"I do have to admit, she is quite the piece of work," Doctor Hastie Lanyon huffed, earning a hearty chuckle from his good friend and associate Doctor Henry Jekyll.
"Hah… Well, you know Lady Harrow. Go easy on the woman, will you, Hastie? Pardon my bluntness, but the old lady is practically senile!"
Hastie smiled and shook his head. "Perhaps you're right, but the talk of the 'aliens inside of her brain' is getting awfully old, don't you think? I'm not a god-damned psychiatrist, I'm a physician!
"And a bloody terrible one at that!" Mr John Utterson added, earning himself a glare and a playful punch in the shoulder from the doctor.
The men's warm laughs and playful tauntings filled the quiet London street, the stars twinkling silently above them. All seemed well in the world to the three; a nice, quiet walk through the streets of London with their best buddies was all that they needed.
"I believe this is where we part ways, gentlemen," Hastie sighed as they reached a street corner. Henry shook his head as he cleared himself from the small daze he was in. He looked up at his surroundings and had realized they were practically standing on his front doorstep. The men would frequently end their strolls here since it was about equidistant from both Utterson and Lanyon's homes, while conveniently being right in front of Jekyll's.
"Would you look at that?" John said, placing his hands on his hips. "It is indeed."
Lanyon squeezed between the other two and swung an arm over each shoulder.
"That was quite a night, huh, gentlemen? Fancy we do this again sometime?"
"That would be great, wouldn't it, Henry?" Utterson responded, looking over to him.
Henry laughed gently. "I suppose it would." He smiled and looked down towards the brick sidewalk.
"Thank you, John, Hastie. Today's activities were very kind of you."
"It was my pleasure, Doctor Jekyll," Lanyon said dramatically, exaggerating a bow and tipping his hat. John nodded.
"If you'll excuse me, I must be on my way now," Hastie said, flipping said hat back onto his head. "Good evening, John. Henry." They waved as Lanyon turned and left. Utterson and Jekyll smiled and said their goodbyes, shaking hands before departing.
"Oh, Henry?" John paused, looking back over his shoulder with a warm smile. "Get some rest for me, alright?"
His heart did a little jump at the sudden sincerity. Henry stared for a few long seconds before blinking hard and returning the smile.
"Goodnight, John."
Gently tapping the door closed with his shoe, he sighed and pushed his wire-framed glasses a little higher up on his nose. He was relieved to finally be home after such a long and stressful day.
He was surprised that nobody was awake to see him come home at this embarrassingly late hour. It wasn't uncommon for him to come home from outings with his friends, but they never ran as late as this one had. He pulled his keyring from his coat pocket as he spun around to lock the door, the metal jingling being the only noise in the almost silent foyer.
Henry smiled a little at his accomplishment before turning around to be met suddenly by a very familiar old man with a very familiar expression on his face.
Henry jumped.
"Welcome home, sir."
"Ah, yes! Hello, Poole, good evening, good evening…" he said, slightly startled by the older man's presence.
"Did you have a nice evening? I trust you did, with Mr. Utterson and Dr. Lanyon," Poole smiled, tilting his head slightly. Henry chuckled.
"That we did, sir."
"May I take your coat for you?"
"Oh, no need." He waved his hand. Henry paused and his brow furrowed. "What are you doing awake, anyways, Poole? It's awfully late. Surely you haven't been waiting all this time for me to return?" Poole opened his mouth to respond but stopped.
"It's possible I have been…"
"Oh, goodness," Henry sighed, shaking his head. "I deeply appreciate it, but you do know you don't need to do that?"
"I'm aware, Henry, but it soothes this old soul to know that you get home safe," the butler said with a hearty chuckle that Henry couldn't help but smile at.
"Well," he said as he brushed a few strands of hair back, "now that you do, go get some sleep. Don't try to get out of it this time, it's an order."
He laughed. "Will do, sir. Good night, Jekyll."
"Good night, Poole."
He hadn't even realized he was still smiling until the door to his office clicked shut behind him. Almost immediately it dropped, being replaced by an exhausted frown. It was tiring, acting like that all the time, keeping up the facade of a perfect gentleman. He sighed and held his head in his hands.
"Good lord, what am I going to do with myself?" he muttered, tugging at the wrinkled satin ribbon that held back his hair. It fell over his shoulders as he let it go, relaxed and loose, returning to its natural position after a long day of being held up. He brushed through it gently with his fingers and gazed at a nearby mirror.
Exhausted amber eyes stared back at him. He hadn't realized how much his lack of sleep had been affecting his appearance until now. His face was pale and thin, framed by his unkempt auburn hair, and two dark bags hung under his eyes, which were distant and hollow and begging for rest. He rubbed at them, resting his head in his other hand.
He had a lot of work to do.
"And you are?"
"Er, Victoria Frankenstein, sir."
"A pleasure, Miss Frankenstein."
"Oh," Victoria blushed as she waved a hand. "I must thank you for meeting with me on such short notice, Doctor Jekyll."
"It was no problem at all, really. Lanyon had mentioned that a co-worker of his was interested in alchemy, and nothing could have gotten me more excited than the thought of sharing my passion with someone else," Henry chuckled, adjusting his glasses. He motioned towards an open door to his left. "Right. Shall we?"
"If you don't mind me asking, what might the purpose of these chemicals be?" said Henry, tilting his head as he rummaged through the drawer.
"Ah, well, it's a personal project, I suppose. I've spent my whole life studying physiology and the human body so I thought some experience with chemistry might be useful. I'm honestly surprised I hadn't thought about it sooner," she answered, playing with a curl of hair in slight embarrassment. There was a small silence as he continued searching for her requested chemicals, making a mental note to re-organize these cabinets when he had the chance.
"I see." He nodded, placing the six small vials on the desk in front of them with a small clink. "I'm working on... something of a personal project myself; something I'm very passionate about. The project has been ruminating in my mind for quite some time but I think I'm nearing the day of its actualization. It could be revolutionary if I succeed. I could shape the tomorrow of all mankind with-"
He stopped himself, his face flushing a slight pink. Frankenstein frowned, her brows furrowing, her eyes staring blankly ahead at the man.
"I…. apologize, I'm rambling. I wouldn't want to bore you with the details, that's not what you're here for, after all," he chuckled quietly, sliding the vials forward on the table towards her.
"It's quite alright. I can see the passion in your eyes when you speak of it, I understand the thrill," she responded, looking down at the chemicals. A moment of awkward silence filled the room as both scientists stared at them, unsure of how to continue.
"Say, Miss Frankenstein, might I ask you a strange question?"
She looked up curiously.
"If you had the opportunity to change your own life, to do anything you could possibly want, free of worry, would you?"
Victoria tilted her head slightly, pursing her lips in thought.
"No," she said simply. Henry blinked. He met her gaze.
"Even if you were to face no consequences for what you might do? Sans social or legal repercussions?"
Her face darkened. "No, sir, I wouldn't. I can't say that I believe in actions without consequences." She shook her head in an attempt to clear the telling expression from her face. "Not anymore," she added quietly. She cleared her throat.
"Thank you, again, for lending me these, and especially on such short notice. I truly appreciate it," Victoria said, rising from her chair and brushing her skirt off. She placed the glasses into a small leather pouch she carried around her waist and fastened it closed.
"Of course. Any friend of Doctor Lanyon is a friend of mine." He smiled. Victoria bowed her head and turned to leave, her curly coconut brown hair bouncing as she walked.
"Oh, Doctor Jekyll, sir?" she said, pausing in the doorway. "About your personal project?"
"Yes?"
"Don't be rash," she said with a strange and sudden firmness. "It's a decision you'll have to live with for the rest of your life. Don't make the same mistake I did."
With a final small wave over the shoulder, she was gone.
He thought long and hard about what she had meant that day. He wondered why she cautioned him against proceeding, and why there was a sad darkness in her eyes when she had done so.
Victoria's words echoed in his head, coated in a thick feeling of self-doubt. Why? Why did they torment him so, drowning out any coherent and rational thought he tried to have? Why couldn't he focus on the task at hand? He shook his head, hoping to shake the thoughts loose.
Throwing his tailcoat over the back of a nearby chair, Henry threw open a desk drawer, pulling out various salts and powders and chemicals. Turning to his right, he flipped open a small, hand-bound leather journal, grabbed a quill from a nearby inkwell, and began to write.
September 13th, 11:56 PM.
I have started this alone, and by the god-damned words of the Board of Governors, I must finish this alone. Experimentation cannot wait any longer; I must do this tonight. I have decided that I am to be the subject of my experiment, and I am fully aware of the risks of such a decision. I need to ignore my doubts, my worries, and my fears. I will succeed. I must succeed for the betterment of all mankind.
He laid the pen down on the paper and took a deep breath.
Turning around, he faced the desk filled with glass beakers and various chemical salts and powders. Drawing a match from his coat pocket, he lit the bunsen burner sitting in front of him. He carefully placed a beaker filled with a liquid on top of the flame, stirring in some salts as it boiled. He continued the process until the chemical was a pale red color. He quickly shut off the burner and poured the liquid into another beaker.
Staring at the chemical, he sighed. The final step was to add the last bit of salt. He was almost there. Smiling grimly, he poured. The liquid almost immediately turned to a deep purple color, clouds of color swirling around as the salt began to dissolve. A small puff of gas escaped as the salt had touched the surface of the chemical, he noted. That was a new development.
Jekyll thought back to the day he stood before the Board. He presented his theory, a theory that man was not truly one, but two. A theory that said good and evil could be separated, and that evil could be vanquished forever. He presented his thoughts and feelings, his dreams of a new world, months worth of painstaking research and testing laid out in front of their eyes, and yet… they had the nerve to deny him. Who were they to judge what he was doing? They knew nothing of the endless possibilities he had seen. They were damning the future of the human race to an eternity of suffering, forever tormented by the evil that lived inside of them all.
He gingerly picked up the vial and held it up to the pale moonlight, it refracting and shining through, casting a pale purple light on his hand and face. Jekyll would have been in awe at the beautiful display if the crushing fear of what he was about to do wasn't weighing down on him.
It's not that difficult. All you have to do is swallow. He thought, staring into the liquid with worried eyes.
But what if something goes wrong? What if this is just another fluke?
No, no. It won't be.
It couldn't be.
Damn all the odds, this was the moment.
Henry swallowed hard and closed his eyes.
He did the only thing left to do.
He drank.
He gagged almost immediately. Henry hadn't expected it to taste as alcoholic as it did. It was cold like mint but hot like spice at the same time - the feelings lingering in his mouth and his throat long after the chemical had slid down. Warmth made its way out from the pit of his stomach where it had settled; strangely, it was comforting. Henry waited a few moments before recording the immediate effects in his notebook.
11:58 PM.
Consumed 10 centilitres of formula HJ-7. Salty. Bitter taste. Stings the tongue. Surprisingly alcoholic in nature. Heat spreading strongly through my veins; I am unsure if this is because of the temperature of the formula or the chemicals themselves. Further experimentation needed.
He paused to take note of his symptoms and couldn't help but let a smile onto his face. He let out a triumphant laugh at his imminent success and turned around to his journal once more as he added:
A slight feeling of euphoria. Lightheadedness. No noticeable behavioural differences.
He paused and read that last line over again, frowning. How was he to know definitively that nothing had changed about his behaviour? How had the thought slipped his mind? Henry silently cursed himself. He should have waited longer. He could have hired an assistant or simply have brought somebody in to verify the validity of these notes from an outside perspective. Hell, even the feeling of euphoria could've been considered a change and he had completely overlooked it as one.
He didn't have long to feel angry at himself before the giddy feeling of seeing results rushed back. The smile found its way back onto his face. He had done it. He would show them they were wrong and that he had been right all along. He would not fall.
Then he noticed the pain.
It was a hollow feeling he hadn't even realized was there. It was like the ache of an empty stomach, a nuisance of a pain. The more he thought about it the more it evolved into a stabbing pain in his gut. He put his hands out and leaned onto his desk to stabilize himself as he tried to take slow, deep breaths. Each inhalation seemed to worsen it.
Slight panic beginning to form at the edges of his mind, he picked up the quill once more.
Sudden pain in the gut, growing stronger by the second. Beginning to feel cold and clammy. Nothing too alarming, however. Antitoxin is at the ready if needed.
He glanced at said antitoxin. The clear liquid sat to his left in a small uncorked vial. He swallowed hard. He hoped to God that he didn't have to use it tonight, or ever, but he would rather have been safe than sorry if a situation were to arise.
All this pain, he thought, was just the Merlot he had earlier. His stomach never was the best when it came to alcohol, and he was always bound to have an ache after consuming some. That's all it was, he decided. Nothing to worry about…
White-hot pain tore through his body. He stifled a shout, stumbling backwards away from the table. One hand flew to his stomach, the other to his mouth.
Okay.
This was definitely something to worry about.
He started towards the antitoxin.
Oops.
In between his rush to grab the vial and his futile attempt to see through his rapidly-blurring vision, he whacked it off the table instead. It shattered on the tile below with a sharp crack.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God!
He was going to die, wasn't he? He was going to die on the floor of his dusty old office, alone and scared. And he had done this to himself. He had gone against the advice of everyone he had asked; Frankenstein's, Poole's, The Board's, his closest friends'.
Good God, Hastie and John. What would they think of him when they found out he had ignored their warnings? What would they say about him when they found his body on the floor of his own lab, dead by poisoning due to his own reckless behavior and lack of foresight?
A strangled cry escaped his throat as another wave of pain crashed over him, blackness threatening the edges of his vision. Violent spasms took hold of his muscles and he curled inwards on himself, falling to his knees. Henry couldn't take it. Tears stung his eyes as he coughed, a warm liquid dripping out of his mouth. As it fell on his white sleeves he could easily make out the crimson red of blood.
All he could taste was iron and bile and all he could do was lay there and try not to scream. He writhed for what seemed like an eternity, every nerve in his body red hot and firing. It was the most intense agony he had ever felt.
And then, fading like a stain of breath upon a mirror, it stopped.
He lay there on the cold tile floor gasping for air, his hands clutching tightly at his hair. His own ragged breathing was the only thing he could hear in the otherwise silent room.
Slowly and carefully he pushed himself off the floor. Tangled hair damp with sweat and blood blocked his vision. He sat there for a moment simply breathing. He had almost died, and yet he realized….
His mind was completely clear.
Not even a hint of his previous anxieties remained. It was if his emotional slate had been wiped clean. He would have been upset with his apathy about almost dying if he hadn't felt so, well, apathetic.
Reaching a hand up, he pushed the tangled mass of hair out of his face and paused. His sleeve had slid down his arm. It had never done that before. He had his shirts fitted perfectly; that should have been impossible.
He turned his head towards his mirror and his breath caught in his throat.
The man in the mirror was not Henry Jekyll.
Henry Jekyll was clean-shaven, with bright amber eyes and neatly brushed brown hair. This man had messy, matted red hair, striking blue eyes, and a face covered in stubble. His shirt was two sizes too big and his waistcoat and cravat hung unbuttoned and untied respectively.
Gingerly, the man lifted a hand to his face. It was real. It was real and it was his.
His head was swimming. This was certainly an unexpected outcome. This wasn't supposed to happen; there must have been a miscalculation in the measurements, or an impurity in the ingredients, or-
He stopped himself. Those were the worries of Henry Jekyll. And he was not Henry Jekyll. At least, not anymore he wasn't, not physically. He smiled and all of the good doctor's worries and anxieties melted away. It felt as if a colossal weight had been lifted from his chest and he could finally breathe.
He felt like a new man.
And for the first time in his life…
He felt alive.