Chapter Text
Tyler Galpin has finally made it out of Jericho, and he still doesn't know what to think of the whirlwind of events that have happened to him the last few days. His parents are dead, his weird zombie uncle is also dead, he has no master, and he’s free because Wednesday Addams decided to spare his life.
He still can't make any sense of that.
Oh, and he’s slowly dying and going insane again. Capri, the enigmatic werewolf he only met yesterday, is his best chance of survival, and he hopes he didn't bet on the wrong horse. Wolf. Whatever.
“This is it,” she says as she kills the ignition. She and Tyler have finally reached their destination, some kind of repurposed resort or camp on the outskirts of Bethel, New York, the location of Woodstock. His limbs are stiff from sitting in the car for so long, and it's dark outside. The place reminds him vaguely of that boot camp he went to after attacking Xavier. That or an old summer camp like the ones he used to go to as a kid.
Either way, he's on edge. He gives Capri a sideways look. If she's brought him to some weird cult—
“Shall we?” Capri asks, and he nods tersely. They get out of the car, and she grabs her things from the trunk. He only has the clothes on his back. Together they trudge through the gravel parking lot and up an old, cracked sidewalk to reach a building strung with twinkling fairy lights.
They remind him of the ones he put up in Crackstone’s crypt for his first and last date with Wednesday.
The building is old and has chipped green paint and a sign that says, “The Clubhouse.” Capri knocks on the door, and it opens to reveal a woman with sleek, dark hair pulled back in a messy bun. Dried bits of paint pepper her tie-dye t-shirt and jeans, her boots have dried mud stuck to them, and a paintbrush is tucked behind her ear.
“Welcome home, Isadora,” she says, her voice melodic and sweet as the two women embrace. “I was so happy to get your call. You know you're welcome here anytime.”
“It's good to be back,” Capri says, and her eyes do look a little lighter. A little happier.
The woman smiles warmly at Tyler, and he instinctively tenses. “And you must be Tyler,” she says. Her body language and expression are welcoming, but Tyler knows better than to trust someone who seems friendly.
People always have an agenda, an angle. He just has to figure out what hers is.
“And you are…?” he asks, trailing off.
“Vanessa. I’m a Hyde, and I’m also an artist and art therapist.”
Tyler can tell she's telling the truth. He instinctively knows when his kind is near—something to do with his heightened senses, he supposes. He senses multiple Hydes nearby, in fact. Capri wasn’t lying about that.
“Vanessa runs things around here,” Capri says.
Vanessa chuckles and waves her hand. “No, we don’t do bosses or leaders or dictators around here. We’re a community of equals. A pack of Outcasts not even the other Outcasts wanted. Mostly Hydes, but a few alpha werewolves and even a siren. But I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s nice to meet you, Tyler.”
She offers her hand, and he stares at it for a moment before shaking it. She has a strong, firm grip. His dad would've approved, but that's not enough to make him trust her. No way there's not some sort of hierarchy here. Not with a bunch of Hydes all living together.
“Come on in,” she says, “and let me explain how things work around here.”
She leads them through a door with beaded curtains he’s pretty sure went out of style years ago, and she and Capri sit on an old, beat up couch with colorful knitted throws draped over it. He sits on a nearby chair that looks like someone dragged it out of the dumpster and painted it during an acid trip.
In that calm, soothing voice of hers, Vanessa explains the rules of the group and what his life will be like if he stays. The people here sound like a bunch of hippies, but their lifestyle isn't the dumbest thing Tyler's heard of, and it's not like he has any other options.
At his request, Vanessa gives him a tour of the compound, and Capri tags along. It is an old resort turned summer camp converted for the pack’s use, just as he suspected, complete with a kitchen and dining room in the mess hall, a cafe at the front of the compound that’s open to visitors, art and music classrooms in another building, and cabins hosting the dorms. There are also several surrounding acres of farmland and woods, an onsite clinic, and lupine cages for the resident werewolves.
Everyone he meets is friendly. A little too friendly for his tastes, in fact. Most of them are in the community room of the clubhouse playing games and watching movies together, and a couple of them attempt to hug him before he puts a stop to that. The sessions with Dr. Kinbott at least taught him to be wary of…what was the term? Lovebombing? Yeah, that.
He spots a couple people elsewhere during the tour that seem a little more normal, insomuch as someone who can transform into a monster can ever be normal. If he had to guess, he’s met about five Hydes total, ranging from preteens to people in their early 30s, two alpha wolves, and a siren who helps the community stay hidden from outsiders.
To be near so many of his kind…he does feel calmer already. More stable. The only other Hyde he’s ever known is his mother, and she’s gone. The people here don’t judge and despise him for being a monster, because they’re all monsters too, and they’re okay with it. Sure, he's weirded out by the overt displays of affection, but a part of him is drawn to it, too.
Only one other person has also seen the monster and accepted it, and she isn't here. This is his best bet at saving himself.
Maybe he really can learn to control himself without a master.
With that, he, Vanessa, and Capri return to the front office in the Clubhouse, the building where they started out. Vanessa ducks into the office and emerges with a piece of paper and a pen.
“Now, Tyler, I hope you enjoyed the tour,” Vanessa says. “If you’d like to stay with us, all you have to do is sign this contract. It's a set of rules we as a community have made for the well-being of everyone.”
He stiffens. Has Capri brought him to a cult after all? He casts a suspicious glance at the werewolf, but her enigmatic expression gives away nothing.
“What does it say?” he asks.
Vanessa hands him the contract. “You can read the rules for yourself, but I’ll go over the main points. First, we ask that everyone actively contributes to this community unless they’re sick. For each person that looks different, but Capri, for example, performs live music at the cafe and also helps in our gardens.”
Okay, so far, that doesn't sound so bad. He was worried they’d ask him to sign his soul away or something, but this just sounds like they want him to work in exchange for his food and board, which is reasonable enough.
He thinks for a moment about how he could contribute. “I could work in the cafe too. I was a barista, back in my hometown.” Of course, Wednesday thought his barista skills were subpar, but she was also trying to get a reaction out of him when she made that particular jab, and no one at the Weathervane ever complained about his barista skills.
“Um, I also know how to hunt,” he adds, just in case. “Not just as a Hyde, I mean. So I could help with getting food, if meat is something you eat around here.” He frowns. He’s tired, and his words sound slurred. How long will it take before he starts feeling significantly better?
Vanessa nods. “Yes, once you're in a healthier place, we could schedule you for shifts in the cafe. And we do eat meat, so you might be able to help there as well.”
“Anything else?” he asks as he scans more of the contract. His eyes settle on a particular point right as Vanessa starts to explain it.
“We also require you to undergo treatment for your condition and only transform into a Hyde in emergencies, to prevent harm or further loss of life to yourself and others.”
Tyler looks from Capri to Vanessa. “No. I'm not going to suppress that part of myself—”
“Tyler, this isn't about suppressing your Hyde side,” Capri tells him, her voice gentle. “That only ever backfires and makes it harder to control. This is about getting it under control and helping you become your own master.”
His own master. That’s what he wants, more than anything.
“Yes, exactly,” Vanessa agrees as she fiddles with the paintbrush tucked behind her ear. “Everyone here does weekly art therapy sessions with me and also meets with our onsite doctor, Dr. Lanyon, at least once a week. He'll prescribe special medications to heal your body and brain and calm your emotions so you're less likely to transform when you don't intend to, especially out of an agitated state of mind.”
Tyler considers this. It sounds good, but how does he know he’s not just walking into another trap? He's tired and vulnerable and grieving and alone, and so many people have tried to use and control him before. How will this be any different?
Vanessa’s expression softens. “We're not saying you can never transform, Tyler, just that you can't do so in a manner dangerous to yourself or the other residents if you want to live here.”
Tyler sighs, feeling even more weary than before. “Can I at least talk to this doctor so I know what I'm getting myself into?” he asks, rubbing his eyes.
“Of course.” Vanessa takes him to the clinic. Dr. Lanyon is an alpha werewolf with streaks of gray in his black hair, and he’s calm and matter-of-fact. His glasses are perched low on his nose as he takes Tyler's vital signs in the exam room, and he explains the reason for everything he does and answers all of Tyler’s questions.
It’s a refreshing change of pace compared to what Tyler is used to from doctors.
“Being a Hyde is not an instant death sentence,” Dr. Lanyon says as they go over a paper explaining the Hyde treatment regimen he’s pioneered. “It’s like having an autoimmune condition you have to monitor and take medication for, and we can slow down the damage the progression of your condition will cause and lengthen your lifespan. All the things that help with managing autoimmune diseases, like a healthy diet, getting enough rest, avoiding stress, and forming close, supportive bonds with other Hydes, will help with this.”
“You really think I can get better?” Tyler asks, his voice croaking. It’s what he wants but what he hardly dares hope for.
The doctor nods. “My wife was a Hyde, and so is our daughter, Vanessa.” He smiles warmly. “Yes, I'm Vanessa's father. Hydes are naturally pack animals, just like werewolves are, not slaves cursed to follow their masters’ every whim. That's propaganda perpetuated by quacks who don't understand them or want to exploit them.”
Tyler considers this. He never realized that everything Laurel Gates/Marilyn Thornill did to him was a lie, that his Hyde could survive without a master. But this is the second person who's told him it's possible, so he listens carefully to the doctor's next words.
“The research my wife and I did together about Hydes showed us they form natural pack bonds, beginning with strong mother-child bonds in childhood,” Dr. Lanyon says. “This helped us unlock Vanessa's Hyde in a healthy, loving manner when she was ready for it in her early 20s. She doesn't have the brain damage Hydes unlocked through trauma do, and the treatments she's on have resulted in a very slow progression of her condition. I have since started using her treatment regimen on other Hydes. It has shown great promise.”
Tyler doesn't want to be a guinea pig again, but his parents are dead, and he’s desperate for somewhere safe to stay. Dr. Lanyon, Vanessa, and Capri claim to want to help. What other choice does he have? He remembers what happened after he killed Gates, the madness that descended on him, the sickness and illness and death crawling over him like some twisted fiend. How erratic it made him, how desperately it drew him to Wednesday in the hopes she could help him. That same sickening sensation haunts him again now that his mother is dead, and he wants it gone.
Wednesday isn't here, and maybe it's for the best. This is his best chance at surviving. At getting better. At being his own master. He wants to at least try so the next time he sees Wednesday, he has a shot at—
At what? A relationship of equals? He scoffs at himself. She would never allow that. It's one thing to save him, another thing to want to be around him.
He looks Dr. Lanyon right in the eye. “I'll sign the contract. Tell me what I need to do.”
The irony of his words is not lost on him.
He signs his name and wonders if he's signing his life away. But his life won't last long if he doesn't have a master or a community anyway. Then Dr. Lanyon does some baseline brain scans and blood tests with his permission. Unsurprisingly, his prefrontal cortex, amygdala, and hippocampus have all been damaged thanks to Laurel’s experimentation, and his bloodwork isn’t looking great, either.
“Don't be discouraged,” Dr. Lanyon says. “I know this all looks bad, but the brain and body are remarkable in terms of their healing capabilities. You’re a survivor, Tyler. You’ve made it this far, so don't give up on yourself. We’ll do further testing after you've undergone a month of treatment.”
At this point, he’s utterly exhausted, so Vanessa shows him to his cabin and his bed. He passes out almost immediately and sleeps dreamlessly, and it isn’t till the next day that he sees the other residents again.
He’s relieved, in a way, that every single person present could easily defend themselves against him if he transformed and became dangerous. That everyone has stigmatized abilities and doesn’t judge him for having his, either.
He finally feels like he’s found his people. Only time will tell if this is where he's meant to stay. And if he ever needs to leave, well…he’s freed himself from two masters before. He can break free from another one.
He ignores the little voice deep down that reminds him Wednesday Addams was involved both times. Maybe because he wants to prove that he can take care of himself. That he’s self-sufficient and doesn’t need her help.
The next time they meet, he wants to be the one helping her. He has to pay her back for freeing and saving him.
Then, maybe then, she might finally respect him.