A/N: Based on "Someone Saved My Life Tonight" by Elton John. This is a very incomplete look at some of Hyde's emotions post-Season 8 as they fit within the context of the song and is, by all means, not as developed as one might like, but here it is nevertheless. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor have I ever pretended to own anything connected to That '70s Show or Elton John, so please don't sue me.
Someone Saved My Life Tonight
The condensation from the chilled glass bottle in my hand worked its way through my skin, making my fingers grow numb to match the rest of my body. Somewhere, in a distant world it seemed, Fez's voice rang out, lifting and twirling in its animated way. It was dark, almost pitch black out, as the clouds hid the glowing specks of fire so comforting to me. The wind howled and beat against the back door of the basement, making it rattle every now and again, but I only heard its echoes in the deep recesses of my mind, not really caring if a tornado suddenly happened to tear through the quiet, suburban streets of Point Place, not that I cared for much now, or ever.
And, as sudden as the gusts of wind came, so too did the formidable figure of a figure well known, a figure once loved. She complained about her hair and how it was frizzed from the muggy weather, about the old ladies at the hair salon. Every word made my crossed arms tighten and my grip on my beer bottle intensify as I registered every shallow sentiment behind every thinly-veiled superficial dig and remark. Funny how I could never quite tune her out as I could everyone and everything else.
But, it was not her ramblings on such things that bothered me, nor her over-exaggerations, it was her smile. Not that damned smile that made men melt, but that haughty, put-on smile, the smile that was her sunglasses. It was plastic, just like her emotions, just like her. Why could no one else tell? I used to think that that smile was a mask, a peppier form of Zen. I used to believe that the person she was with me was the true woman behind the girlish facade. I used to think a lot of things.
Now, I see her for what she is, nothing but a dominating princess. I had it right when I first met her, when I regarded her at face value and took her words and pretensions seriously. Why did I stop doing that? I can only guess it changed when I saw that smile disappear and the incessent chatter cease. It changed when she looked me in the eye and spoke of things I never thought crossed that cheerleader head of hers, when she shared such mature experiences while still looking so completely and utterly innocent. I wanted to protect that precious innocence like no one had ever cared to protect mine. Mostly though, I think that it changed when she released that actual smile of hers, and that she smiled it because of and for me.
It came to the point where I would crave seeing her, not being able to stay in a room with her for more than five minutes without touching her in some way. Constantly thinking about her, the way she smelled, what she would have said or thought. Nights were spent in similar darkness as now talking about anything and everything on her part, my side always a little restricted. All of this was something I had never experienced before and one day I woke up knowing that I loved her, such an alien emotion.
When she went to Chicago I followed her, planning to bring her back by any means necessary, small velvet box digging into my leg. She had other things on her mind. And, although the pain of seeing him come into her room like that, the betrayal, the devastation was horrific, nothing could compare to the thought of what I had almost done. I had almost willingly and happily spent the rest of my life with her. She might have thought that it was this ultimatum that brought it out in me, the fear of being abandoned and alone, but if anything it was the ultimatum that gave me the most doubts. While she thought it represented her determination to have me for eternity, I saw it as a symbol that she would leave me, that it was a possiblity when I thought it wasn't. If only she knew that I had bought that ring months before Chicago, being certain that in the years to come only the light in her mismatched eyes would outshine the sparkle of the diamond.
The night was a blur to me the moment it was over, but a few memories are as clear as day to me. I remember being red-eyed while I pressed the gas pedal as close to the floor of the Camino as possible. I remember almost hyperventilating until I finally relented and pulled to the side of the road. I remember having to stretch across the bench seat so I could violently retch into the ditch I had pulled into. I remember sobbing, crying like I had only done twice in my lifetime before. Knowing that it was over, and feeling all the waves of inferiority and abandonment crash against me again and again.
Like that night, I don't recall any particular moment after that sudden car stop. Coming back to Point Place was one of the hardest things I'd had to do. So many emotions tormented me that I couldn't be very surprised by the white heat that burned through me when I first saw Kelso. I hit him and wanted to do it more, but a voice in the back of my head told me to stop, show mercy. At the time, I couldn't understand it...but in the darkness of this prison of a room I think I've finally had my epiphany. I was grateful. I was grateful because in some twisted way by killing a part of me, he saved my life.
After that night I was never the same again. Returning to Point Place and the advent of my wife took a final toll on me, destroying whatever was left of my soul, filling me with absolute numbness. The old Steven was dead, and the new Hyde quickly took the reigns to salvage whatever he could. I didn't mind, it hurt less. Then again, I wasn't the only different one. All of my friends suffered existence-altering changes. While I could once count on them, they where undergoing a metamorphosis of their own. Fez becoming the lady's man. Kelso seeing himself mature and grow closer to his daughter. Donna becoming a shell of her former self. Forman disappearing when I needed him the most.
Sure, the wild antics never changed and we even found a replacement for Kelso and Forman when we had once failed years ago, but nothing was the same, nothing resembled anything close to the same. And then the impossible happened. Fez became her long lost prince and she became a queen. I guess a knight in shining armor was too lowly for her now. She clung to the materialistic ways of her youth, demanding presents and money, looking down on everyone, blaming me for all the injustices of her life. Didn't she realize? Couldn't she see? I would have walked head on into the deep end of a river for her. Instead she became a product of her pretentious social scene and I found myself having trouble breathing.
Now, sitting here, finishing the rest of my beer and staring down the occupants of the room, I realize that Kelso did in fact save my life. Saved me from giving into her, from becoming imprisoned in an unhappy marriage and life with such a shallow child. Because of Kelso I was free, free from repeating the mistakes of my parents. She had clipped my wings and Kelso had mended them. I don't need her, I can sleep with myself and be perfectly happy with that, hell if I haven't been alone for the majority of my life anyway.
So, I put down my beer and take one last sweeping look around the basement before I retire to my small, dingy room and my tired worn-out cot. It isn't until then that I notice I'm alone in the basement, save for her. Considering it's four o'clock I really shouldn't be surprised, but I find myself unable to regulate my thoughts. She looks to me, fake plastic smile gone from her face, replaced with a more solemn expression. Her eyes look tired and her perfect posture is slumped and I can't help but think that she looks beautiful-real.
It's now or never. I must choose to get up and leave, waiting for the next day, or to say goodbye in my own way, seek closure. For the first time I hear Zeppelin coming from the radio, and get a boost of courage, thanking whatever's out there that music is still alive. Without waiting another moment, I look her in the eye and whisper a quiet and meaning-filled good night, a final good night.
In response, she looks confused for a few seconds. Then, just when I am about to leave it at that and go to my room, she smiles. It's the softest of smiles, so small and yet so endearing. Most of all, it's real, it reaches her eyes, and for a moment the breath is knocked out of me. "Good night," she whispers back.
I mutter a cold and harsh "whatever" in response and stalk off into my room, almost getting down on my knees to praise that that whole unholy union is over. I had gotten my closure, now I could find my peace. Kelso's mission had been completed and she had been extricated from my life. No more ultimatums or proposals of marriage, no more pain. I was safe to live the life I had always envisioned of the bare minimum and no meaning. I was satisfied.
Replacing my t-shirt and jeans with a light shirt and sweatpants, I settled into my cot and closed my eyes. Without cause her image danced behind my eyelids, her smile piercing my vision.
It's only then that I realize that my real savior had been Jackie.