Chapter Text
It was an unusually late night for Gabriel John Utterson, hours past his usual bedtime of twelve o'clock. He had dismissed his servants to bed long ago and was sitting by the fire, agonizing over that wretched document—something he had recently made a habit of.
Henry Jekyll's will. Why in God's name was his dear friend of many decades, whom he knew to be an upstanding, intelligent man of good morals, involved with Edward Hyde? A figure so… disreputable, to say the least. Utterson had been worried and quite baffled by his inclusion in Jekyll's will before he knew anything of the man, but in the last few months he hadn't heard a single good word said about him. Everything he knew of Mr. Hyde was nothing short of displeasing—not to mention the handful of times they actually met. There was undoubtedly something off about him: his appearance, his voice, his demeanor. There was nothing about him Utterson liked. Still, he promised Jekyll to put up with him and the will. There was nothing Utterson could really do if his friend refused to come to his senses.
Even so, he couldn't help letting his mind wander: picturing the stories he'd heard of Mr. Hyde, speculating on his character, pondering how he became such an important part of Jekyll's life. Something was terribly wrong, he knew. There was no seemly explanation for any of this. The whole ordeal was giving him a headache, and he decided it was well time to head to bed.
Just as he had that thought, however, a rapid knocking sound came from his front door.
“By God, who could be here at this hour?” he muttered to himself before getting up and approaching the door, the rapping persisting all the while. He dared to hope for a moment that it was Henry, coming to tell him that he had cut Hyde out of his life and what a terrible mistake it was to trust him, and how Utterson was right all along. When he opened the door, though, it was not Jekyll standing there, but the devil himself.
"Hyde?" he said in disbelief. In an instant, a pit formed in his stomach, for there was the subject of his contemplation, having descended upon him like some dark miasma. His unease was intensified by the darkness partially shrouding the man, but there was no mistake about it; it was undeniably him. The moonlight and streetlamps showed his foul face well enough. He was hunched and panting through gritted teeth, and he clutched at his left cheek with a wild look in his eyes.
“Utterson!” He exclaimed, then quieted himself as he added, “Sir. I did not think you would be up at this hour.”
“What are you doing here, Mr. Hyde?”
Almost immediately he stood straight and cleared his throat. “My sincerest apologies for the intrusion. But it is great luck that you are awake; I'm in dire need of assistance,” he said in his husky, broken voice, fighting to sound calm and collected.
“Assistance?” The lawyer repeated. In truth, the last thing he wanted to do was help Hyde in any way. He briefly considered just shutting the door in his face, but he was too curious about the nature of his visit.
The man lifted the hand from his cheek, revealing a bloody gash. He looked down at his reddened palm with a wince. “As you can see, I have got quite the problem on my hands.”
“What in God's name happened…?” he found himself asking. His imagination had flared already and came up with the worst-case scenario: Hyde finally exacting his plan to murder Jekyll, viciously attacking him, and the good doctor injuring him in return as an attempt at self-defense. He quickly dismissed this story, as he was not one to jump to conclusions. Besides, he did not want to imagine his friend dead any longer.
“I was attacked by some lunatic,” he snarled and covered his wound once again. “I hope you will do me a favor and let me inside. We have common friends after all…”
“We do,” admitted the lawyer.
“And you do have bandages, do you not?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Ah. Good. Very good.” Hyde smiled slightly.
Utterson hesitated for a second or two before yielding. “Come in,” he said reluctantly, stepping aside to let him in.
“I did not think you would come to me of all people, Mr. Hyde,” he spoke as he locked the door. He did not once take his eyes off the man, even as his back was turned toward him. “Why not Dr. Jekyll? He is by far more experienced in medicine. You two seem much closer anyway.”
“Dr. Jekyll is out.”
“At this hour? Surely he must be in bed.”
“He is not home,” Hyde insisted with a rough voice.
“Well, if you say so.” He turned around. “Do you know where he is? Or when he'll return?”
“He will be back soon enough, I'm sure.” Hyde ignored the first half of the question, traversing the short hallway into Utterson's living room. The lawyer followed.
“Don't worry, I won't dirty your furniture,” the man said as he sat in the armchair near the fireplace.
It was only now that Utterson could see him clearly.
The man looked even more disheveled than normal. His long, greasy hair that liked to stick to his face like vines was tousled, windswept, and uncovered, and his cheeks and nose were flushed red, which suggested to the lawyer that he had spent a while walking in the open air. Although, the flushing also could've been a result of drinking. As usual, he did reek of alcohol. Gin, perhaps? Or, on second thought, a mix of several liquors. Likely, he had arrived straight from the pub.
“I'll be back in a moment.” The lawyer withdrew into the house to retrieve a damp linen washcloth and bandages. He was already regretting letting Mr. Hyde in. Who knew what he was capable of? Utterson considered the possibility that this was some kind of scheme, potentially to enter his house for whatever reason? The cut on his face was real enough, but even so, he felt anxious leaving Hyde unattended. He also considered kicking the man out, but that sort of behavior was unbecoming of the lawyer. Worst of all, he was sure it would get back to Jekyll as well. At the very least, this was a good chance to ask some questions, and he was not one to give up such an opportunity.
He quickly returned to find Hyde still holding his bleeding cheek with one hand and warming the other in the fireplace. For a brief moment, there was an almost pitiable look upon his face, as if he was in more pain than he let on. He corrected his expression as soon as Utterson's presence was made known.
“It truly is a shame that Jekyll is away.” The lawyer handed him the washcloth. “I'm afraid I'm of no great help to you.”
“Nonsense. It is quite the opposite,” Hyde countered, dabbing at his cheek.
“May I ask what exactly led to this?”
“As I said before, I was attacked by a madman and forced to make an escape. I knew Dr. Jekyll was from home, and that I scarcely had any medical supplies at my own house to deal with the injury by myself. Thus, you came to mind. We are both good friends of Henry Jekyll, and I knew I could put a great deal of trust in you. I'll admit I wasn't quite thinking of the hour in my distressed state.”
“I see… Well, that is certainly troubling. I suggest making a police report about this person that attacked you. I'd be willing to testify to your injuries if need be.”
“No. No need. I am not interested in getting the police involved.”
“I would advise against letting this criminal remain on the streets—”
“There is no need.”
Utterson went quiet for a moment, contemplating. Mr. Hyde was getting more suspicious by the minute. Why was he so against making a report? The lawyer was tempted to think he was afraid of his own character being scrutinized during the investigation. Perhaps his crimes would be revealed to the world then. Yes, this did make some sense to Utterson. A part of him, however, feared it was worse. The images of Jekyll slashing the man's face in self-defense, desperation and fear etched into his features, came to mind once more. He had to banish the thought, or it would eat at him until he could see his friend again. He would have to remain focused on getting as much information out of Hyde as possible.
“Where did the attack occur?” asked the lawyer.
Hyde briefly stayed silent, still dabbing at his wound with a clouded brow. Utterson was not sure if it was a trick of the light or if the man had tears in his eyes. He seemed to hesitate, but he answered the lawyer soon enough.
“If you must know… It was The Blackbird.”
Utterson had to think for a second. Where had he heard that name before? Before long he remembered: it was the name of a nearby pub.
“Ah. I see,” he said quietly. Indeed, he had been correct about his suspicions; Mr. Hyde had been drinking. Had he been involved in a brawl?
“And may I ask what you were doing beforehand?”
At this, Mr. Hyde frowned and snarled through gritted teeth, “Must we speak of this any longer?”
“Ah—I did not mean to offend, Mr. Hyde. I am only curious.”
“Well, Mr. Utterson, I will not be saying another word on this matter. I wish to forget the ordeal entirely,” he said, taking the washcloth off his cheek and belligerently wiping his bloody hand.
“That is understandable,” replied the lawyer in an attempt to calm him. “You must be quite shaken up.”
Mr. Hyde's face clouded over, as if gravely insulted by his words. At once he locked eyes with Utterson, but he must have seen something in the lawyer's gaze, for his anger faded suddenly like the vapor of breath on a winter's day. He remained silent.
Utterson marveled at the man's reaction for a moment and thought, “Goodness, what a volatile creature he is!” But he kept it to himself.
After the brief quietude, Utterson spoke: “Would you like me to assist with the dressing?”
“That would be very kind.”
The lawyer stepped forward and unrolled the bandages. He leaned down in front of Mr. Hyde and began wrapping his face in the cloth.
“Shall I stand?” Mr. Hyde asked with a timidity that surprised Utterson. He gripped the armrests, ready to rise from his seat.
Utterson shook his head. “No, that's alright.”
Mr. Hyde stared at him fixedly for a few seconds before he seemingly thought better of it and opted to keep his eyes on the floor. Something about his shift in behavior, the proximity of their bodies, the entire situation—it made Utterson feel quite strange. Why was this man in his house? That question kept running through his head, as well as several others, but at least he could come up with a reasonable answer to them. Why was he doing this for Mr. Hyde? Simply, it's what any decent person would do. Despite the distasteful air about him, the man was still… Well, he was human, even if he didn't seem like it. He must have been. Especially now that Utterson had seen him bleed like any other mortal, seen him wince in pain and hold back tears. To tell the truth, he felt sorry for Hyde. It unnerved him to realize that, as he still inexplicably loathed the man. He couldn't help it, however; although he was hiding it well, this was a plainly frightened young man that had no one else to turn to. Or was that what Hyde wanted him to think?
“You will need to follow up with Dr. Jekyll whenever he's available again. You may need sutures or some other treatment I can't provide,” he said, trying not to dwell on his thoughts.
“I doubt I'll need sutures. But you're right. Maybe I should've… Perhaps I should've gone to Dr. Jekyll's anyway. I could've taken care of it myself,” Mr. Hyde replied, acting stranger by the minute. He was still avoiding the lawyer's eyes.
A part of Utterson wanted to tell him not to speak so he could continue applying the bandages properly, but letting this go would be a travesty.
“Ah, yes, you have a key, right?”
“...Yes, I do.”
“Say, you and Dr. Jekyll must be very close if he lets you enter his home at will.”
“I suppose we are.”
“Would it be alright if I asked you a few questions regarding you and Dr. Jekyll?”
“What questions?”
“How did this arrangement come to be? I must say, he tells me very little of you.”
“There is not much to tell.”
Utterson furrowed his brow. “One moment. Remain still, please,” he said, and when he had finished tying the bandage, he continued, “Forgive me, but I have trouble believing that. You seem like an incredibly interesting person, Mr. Hyde.”
“Is that so?”
“Indeed. And a friend of Jekyll's is a friend of mine. I'd like to know you better, if you don't mind.” Utterson prayed his attempt at buttering him up would work.
Mr. Hyde cackled an unnerving laugh and only stopped when the pain of his injury seemed to overpower his amusement. He held a hand against his cheek and said, “What did you ask me? How this arrangement came to be?”
Utterson nodded.
“I am a colleague of Dr. Jekyll—an integral part of his experiments.”
“Experiments? Of what kind?”
“I'm afraid that is a private matter. Our dear friend wouldn't like it if I blabbed about it to anyone who would listen.”
“I am not just anyone, Mr. Hyde. I am his best friend of many years.”
“And yet he never told you.”
The lawyer was slightly taken aback by that last remark, but didn't speak.
“No hard feelings, Mr. Utterson. It is simply a matter of great discretion. I'm sure he would love to tell you if he could. Rest assured, it is… perfectly safe, if you are worried about that.”
“I see…”
“My position as his colleague requires constant access to the laboratory. It would be inefficient, to say the least, if I had to be admitted in every time. That's all it is.”
Utterson fell silent, ruminating on Hyde's words. Was that really all there was to it? He had a hard time believing that, especially due to the will, but he held his tongue.
Mr. Hyde broke out into unsettling laughter. “I can see it on your face! You don't believe me!”
“It's not that I don't believe you, Mr. Hyde. But to me, it seems there's more to your relationship than just…” The lawyer trailed off, awaiting a response, only for nothing but uncomfortable silence to follow. He heaved a sigh and went to sit in the armchair opposite Hyde. The man's eyes followed him the whole way, at once suspicious and a touch amused.
“You're avoiding something, Mr. Utterson. Go on, speak.”
The lawyer drummed his fingers anxiously on the table nearby. “You assert you are a mere protégé of Dr. Jekyll's, yes? And that is the only reason you are so involved?”
“What are you implying?”
“I do not wish to imply anything; I am only making sure…” Utterson trailed off once again as Mr. Hyde leaned forward in his seat, his eyes still boring into the lawyer's.
“You are implying something, whether that is your intention or not,” the man said coolly. Something in his words and tone made Utterson suddenly feel incredibly ill at ease.
“No, of course not, Mr. Hyde—”
“Come now, don't look so afraid.” He held up a hand, smiling. “I understand your suspicions of me. You are very good to worry for your friend, very good indeed. He may be acting rather mysteriously as of late, but I assure you he's doing quite well. Brilliantly, in fact. There is nothing to worry about.”
At Utterson's silence, he continued, “No doubt, my words mean very little to you. Rest assured, I take no offense. I understand your position wholeheartedly.”
“He is no doubt toying with me,” thought the lawyer. Instead, he spoke: “Mr. Hyde, I'm not even sure what you believe me to be implying.”
“Blackmail? Extortion? Whatever it is you think I'm doing, it is certainly not the case.”
“I—You couldn't be more wrong, sir,” he said, his voice coming out a tad shakier than he would have liked. “I would never dare to accuse you of such crimes; I did not mean to imply that whatsoever,” he assured.
“Then what? The only other implication would be that Dr. Jekyll and I are too close. Don't tell me you are envious, Mr. Utterson.”
The lawyer cleared his throat. “I'm sorry?”
Hyde said nothing, only laughing again. Utterson was even more sure now that he was being toyed with.
“I must admit I don't understand what's so funny,” he said in a flat tone of voice. His words only served to make Mr. Hyde laugh harder. Utterson was secretly glad for the pain the man's own mad cackling was causing him.
He calmed down eventually and cleared his throat, attempting to cover his wincing with a grin. “Utterson, you are a fascinating man.”
“Is that so?” he asked wearily, wondering why Mr. Hyde was tormenting him and when he would finally grant the lawyer mercy.
“Allow me to ask you something.”
“Yes?”
“As you have asked me about my relationship with Dr. Jekyll, I shall pose you the same question in return.”
“Very well.” He shifted in his seat. “As I mentioned before, we are very old friends. I'm also his lawyer.”
“I am aware. He has spoken of your shared history before; I would just like to know what you think of him.”
“I regard him very highly, of course; you will hardly find any man or woman in London who does not. He's an immensely respectable person.”
“And what else?”
“He's capable, dedicated, handworking, and brilliant. What more is there to say?” Utterson answered, despite the uneasy sensation he felt telling all this to Hyde.
Mr. Hyde looked at him strangely with a slight tilt of the head, as if wanting to dissect the man across from him and study his innards. Then, without a word still, he turned his gaze to the floor thoughtfully.
“Mr. Hyde…?”
“Do you suppose there's more to him?” the other replied after a moment.
“What?”
“Is there anything about him you don't respect? Anything you dislike?”
“Not particularly,” Utterson replied, in his head adding, “Maybe besides his taste in colleagues...”
Hyde huffed a dry laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Respectability, capability, intelligence, nobility,” he said the last word with a hint of disgust. “Such dull nonsense. There is so much more to a man.”
The lawyer sat in slight shock at his words, but he supposed he could not expect to hear much better from Mr. Hyde.
“Such as what?” he asked.
The question brought a dreadful smile to the man's face, his eyes betraying a twinge of excitement.
“An excellent question, my friend! Now that is something I have pondered for a very long time.”
“And have you found the answer?”
His smile grew. “Perhaps. Mr. Utterson, as a lawyer, your profession has no doubt acquainted you with how truly heinous man can be. You have seen him lie, steal, assault, murder, commit sins of all varieties. Tell me, Utterson, do you believe evil lives in each of us?”
The lawyer contemplated for a moment before answering. “That is possible. I assume you think it does?”
“Very much so.”
“You seem to be the one implying things now, Mr. Hyde.”
“Oh?”
“You are implying Dr. Jekyll is not as perfect as he appears, yes?”
“I am not helping my case, am I? Perhaps I am, perhaps not. I wouldn't dare talk ill of our dear friend behind his back,” he said with a grin, which then faded somewhat with his next words. “Though, I do wonder if you would still regard him so highly if he turned out to not be as upstanding as everyone believes?”
His tone bothered Utterson—the almost accusatory nature of it. This man had no right to accuse him of anything, much less suggest the things he was suggesting. He stood from his seat and stepped in front of him, indignation filling his own tone.
“Mr. Hyde, the truth of the matter is: whatever he may be hiding, I trust Jekyll. I know him well. I'm certain it cannot be so horrid as to tarnish a decades-long friendship.”
Hyde shrank back into his seat as he stared up at Utterson. The lawyer towered over the man even when they stood face-to-face, but he appeared especially small now, and with the bandages and dumbfounded expression, he looked thoroughly pathetic. All these let the lawyer forget his fear of the other and continue speaking.
“Henry is a good man. He is a good man who has done a lot of good and done so gratefully. As his friend, I will not tolerate whatever this is—whatever you are doing to him. Jekyll means more to me than you will ever know. He has affected my life in such immense and irrevocable ways, and whatever you have on him will never change that."
In his outburst he didn't realize he admitted to seriously suspecting blackmail until it was too late. He supposed the friendly pretenses were over and done with now. Though he could hardly care at that moment.
“Perhaps I was implying something. But I've known him longer than you ever will, Hyde. In all likelihood, I've accrued more stories of his youthful misdeeds than you as well. I'm not enough of a scoundrel to ruin his life over them, but I suppose some men are.”
Hyde swallowed, in awe of Utterson's words. Indeed, Utterson himself was surprised by his own actions. There was no man, besides maybe Jekyll, who brought out such passionate and strong feelings in the lawyer. How different those feelings were, and still how readily he spilled them! He was appalled at his rashness.
“You… You're—” Mr. Hyde stumbled over his words. “You defend him so ardently…”
“How else would I do it?” Utterson answered coolly. He expected Hyde to get angry, be livid at his insults, but instead he appeared shocked and oddly timid. Revealing the coward he truly was, the lawyer assumed.
“I see…” Hyde said shakily, turning red in the face. Another odd reaction. Perhaps it was embarrassment or intimidation that was causing it, but something seemed off with that explanation. It didn't fully match up to his expression, how he looked into Utterson's eyes. The sheer discomfort this caused forced the lawyer to tear his gaze away first.
“It's quite late, Mr. Hyde. Maybe you should head home.”
“One last thing…” Hyde muttered, barely acknowledging his request. “If you feel so strongly about him… It would be good if you two spoke.”
Utterson gave him a quizzical look.
“I’ll tell Jekyll to invite you over myself. I hope you are not too busy next week, but I'm sure something can be arranged if you are. Thank you for your… graciousness, Utterson.” He lightly touched the tips of his fingers to the bandage.
Utterson furrowed his brow, perplexed by his attitude. Why was he keeping up the niceties even now, when there was hardly any need or reason for it?
“Err… Alright…”
“Once again, I am truly sorry for the inconvenience,” he said, and the lawyer had to take a step back to let him stand. Mr. Hyde looked at the bloody cloth in his hand. “I suppose I should return this.”
“No thank you, just throw it in the fire.” Utterson shuddered.
Hyde glanced up at him, then back down at the rag, and back up one last time before complying. The fire sizzled just slightly.
“Goodnight, Hyde.”
“Goodnight, Utterson...”
After he saw Mr. Hyde out and shut the door a little too quickly behind him, Utterson began poring over the entire ordeal and the last few things the man had said to him. Why did he mention telling Jekyll to invite him over? Even as it implied his friend had not been murdered, it seemed a bit of a random action for Hyde, and that worried the lawyer greatly. Was it another scheme to ruin his night, much like this one must have been?
Only one thing was for certain: his next visit would be an interesting one.