A/N: Basically, I think this is the closest there is to Hyde fluff. I think it's AU… although technically I guess it doesn't have to be. This is Lucy showing up at Dr. Jekyll's a few days after Hyde has mauled her.

"Dr. Jekyll?"

There was a long silence, and then from inside the study, a soft hoarse "Hm?"

"He-… Mr. Poole… he said you'd see me?"

The door creaked open, but it was almost dark inside. Lucy took a slow step in, then another, moving towards the single light in the room – a small lamp on the desk.

The door shut firmly behind her, and she heard it lock. "I'll always see you, Miss Harris."

She gasped. "Mr. Hyde?" She backed away from him – further into the room, she realized too late. Further from escape. "What are you doing here?"

"Why, Lucy!" He sounded almost injured. "You don't look happy to see me." He moved around lighting lamps, confidently, as if he belonged here.

"I- I just..." she swallowed and drew herself up. "I just wasn't expecting you, that's all," she said with as much spirit as she could muster. This was still Dr. Jekyll's house – she was safe here.

"Henry Jekyll and I are... very close. In fact, he's the one who referred me to you. Didn't you know that?"

She made a note to strangle the doctor for it someday. "I didn't. Well, is he in?"

Hyde laughed. "In a manner of speaking. But I'm afraid Henry can't see you today." She could hear danger in his voice now. "What did you want him for, Lucy – is he a special friend of yours? As special as me?"

"No," she swore immediately. "Not at all."

"No, he wouldn't be," Hyde agreed, relaxing. His lip curled. "You're not his type."

The contempt in his voice stung her, and she turned away, crossing her arms. "Maybe not, but he's my friend," she insisted, wishing she didn't sound so childish all of a sudden. If Hyde kept on, if he taunted her about not being worthy for friendship even, then she would answer him right back: who was he to talk down to her, when he came running to the slums to pay for female companionship every weekend!

A low chuckle in her ear – Hyde was suddenly right behind her. She jumped but he threw an arm around her waist to hold her still. "Fortunately I have better taste than he does," he said, licking her neck. "And I know what to do with a woman when I see one." He shoved his hips into her, grinding hard against her rear until she pulled away.

"Mr. Hyde!" She tried to sound offended, but it came out breathless instead. Nasty as he could be on occasion, he did know how to push her buttons. She turned to face him and raised her chin. "None of that, not now – I'm here to see Dr. Jekyll."

"So you've said. Why?"

"Because. Because he said he'd be my friend… if I needed help."

"Help." Hyde cocked his head. "And do you?"

She nodded. "Yes, I mean the… I have… Mr. Hyde, you hurt me, remember?" she said at last. Firm, for a change. "It started healing, but now it's got worse and it hurts and I wanted to see if anything can be done so that it doesn't scar."

"Mm." He made no attempt to apologize, but after a moment he shrugged and suggested: "Come here. I'll look at it for you."

"You?" she was surprised into laughter. "You're not a doctor."

"I assure you my qualifications are every bit as impressive as Henry's," he said, and moved to stand behind a chair. He put his hands on its shoulders and, feeling his hands on her shoulders as if she were sitting there already, Lucy shivered. Hyde ignored it and went on: "We were in medical school together. Now, sit. Please."

From him the word was a mockery and a danger, but Lucy felt herself gliding across the room anyway. Her knees were weak and she nearly fell into the chair. "Please don't- oh!"

Hyde bared her shoulders with one quick tug on her shawl. He slid his hand under her jaw and felt her pulse racing. "Shh," he soothed, and then leaned past her to pick a scalpel up off of the tray of Jekyll's things. She saw the glint out of the corner of her eye and jumped with a gasp.

"Hush, Lucy," Hyde purred, keeping her still with one firm hand on her shoulder. She was trembling with terror, and he felt that peculiar twist inside that meant the doctor was trying to kick up a fuss. Interesting. "I'm going to cut you," he said... and sure enough, her terror increased and so did Jekyll's agitation. Very interesting.

"Don't hurt me." She clutched at his hand on her shoulder. "Please. Mr. Hyde, please, I beg you..."

"You misunderstood me," he growled. "I'm not going to hurt you. Settle down. See?" He set the scalpel back down and took something else from the tray instead - a small mirror. "Hold this," he ordered. "And don't move." He turned and rummaged for another mirror, a larger one, and then stood again behind Lucy's chair. "Now hold it in front of you, so you can see."

She did as she was told, flashing the mirror to his eyes a moment, gathering up her courage. Then she adjusted it. "All right, I can see."

"This - here." He pointed. "You have to have it lanced, do you understand? I'll cut... there... and then clean it." His finger ghosted over the angry scab, tracing a line just beside it. "You just sit still and breathe deep; it won't take long."

He set the mirror down and retrieved the scalpel. This time, although she sucked in her breath she didn't protest, and Jekyll managed no more than a weak twitch of anxiety.

Hyde chuckled softly and turned his attention to the wound. He had to delve into knowledge that was not really his own, but he knew Jekyll wouldn't withhold from him, not now. He closed his eyes and envisioned the cut - or rather, let dear Henry envision it for him. As soon as he was sure he knew what to do, he acted. Swiftly, because with a blade in his hand the temptation of her smooth skin was almost too much to handle.

Lucy gasped at the pain and clung tighter to the arms of her chair. "Good girl," Hyde said, and put the scalpel down before the urge to really slice overcame him. He felt Jekyll going limp with relief, weakening, and he smiled. "It'll hurt when I press, but sit still."

"Press? Ow!"

"Hush - almost done." He cleared the wound of pus and then soaked some gauze in antiseptic. "This will hurt as well."

This time she was quiet, and only tensed while he cleaned and covered. When he was finished he glanced up and noticed that she was holding the mirror again, watching his face. "What?" he growled.

"N-Nothing," she stammered, lowering her eyes. "It's just… you were very gentle. Thank you."

He did have rather a light touch here, didn't he. Perhaps he had borrowed more from the doctor than he'd intended. "You're most welcome, Lucy." He saw that her eyes had watered a bit with pain, giving her that fragile and wounded look he liked so much. He wanted to devour her like a tiger.

But no, that would bring up the sick in his stomach again. Jekyll was quiet and weak, and likely to stay that way if he wasn't terribly provoked, so Hyde only chuckled and bent to kiss Lucy's neck. She sighed, relaxing against him, and he felt Jekyll withdraw even further. Jekyll hated seeing-...

On a sudden inspiration he knew how to get rid of his annoying shadow for a few more hours, even before the new drugs were ready. "Are you busy tonight, Lucy?" he asked in her ear, and slipped a hand down into her dress.

She gasped – but he pinched only lightly this time, and nuzzled besides. Her better judgment gave way in the face of his almost-tenderness, and she gave him a throaty laugh. "Never too busy for you, Mr. Hyde."

"Good. I'll get my coat." He straightened up. "I don't think Henry would appreciate it if we dirtied up his study."

Jekyll came awake slowly, feeling lethargic and peaceful, perfect. He shifted just a little, flinched as something tickled his nose, and then heard a soft chuckle. Female.

His breath caught and it took all his self-control not to tense up visibly and throw his eyes open. Where was he?

He tried to remember. Couldn't. Hyde had taken him somewhere, left him somewhere, in the company of some loose woman most likely. It would be very awkward when he had to get up and face her, and very difficult when he had to convincingly lie about being an entirely different person than the one she'd gone to bed with.

"Mr. Hyde?" the woman whispered, and he had a terrible feeling that he recognized the voice. In a moment he had it: that performer. Lucy Harris. Someone who knew him by face. No.

He fought harder against panic. He reminded himself that the way he was lying his face was almost completely obscured by the unkempt mop Hyde always made of his hair, and the sheet was pulled up over most of his body. Provided he stayed still and gave her no reason to suspect that it wasn't actually Hyde in bed beside her, she would never know.

He wanted to take a look around, but he knew that Hyde's eyes were much darker than his own, black almost. (He knew that from the early days, back when Hyde had cooperated with the experiments. Back when he'd written out descriptions of his appearance and his feelings, when he'd taken doses of whatever was left out for him, dutifully recording their body's response. Seizure – sorry, the note had read the first time Jekyll awoke to find the lab destroyed. I see why you delegate all the poison-taking to me.) Different eyes. Given that fact, did he dare to open up?

He thought fast and decided to take the risk – the light wasn't good, and his pupils would be dilated at first anyway. If Lucy only looked fast, she might not notice any difference. He opened up to peek, and through untidy black curls met Lucy's eyes a moment. He gave a short, wordless growl and shifted a bit. How would Hyde behave in the morning?

Lucy smiled at him and reached out to brush his hair from his face. He threw an arm up to ward her off, knocking her wrist aside hard.

"Sorry, sorry." She didn't sound surprised, and only turned to slide out of bed. Jekyll took that opportunity to improve his position – covering himself better, bunching up the shoulder that was still showing. He watched through the curtain of his hair as she stood by the mirror and made herself presentable. "Mr. Hyde, would you… if you don't mind, I mean… the dressing came off last night and I'm worried it might have got dirty again. Would you look at my cut once more before you go? Please?"

Jekyll froze. What? But she was looking to him for an answer, and he nodded.

"Thank you," she said, with such warmth that he almost froze up again. "I'll get a cloth and some water. I don't have any of that fancy medicine, you know, but… here, I'll be right back."

She pulled a robe around her and slipped out of the room.

And the moment she was gone, he sprang into action. The window, he knew from somewhere. Hyde must have used it once, the drainpipe, climbed down. Fine. He shrugged Hyde's enormous fur over his shoulders, gathered up his clothes in one arm and threw the shutters open with the other.

If anyone sees me like this, climbing out of a prostitute's window naked, my life is over, he thought. But he made it down the building and into an alley with no one sparing him even a second glance. Once there, he pulled his clothes on – it took longer than it should have because of how hard his hands were shaking - and organized his hair. He bundled up Hyde's coat inside-out and headed home.

There were claw marks on his shoulders and a large collection of little round bruises on his neck. He ached in odd places, his legs and hips, as if he had been doing something highly athletic – acrobatic, even. He ached in ways that were embarrassing to think about. He told himself that whatever had gone on there in Lucy's room, he really didn't want to know about it. But he suspected that that was a lie, and once he found a note in his pocket he knew it was.

Yes, Hyde had written. You missed a good time.

The End.