Suddenly Lanyon joined them, put a hand on the lawyer's shoulder and looked at him sombrely.

But Utterson was surprised to see a hint of determination in his old friend's eyes.

"Gabriel, where does Hyde live?"

The black-haired man was a little confused, but gave him the address.

Lanyon's expression turned grim. "You stay here with him. I'll be back soon."

...

Hastie Lanyon was a man on a mission.

Normally not even an army would have convinced him to set foot into Soho (or any of the poorer districts for that matter – he just wasn't as daring as Utterson). But now his dearest friend was threatening to succumb to his illness and depression and like hell he would let that happen.

So here he was: standing in front of a shoddy building that really didn't suit the alter ego of a wealthy, well-respected man.

Did Hyde choose that thing himself?, he wondered. Then he rang the bell.

The door was opened by an evil-looking woman (Lanyon repressed the urge to shudder). She was quite polite, but that didn't matter now.

"Do forgive the early intrusion, Madam. But is Mr. Hyde home? I'm a doctor", he added, when her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I was sent to check on him." A lie, but who cared.

She nodded. "Come upstairs. Your presence is very convenient. Master Hyde is currently unwell."

There was no care or worry in her voice. Probably he mattered nothing more to her than as a source of revenue. That filled him with disgust.

He followed her upstairs, scared of what might await him. She unlocked the door and went back downstairs, leaving him alone.

Upon entering Hyde's flat, he was surprised by how tidy it was and how tastefully furnished.

If he hadn't known better, he would have thought that this was Jekyll's taste.

But the bookshelves were filled with books about higher mathematics, medicine, a few horror novels and books in foreign languages (not the kind of literature Jekyll read in private). There were lots of paintings on the walls, mostly aquarelles or water coloured. And there was a piano in a corner, much to Lanyon's surprise. He hadn't pinned Hyde to be so artistically inclined.

Then he remembered the reason for his visit and called the brunette's name.

It took several calls, before he received a response.

"Lanyon?"

Hyde appeared in the door to the bedroom. "What are you doing here?"

Lanyon stared at the tiny brunette. "Before I answer that question, I have one for you: is there a good reason why you're dressed like a fancy woman?!"

Hyde was wearing nothing but a chemise, women's underwear, a tight-laced corset and make-up. He even had shaved his whole body and his hair was done up! What the hell?!

The brunette frowned. "Don't make that face, Lanyon. How do you think I'm earning the money to compensate my creator dearest?!", he spat.

Lanyon's amber eye twitched and he resisted the urge to slap him.

That little rascal had decided to make his own money, so he could give Jekyll his back, by …?!

He took a deep breath.

"I think I need to sit down, before I do something I regret", he muttered.

Hyde lifted an eyebrow, but pointed to a couch, saying: "Make yourself comfortable. I'll fix us some tea."

Lanyon complied, but unwillingly; he had no time for this!

But for the moment, his curiosity got the better of him. He had questions that needed to be answered.

Hyde returned to the living room ten minutes later with a tea set.

"I hope you don't mind green tea too much. Earl Grey isn't my thing and I don't have valerian."

He poured him and himself a cup and mixed a few drops out of two flasks into his own tea.

Lanyon read the description on the flasks and frowned.

Laudanum and a remedy against nausea?

Now that he was looking closer, he noticed that Hyde did indeed look a bit sick and there were bruises on his arms. Lanyon was pretty certain, that it wasn't just the arms. And was that a bitemark at the side of his neck? At least it didn't look inflamed or even infected.

"What is the meaning of this?", the hoary doctor demanded to know. "How the fuck – pardon my French – did this happen?"

The brunette avoided his eyes.

...

After leaving Jekyll behind, he was feeling horrible and needed to distract himself.

A good night of getting completely plastered would do him a world of good.

But it was still morning, most people were still at work and the streets were oddly quiet. The young man had never liked the quiet before. Maybe he would go to Whitechapel and pay Alma a visit. Surely she would be home. She had no job of her, as she lived off Lady Summers' pension and bet winnings. She would be able to cheer him up.

"Oi, you there!"

Hyde blinked and looked around.

He saw no Judy around that could have been meant. But a smirking, well-dressed, middle-aged man was approaching him with a broad smirk. And from the way he smirked, it was obvious what he wanted. Suddenly Hyde felt intense disgust. Was that what the whores in the club felt like with their clients?

"You're looking bored, boy. Wanna have a good time?"

The brunette knew exactly what the man was getting at. He also knew that the man definitely didn't think that he was sixteen or older. His disgust intensified and he really wanted to kill him. But the man looked like he was rich – killing him would draw attention. He didn't want to repeat the mistake he nearly had made with Danvers Carew.

"Fuck off, you old geezer! Get yourself a fucktoy your own age!", he snapped and walked away.

"Oh, but I will give you fifty Guinees! What do you say to that?"

Hyde stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to the stranger. "Do you even have that much money on you? If yes, then you're an idiot! No one in their right mind walks around with large sums in Soho and announces it out loud. If no, then don't lie. This is a bad place to be unable to pay your fees. Speaking from experience."

Then he went further away.

That bloke wouldn't get lucky with him. Hyde had been used before and was determined to never let it happen again – especially not with a stranger. Hah! The only man who was allowed to touch him that way was-

The brunette clenched his jaw, before turning back around.

"Excuse me, Gov'nor!"

The middle-aged man, who had been about to leave himself, stopped.

Hyde swallowed his disgust, put on his sweetest smile and strolled up to him seductively.

Using his sultriest purr, he addressed him: "I have been quite rude, but I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I was so overrun with the spleen, that I completely forgot my manners! Does your offer still stand, good Sir?"

The man smirked victoriously.

...

When Hyde was finished, he was shaking like a leaf and hyperventilating, no thanks to his tight-laced corset.

Lanyon was petting his shoulder and back in soothing strokes and cooing gentle words into his ears. But then the brunette began to dig his sharp fingernails into his arms.

The hoary doctor seized his hands. "Stop that! Self-harm is no solution!"

Hyde glowered at him. "That's coming from you? Don't think I don't know about how you used to stick your fingers down your throat and tried to puke yourself thinner! … I'm sorry", he added regretfully.

"It's fine", Lanyon assured him, even though that jab at his own self-loathing was painful indeed. "You're hurting and it is true, after all. Here, let me open that for you", he offered and Hyde turned around to allow him to loosen his corset. Once the blasted thing was off, the small brunette was finally able to breathe and collapsed onto his companion.

Without the corset to hold everything in place, the chemise slipped and revealed bruises and scratches all over Hyde's upper body.

"Your clients don't know the meaning of 'gentle', do they?", Lanyon remarked deadpan.

"Nay", the brunette replied, equally deadpan. "But neither do I, so I deserve it."

"No one deserves this", the older man contradicted. "How about you lie down for a bit and I will see, if I can find you some proper clothes? I will not have you dressed like a whore around me."

"Why not?", the younger man asked drily, "That's exactly what I am after all, and it's not like you would ever get hot and bothered by it – or anything for that matter."

Lanyon saved himself a snide remark and went to the room where the brunette just had come from. It was just as messy as expected.

He tidied up, before going through the wardrobe and picking out some nice things. Finally he had folded them nicely and put them onto a chair next to the bed.

Hyde appeared in the door frame and frowned at the remaining chaos.

"Normally I'm not that messy", he told him. "But my last client left just a few minutes before you arrived."

He flung himself onto his bed and lay on his stomach.

Lanyon grimaced. "No wonder you were looking like you're about to puke. Jesus Christ, what are you doing to yourself? What are they doing to you? That's a rhetorical question", he added, when Hyde glared at him.

The brunette groaned in annoyance, before stating: "You still haven't answered my question, Lanyon. Why are you here? Surely you didn't come to just check on me, did you?"

"Yes and no", the doctor admitted. "I was worried about you, that is really true. But my main reason for coming here is another."

Hyde rolled onto his back to look at him. "Well, what is it?", he demanded to know.

Time to let the cat out of the sack.

"Hyde, you have to come back. Before you say no, hear me out!", Lanyon pleaded, when Hyde began to frown.

The young man sat up. "I am listening."

So Lanyon cupped his face to force eye-contact and began: "I think it won't surprise you, but it's about Jekyll. He's not doing well … no, that's an utter understatement. He is physically suffering from heartbreak. He's gravely ill, because he's fallen into the deepest depression in the history of the UK – I'm not even exaggerating! He's wasting away, doesn't eat, locks himself in and … goddammit! If this keeps going, he will die within weeks! Listen, I know that he hurt you, better than anyone. I know how you're feeling right now, I really do! But Henry needs you. He loves you. He cannot live without you. Please come back."

For an agonisingly long time, Hyde said nothing. Only his mouth opened and closed, like that of a fish. Lanyon let go of his face and the brunette promptly turned his back to him.

First he wanted to snap at him for that rudeness, but then the younger started to sob.

"Edward?!"

"I can't come back!", Hyde whimpered. "I can't … even if I wanted to … how can I show my face, now that I am this!" He pointed at himself and his attire. "Look at me! I'm nothing! Just another lowlife and a whore, who-"

But the older man stroked his arm soothingly. "No. You're none of those things. You're Edward Hyde, a young man with a sharp mind, with character and a perspective that waits for you to seize it. As long as you're there."

"I broke the promise!", the brunette wailed, "I promised him that I always would be with him … for better and for worse … that I would never leave him. And now …"

Lanyon felt his heart crack.

Hyde was just as miserable as Jekyll, he just coped with it differently. His appearance alone was a picture of misery: he too couldn't have been eating much. His backbones were clearly visible and his cheekbones more prominent than usual.

"But isn't that just one more reason to go back? You two belong together, you know that. You have no idea, just how much he's pining for you. How much he loves you. You love him too, don't you? You can't say it, but you do."

The brunette just sobbed harder.

That was pretty much all the reaction the older man needed.

He opened his arms invitingly and within less than a second, he found himself with an armful of emaciated boy, bawling into his chest.

Poor child … and he's not even 21 years old.

"There, there. Let it all out."

...

"Feeling better?", he asked sympathetically, when Hyde had finally stopped crying.

The brunette chuckled hoarsely: "I still feel like I'm going to puke."

Lanyon frowned. "That tonic from earlier didn't work?"

"Oh, it does. I'm just in a bad state and that stuff needs a while to work."

The hoary doctor pointed at he silken collar Hyde was wearing around his neck. "What is this?"

Hyde sighed and took it off.

The doctor's mismatched eyes widened at the bruises.

"Did your last client do that?"

"Yeah … most of them do. And most of them think I'm underage too."

"Disgusting."

"Yep."

Lanyon frowned. "Well, this will end now. We're going back and everything will be-"

"I didn't say that I would come back to him", Hyde cut him off.

First the hoary doctor gaped at him. But then he took his pince-nez off, wiped it, put it back on and smiled amiably. "Oh, but you will."

"Because you say so?", was the deadpan retort.

"Exactly", Lanyon confirmed sweetly. "You want to and even if you didn't, I would drag you all the way back to West End, to save my dear friend. I'm not taking no for an answer."

Hyde tilted his head in surprise. Then he laughed: "You have quite some nerve! Good thing I do want to."

Lanyon smirked triumphantly.

"But … can I sleep for fifteen or thirty minutes? I'm just so exhausted …"

The doctor's smirk softened into a smile. "Sure. I'll wake you in half an hour. And then you'll put on some nice clothes, we'll go back and you won't have to humiliate yourself like that ever again."

"Mhm", Hyde mumbled tiredly and closed his eyes. "I hope these blokes catch the French pox."

"I'm pretty sure they will sooner or later", the other grumbled sourly.