# Fanworks

## In His Eyes

Originally published 2018-12-31 | 7159 words | 5 chapters | read on AO3

Fandom: The Glass Scientists

Characters: Jekyll/Lanyon, Hyde, Rachel, the Lodgers (for one chapter)

Warnings: Canon-typical body horror, mild gun violence, depression, alcohol

Other tags: Christmas, Fluff, Love at first sight

Summary: Most people assume Henry Jekyll's eyes are just a very saturated brown. Robert Lanyon, however, begs to differ.

### Chapter 1

Originally published on December 31st, 2018

Robert was sitting at the dinner table, nursing a glass of wine he snatched for himself while his mother wasn't looking, trying his best not to engage himself in the party going on around him.

He never recalled a time when the so-called spirit of Christmas was present in his house. His mother would read to him sometimes stories of Christmas miracles and happy reunions, where even the coldest souls melted and the biggest vices defeated, and he always found the image so alien to him. In Robert's mind, Christmas was simply another opportunity for the aristocrats to show off their wealth and influence (as if they haven't already been doing that all year) and make plenty of noise at his father's Christmas dinner party.

It was always the same pretentious clothing and distasteful music, the same people showing off just how much money they can spend on the most useless trinkets. Robert was only fifteen years old, and he's already seen it all.

He turned his attention to his plate. At least the food was decent. If he was stuck here for the rest of the evening, he may enjoy it as well as he could.

The goose and the pudding kept him occupied for some time, though given his previous experience with Christmas parties, it was not as long of a time as he'd like to. He looked around the hall again. At first, he didn't notice anything unusual. Elderly benefactors and distant relatives were chatting enthusiastically, the servants were rushing around in the background, the Christmas tree stood in the center of the room, a solemn and ominous reminder of the long and dreadfully boring hours to come.

And then he saw a flash of a dazzling red.

He didn't even know that people could have such bright red eyes. They looked like they were glowing, clear for Robert to see even from the other end of the table. The owner of the red eyes was a young boy - a bit younger than Robert - with a matching red ribbon around the neck. He, too, seemed to feel lost at this party, and was staring into vacancy, having barely touched his food.

Robert couldn't stop looking at him. This boy was so different from everyone else at the party, yet he couldn't pinpoint exactly why. It wasn't the age - there were plenty of other young people around, and they fit right in the holiday chaos. It wasn't the refined clothing and appearance - this hall was currently filled to the brim with the fanciest people in London.

But there was certainly something in those red eyes that mesmerized Robert fully.

He leaned towards his mother, who was deeply invested in gossip with some ladies a few chairs across, and called for her quietly.

'Mother, who is that young gentleman sitting next to Dr Denman?'

Her eyebrow raised, just for a moment but long enough for Robert to notice. Yet she quickly recomposed herself.

'Oh, him? That's the Jekyll's boy. They moved from Scotland about ten years ago, with the family business. I'm surprised you never met him before, Mr Jekyll has recently become a frequent guest of your father's."

Robert simply nodded in response and kept staring at the red-eyed boy from across the table. And then he was staring at him behind the Christmas tree, and then - he really didn't realize how this happened - he was staring at him while standing right in front.

When he realized that he was probably being rude staring at a person like that and that he should say something, it was too late and the boy raised his head.

'Good evening,' said he simply.

'H-hi.'

Robert's voice, usually so distant and calculated, was betraying him. The boy, however, didn't seem flustered at all and continued with the friendliest expression:

'You're Lanyon, aren't you?'

It took more than a few moments for Robert to register what was being said.

'Robert. I go by Robert,' blurted he finally.

'Nice to meet you, Robert! I'm Henry Jekyll.'

With that, he extended his hand to Robert, and as he accepted this simple gesture, it came to his head that he just witnessed the first Christmas miracle in his life.

### Chapter 2

Originally published on February 28th, 2019

The silver rays of a rising full moon slipped into the room through the lace curtains, glistening off the Cabernet on the coffee table and the two empty glasses. Robert was reclining on the sofa, his feet stretched nonchalantly towards the fireplace.

His parents, his professors, or really any reasonable member of society would certainly not approve of such careless behavior. But tonight was not intended for society's eyes. Tonight was different.

For now, he didn't have to worry about leaving for London the next day, or spending the Christmas break with his parents, or the new semester up ahead. Tonight was a moment of perfection that he wouldn't allow to be ruined. It was just about him relaxing in his dormitory room, and the red wine on the table, and the red coals crackling in the fireplace, and the shining red eyes of his best friend and roommate, Henry Jekyll.

He tried to reach for the bottle from the sofa, but gave up halfway through. His body felt much heavier than usual; the hour was late, and the effects of fatigue and alcohol already started to manifest. Besides, it was kind of hard to move with Henry leaning with his whole weight against his shoulder.

'Pass me that, would ya?'

'S'empty. Has been for half an hour.'

Henry slurred through his words. He was younger than Robert and generally drank less than him, so his tolerance was somewhat lower.

They lay together quietly for a few minutes. Robert was already falling into a slumber when the silence was interrupted.

'Shit!'

'What- what's the matter, Henry?' asked Robert in a sleepy voice.

'I forgot about the notes! Again!'

His voice, already full of emotion, sounded even louder in the quiet dorm.

'What notes- what are you talking about?'

'The lecture from two weeks ago- I asked Maw to lend me his notes, and I haven't returned them since! He will probably not be there tomorrow, and I have to catch a train to Scotland first thing in the morning, and-'

'Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh.'

Robert slowly raised a finger to his lips.

'It's okay, Henry. You can return them after the break. You don't have to worry about it now.'

'But- but I promised him- and what if he needs them during the break- I-'

'What kind of student spends their Christmas break looking at lecture notes? It's going to be fine, Henry. You're making this a bigger deal than it is.'

'It wouldn't be such a big deal if it was the first incident of the sort. But I just keep doing this, over and over again! I borrowed that burner from chemistry class and it took me two months to return, I forgot to write a letter to my parents back in October and they were furious... Oh, and remember that time I ruined Gabriel's suit? Don't you see, I'm just a big screw up!'

'Henry-'

'Oh, and don't even let me start on-'

'Henry.'

It took some effort to outvoice his roommate, who at this moment was switching to a dangerous volume, but Robert did manage to get Henry's attention.

'Henry, you are not a screw up. You're trying your best, and that's what counts.'

'But the mistakes just never stop coming!'

'You're allowed to make mistakes. In fact, what better time to make mistakes than now, when we're young and healthy and our only limit is our parents' paychecks? Society almost expects us to be screw ups at this age.'

'Well, where's the guarantee that the screw ups won't stop when I'm older?'

Robert took a deep sigh. He didn't want for this conversation to get any further. He was tired, Henry was tired, they were both drunk, and arguing wouldn't be of any use at that moment.

'...Listen. You're not the devil you're painting yourself to be, Henry. You're a good guy, and that's all that matters.'

There was no response, and Robert almost believed that he calmed his friend down - or perhaps that tiredness finally overcame him. But after a few moments, an uncharacteristically low voice rose from the silence.

'...and how do you know that?'

'What?'

'How do you know that I'm a good person?'

Robert froze for a second, stunned by the question. Yet he quickly recomposed himself, and left out a chuckle.

'Oh, I know you, Henry. I've lived with you for a year now, and I've known you even before that. I probably know you better than anyone else.'

'No, you don't.'

This time, Robert didn't have any words to answer with. Whether it was it the alcohol silencing him, or a genuine bewilderment by his friend's unusual behavior, he couldn't tell.

'I'm sorry, Robert, but there are parts of me that you know nothing about. That I wouldn't like anyone to learn about. Honestly, if I could, I would get rid of them for good. Like a surgeon removing infected tissue from a body. That... would solve things.'

He saw a glimpse of a wishful smile on Henry's moonlit face.

'Oh, if only that was possible... Life would be devoid of all that is unbearable. You, for starters, would get a better roommate.'

When Robert woke up the next day, he couldn't remember whether the words 'I like you just the way you are' really escaped his lips that night or solely stayed in his mind as a last thought when his consciousness was leaving him.

### Chapter 3

Originally published on December 31st, 2020

The wind wailed through the cracks of the old houses, hurling massive, heavy snowflakes into Robert's face. They burned the skin.

He couldn't see a thing except for the glow of the gas lights up ahead, dim and blurry in the snowstorm. London was asleep in this longest night of the year, and so he was alone on the streets, up against the elements. The wind was keen on sweeping him off his feet, and a certain numbness has already settled in the fingers and toes, yet he persevered, making step after step, getting closer and closer to his destination.

It was hard to make Robert truly hate something. He never concealed his overall distaste towards the world and the general society, but it was just that - distaste. He had already accepted the cruel reality of life and felt no strong emotion towards it. In order to evoke something as strong as hatred in Robert's soul, something truly outstanding had to happen.

Winter weather, however, was one of the things Robert absolutely loathed. At that particular moment, he would have traded everything in the world for a chance to stay at home. Yet there he was, frozen to the bone, standing at Henry Jekyll's porch.

Robert reached for the doorbell and rang. He heard hasty steps coming from the second floor, and just in a few moments, the door swung open.

'Dr Lanyon! Thank goodness, you're here!'

Ten minutes later, with his feet by the fire and his shoulders equipped with a warm shawl, Robert finally felt unbothered enough by the cold to look around the hall. Henry's house was a fine exhibit of architecture and interior design - Robert smiled at the memory of Gabriel once calling this very room 'the pleasantest in all of London'. It was even more charming this time of year, with the various Christmas decorations hanging around - surely at least some credit for that had to be given to Rachel, who had just finished putting his coat on the drying rack and was now offering him a glass of wine. Robert noted with surprise that she poured one for herself as well.

Yet even with all of the love and care that the household put into this hall, it seemed... empty somehow. Silent, even, despite the violent storm raging outside. As if something - someone - was missing from it.

'Again, I am terribly sorry to have called you here at such a late hour, and in such atrocious weather on top of that.'

'It's quite fine, Miss Pidgley, my understanding was that the matter is urgent.'

'Not so much urgent as... desperate. I was running out of options, Dr Lanyon. Poole said you were the only one who could help him, and I think he's right.'

'Is it about his... behaviour from a few months ago?'

'It's gone even worse than that. He hasn't left his room at all in the last week.'

Robert put down the glass he was just about to take a sip from.

'I've been leaving him food on a tray and he barely touches it. He refuses to speak to us, or only answers in short sentences. He's cancelled all of his appointments, he doesn't answer letters...'

Disregarding all bounds of decency, she downed her glass in one gulp and stared at Robert with watery eyes.

'I just... I don't know what to do! It pains me so much to see him in such a state. He used to be so invested in everything he does, and now it feels like there's nothing left of him but a shadow!'

She started sobbing, quietly and abruptly, and Robert took out a silken handkerchief from his pocket and offered in to Rachel. She accepted it with a nod.

'Don't worry, Miss Pidgley, I'll see what can be done about your master. I do have medical expertise after all, I should be able to nurse him back to good health, just like I do with my patients.'

'I didn't tell him you would come... you should be careful, sir, he can get pretty hostile with an uncalled visitor...'

'I am sure he could never do any harm to me, Miss Pidgley.'

He followed her up the stairs to the door of Henry's private quarters. What has been happening in his friend's soul that made him willingly lock himself in this personal fortress? After all these years of knowing him, there was still much of Henry Jekyll that was a mystery to Robert.

He got ahead of Rachel and knocked first.

'Go away.'

'Henry, it's me.'

'Go. Away.'

His voice was stern but so weak, so unlike the Henry he used to know.

'Henry, you can't keep hiding like this!'

'Robert, please. Just leave.'

Robert pushed the door, which gave in effortlessly, and slowly entered the room. It was simple and clean - no doubt, a result of Rachel's tireless work. In the back of the room, staring at the ceiling, there lay his best friend of fifteen years, now hard to recognize.

His skin blended with the half-unbuttoned shirt and sheets. His hair was all over the place, having almost a straw-like quantity to it. His eyes, his wonderful red eyes that Robert learnt to love so much, seemed to have dimmed significantly, the usual spark gone from them.

Robert's heart sunk at the sight. He recalled Rachel's tears back in the hall, and understood them all better now.

'Why did you come, Robert? Did Rachel send you in? Go home and celebrate Christmas with your family.'

'I came here on my own volition,' he lied. 'I can't celebrate when my friend is shunning himself from the world like that. What happened to your charming smile, your sparkling nature?'

'Those are fake smiles and fake sparks, and you know that.'

Somehow, the bluntness hurt more than the burning cold outside.

'Nobody cares about the real Henry Jekyll. All people want is a masked jester to entertain them. So what's the point, if I can never be my real self in the first place?'

Robert pondered for a few seconds. He was a doctor alright, but the mysterious illness that overcame Henry did not come from his usual area of expertise - the body - but rather from the mind. He had to choose his words carefully if he didn't want to make things worse.

He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Henry softly.

'...I suppose you have a point. People like to make their idols. But was it all fake? What about that Society idea of yours? Was that fake too?'

A faint, bitter laugh escaped from Henry's lips.

'...The Society was just a foolish dream, Robert. Nobody in their right mind would fund that project.'

'We can ask around for sponsors. The times are changing, people are more and more interested in bold undertakings and new solutions.'

Henry turned his head slightly towards the window, and his clouded red eyes stared at nothing in particular.

'...It would be nice, wouldn't it? A community of bright minds, working together towards a better future. At some point, I almost believed it was possible.'

'It is possible, Henry. We can make it happen, if you only let us help you.'

Henry didn't respond.

'There's a building on Broadwick Street currently unoccupied, we could rent that.'

'It doesn't even have a roof.'

'Well, we could make our own roof! Or we can ask the new residents to do that. Since they will probably have no money on their own, it is as well that they must work for their lodgings.'

'...They could move the larger apparatus to the roof, I suppose. And there has to be at least one telescope.'

'Of course. Wouldn't be a scientific Society without one.'

Truth be told, Robert did find this whole Society business quite silly. He himself had no interest in snatching random tramps off the streets and supplying them with expensive scientific equipment. But if pandering to Henry's fondness for philanthropy was what it took to pull him out of this affliction, Robert was willing to play along.

'...Look. I can go and ask my father for some money. He has funded less coherent endeavors of mine, surely he can splurge a little on charity. But first, you have to promise me you'll stand up and get yourself something to eat. You look like the ghost of Sir John Franklin.'

'Franklin was a teetotaler, how dare you,' Henry protested. The small undignified snort that followed meant more to Robert than any victory he's ever had in his life.

'As we speak, Rachel is doing some magic to the roast turkey downstairs. It will be a mortal offense to her if you don't try it out, at least.'

'...Will you stay for dinner, then?'

The soft intonation in his weak, trembling voice had already made Robert's heart sink, but as if it wasn't enough, he suddenly felt Henry's hand on his knee. It was cold and almost weightless, like a feather, yet his knee felt all too warm from a sensation he couldn't find a good name for. He looked right into Henry's eyes, and watched as the brilliant red started to return to them.

'Of course. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.'

### Chapter 4

Originally published on May 31st, 2020

Robert made one step into the Society main hall when a chair fell down just a few feet away from him, smashing into a million pieces on impact. Several voices emerged from above, all at the same time.

'Sorry, Dr Lanyon!'

'Why on Earth did you do that?'

'It was an accident, I was just moving it to the dining hall!'

'Isn't this what they do in Italy? I heard this is how they celebrate the winter holidays. Just throwing stuff off windows.'

'Well, I have never been to Italy, so I can't really judge if it's true.'

Robert has, in fact been to Italy, but he didn't recall that country being as noisy as the Society had been tonight. The Lodgers, who weren't very reserved to begin with, were ecstatic with the idea of celebrating their first Christmas together. Nobody had a clear idea of what a Christmas party should actually be like, so they just did the most festive things they could think of and called it the holiday spirit.

The Leviathan floating in the middle of the hall was for once rid of the usual laundry hanging from it. Normally Robert would be very happy about that fact. It made him furious that the Lodgers would treat their priceless prehistoric artifact as an impromptu clothesline. However, there was a reason for this change. Instead of being a clothes dryer, the Leviathan was now used as a deliberate Christmas tree.

Obviously, the Lodgers couldn't afford the more elegant Christmas decorations that Robert was used to, so they just put on everything they had. Robert had trouble discerning all the objects from the ground level, but he recognized glittering vials of ghost blood, mollusk shells, a few exhibits from the gemologists' collection, and even a few clockwork toys that were brimming with life, flying and jumping from rib to rib. Robert shuddered.

He started making his way through the hall, which was not an easy task due to the sheer amount of Lodgers busying themselves with last-minute Christmas preparations. Somewhere in the distance he noticed a white rat running away, holding in its mouth what looked like a biscuit way too big for its size. There was an equally white-haired scientist chasing after it, cursing profoundly. Robert made a mental note to check the building for any loose rats before the next sponsor tour.

'And how do you say 'Merry Christmas' in Japanese, Miss Ito?' enquired the dark-skinned gentleman with neatly combed hair.

'メリークリスマス。'

'That's- you just said 'Merry Christmas' in a Japanese accent.'

'Well, we don't really have a phrase of our own. You see, Christmas is not exactly the most celebrated holiday back in Japan, Mr Tanis,' snapped the junior neoalchemist, annoyed to explain the trivial.

Miss Virginia Ito was quite alright in Robert's book. She did unfortunately share the Lodgers' common desire for unnecessary extravagance and chaos, but she acted on these urges in a much more reserved way, and Robert could respect that. She would also often act as the voice of reason within the Society, which was quite helpful when Robert and Henry's authority among the Lodgers was not enough.

'Ah, Dr Lanyon! Didn't notice you there at first. How has your Christmas been so far?'

'I'm doing alright. Have you seen Dr Jekyll around?'

'I think he went to the kitchen, finalizing some things with the dinner menu.'

'Ah, I see. I'd better go and check on him. Merry Christmas to you, Miss Ito, Mr Tanis.' Robert lifted his hat.

As he was heading to the corridor that lead to the kitchen, he bumped into someone large and metallic.

Robert has never been the smallest guy around, but the mechanical man that now loomed over him was at least two heads taller. The automaton stared at him with a gaze that would perhaps instill a lot of fear in a different person. But Robert was immune; he has seen much more horrendous expressions on faces made of flesh and bone.

It reached forwards with its brass arms, which were holding some sort of exotic plant. Its creator and operator, Mr. Pennebrygg, followed behind it, along with a merry middle-aged gentleman by the name of Mr Bird, who was also carrying quite an impressive load of flower pots. Robert tried to remember what fancy title Henry had given him. Horti-cryptoculturalist, perhaps?

'Merry Christmas, Dr. Lanyon! I'm so glad you could join us today. Here, this is for you!' Pennebrygg pointed at the pot the mechanical man was holding.

'For me?' echoed Robert in confusion.

'Just take it, don't worry. He doesn't bite. Yet,' he smirked.

Robert reached for the pot and retrieved it quite effortlessly from the automaton's hands. It turned its metallic head to Bird, who was already giving it another plant.

'I've wired him so that he'd give out Christmas presents,' explained Pennebrygg.

'It's called a flamingo flower,' added Bird, nodding towards the plant. 'They say it brings good luck to a man's personal life.'

'Thank you, Mr. Bird, Mr. Pennebrygg' responded Robert through his teeth. His personal life? What a joke.

He did find Henry in the kitchen as promised, leaning over a tray of something that looked absolutely abhorrent but smelled absolutely delicious.

'And if you eat this little tart,' declared the short man with a neat ginger mustache, 'all sour foods will begin to taste sweet!'

Henry looked at the pastry with suspicion, then took a small bite tentatively.

'Hm,' he said after swallowing. 'I don't feel any difference.'

'Here, I have some lemon for you to try.'

Mr. Doddle, the resident experimental confectionist, passed Henry a plate of thinly cut lemon slices. Henry put one in his mouth, unsure at first. Then, his eyes brightened up in a flare of pure red, and a wide smile appeared on his face.

'It does taste sweet now! Incredible! How long does the effect last?'

'Ah, I'm afraid you're stuck with it for life, mate.'

'...Oh.'

'Just kidding, it'll wash out in 30 minutes tops.'

'Good.'

He was so occupied with this weird - tasting session? experiment? - that he didn't even notice Robert come in. But Robert didn't mind. His Henry, his wonderful ruby-eyed Henry, was now the happiest he's been in years, and he could watch him forever.

But finally, as the novelty of the strange tart wore off, Henry took his eyes away from the tray, and met Robert's gaze.

'Ah! Robert! Here you are!'

'I was hoping I'd find you here. Enjoying the Christmas menu, I presume?'

'Mr Doddle has truly outdone himself. Fancy a bite? The flavour is 'miracle fruit.'

'I prefer to keep my sense of taste intact, thank you very much.'

'And here we have the candy that explodes in your mouth!' tuned in Doddle with a paper cone of strange-looking caramel. 'I think Mr. Hyde will have a real knack with those ones.'

'Oh, I doubt Mr Hyde will actually attend the party. Later in the evening, perhaps.'

'Why not? We've set up so many cool things, it'll be just up his alley!'

'I believe he has other plans.'

It did not escape Robert's attention that Henry became much more solemn at the mention of Mr. Hyde. He was now staring at his shoe.

'Henry, is everything okay?'

It took him a few seconds to answer, as if he were distracted with something.

'...Yes, yes, I'm fine.'

Robert did not press the matter further. But when they came back to the main hall, with everybody occupied by colourful scientific displays and exploding candy, he pulled Henry to the side and asked:

'Henry, has Mr. Hyde been causing you trouble?'

'What? No, not at all.'

'It's just that you seemed really disturbed when he was mentioned.'

'It's fine, Robert, it really is. He's just... a quirky character. A bit troublesome, yes, but too different from the rest of the Lodgers.'

It was clear that he desperately wanted to change the subject. But Robert knew he had to press on.

'Henry, while I have myself never met the guy - God knows why, he must be avoiding me on purpose, I suppose - I don't think he's just a simple troublemaker. I know you're having a lot of fun with the Society, but we're also trying to run a business here, and sometimes that involves making hard decisions. If Mr. Hyde is causing you more distress than it's worth, then I say we shall remove him from the Society.'

'It's not- honestly, Robert, it's nothing like that. Besides, I really can't-'

'Why not? It's not as if he's a real scientist working here. The Lodgers are at least trying to make something of worth, while Hyde just roams around causing havoc.'

'Hyde is this estabilishment's designated night manager, and he provides more useful services than you give him credit for.'

'Such as?'

'...I send him on errands sometimes.'

Robert sighed. This wasn't going anywhere.

'Listen, I know it sounds bad - he sounds bad - but he's really not something you should worry about,' plead Henry. 'He does things that are too excessive sometimes, I won't deny that - but I've been always able to minimize the damage. And when I'm not around, Rachel looks out for him - she seems to understand him better than anyone.'

'I'm- I'm just worried for you, Henry.'

'Let me tell you this - if Hyde ever crosses a line he shouldn't cross, I can and will be rid of him. I have the power to do so and I will not hesitate to use it. I will make sure he never goes too far.'

### Chapter 5

Originally published on June 15th, 2020

'You have gone too far this time.'

Robert clutched the revolver in his hand, pointed at the small, pathetic man who stood in front of him.

So this was Edward Hyde? Judging from description, Robert pictured him to be more... elegant, perhaps. A troublemaker and a criminal, for sure, but he expected there to be some kind of charm to him that would explain why Rachel and the Lodgers were so drawn to him, and were so willing to forgive him for his crimes. But the person cowering at his front door was nothing more than a pitiful mess of flesh and bone.

He was short, and looked even shorter than his real height as he was hunching. His hair, if one could even call it that, resembled straw in both color and texture, and was sticking up in all directions. His skin was paler than Robert thought was humanly possible. His clothes were just an echo of the rich, solemn ensemble they were once conceived to be; tattered and ripped in a few spots, stained with something that may or may not have been dried blood. Most importantly, they did not fit their owner at all, hanging like burlap sacks from the man's skeletal limbs.

His eyes were a bright emerald green, with sickly dilated pupils and clearly visible bags under them. He looked exhausted, but lucid enough to voice his frustrations very clearly.

'Listen, Robert, I've had a really, really rough day,' he addressed him in a hoarse, creaky voice, 'and I have neither the energy nor the fucks to deal with whatever you think you're doing here. Just let me in and let's get this over with.'

'You're not making a step further into my house until you give me an explanation, young man,' ordered Robert, the gun still firm in his hand. 'And it's Dr. Lanyon to you.'

Hyde let out an exasperated sigh. He opened his mouth to say something, but Robert interrupted him, unable to restrain the disgust and fury boiling inside him.

'So Henry disappears all of a sudden and the police can't find any trace of him. Then, I receive this strange letter in his handwriting with the most bogus instructions, saying that his life is at stake. And finally, you show up at my door, with no decency whatsoever. You, who have caused Henry and the Society so much trouble. You, who is convicted of burning down an entire block of London, not counting the other evils you have doubtlessly committed over the years. So tell me this, Edward Hyde,' spat he, the detestable name burning his tongue like acid. 'Why in the name of God shall I let you into my house now, instead of handing you over to the police immediately?'

'Because if you do, Jekyll's going to be in big trouble.'

Robert stared at him intently, silently prompting him to elaborate.

'Listen, I know you absolutely loathe me. And trust me, the feeling is mutual.' Hyde's voice was shaking ever so slightly, although he was clearly trying to remain calm. 'But you have to believe me when I say we're on the same side in this one. I can bring your Henry back, but only if you let me in, instead of handing me over- or worse.' He nodded at the revolver.

'What have you done with him?'

'You have a lot of questions, I get it. I don't blame you, it's a very messy situation we've found ourselves in. But I can explain everything, I just need to be inside for this, as I believe you have all the ingredients.'

'The ingredients? You mean the drawer?'

'So you did get it after all. Good boy.'

That remark made Robert enraged again, and he cocked the gun.

'Whoah, whoah, there's no need for that!' Hyde threw his hands in the air in defiance. 'Look, I'm unarmed! Well...' He rummeled through his coat and produced a short kris knife, putting it down on the ground demonstratively. '...Now I'm unarmed. And I wouldn't hurt you anyways, I really wouldn't. Jekyll would kill me if I did.'

'Stop beating around the bush, Hyde. Do you know the current location of Henry Jekyll?'

'Yes. But more on that later. I need to get inside the house, now.'

Robert hesitated for a few more seconds, before declaring:

'Listen closely. You will follow me straight to my office. You will not leave my view for one second, and will not interact with anyone or anything else in the house. If, for some reason, you decide to misbehave, there will be consequences. Understood?'

'Deal,' the small man nodded, a strange mix of discomfort and relief showing on his face.

Robert led his unwelcome guest through the dark entrance hall and the long corridor. He expected him to show more curiosity in the interior, as he must not have spent much time in refined households like this one; but he seemed to pay no attention to the house whatsoever.

'To the left now.'

'I know.'

Once they entered Robert's illuminated study, he fell into his armchair, noting for Hyde to stay in the center of the room.

'Talk now.'

'Where's the drawer?'

Robert clenched his teeth and breathed out loudly through his nose. Hyde was impossible to work with.

'Mr. Hyde, I don't think you understand the gravity of your situation. I have already broken multiple societal customs, letting someone like you inside my house, and I do not intend to continue defying those rules. You are not in the position to make any further demands.'

'Oh, don't give me that,' snapped Hyde. 'I know full well the depth of the shit I'm in. You would not believe the day I've had.'

'Would I,' sneered Robert, once again looking over the torn and definitely-bloodied garments of the small man.

'But the contents of that drawer are essential to the safety and well-being of Henry Jekyll, which I am to understand is one of the few things in the world that you actually care about. If you don't believe me, at least believe the letter he wrote.'

'How do you know about what's in the letter? Did you force him to write it?'

'No,' replied Hyde, but then stopped for a second. 'No, not... no,' he concluded, after a momentarily inner fight.

'And if I were to grant access to those items to you, where's the guarantee that you won't do something nasty with them?'

'Robert, we are both professionals in our field,' said he, and Robert twitched at the sound of his name being uttered once again from his lips. 'I have no doubt you know what's in that drawer; you were always such a snoop. So use that degree of yours, Doctor, and you'll see that nothing inside the box can be used for any immediate harm. I promise, it will all make sense once I'm finished.'

Robert didn't know what persuaded him to comply. Perhaps, it was those emerald green eyes of his, piercing him with a plea. He saw in them repulsion, and malice, and fear, but there was something else as well, hidden much deeper - an honest request, originating not from narcissism or self-preservation, but from a place of some true and absolute trust. So, without recognizing fully what he was doing, Robert saw himself bring up the drawer from behind his desk.

'You better have a good explanation for all of this, though.'

'Of course, of course,' muttered Hyde, jumping instantly towards the drawer and grabbing its contents, sending pieces of packing straw flying all over the floor.

Robert became quite intrigued as he watched Hyde set up the vials and opening the envelopes with various salts inside. He never grasped Hyde as someone interested in alchemy. Has Henry or Ms Ito taught him this? Because he manipulated the alchemical equipment with truly fascinating aptitude.

For a second, Hyde diverted his attention from the alchemy setup and looked at Robert with an expression he couldn't decipher.

'...I have to say, you're a very fascinating person, Dr Lanyon. I don't know what he actually found in you.'

'What?'

'Ever since your childhood. You know that he felt it in his heart the moment you met at that party, right? That... special connection.''

'I never told anyone about that party. Where did you get these details?'

'Patience, Lanyon, patience,' responded Hyde, bringing the shiny red liquid inside his Erlenmeyer flask to a boil. 'I'm getting to that. But you have to understand, you really were everything to him in those first years. He followed your every step, listened to every word, strived to breathe only the air that you've breathed. He truly believed you to be his ticket to proper society.'

At that, Robert protested. 'He wasn't using me, if that's what you're implying! I know he wasn't!'

'Oh, I'm not saying he did,' Hyde shook his head. 'Although you could view it as such. But no, he wasn't driven by any selfish reason; he truly and faithfully devoted himself to you. In his eyes, you were his idol.'

'I was certainly not,' said Robert meekly. This intimate conversation came so out of the blue that he couldn't bring himself to argue more.

'Was too. But like all idols, you failed him in the end.' Hyde added another ingredient to the bubbling mix, which instantly changed colour from red to a vibrant purple.

'It took him a while to realize, but it hit him eventually that you could never truly accept him for what he was. Because Henry Jekyll was not just a sparkly facade that you taught him to set up. There was so, so much more. A fascination with the weird and the macabre, steered from all those Frankenstein rip-off books he read as a child. A love for adventure and exploration, impossible to pursue in the setting of high society. And there were also other desires, so impure, so absolutely abhorrent, that he couldn't admit their existence even to himself.'

'You have no right to speak of him in this way!'

'I absolutely do, as you'll see in a moment. Obviously, when he understood the full truth of his situation, it took quite a toll on him. I mean, I don't have to explain this part, you've seen what state he was in.'

Robert had no words at this point. He couldn't believe that Henry would confide all those personal details to the likes of Hyde.

'And he would have remained in that state forever, just withering in his bed and surrounded by his own dark thoughts, but he stumbled on a solution. Ironically enough, it was alchemy that saved him - the one hobby he tried to keep secret from everyone for years.'

The liquid shifted colours once again, finally settling on a brilliant green. Hyde took it off the heat, then looked at Robert again.

'...You know what. I really, really don't see why Henry still hangs around with you. But he believes you to be a decent person, so for his sake - and for his sake only - I'll give you a choice. Once last chance to bail.'

Robert stared at him quizzically.

'Option one: you open your front door and let me disappear into the night. You can go to bed and get some sleep, and your beloved Henry will greet you in the morning as if nothing has happened, and it will all go back to normal. And you will never see me again. You'll agree that we'd both prefer it that way.

Option two: I stay here, and you discover the whole truth. And the truth is... well. It's groundbreaking, I've got to admit. Shall it ever reach public knowledge, it could change the nature of science forever. But there's a reason it hasn't yet. It's an ugly truth, Robert, and once you learn it, there is no way to reverse it. To be honest, I don't know if you can handle it. As much as I'd love to see you suffer under any other circumstances, I would actually prefer you not to, in this one case.

But the choice is up to you, Robert. You can still walk away from this, if you so desire, or you can stay and drink it all in. All of it.'

Robert didn't hesitate for a second.

'I've gone too far at this point to turn back, don't you think? Besides, I'm still not thrilled to let a known criminal escape my house with an unknown alchemical solution in his hands. No, Hyde, you're not leaving this room until I know the full story.'

'Very well. But don't say I didn't warn you.'

Hyde lifted the vial and put it to his mouth.

'Oh, and of course, you can't share any of this information with anyone. Though, of course, you'll see very soon why that is necessary.'

And in one swift motion, he emptied the flask.

Almost instantly, he fell to the floor in pain. He was clenching the flask so hard it shattered in his hand, littering the floor with a myriad of dazzling shards. Did he poison himself? Robert was about to rush towards him, when he saw something happen with his muscles.

They were swelling rapidly, putting the image in Robert's mind of hundreds of large worms burrowing just under the skin. The flesh was pulsating and expanding, and so did the bone, following suit with an unbearable crackling sound. Hyde, still curled on the floor in fetal position, gradually grew in stature. Robert realized all of a sudden that the clothes seemed to fit his new frame perfectly. The nest of thatch on his head moved as well, in a way hair should never behave; it almost seemed as if it was retracting back inside the skull. The texture became softer and smoother, and it shifted colour to something much darker.

Eventually, the shifting and growing came to an end, and the person on the floor moved no more, their shallow breathing being the only indicator of life. Robert tried to process what happened. Edward Hyde, London's famous vigilante and arson convict, just went under some strange and painful change right in front of him. He could no longer recognize his features in the human shaped heap on the floor.

And then the figure raised its head towards him, and Robert saw a flash of a familiar red.