~Prologue~
The wind blowing through the rusted gate smelled of rain and rotting leaves. It was autumn as surely as the clouds gathering in the sky, carved pumpkins grinning wickedly at passer-by, a week and a half past All Hallow's Eve.
The pumpkin sitting smugly on the top step before the asylum's door was still yet uncarved, ripe orange refusing to give way to sickly yellow. It was here to show some semblance of holiday cheer, despite the fact that this holiday had nothing to do with cheer.
And Dr. Killian Jones was here to visit his father.
~Lost In The Darkness~
"If I could reach you, I'd guide you and teach you, to walk from the dark back into the light..."
Dr. Jones was a frequent visitor at the asylum, his having been so close to his father. All the staff knew him by name and face, each of them calling a greeting as he passed.
Those who had been there longest, as long as Jones had been visiting, were well aware of his crusade, his ever-present and ever-growing desire to discover a way to wake his father.
"Good morning father," Killian began, sitting by the bed. "Did I miss anything interesting?" Not expecting an answer, he went on. "I have a proposal today. I'm presenting my idea to the Board of Governors. The ones at St. Jude's." He pulled a book from his bag, a log of his father's vitals from day one until now. Entering the newest data, he chattered on nervously to the comatose man. When he closed the book he laid his hand over his father's.
"I'll find a way to save you, father. I promised. If this meeting goes well, it may be my opportunity." He smiled, small and young and afraid. "Goodnight, father."
~Facade~
"It's a nightmare we can never discuss, so we stay on our guard... Look behind the facade!"
The walk from the asylum was even windier than the walk there. The forces of nature themselves seemed to be against him tonight. He only hoped the board would be more accommodating. Hope swelled within him. Everywhere he looked, people were smiling, rushing to get away from the wind, couples huddling under umbrellas.
He was reminded of his fiancee, Emma, and he made a mental note to check the time. This meeting should be short, but if not he would have be sure to make it to the engagement party in time.
~Pursue the Truth~
"How can I pursue the truth when they block each step I take? Henry, you have come too far, remember what you have at stake!"
"Those bastards!" Killian bit out, stalking through the door and letting it slam behind him. "Those inconsistent, underhanded backstabbing bastards! How can they not see what I see?"
"They have none of the vision we do, my friend." Victor pressed a hand comfortingly to Killian's shoulder. "You must proceed despite their refusal."
"How? How can I proceed? One abstention and five refusals? It's hopeless, Victor." Killian leaned over a table, tension humming in his hands, and Victor could sense the urge to smash something coming on in his friend.
"It's only hopeless so long as you are." Killian rolled his eyes at this, and the small smirk that crossed his lips gave Victor hope.
"Now come on, man. You've got a girl to marry."
"We're not getting married tonight, you know."
"Oh, aren't you?"
"No."
"Shame, that. I was all geared up for the cake, too."
"Have some champagne instead."
~Facade (reprise 1)~
"Dr. Jekyll's tardy to his own engagement party, his betrothal to Sir Danvers' daughter Emma."
The richest neighborhood in town was Regent's Park, a well-maintained, well-veiled place known for it's wealth and superficiality. Despite this, Dr. Killian Jones had found a companion who was anything but superficial in Sir Danvers' daughter, Emma.
Tonight was their engagement party, hosting glittering girls draped in silk and diamonds, serious men in slim suits and pale gloves.
And every single one of them was getting impatient.
Killian was meant to be there a fair while ago, and he was still not yet arrived.
~Emma's Reasons~
"I am not the weak young thing you're seeking Simon, someone seventeen, obedient and sweet."
"Poor thing."
"Engaged to a madman, haven't you heard?"
"Such a pretty thing, too. What a shame."
Emma took a deep breath, choosing to ignore these comments.
"He'll lead her to ruin, and at such a young age!" Emma clenched her champagne glass, breathing quite calmly through her nose.
"Now my dear, Killian is quite intelligent! Emma will hear nothing said against him. She's quite unchangeable on this subject." Emma let a small smile back onto her face as her father defended him.
"But they'll have so little to live on!"
"We'll have each other, if nothing else." Emma ducked into the conversation, smiling brightly. "And Killian is so close to finding his answer, it won't be long now."
"Emma, may I have a word?" Neal, the secretary for the Board of Governors, pulled insistently at Emma's elbow, and she had no choice but to go.
"Whatever is this about, Neal?" He looked despairingly down at her.
"Please, don't do this, Emma. Don't marry him. You'll have nothing. He'll be so focused on his work. You will be ruined!"
"I will be happy," Emma corrected him. "I love Killian. His work is as important to me as it is to him, and besides, we're resourceful people. We will have nothing to start with, but we can grow in this world. Perhaps go out into the country, far away." Emma lost herself in a hopeful dream, and Neal pulled her rudely from it.
"But Emma-"
"Fireworks!" Her father boomed, "It's time to see the fireworks!"
The party migrated outside, a great mass of money and malice, just as Killian jogged through the doors.
~I Must Go On~
"Who knows where my work will lead me? Nowhere where you will not need me!"
"Killian!" Emma's smile might have put the sun to shame. He returned her smile, sweeping over to her and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"How late am I?" He asked, amused.
"Well, seeing as how you missed the party..." Emma teased him, hooking her arm through his. Killian's face grew suddenly serious.
"I know, I'm sorry." Emma began to brush it off, but he stopped her. "My proposal was rejected." Her face fell, and he could see nothing but comfort in her eyes. "I may always be busy, Emma. My work may never go away."
"I know. I've always known." She took his hands in hers. "As long as we're together, we will find a way. I am here for you, and I know you'd be there for me if our positions were reversed." She pulled his hands to her waist and shoulder, swirling them into a dance. "Your dreams are mine." Spinning out, matching her, step-by-step, there was a perfect rapport between them. Killian could see this life working, if they could always work this well together. He caught her and drew her close, nose-nose, chest-to-chest. He smiled, as brightly as she had.
"Thank you."
~Take Me As I Am~
"Though fate won't always do what we desire, still we can set the world on fire."
David watched as they danced, fireworks bursting in his ears and glimmering jewels all around him. He couldn't tear his eyes away from his daughter, though, despite the distractions strewn about him.
She was happy with Killian. Happier than he thought she'd ever been. They just fit. Supporting each other through the years, David had no doubt they'd be happy and successful together.
If only she'd never met Killian.
David would never lose her then.
~Letting Go~
"I'm scared, my child, because I'm going to lose you. I find it very hard to let you go!"
"Good luck," Emma whispered to Killian as he left. David came up behind her, resting a hand on her shoulder. She started, then smiled at him once she realized it was him.
"I'm concerned, my dear." She looked back at him, confused.
"Why for me? Shouldn't you be worried for Killian?"
"I-I'm afraid I'll lose you. I don't want you getting hurt." She smiled and shook her head, hugging him.
"You could never lose me!" She pulled back, saying all the while, "I'll love you all the more. But Killian and I must protect each other. One day you will have to let me go."
"One day. But not today." Emma chuckled and hugged him again.
"Of course, father."
~Facade (Reprise 2)~
"You've got one chance in five, they're the odds you must beat if you wanna survive, so be fast on your feet!"
Killian shivered in the wind, drawing his dark coat closer to his chest. Victor had insisted on coming here for his bachelor party, despite the fact that this particular part of London was rotten to the core.
Every corner they turned was occupied by either a homeless vagrant or some sort of prostitute, and some held by both. Killian had nearly tripped over a couple who were in lack of a bed.
"Ah! We're here!" Victor's grin was part predatory, part carefree.
"Good," Killian muttered, ducking into the, er, fine establishment his friend had led him into, only to find too late that it was some sort of brothel. "Wait, Victor-"
"Come off it, Jones! We all know how bewitched you are by young Miss Danvers, but I myself happen to be looking for a good night." Victor picked his way through the room to the bar, where a pale girl with jet-black hair was laughing at one of his jokes. Killian found a stool and bought himself a drink.
God knows, he'd probably need it.
~No One Know Who I Am~
"Am I the face of the future? Am I the face of the past?"
"What is this place, anyway, Victor?" Killian asked over his shoulder, watching curiously as several girls squealed in pleasure over a painting or a blood-red rodent.
"Called the Red Rat," Victor said, eyes fixed on the girl he had first spoken to. "Run by the Spider, over in the corner there." Killian followed Victor's finger to find a pair of glittering black eyes watching him unnervingly from a burnt-orange armchair.
The Spider's attention was drawn away from Killian for the time being, however, because a dark-haired woman in blue swept through the door, letting in a gust of ice-burning wind and a puddle of water.
She froze, noticing the Spider watching her.
"Milah!" The cry took up among the girls that Milah had come in, and a group of them carried her away upstairs, laughing and talking and generally monopolizing the poor girl, but she seemed to accept it well enough.
As the other girls found her costume, Milah put on her make-up. The requisite rouge, a wide swath of lipstick painted on her face. Powder on her cheeks and perfume in her hair.
Such a glittering mask, Milah thought, and what for?
~Good 'N' Evil~
"The key thing about good and evil, each man has to choose! Heaven and hell is a helluva gamble to lose!"
Killian had found an unseen corner, a seat where he could observe his surroundings without being himself observed. He watched silently as the girl from before, Milah, (now dressed all in red) walked onto the stage.
A clash of cymbals and humming of horns made an ominous feeling rise in his chest. Milah smiled, the first words of the song peeling off of her tongue like licorice. As the band kicked up behind her, she kicked off her heels and spun, pandering charm to the men gathered about the stage.
Her voice was melodious, high and low and sultry and blithe, opposites blending in a magnetic harmony. Killian found himself leaning forward to listen more closely.
She looked up from the faceless crowd, eyes landing on a man hidden away in the corner. His gaze was fixed on her. Not her chest or her legs or another girl. Her face. His face was bent with concentration, fixation. Realization.
She tip-toed across the stage, conscious of his eyes on her all the way. Her stomach burned with a sort of pride. Even in this place, an abominable pit full of desperate and lonely men, she coud still draw someone to her for something other than her body.
The lyrics of her song came to him as though some sort of holy command. Her voice, strong and high, drew out one final note, long and rough and triumphant, and Jones knew now what to do. As she reclaimed her shoes and hopped off the stage, he stood, intending to speak with her. Then he saw, from the corner of his eye, a man stalking out from behind the stage, towards Milah.
The man struck her out of nowhere, knocking her to the ground. He fell on top of her, holding her wrists down. She fought against him, but he slapped a hand over her mouth to quiet her, and brought his mouth to her ear.
"I swear to you, if you're late ever again... I'll kill you!" The man giggled hysterically and skipped away, leaving everyone around him in a moment of confusion. Milah pressed a hand to her cheek, where he'd hit her, and began to stand up. The crowd dispersed, Victor waltzing into one of the back rooms with the girl from before, and Jones fought his way through the few remaining to reach her.
"Are you alright? I'm sorry, I was too slow to stop him." Milah looked up at him with surprise.
"Oh, it's not your fault." She pulled her hand from her cheek. "Is there going to be a bruise, do you think?" Killian examined her face, frowning seriously.
"Yes," he said finally. "A rather large bruise. Might scar. We may have to chop it off." Milah scoffed and laughed.
"You had me going there, for a minute." She smiled at him. He smiled back. "Thank you."
"For what?" He tilted his head.
"Trying to help me."
"I should be thanking you! Your song- it's given an idea! I'm a scientist, you see, and I've been looking for an answer, and you've given it to me." Milah's smile grew a bit, watching him talk animatedly of his work.
Victor reemerged from the room, black-haired girl making moon-eyes at his back.
"Ah, I see you've made friends!" Killian laughed at the obvious attempt at distraction from his friend's touseled hair and beaming grin.
"As have you, apparently."
"Who, Ruby?" Victor looked behind him dazedly. "She's not my friend. She's my fiancee." The smile was wider than ever.
"Congratulations," Killian chuckled. Victor nodded dreamily.
"We should probably go now," Victor murmured, checking his watch. Killian nodded and stood. Milah waved, turning to go. He reached over to grab her arm.
"Oh, look." He rummaged in his pocket for a moment. "Here." He presented Milah with a bit of paper. "If you ever need a friend, that's my card." She nodded.
They left.
~Now There is No Choice~
"One golden chance that only I can take, when all I've fought for is at stake."
Victor kept sneaking sidelong glances at Killian the whole way home. Eying him oddly, as though there was something off about Killian.
"Why do you keep looking at me?" Killian asked suddenly, not looking at Victor.
"Looking at you? I'm not looking at you. Why would I be looking at you?" Victor babbled, resolutely not-looking at Killian, who stopped and turned.
"You babble when you lie."
"Oh, do I?" Victor shrugged.
"Yes, you do. Now what is this really about?" Victor looked suspiciously at Killian.
"You seem very happy since meeting that girl." Killian hummed, nodding now understanding had dawned on him.
"She gave me an answer." The thought brought a smile to his face. "I've found a test subject for my experiment." Victor raised his eyebrows.
"Have you? Wonderful. You'll have it soon, my friend." Clapping a hand on Killian's shoulder, Victor turned onto his street. "And get some sleep, Jones!" He called without looking back.
~This is the Moment~
"This is the moment- my final test! Destiny beckoned, I never reckoned second-best!"
"Sir." Killian didn't employ many servants. One maid, one butler. The maid had already left for the night.
"Thank you Smee," Killian said, hanging his coat. "You should go home. It's rather late." Smee nodded, departing silently.
Killian rolled up his sleeves and proceeded to his laboratory. Lighting as many candles as he could, he took a myriad of chemicals form the shelves surrounding him.
Blue mixed with red, green with gold, brown with white, black with silver. Every drop, every movement calculated and documented. Killian wasn't taking any chances with this.
"H...J... Seven." Killian murmured, scratching out the title on a paper label and affixing it to the vial. Pulling a needle and syringe from his kit, he muttered measurements to himself. He drew a small amount of liquid from the vial, noting it's brilliant red.
~First Transformation~
"Suddenly- agony! Filling me, killing me! Suddenly- Out of breath! What is this? Is this death?"
Killian made sure the lab was clean, storing away extra chemicals, cleaning his tools and equipment. Then he sat, face-to-face with the result fo his labors.
"Three fifty-eight..." He murmured, checking his watch and noting down the time. Then, before all nerve could leave him, he pushed his sleeve even further up his arm and injected the liquid into his veins.
Waiting, he felt nothing for a few minutes.
Then, suddenly, a burning, roiling pain in his stomach, spreading up to his lungs, then all over his body. It was blinding, obscuring everything. He could hardly breathe for the effort.
And then, as suddenly as it had come, it was gone, and he found himself lying face-down on the floor of his laboratory. The cold stone was soothing on his skin, but the world was blurry. Softer and yet sharper than it had been before, as though seen through a spyglass and a window at once.
He shifted, waveringly, putting his full weight on a chair, using it as leverage to stand. He walked to a mirror, pushing his hair back from his eyes to see what was obscuring them. He locked eyes with himself, and felt nothing more.
~Alive!~
"It's the feeling of being alive! Filled with evil, but truly alive! It's the truth that cannot be denied, it's the feeling of being Edward Hyde!"
He felt brimming with light. With life. He had woken before a mirror, twin selves staring back at him, and so it was in his mind. He could feel the other in his head, weak and drained. Perhaps it was the other's life he was brimming with, who knew.
There was a darkness in that light, a bright, glaring bloody red, spilling over him, drowning him in it. He rejoiced in it. There was power in him, the snap of bones in his fist, a blade at hand. The people were running from him, and he relished it, enjoyed the chase.
He stalked them. He found a man by the docks who tried to fight him off with a hook. The man was dead, hook embedded in his neck, and he thought maybe that would be a good thing to keep.
Hook.
He was Hook, he decided. James Hook.
And he was on the hunt.
~Your Work- and Nothing More~
"There's something strange, there's something wrong. I see a change- It's like when hope dies."
One week later, and nobody had seen or heard from Jones. Not a whisper, nor a word, and Emma was worried. So was Victor, and so was David.
"Do you know where he is?" Victor was questioning Smee, but Emma couldn't pin her hopes on the butler nay more than she could on Victor. Nobody knew, not really. She stood quickly, walked to the window. How people could ignore each other mystified her. Every conversation, every interaction... Without them they'd go mad.
She could only imagine what Killian was feeling.
"I'm going, Father." They turned to look at her.
"But-" David tried to convince her otherwise, but she cut him off.
"He'll come to me when his work is finished." She swept away, the stairs disappearing beneath her feet and her father following closely behind.
"What if it never is?" Victor asked quietly.
"He's locked..." Smee looked conflicted for a moment before telling the truth, "He's locked in his lab, sirs and miss. He's not left since..." A door behind the butler shifted, and Jones emerged, hair mussed and eyes bloodshot. He shoved a piece of paper at Smee.
"Please, do go fetch these for me." Killian ran his fingers through dark hair. Smee took the list, noting each of the chemicals pointed out to him. As the butler scurried away, Victor strode forward.
"Where the hell have you been?"
"Oh, you know." Killian waved a hand. "Here and there." Perking up a bit, he pulled a crumpled mass of paper from inside the lab, separating it into three envelopes and handing them to Victor, all the while saying, "Here, these are for you. Well, this one is, anyway. This one is for Emma, and this one for David. Only open yours if I disappear or suddenly get very sick."
"Killian..." Victor swallowed, trying to find the words for what he wanted to say. "Don't let this become your life."
"What?" Killian waved his arms. "What's 'this' you speak of?"
"Your work. Don't let it control you."
"Who me?" Killian grinned manically. "Never."
Downstairs, his future father-in-law was arguing with Emma.
"He'll never stop! Emma, this is impractical!" David said, trying to impress upon his daughter the depths to which Killian would stoop. "He's half-mad already, over the edge of the abyss! I want more for you than marriage to a scientist who is steadily working himself to death- and for what? Nothing!" Emma shook her head.
"His work is important, Father. He's so close to finding what he's been looking for, so very close. I cannot abandon him now. Not when he needs me most."
~Sympathy, Tenderness~
"I am in love with the things I see in his face. It's a memory I know time will never erase."
Victor walked out, half-worried for his friend, half-disgusted by the insanity lurking in the depths of one of the most brilliant men he knew. As he left, a woman came rushing in, and their shoulders hit.
"Sorry, I'm sorry." As he helped her up, he wondered where he recognized her from. She smiled in return, only half-there.
He'd figure it out eventually.
Milah was too vacant to do more than smile at the nice man who'd accidentally knocked her down.
"Doctor Jones?" She called into his house. "Doctor Jones?"
"Ah, hello. How may I help you?" He popped his head up from under the table. She jumped back an inch and laughed when she saw it was him.
"I just- you said if I needed a friend I should..." She smiled sheepishly, and he stood.
"Are you alright?" he walked closer and pulled out a chair, which she sat in backwards, facing the high wooden back and straddling the seat.
"You said you were a doctor, is all and, well, I think I might need a doctor." She pulled at the back of her dress until it fell low enough to expose her spine, which would have been straight and pale if not for the rippled red-bruising skin over it.
Killian had to bite back a sympathetic wince at the sight. It was a miracle her spine wasn't broken. The flesh was swollen and scraped, small stripes of blood dappling her back. Maroon and grey and red overlapped and intertwined, patchworking her skin with pain and abuse.
"Who did this to you?" He asked later, applying ointment to the wound.
"A man named Hook." Killian's hands shook, and he had to put down the jar for a moment. "James Hook." He swallowed, took a breath, recaptured his self-control.
"I'm sorry." He didn't say what for, so she assumed it was merely sympathy.
"It's not your fault," she smiled, remembering their first conversation. He chuckled, and tying the bandages, gestured to her that he was finished.
"I suppose not." She turned, buttoning the last gap in her dress, and when she was done, stepped toward him. He opened his mouth to say farewell.
She kissed him.
Her lips were cold, and her hands on his arms were like ice.
He pulled away, guilt, lust, fear and disgust brewing in his heart like acid.
"I'm sorry," he told her, backing away. "I'm sorry."
He left.
~Someone Like You~
"To help me see a world I've never seen before- A love to open every door to set me free, so I can soar!"
Milah walked home in a haze. She had done it. She had kissed him. And granted, he had pulled away, but he had enjoyed it first. She knew enough of men to know that at least. His eyes had closed, his muscles relaxed.
In that brief moment, she had had hope.
But then he had pulled away. But she'd rather ignore that, so she just basked in the feeling of his lips on hers.
If he courted her- asked her to marry him! The life they could lead together... She'd never get hurt again.
He'd never let her get hurt.
He had pulled away, though.
He had enjoyed it, though.
~Alive! (reprise)~
"Animals trapped behind bars at the zoo need to run rampant and free! Predators live on the prey they pursue, this time the predator's me!"
"No, I'm content for now, thank you." The Bishop smiled sickeningly at the young girl. The older woman behind her smiled brightly at the man.
"And you'll be seeing her again next..?"
"Wednesday, my dear. No sermon on Wednesday." He patted the little girl's head, and she shuddered, disgusted, under his touch. He gave the older woman several bills. The woman and the girl stepped back into the brothel, locking the door behind them.
The Bishop turned, expecting to find an empty street. Instead he found a man, tall and thin and dark. His hair was a ragged mess, his skin pale as wax.
"Hello, Bishop." The man was leaning elegantly on a walking stick. It was long, heavy wood topped with what appeared to be a large globe of pewter. His hat was tipped over his eyes, which were only revealed when the man looked up. They glittered with malice and bloodlust.
"You-" Hook didn't give the man time to speak, driving the metal globe into his jaw. The Bishop fell, spitting blood. Hook smiled, pulling a blade from the end of the walking stick and stabbing the man. He did so several times, blood running over his hands, through his fingers, his maniacal laughter echoing harshly against the stone street and locked houses.
He stood, the occasional terrifying giggle breaking free of his shaking frame. His fingers fumbled in their excitement, pulling matches from his pocket and striking them. One-by-one, they were all lit and dropped on the body until it was a rising inferno of light and burning blood.
Hook whistled as he walked away, spinning the walking stick cheerily in his hand.