Lord knows you’ve been through enough pain in the last 15 minutes,” Lanyon muttered. Henry laughed, just a bit, and Lanyon couldn’t help but feel relieved. “Let’s just start with one question: why?”

“I…” Henry swallowed. He looked down, hands on his lap. He stared at them; Lanyon realized they were now covered in burn marks.

“I suppose I just… I just wanted to be good,” he whispered. “Truly good, not pretending, not faking it. I failed, though. With Hyde, it just became more and more of an act. I had to keep pretending I was Jekyll, pretending I could lead this society. I can’t.”

Lanyon’s breath caught. Here was the man he loved more than he loved himself, more than he loved the air and the streets he walked on every damn day, and that man was rejecting himself fully. Lanyon hated emotion, he hated being genuine, but there was one thing in his favor; he hated to see Henry like this even more.

“Henry.” 

Lanyon took Henry’s hands. Jekyll blinked, looking up in confusion.

“Do you know why, even before I saw it before my eyes, I believed Hyde was you?” Lanyon murmured. He gently, ever-so-gently, began to hold Henry’s hands in his. They were warm; they fit differently after the last 15 years, but, most importantly, they still fit.

Henry shook his head slowly.

“Because of his face.” Lanyon let out a little laugh. “Darling, do you know how incredibly mad you’d look whenever you did an experiment? This– this expression of absolute insanity would take over your face. I loved to look at it, you know, to see you so impassioned.”

“Robert, I don’t…” Henry swallowed. He shifted forward. “I don’t quite know what you’re saying.”

“What I’m saying is, no one asked for you to be good.” Lanyon gestured to the room. “I never did. The Lodgers never did. I only ever wanted you to be you, mad science and all.”

Jekyll was silent.

“I lived with you when you dissected a pigeon in our dorm, Henry, really, you thought I’d be– I'd hate you for your flaws?” Lanyon scoffed and rolled his eyes. He hoped it covered the thundering of his heart. “Ridiculous.”

“But– but you left.”

Lanyon froze. Now that was unexpected.

“You– you were always going to leave,” Henry rambled. He ran his fingers through his hair; he looked nearly hunted. “There was nothing I could do but watch you leave.”

“What–” Lanyon swallowed. He kept his grip on Henry's remaining hand. “What makes you say that?”

“I’m not blind, Robert.” Jekyll shook his head slightly. “I saw how you treated the others. I’d always known I was temporary. You wanted me, but I had an expiration date. We all did.”

Lanyon’s heartbeat thumped against his ribcage. “I thought you didn’t care,” he said hoarsely.

“What makes you say that?”

“I watched you.” Lanyon clutched his hand tighter. How could he communicate this? How could he communicate the desperation he’d felt when Jekyll had left his room that night? “I looked , Henry. I saw you every night, unbothered by my flirtations, completely normal when I rejected you. I thought– I thought you didn’t care. I thought you wanted me to leave.”

“I…” Something close to understanding dawned on Henry’s face. “I was lying, Robert,” he said slowly. “I was lying to the world, I suppose, and I forgot that included you. I thought if I wasn’t clingy, if I wasn’t like the others, then…”

The words then you’d stay lingered in the air. Lanyon could do nothing but run his thumb over Henry’s palm.

“I love you, Henry,” he said softly. “I know you heard from– well, from Hyde, but I really do. There’s nothing that will change it, not even the fact that you blew up a street.”

“I did not–” Jekyll interjected, but Lanyon rolled his eyes.

“Yes, you did, and it’s fine,” Lanyon said. “I adore you, you ridiculous man, but you blew up a street. You’re a public menace. I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am.”

“I’m… I’m not a menace,” Jekyll said weakly. Lanyon smiled softly at that.Gods, he was utterly gone for this man. 

“Of course.” Lanyon paused; a thought hit him. “Why did Hy– why was he like that, though?”

“What do you mean?”

“He hated me.”

“Well.” Henry swallowed. He looked down. “You were everything he couldn’t have, after all. You were the cause of his immorality. How could he not?”

Oh, god.

“Darling.” Lanyon took a leap– he moved his hand up and stroked Henry’s cheekbone. Henry shuddered, leaning into it. “I… I’m yours. I’ve been yours for a long, long time, even if you didn’t know it. I don’t need– I don’t want some other Jekyll that’s perfect and doesn’t love mad science or me. I want you.”

“I never thought that’d be possible,” Jekyll murmured. He turned his head; he kissed the inside of Lanyon’s palm. It was achingly tender; it was everything Lanyon had dreamed of for years.

“I guess I was right,” Lanyon mused.

Jekyll looked at him inquiringly.

“Hyde really is just your self-hatred.”

“I’m not,” Jekyll squawked, and Lanyon laughed. It bubbled out of him against his will, but it made Henry’s eyes soften, so he supposed it was alright. “I mean, he– It–”

“You’re the same, now, I’m afraid,” Lanyon said with a grin. He stood up, pulling Jekyll with him. “Don’t you remember?”

“I…” Henry blinked. “I guess I do. Goodness. I think I’ve been rather foolish the last few years.”

“Almost certainly,” Lanyon said drily. Henry laughed; it was melodic. “The lodgers are concerned after you, by the way, but I suspect they can wait a bit.”

“Oh?” Henry frowned. It was the frown that led to a crease in his eyebrows, that led to his eyes looking nearly like an owl’s. It was, frankly, adorable. “What are you planning?”

“For you to rest. With me, of course,” Lanyon amended as as frightened look crossed across Henry’s face. “I’m not letting you out of my sight for a while.  Give me a moment to dissuade Ito first.”

Henry nodded silently. He turned on his foot, but, before he fully leave to his bedroom, he stopped.

Henry turned back; he gave Lanyon a peck on the cheek.

Lanyon froze. Henry left before he could do anything because of course he did, the bastard. Lanyon slowly raised a hand to touch his cheek. It felt warm.

“Ito,” he said as he opened the door. She stood at the ready, a medical aid container in her hands. “I think I’ve sorted it out.”

She raised a single eyebrow. “Really? So his soul-split is resolved?”

“Yes, actually. I met the other half in the mindscape, and I got them to remerge, so to speak.”

“That’s a relief,” Ito muttered. “Need any help, then?”

“Nope. Just— keep Jekyll and I unbothered for a few hours.”

Her eyebrows moved up a mile. “Really? That sort of–”

“No!” Lanyon spluttered. He had to look positively maroon by now. “It– we’re not– no! Just– he doesn’t need any prying eyes. There were some effects.”

“Ah.” Ito took the news in stride, thankfully, and she just inclined her head. “Good luck, Dr. Lanyon.”

Lanyon shut the door behind her quietly. He very purposefully locked it.

Henry was fully asleep by the time Lanyon entered the room, still dressed in his professional outfit. Lanyon couldn’t stop the sappy smile on his face. He took of his boots, and flicked his forehead.

“Hmprh?” Henry grumbled.

“Henry.” Lanyon laid down next to him. It was taking all his willpower not to jump the man’s bones right at that moment. He just looked so incredible in the moonlight, his hair glinting brown, his eyes gentle and soft. Goodness. “Henry, I think you should change before–”

Lanyon did not finish his sentence; Henry was too busy mashing their mouths together.

Fucking hell. Lanyon dove right in, grasping Henry by the lapels, pushing him against the backboard of the bed. It took him a moment to become cognizant.

“Henry, you’re–” Lanyon pulled back, but he kept their foreheads linked. How was he already out of breath? “You’ve just undergone a major transformation, and–”

“Robert.” Henry raised a single eyebrow. It was undeniably attractive. “I wasn’t planning on taking this any further– I am just allowed to kiss you– but if I don’t have my hands on your body I think I might implode.”

Lanyon’s mouth watered. There was a possessive glint in Henry’s eye, and it was very similar to the look of Edward Hyde. “As long as you’re cognizant of your limits,” he murmured. He leaned back in, threading his fingers through Henry’s hair.

“Very,” Henry murmured back. It was difficult to talk after that.

“Why did you pass out?”

“Hm?” It was morning– 9 am, to be precise, according to the clock by Henry’s bedside. While Lanyon was not a very young man anymore, he’d had adrenaline from the night’s excursions, and Henry had been full of adrenaline, and things had… progressed.

“I never learned why,” Lanyon said. His head rested on Jekyll’s chest. He looked up. “I assume Hyde did something, but–”

“Oh, yes.” Henry blinked. He tilted his head. “It was an accident, actually. I threatened myself with permanent imprisonment. I didn’t have an actual plan for it, but I- but Hyde was so frightened that he lashed out. I think he pulled on something to force me into the Mindscape. That led to me collapsing, and we… fought, I suppose, over what Jekyll could actually do.” he looked at Lanyon; his eyes softened. “Then you appeared.”

“Then I appeared,” Lanyon agreed. He kissed the inside of Henry’s thumb. “What was up with the other Lanyon, though?”

Henry’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh. That one.”

“Yes, that one.”

“He… he existed as a reminder of what I wasn’t allowed to want,” Jekyll said slowly. “You were everything I wanted, and you were also everything I wanted to be, sometimes. I wanted to be posh, and good with people, and–”

“Henry, I’m absolutely shit with people.”

Jekyll blinked. “What?”

“You’re the one that draws crowds at parties, you’re the one who’s always the envy of the room.” Lanyon did feel a bit jealous, but he mostly felt annoyed how he couldn’t preen in those moments. Look at that amazing, incredible man, and know that he’s mine- that was never an option. That had pissed Lanyon off more than anything else. “It’s… incredible. It’s like they can sense how earnest you are.”

“Oh. I guess it was just that I had to let you go, then. The mind version of you reminded me why.”

“Because it was improper?”

“I… I suppose,” Henry said uneasily. He finally seemed to be realizing the tenuous ground his argument stood on, then. Good.

“You care so much about propriety, truly.” Lanyon shifted. He placed his forearms on Henry’s chest, and he looked up. “Am I too scandalous for you, Henry? Too queer? Am I-”

“Robert,” Jekyll said sternly, but he couldn’t be dissuaded.

“You can be so foolish sometimes.” Lanyon leaned forward; he kissed Jekyll softly. “You never let me go. I’ve always been here, just a bit… behind the screens.”

“A bit repressed, you mean,” Jekyll said drily. Lanyon laughed.

“If we’re fighting for the title of most repressed, you certainly win,” Lanyon shot back, but he nestled his head in the crook of Jekyll’s neck. “Well. We’re here now, at least.”

“Yes,” Jekyll murmured. “Yes, I suppose we are.”