Disclaimer: I do not own Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde.
Also, I am quite aware of the tendency towards cheesiness of my stories. Yes, they end happily. Eventually I'm sure I'll write a story where everyone dies in the end or something, but until then, deal with my Halmarkiness. Actually, originally this story was supposed to be completely different, with Utterson drinking the remnants of Jeckyl's potion and becoming the next Hyde, thus enforcing the idea that all humans have a duplicate nature.
Hmm. Maybe I'll right an alternate ending to my alternate ending...
Comment if you'd like to see Utterson go to "Hell". Or if you like this story. That's good too.
Mr. Utterson Pays His Last Respects
In the weeks that followed the closing of the most unfortunate case of Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde, each of the men involved in the 'cleaning up' returned to their dreary London lives, to spend time with their dreary families and get on with their dreary work. Only Mr. Utterson remained infatuated with the crises. Due to his personal relationship with the doctor, the task of documenting the incident, and fabricating a story which pleased the courts but did not place blame on his poor deceased friend fell to him.
Whilst occupied with documenting the tale, Mr. Utterson was able to allow himself to see the case in a removed state; perceiving the strange death of his friend as merely another of the goings-on that occurred with the less 'dreary' residents of London. The time he spent as a lawyer, in short, caused him to be unable to dwell upon the events as a man and a human, until nearly a fortnight after the incident.
Until the moment his hand lifted from the manuscript in the D.A.'s office, and he was no longer required to think as a professional business man, his mind came out of it's state of numb-coherency, and he was left to contemplate what really happened the night of the doctor's demise.
At six O-clock in the evening, having been unable to concentrate on any of the small mountain of paper-work on his desk, Mr. Utterson returned to his home, sternly telling no one to bother him in his study.
There, with his tired eyes resting behind aging lids, he recounted the events of the unhappy months that had lead to disaster.
"So much pain and lies…" He whispered sadly, seeing many visions of Jeckyll in his slowly depreciating phases. That man had once told him anything and everything that was on his mind. What happened to reduce their relationship to no more than a word here, and a glance there?
Mr. Utterson gave a loud sigh, feeling the magnitude of what had happened pressing hard upon his spirit. To loose Jeckyll's trust to science and secrecy was bad enough, but then he had had to watch as Lanyon deteriorated because of the very cause which had alluded him until the end; until it was too late, and both of his comrades were gone.
'Poor Lanyon.' Utterson thought pityingly. 'He never knew what was coming…if he had possessed a more open view…but no. Any man who had seen such a ghastly and magnificent transformation would have been shaken. Even if he had harbored more positive thoughts towards sciences of that sort.'
And truly what a brilliant form of science it was! To separate a man's bestial instincts from his better knowledge, in order to perfect the one and release the other for a sense of relief—an ingenious idea to be sure, but too dangerous.
Utterson shook his head in consternation. Jeckyll had been always a bit…instable in his opinion; as boys, when Mr. Utterson was only 'Mr.' to those he was in trouble with, or to those who were younger, Henry Jeckyll had followed him around like a lost puppy, admiring 'Mr.' Utterson's brave and solid nature.
In those days, Jeckyll had trusted Utterson as his sole confidant. It was most likely that not even Jeckyll's parents knew as much about him as Utterson learned in their adventures of boyhood camaraderie.
A reminiscent smile crept across Utterson's tired lips. He shaped Jeckyll's youthful face in his mind as best he could; the sickly color of his cheeks, the mousey brown messiness of his unkempt hair. And then…his eyes. Something had always stood out about the younger boy's eyes that had perturbed Utterson. A certain quality of…was it fear? Mr. Utterson furrowed his brow as he tried to pen-point just what it was that had bothered him so.
Guilt.
The word came swiftly, and surprised him greatly, but only for a moment. It made perfect sense; in the recent letter Jeckyll had spoken of always having been of a duplicitous nature. The thought that he had always been that way put Utterson slightly more at ease; of course he wouldn't have seen an obvious change in his friend. The taint had always been there, and the well meaning doctor had simply sought to bring it out. To draw it out like poison from snake's bite…only this sort of wound ran much much deeper.
"Why, Henry? For God's sake why?"
A cloud of regret seemed to settle upon Mr. Utterson's chest, pressing against his heart and lungs, and threatening to overwhelm him completely. His eyes remained tightly shut against reality; against the stark truth that Jeckyll was truly gone forever.
"Because I had no choice." Utterson's eyes went suddenly wide with fear, and his face drained of all color.
"…Henry?" He whispered unbelievingly as the specter of Dr. Henry Jeckyll stepped straight out of the warmth of the fire, and into Mr. Utterson's private study. "It…It's not possible." He croaked, a trembling hand clutching his tremulous heart in near terror.
"No, I don't suppose it is." The shadowy image of the doctor said as he took a seat in the arm chair directly across from Mr. Utterson. "But then," He said with a smirk upon his ghostly pale lips, "Neither is it possible to become two people."
Utterson drew in a short intake of breath at the comment, cut to the quick by the cold sarcasm behind his dead friend's words. It certainly seemed to be Jeckyll sitting there not three feet away from him; perhaps a bit more translucent than not, and maybe with a tinge of ghastly pale green to his decaying skin…but in physical likeness there was no doubt. And yet he seemed almost completely changed, to the point that it was not the fact of him that froze Utterson to the core, but rather the new ambiance he had taken on. That look of guilt was no longer present in his eyes, but instead replaced with a newer emotion of a sort that made Utterson think of the most guilty clients he had ever had; completely aware of their crimes and the circumstances, but completely un-willing to take any responsibility for them.
"You wonder, perhaps…at my new look?" The specter Jeckyll questioned with an amused tone. Absentmindedly, he inspected his dead fingernails as he spoke. "A bit chilling, I'll admit. But the sense of freedom is absolutely sensational. You should try it, old chum." The words old chum he said with added spite.
Beginning to feel less frightened at the situation, but none the less disturbed by his deceased friend's new state of mind, Utterson shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"Try what?" He questioned the specter, quite aware of how foolish he sounded.
Jeckyll looked up from his hand with a sinister grin. "Being dead of course."
The simplicity and magnitude of the statement brought Utterson to his senses. Perhaps this was only a dream or psychological vision, brought on by fatigue and worry. Mostly likely he would wake up any moment, to find himself alone once more. But dream or not, he was not partial to the thought of allowing Jeckyll to have the best of him.
"What exactly, Henry, are you doing here? I've paid my respects."
The sinister grin still in place, Jeckyll bent forward in the chair, his transparent hands gripping the arms like a vulture's talons.
"Because of what you did to me."
Utterson flew into a rage. Despite the absurdity of this situation, he took the comment at full offense. Leaping out of his chair, his eyes blazed with angry wrath.
"I did everything for you, man! Besides what I did for you in life, I spent the last month trying to clear your name, so that you could rest in peace! I all but lied to the chief of police about who Hyde was, and what he was doing in your house! I covered for you, you ungrateful fool! And you thank me by haunting me? Go back to Hell with the rest of the sinful wretches."
To his surprise, Jeckyll seemed to shrink in his seat. There was a glimmer of something in his eyes; a look of strange familiarity, and then it was gone.
"I've been, dear friend." Jeckyll hissed through rotting teeth. "I found it utterly dull, and decided to pay you a visit and remind you of how miserable you made me."
Mr. Utterson shook his wonderment; though his rage had left as soon as it came, he was still perturbed that the one person whom he had considered his close friend, would come to plague him for a life of pain and misery. An overwhelming cloud of darkness returned, pushing him swiftly to his seat.
"What did I do, Henry?" Mr. Utterson asked in a quieter voice, this time out of genuine worry.
A pained look crossed Jeckyll's face, followed by one of great revulsion and disgust.
"I had to spend ever day of my life knowing you were better than me. When we were children you were the brave one, and I the tag along. At school I was the 'pitied fool' and you the golden god of perfection. Even after college, when I began my scientific career and you went into law, I came out as a failed experimenter, always infatuated by some new quest for lunacy. You, however, became one of the most prestigious lawyers in London. I hated you, Utterson. I hated you with every fiber of my being, and I would have killed you, had not the good in me taken the easy way out. If I had not destroyed myself, you would be the one rotting in a grave and not me. You." There was a calmness in Jeckyll's voice that sent waves of nausea through Utterson's stomach. It was as if he were speaking to Lucifer himself, such was the greatness of Jeckyll's decaying presence.
The look in the Dr.'s eye told Utterson he knew exactly what he was doing.
This can't be true. It's not true. Said a voice deep within Utterson. How could it be? For one, he had never seen anything of this in Jeckyll. They had been close; their friendship had always been mutual. They exchanged qualms, ideas, material goods…everything in good faith. The feeling of terrible guilt seemed to fade slightly.
"I…I never meant to harm you, Henry." Mr. Utterson said slowly. "I was under the strong impression that you enjoyed my friendship."
Jeckyll made a hissing noise, his darkly glinting eyes glaring evilly.
Mr. Utterson had spent the better half of his life speaking with people of all sorts, some of which had been only slightly less terrifying than the Dr. Jeckyll that was now sitting across from him. In all of this time, he had learned one most direly important truth: that those of instable minds twist reality into a shape that suits them; a shape that until discovered by the victim of such venomous and clever remarks, will become the only reality able to be perceived. Utterson had dealt with any number of reality-twisters, and this was no different.
Carefully he closed his eyes, attempting to push aside the things which Jeckyll had spoken and focus on that truth which would alter the shape of reality to a mold which better suited the lawyer's opinion. Slowly a timid light penetrated the thick fog that had been spun in his mind; a light which grew brighter with each passing moment and worked to eradicate the lies this demon Jeckyll was spitting out.
"You weren't inferior to me." He said at last, his mind forming a vivid image of the past. It was a younger version of Jeckyll, on the day of the annual science festival he had entered in college. Utterson had entered as well, only for the additional marks which would be added to his Chemistry grade. Jeckyll, already a brilliant scientist by that point, had won the festival by a long shot, making the usually top marked Utterson to feel very sheepish indeed. Jeckyll's face that day was what the lawyer now focused on; an image of shining triumph, hardly that of the sickly boy he had once been.
Smiling now, Utterson opened his eyes. Immediately he could see the scale had been tipped in his direction; Jeckyll no longer looked spitefully confident, but rather nervous and apprehensive.
"You were so wonderful at so many things." He continued. "Do you remember the science festival?" The surprised look on Jeckyll's face told him he did. "You won that day. For your study of—what was it? The Study of Molecular Science?"
"Molecular Configuration." Jeckyll said swiftly, unable to resist correcting the lawyer.
"Ah yes, how foolish of me. You see, Jeckyll, I was never as good as you at the things you liked. You were jealous of my social skills and political knowledge? I had the most uncanny jealousy of your understanding of…how things worked." Utterson grinned brightly, forcing Jeckyll's putrid appearance not to bother him. "It truly always interested me so much…and yet the subject of science was a complete mystery. I wished desperately to know what things were made of…and why they did what they did."
Jeckyll had become very silent, a look of confusion on his greenish face.
"…And then, when you would try to explain things to me…I felt the biggest fool in existence, because there was no possibility I was going to understand. And it wasn't simply science. You grasped everything! You sought to explain things on the subject of philosophy that I would never be capable of even contemplating! Just look at what you did on with the idea of duplicity! You're brilliant, Henry. Simply put, you are one of the greatest minds in history. And, truth told, honorable to! You created a way of separating the two halves of human nature, and then when it became to much, you had the bravery to—"
"Stop." Jeckyll gasped, his voice strained. Utterson, who had gotten lost in his exultations of Jeckyll's greatness, returned to reality, a pleasant smile on his lips.
The specter slid from the arm chair, and kneeled before the gentleman lawyer, utterly changed. There was a new light in the doctor's eyes, one which Utterson had never before encountered in the many years he had known him.
"It is I who should be asking you for forgiveness." The trembling man bowed his head in shame. "I had…forgotten in the time I spent as Hyde…that there is such thing as a…a friend who combats hatred with love." Slowly, he raised his corroded face, now so full of emotion he almost seemed alive once more, and allowed a single tear fall from his grateful brown eyes.
"Utterson, friend…please…destroy what's left of the potion. I don't want anyone to go through the pain I endured." And swifter than he had appeared, he was gone, leaving Utterson alone in the room once more.
There did not pass more than ten seconds of silence, when there was a knock on the study door.
"Mr. Utterson, sir?" Came a nervous voice on the other side of the strong English Oak. Slightly dazed, but with a feeling of peace resting in his spirit, Utterson stood and answered the door. It was his housekeeper.
"Yes?"
"Ehm…sorry sir…I…I know you told me not to knock…but you've been in there for more than four hours…"
Startled, Mr. Utterson looked at the grandfather clock in the hall behind his housekeeper. Sure enough, the clock read 10:30.
"Keep the house locked up. I'm going to visit Jeckyll."
"But sir—"
"I know he's dead, and no I've not gone insane. I simply want to pay my last respects to a dear old friend."
"But sir! At 10:30 at night? It's dangerous! Besides, you already paid your last respects, yesterday."
Utterson had to keep from laughing at the elderly man's horrified expression. You'd have thought he'd seen a ghost!
"Yes, I know. But I'd like to do a few things. Namely; destroy what's left of that terrible concoction."
"But I thought that was—"
"Evidence? Yes, yes, but there's nothing to be done about it. The potion must be destroyed."
Before the old housekeeper could add any more 'buts,' Utterson had grabbed his coat and boots and was on his way out the door, plunging into the night.
Stop here! My English teacher said it would be better to cut off the very ending; that it was crisper and less clicheed to end it here. However, if you like cliches and warm fuzzies, by all means read on.
Half an hour later Mr. Utterson was standing in front of Dr. Jeckyll's grave, the last beaker of that deadly potion in his hand. He trembled, staring at the mixture with a look of bestial determination.
"To become two people in one…" His voice shook as he spoke. Slowly, he poised his hand over the soft dirt, ready to pour out the concoction into the earth. He hesitated, feeling a sudden reluctance to destroy the source of Jeckyll's madness.
As if of its own accord, Mr. Utterson's hand moved the beaker closer to his body, and towards his mouth. He stared at the bottle, glimmering benignly in the moonlight with an overwhelming sense of curiosity. His hand trembled, and he began to open his mouth to drink that sinister potion.
"No." He whispered, stopping. "I'm no more Hyde than you were, Jeckyll. I am human, and choose to remain so; a balance between the good and the bad." His nerves settling, Mr. Utterson the lawyer poured out the contents of the beaker, and then smashed the glass on the gravestone.
"It is finished, dear Dr. Jeckyll." Mr. Utterson said softly. "Rest in peace."