A/N: This isn't really dark. It was written as a holiday present to a friend on lj, but it inspired the next chapter soo...Yeah. And the bolded section are Hyde's thoughts to Jekyll. Enjoy!

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They had been in Hong Kong for two months tracking the intricate world of an opium king-pin and psychopathic mad man labelled the "Devil Doctor" by London intelligence. Half their informants in Asia had sworn Fu Manchu was dead, killed by long time enemy and renegade commissioner Sir Denis Nayland Smith. The other half refused to speak at all, offering dire warnings and drugged tea in lieu of cold hard facts or solid evidence to the Si-Fan, no matter how many conversations they inevitably had with Edward or Nemo's sword. Cover had been blown one evening at the British Embassy where Skinner was surprisingly detected by the Devil's daughter Fah Lo Suee—elegant lady of high society and deadly warrior in her own right—prompting suspicion that one Sanderson Reed had already made contact with the Oriental underworld.

Everyone had been in a prickly disposition since then, interaction on the Nautilus brought to a stand still except for Skinner's periodic retching and vocalized fears that Miss Fitzgerald would smell 'that rice lovin' harpy' all over him, much to the irritation of the rest of the crew. The London docks had been a welcome sight if just to allow a physical separation from everyone else, but Jekyll—seeing Mrs. Harker's complete and utter abhorrence at hunting for two months of their lives only to have everything go to pot through the violent hysterics of a young woman—knew a distraction of some sort was in order.

I can distract her Henry. Oh yes, I think Mina would take well to my methods of distraction.

Henry needed a break as well but unfortunately he was permanently closeted with his main irritant and separation was impossible. Off to Clerkenwell it was then, in hopes of quiet relaxation and refreshment. And the fact that it would only be he and Mrs. Harker sharing a booth and pleasant conversation…well no one could blame Henry for the nervous smile creeping up his face. Mina was a remarkable woman and he felt that they had grown closer in the time following Mongolia. Even if Edward had been the visible personality for most of the last two months.

Sitting across from the auburn haired vampire a mere hour after disembarking from the Nautilus, Henry Jekyll could admit that the evening wasn't going as well as he would have liked. The coffee house—like all the coffee houses on Clerkenwell this time of night—was filled with clerks, city brokers, and labourers either beginning or finishing the night with a drink and a newspaper. There was no private booth but only two stiff-backed chairs and a small round table to rest upon, and the acrid scent of sweat intermingled with the bitter coffee flavour permanently imbedded into the floorboards and curtains. A small plate of powdered pastries rested between them along with an awkward silence that seemed claustrophobic amidst the cheerful background noise.

"Would you care for something else to drink?" Henry made a motion to the untouched cup of cream-filled coffee sitting in front of the beautiful chemist. Mina's bright blue eyes fell upon Henry and she tilted her head as if considering a piece of dust under her microscope.

"I am still trying to fathom why you brought me here Doctor." Her voice was low and aloof like always, and—like always—as cold as the frost on Parliament's steps. "We have been through an incredibly tiring ordeal, the last two weeks near unbearable...and the moment we arrive home you decide the best form of entertainment would be a crowded coffee house and nourishment of which only you can partake?"

Henry almost choked on a doughy, sugared confection.

Yes Henry. I can see you know exactly what our lady wants.

"M-my a-a-apologies Mina," Jekyll brought a napkin across his mouth and chin, controlling the volume of his voice. "Yes, of course. How terribly insensitive of me." Desserts. Good God man, she never ate desserts, her new biology unable to process the heavy sugars or wheat. The coffee…Oh. The waiter had made them both the same, hers filled with the dairy Henry liked so much but which Mina couldn't stand. "...I suppose you're hungry then." Mina raised an eyebrow, her lips thinning, and then reached up to gently pull the black veil of her hat back down.

"I think it would be wise if I went home now. There are things I need to check on."

She didn't mean the Nautilus and Henry had to place his hands in his lap lest Edward suddenly have an urge to crush the coffee cup.

"Yes. Of course."

Two weeks later Jekyll called upon Mrs. Harker again. The Times was raving over a revival being shown at the Lyric Theatre, and would she be so gracious as to attend a performance with him? She agreed, awing him with a plain yet insofar unseen velvet and tulle ensemble, accepting his arm as easily as if he were Nemo or the Boy. There was a lightness around Mina's features and Henry knew she was happy to see him.

And I know we're happy to see her Henry. If you move your hand just a bit I'm sure you can feel some of hers—

High balcony seating of course. It wouldn't do to have members of Jekyll's former circle recognize the exiled murderer. She was complacent as he offered to take her coat, warm under his fingers as he helped her with the thick material, and her dark locks gleamed like fire in the gas light. Jekyll scolded himself for wishing she had worn it down and free-flowing like so many nights upon the Atlantic Ocean—that would be unsuitable for a woman of her years, not to mention a widow—and threw another mental lock on Hyde's mouth as he vigorously suggested that up here in the dark who would see if some hair or pants came down.

As the show progressed Henry got a sneaking suspicion that Mina was probably not enjoying herself. The scenery was fine, the costumes and acting more than passably good, but for a woman of her disposition he was certain the plot left something to be desired: a woman the pawn between a bet with two upper class gentlemen; a transformation of sorts designed by said men to make the street urchin into a respectable English lady. Mina's suffragist sensibilities were surely on alert. And Henry wouldn't doubt it was bringing up rather dreadful memories of her own transformation from contented chemist to creature of the night.

The lightness was gone as the curtain's fell. She didn't wait for an offer of assistance with her coat nor did Mina take his arm as they exited the theatre.

"Did you not enjoy the performance?" he asked lamely to break another awkward silence he should have gotten used to already.

"I've seen it before." Henry swallowed at her tone, an underlying anger that called to Edward who would have massacred the entire city at her bidding.

"Oh? With your...ah Mister Har—"

"With Dorian. I wasn't fond of it then either."

There was nothing to say to that except to fervently wish the Lyric would combust in a sea of ash and flame and cover up the horrid redness creeping up his throat.

Another week passed before what remained of the League was granted a meeting with Mycroft Holmes, head of London's Secret Service, and where they had the dubious honour of meeting one fit to be tide Sir Denis Nayland Smith and his insufferable hanger-on Petrie. There was no room for Skinner, himself, or even Holmes to offer their two shillings as Mrs. Harker and the Captain immediately fell into a heated argument with the two renegades; blame, incompetence, and threats were thrown back and forth before everyone turned to Skinner—the obvious bungler of the Hong Kong campaign—who was surreptitiously lightening Holmes' brandy tray. It was only when the younger and infinitely smug Smith aggressively clenched his fists and moved toward Mina that Edward decided enough was enough.

Seated in another room an hour later, a bullet hole in his forearm, tattered trousers tight around his now gigantic thighs, and the constant sound of bickering coming from the disarrayed main office, it was Jekyll's turn to remain silent while Hyde revelled in the chemist's ministrations. She removed the metal with her usual cool annoyance, not mentioning the assurance of pain because he was used to it and intelligent enough to know that pointed objects under ones flesh would undoubtedly cause a twinge.

"While I can appreciate the sentiment Edward," Mina spoke up, wiping her hands on Henry's destroyed shirt, "I hope you realize now that it was unwarranted and entirely unnecessary."

"Afraid I broke the skinny ponce's leg?" He grinned down at her widely. Mina raised her eyebrow but continued placing the bloodied medical instruments into a shallow pan of hot water for later sterilization. Both Edward and Henry were enamoured of the vampire's hands. When she wished it Mrs. Harker could have a delicate touch, fingers that manipulated tiny vials and caustic powders—home to nails that could snatch out a man's jugular.

"I'm concerned," she took up a roll of gauze, ready to wrap his large muscle, "that the young commissioner will assume all the women of our little organization are useless in physical combat." Mina gestured for Edward to raise his arm. "I'm concerned that he will use this demonstration of gentlemanly temper to try and convince Mycroft that our presence is unacceptable passed the Indian border." Hyde almost laughed at her silence as his uninjured limb quickly came up to seat her on his lap. She resumed bandaging.

"Ah, Mina," he moved one large thumb along her back, just above the waistband of her prim black skirt. "If it concerns you so much, you and I could always go back to that opium infestation. I'm sure you could sew me a proper travelling suit." When she slowly turned her head towards his, a smile appearing for the span of two seconds in the corner of her mouth, Edward gave a great laugh and released her.

"No one who looked at you would say you were useless in physical—"

"That's quite enough Edward."

They still hadn't retuned to the Pacific Rim a month later and it took that long before Henry was able to choreograph virtually a night alone on the Nautilus. This meant Rodney was having a night home with Miss Fitzgerald and that Captain Nemo was off somewhere with Skinner's red-haired harridan sister Kitty. As for Tom…well Jekyll had never been sorry that the American had gone home to pursue other possible agencies.

He had set up a table in the dining room—nothing elaborate or gaudy or telling of romantic sentimentality that a woman of Mina's worldliness would find pathetic or humorous. Good God, the very thought of her looking at his...his attempt and raising one of those perfect eyebrows and snickering made Henry's skin crawl and stomach churn. It almost made him second-guess the silverware, the Irish linen tablecloth, but his own upbringing shuddered at the thought. Mrs. Harker, first and foremost, was a lady. And a lady deserved…far more than he could ever offer.

When she sat down in her pressed blouse and gold-rimmed spectacles Henry didn't know what to think. Her blue eyes were widened slightly, moving along the table platters and electrical lights, the crisp napkins and wine glasses. Impressed? Shocked? Disgusted? Mina's mouth was motionless.

But her heart's beating like a cornered rabbit. Sweet music majesty, well done Henry. You've moved the unmoveable.

But Jekyll wasn't about to take Edward's word on it.

She complimented his choice of menu—although her portion was decidedly rarer than his—as well as his new tie clip, which he knew she recognized as a small sign of his previous life's vanity. Would she straighten it if it were crooked?

Henry wasn't watching as she brought her wine glass to her lips for the first time, engrossed as he was in his own meal, but the tiny gasp—no more than a puff of air—quickly brought Henry's gaze up. Those pink slips of flesh were parted, her eyes boring into his across the table, over the glass. Jekyll sat back rather stiffly, confused. She made to put the glass down but brought it back to her mouth, a pinched line forming between her eyes as she ever so slowly, carefully, took one sip of the deep red liquid into her mouth.

"It's..." she swallowed, eyelashes giving a vague flutter that left him breathless. "It's you." Jekyll's gaze briefly travelled down to his freshly bandaged arm, covered by a starched shirt and dinner jacket, and lowered his fork and knife.

"Yes I—I can only imagine how difficult it is—how difficult it is in your position..." Damn, he was becoming flustered. "I hope you realize I-I-I meant no offence. I was simply trying..." Oh no, no she had pushed back her chair. Could he save this? Was there a way to save this?! "Mrs. Harker—Mina. I swear I—"

She stood over him, auburn hair in another precise bun near the top of her head and eyes in which he would willingly remain lost, and then ever so gently leaned over and place a kiss upon the damp skin of his brow—her hand firm on his shoulder and sweet lips on his flesh. She pulled back far too soon, if not a look of awe then a lessening of her cool bearing apparent as she returned to her seat.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."