A/n: lately I've been trying to cope with exams... so instead of anything long term I've been writing one-shot stories. This is a story in which the only characters are Jekyll and Hyde. And while some may think that it sounds slashy at some points it's not meant to be slash, I'm serious... though I know for some coughdelanocough coughwolfegurl006coughthat may be a bit hard to believe.
Disclaimer: I own no one in this story!
It's dark and cold. Nighttime always is around here or at least to Dr. Henry Jekyll it always is. But, why? To this he has no answer. It could be the restlessness and the fear of what dreams bring to him: memories. Or, perhaps, it's the constant taunting that he must listen to from his other half, his creation that he brought upon himself.
But, for what ever reason here he is, sitting up in his bed, the covers pulled over his legs to try and bring some warmth, a light on at his bedside for better light as he reads. For years he has done this. He sits in the cold, dark oblivion until sheer exhaustion steals his consciousness, and he drifts into a nightmare filled sleep.
And tonight is no different.
He's almost done with the book, and fears the end, for he knows that he won't be able to get to the library of the Nautilus until morning. Hyde, his creation, has been suspiciously quiet. Henry always knows that silence from the monster is a blessing, and a curse, for it most likely means that he's plotting something again.
Jekyll's thoughts stray slightly to the point that the book is drawing to an end, but quickly resumes reading. The book is nothing special, just something about vampires, something that had apparently been picked up for helping out when Mina came aboard.
There were tons of books like that throughout the library. Nonfiction and fiction, all written about vampires, guns, immortals, even invisible men, but not one thing about split men, men like him. He had looked at every book and found nothing. Did anyone care? Or was there simply nothing out there? He liked to believe the latter.
Why do you allow your self to believe such things, Henry? Hyde makes his presence known for the first time since dinner ended.
"You know they're true. There are no others like us," Henry whispers back. Looking to the clock on the bedside table he sees that it is well into the night, or, better yet, early morning: one o'clock.
True, true, but then again, there is no one that would ever want to be like us. Who wants to be a monster? Hyde's words cause Jekyll to flinch.
"I am not a monster, I'm not the killer here!" his voice has now become harsh.
How can you say that? You know what is in the vial; you know what you will set free, every time you drink it! Hyde sneers at Henry. This is a thing that they have learned, when one is out the other can be seen in a reflection. For reasons unknown Henry decided to put a mirror by his bed. He never truly knew why. He felt that without it he wouldn't be complete, without the other half he wouldn't be complete. After all, they were bonded. If one were to die the other would follow.
"I don't have a choice really though, do I? If I it drink then you come, if I don't then you can easily hurt me. You are stronger than I am, I am not afraid to admit that. You being stronger simply means you can hurt me easier, force me to do things that you want, including take the potion," he tries to deny things, but he knows deep down that he's lying, and Hyde uses that to his advantage.
Henry, would I ever truly harm you? You have your uses, Jekyll shudders at the thought of simply being the traveling bag for such a thing, and along with those you have your flaws. You can cover for me, you can clean up messes well, but if you die then I die, and we wouldn't want that now, would we?
Henry wants to yell 'Yes! That's exactly what we want' he wants to admit it all, but he knows that doing such a thing would only give Hyde reason to hurt him further.
Come Henry, I hate it when we fight! Why can't we get along? He seems so truthful that Jekyll wants to believe him, but knows better.
"You know why!" his voice is more harsh then he meant to be. He fights, but knows better than to get Hyde mad.
And why is that? Because I have a spine to kill people, I have the guts to go up to those you simply watch from a distance and you don't? Henry knows he's lost, Hyde is angry, and always gets his way in situations like this.
"Please, stop," Henry turns from the mirror, but feels Hyde behind him any ways.
Stop what? Hyde challenges. Henry remains silent.
These are the times that Henry thinks back. He thinks of what it would be like if he had never experimented, never created Hyde. He sees a life that is split. Lonely, but empty.
Hyde grabs Henry's shoulder and spins him around, Are you afraid of me, or didn't you hear me?
Henry swallows, "I want to stop fighting."
He's sweating, the drops trickling down from his forehead, to the tip of his nose; from the back of his neck, to his shirt; everywhere he feels himself shivering, shaking in fear.
Hyde's grip relaxes and his gaze softens. Henry, you're right, we can't keep doing this.
He always says that, and Henry always listens. Every time they fight it ends up being the same thing, but it's like the nighttime darkness, some things can never change, and this was one of them.
Hyde gently moves his hand to Henry's cheek, and Henry leans into the small show of love. Yes, love. They must love each other, for a person who does not acknowledge oneself and a person who does not love something about them truly have nothing to live for. In this case, Hyde loves Jekyll, and Jekyll loves Hyde, for even through their differences they have helped each other, and they must share the pain of the other. While Hyde must deal with Henry's emotional stress, Henry must deal with Hyde's physical. Every time Henry changes back he must not only deal with what Hyde has done, but also what injuries he has gotten in doing his chore. Henry has nursed everything from broken ribs to gashes that went across his entire back, and through it all Hyde helped, with what little he could.
Henry slowly moves backwards, out of the slight embrace, and leans against the pillow. Exhaustion has started to take over. He yawns and Hyde moves toward him again, slowly, for currently he know Jekyll has some harsh injuries, compliments of the last little task the League had to take care of.
As Jekyll slowly loses his battle to stay awake he can hear Hyde whisper, Goodnight, Henry. I love you always, before the battle ends, him losing.
That night Henry slept his restless sleep, and knew in the morning that everything would be exactly the same the next night, just like every other night, and that's exactly what he wanted.
a/n: please reivew!!!!