Miyumi
Hold Thy Pistol Straight
A LXG fic
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and opening poem.
~*~
'Crush my heart into many pieces,
Weep among graves of the fallen.
Rip my throat with your fanged teeth,
And drink my blood in all its misery.
Deem me unworthy to share your touch,
Allow me to sing among the lost.
Let me stand beside a windowpane,
To cry out your cursed name.
Let me raise my hand up ever so high,
And hold thy pistol straight.'
~*~
He cradled it in his arms like a small child. A very small child barely six inches long, shiny and black, reflecting dying sunlight off in the distance. Here in the country where the sun rose and fell, Henry Jekyll sat day in and night out longing for her.
He kept a photograph of the League beside his bed. But so many things happened to the picture. Dorian's face was scratched and incoherent. Skinner's was naturally invisible. Quartermain was dead and Nemo stared away from the camera.
Mina stood there plainly. Her hair was properly kept behind her white scarf. The sea sparkled brighter in the back round with her presence, setting off her beautiful fire-red hair and jewel-bright eyes. Her waist was unusually tiny from wearing a corset since her teens. Henry loved to dream about her past-everything except Dorian, that is. How she might have been as a young child in her mother's arms, an adolescent basking in the sun, a young adult standing in the rain, and now, a cold-heartened beauty in her thirties.
Jekyll paused over his windowsill. It was twilight, his favorite time of day. It was when everything was quiet and he could be truly alone. It was when he knew Mina hungered for the sweet, lazy taste of human blood. He wanted to be with her then.
He fingered the handle of the pistol delicately. He couldn't do it yet. Not yet. If he had to die, it would dying while thinking of Mina. Mina with her icy heart and small acts of kindness.
He held her handkerchief against his face. He remembered when she gave it to him the night after burying Allan in Africa, beside his son. Jekyll saw Nemo's heart lurch when the Allan's grave marker was carved beside the aged one beside it. Everyone knew how Nemo's family, his wife and only son, were dead. It hurt that Quartermain, a man with just as many demons could be with his son, instead of Nemo, who remained alive without his. Nemo couldn't hold a grudge against Allan, his comrade for this sporadic saving- of-the world.
The smell of her was still with him, even after a month of departure from the Nautilus. Nemo had taken off, dropping his passengers at a hazy port far from London without a goodbye. Everyone knew he had other things on his mind. Nemo needed to get away from these memories. A man who had suffered like that deserved rest, yet there was none for him. All of them had their sufferings, Skinner with his hidden desire for people to see him again, Tom with the loss of his almost-brother Huck Finn, Henry himself with Edward Hyde plaguing his mind, and Mina, who lost her husband, her life, her everything. She was a lonely, rich widow that had nothing more to look forward to in life. But Henry wanted to be there for her, to be her everything.
But he was just a monster.
"Just a monster," he said softly to himself. "I am nothing but a monster, someone not even worthy of her touch."
Those words stirred the time in Nautilus where she gave the handkerchief to him again. He had said not to look at him-he was a monster. 'Am I not one also?' she had replied.
Yet her face had hardened when he said she wasn't a monster, that she was beautiful. She had left before he could tell her what he truly thought of her. How she was a goddess, a demonness, and a dark angel who plagued his dreams, terrifying but leaving an ache that made him want to see her again. He loved the way her eyes became demonic when her darker side took over, and always returned to the shade emeralds were not even worthy of. In the deepest hours of his desperation, he considered sacrificing himself to her, leaving his blood to satisfy her hunger that was never satisfied, so that he could somehow be a part of her. He never did of course, and his obsession to please her so made him almost sick.
But he didn't care.
An insuppressible rage swelled inside of him. He wouldn't be reduced to silently obsessing about her if that damned Dorian Gray hadn't been on that journey. Henry could have been braver, stronger, more willing to make a move if that immortal hadn't aroused Mina's old feelings for him. Henry knew they had fallen to the bed once before, and that they had again in the Nautilus. How it disgusted Henry.
He threw the handkerchief away. Had she given one to Dorian too? Maybe this was it. Henry could be left to have the things Dorian no longer had from her. He was a recycling man, someone to give tokens that had been given already to a lover she really cared about. Who had touched her the way Henry had wanted to. Who had made love to her so bad that made her dream of him and whisper his name over and over again while never once thinking of Henry.
Henry cried out in a howling rage, tearing the curtain beside him into shreds. Dogs barked with him in the distance, while he screamed and shouted, cursing Dorian Gray all the way to hell and even further to where Lucifer and Brutus and Cassius were imprisoned**, chained to the ice cold walls of Hell, laid to suffer eternally for the way he corrupted society and lived a damned life.
"Damn you, Dorian Gray!" he shrieked, blinking madly into the moonlit night. "Damn you all the way to hell!"
He grabbed the ivory handled gun and raised it shakily towards him.
"I will come for you and make you suffer," whispered Henry, trembling and letting his hot tears roll off his pale face. He knew he looked like a madman, tired and pale and with a crazy look in his desolate eyes.
"I will make Mina mine, even if it must be in death!" he cried.
"Grant me the strength, if any god hears me!" He fell to his knees; almost close enough to fall out the window to a different death on the street below.
He heard Dorian's laugh in the back of his mind. He could hear his jeers, his taunting, and his soft words about how much Mina wanted him, not Henry. How he had touched Mina in ways Henry wouldn't be bold enough to dream about.
"Damn you forever, Dorian Gray!" he shouted, drowning out the mocking voice only he could hear.
'That's the spirit Henry,' spoke Edward suddenly, appearing beside Dorian in Henry's mind. 'Kill yourself and join Dorian in Hell. Mina will be alive on Earth, but you are too much a fool to ever have her. Congratulations, Henry Jekyll.' Edward's voice faded away in the nothingness, along with Dorian's last words about Mina.
"I'll do it!" cried Henry, tightening his grip.
"I'll shoot!"
Silence answered him. Only the moon stared back at him, scorning out Henry with it's contempt of pureness, innocence, white light and casting shadows that danced out in the woods.
Mina would someday be his. He vowed this silently, raising the pistol next to his head.
"You will be mine someday, Mina Harker," he said softly, holding his pistol straight.
For a moment, only the wind heard him, caressing his face softly-was it a sign of some higher power? Henry looked back towards the stars, weeping silently as he held the gun. The rage that had burned inside of him was gone, and now he remained a broken man.
Silver tears matched the glittering jewels in the sky. Mina's face flashed before him, smiling and reaching towards him.
"Help me," he whispered.
Her smile remained as she vanished. "I shall always care for you, Henry Jekyll." Her soft voice seemed as loud as a shout, yet quiet as a whisper.
"Perhaps I will live for you," he said softly, his heart thumping painfully against his chest. He closed his weeping eyes and raised the pistol, aiming.
"Someday we shall be together, my dearest," he said, pointing and pulling the trigger.
The bullet fired fast and free off in the distance, letting the wind guide it to its destination.
And destiny.
~*~
A/N: All right, feel free to cry now for the beloved Henry Jekyll. I've cried my eyes out already writing this, and feel absolutely miserable for him.
I wrote the opening poem for this story. I hope it's okay-I'm an all right poet, right?
** ~ Reference to The Inferno, part I of the Divine Comedy by Dante Aligheri, in the scene where the characters Dante and Virgil descend to the lowest level of Hell and see Lucifer frozen, Brutus and Cassius, the traitors of Julius Caesar, trapped with him. Judas Iscariot, who betrayed Jesus Christ, is also there, but not mentioned here. I tried to be accurate, so please don't be mean if I got my facts wrong. I try, folks, I try.
Hold Thy Pistol Straight
A LXG fic
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and opening poem.
~*~
'Crush my heart into many pieces,
Weep among graves of the fallen.
Rip my throat with your fanged teeth,
And drink my blood in all its misery.
Deem me unworthy to share your touch,
Allow me to sing among the lost.
Let me stand beside a windowpane,
To cry out your cursed name.
Let me raise my hand up ever so high,
And hold thy pistol straight.'
~*~
He cradled it in his arms like a small child. A very small child barely six inches long, shiny and black, reflecting dying sunlight off in the distance. Here in the country where the sun rose and fell, Henry Jekyll sat day in and night out longing for her.
He kept a photograph of the League beside his bed. But so many things happened to the picture. Dorian's face was scratched and incoherent. Skinner's was naturally invisible. Quartermain was dead and Nemo stared away from the camera.
Mina stood there plainly. Her hair was properly kept behind her white scarf. The sea sparkled brighter in the back round with her presence, setting off her beautiful fire-red hair and jewel-bright eyes. Her waist was unusually tiny from wearing a corset since her teens. Henry loved to dream about her past-everything except Dorian, that is. How she might have been as a young child in her mother's arms, an adolescent basking in the sun, a young adult standing in the rain, and now, a cold-heartened beauty in her thirties.
Jekyll paused over his windowsill. It was twilight, his favorite time of day. It was when everything was quiet and he could be truly alone. It was when he knew Mina hungered for the sweet, lazy taste of human blood. He wanted to be with her then.
He fingered the handle of the pistol delicately. He couldn't do it yet. Not yet. If he had to die, it would dying while thinking of Mina. Mina with her icy heart and small acts of kindness.
He held her handkerchief against his face. He remembered when she gave it to him the night after burying Allan in Africa, beside his son. Jekyll saw Nemo's heart lurch when the Allan's grave marker was carved beside the aged one beside it. Everyone knew how Nemo's family, his wife and only son, were dead. It hurt that Quartermain, a man with just as many demons could be with his son, instead of Nemo, who remained alive without his. Nemo couldn't hold a grudge against Allan, his comrade for this sporadic saving- of-the world.
The smell of her was still with him, even after a month of departure from the Nautilus. Nemo had taken off, dropping his passengers at a hazy port far from London without a goodbye. Everyone knew he had other things on his mind. Nemo needed to get away from these memories. A man who had suffered like that deserved rest, yet there was none for him. All of them had their sufferings, Skinner with his hidden desire for people to see him again, Tom with the loss of his almost-brother Huck Finn, Henry himself with Edward Hyde plaguing his mind, and Mina, who lost her husband, her life, her everything. She was a lonely, rich widow that had nothing more to look forward to in life. But Henry wanted to be there for her, to be her everything.
But he was just a monster.
"Just a monster," he said softly to himself. "I am nothing but a monster, someone not even worthy of her touch."
Those words stirred the time in Nautilus where she gave the handkerchief to him again. He had said not to look at him-he was a monster. 'Am I not one also?' she had replied.
Yet her face had hardened when he said she wasn't a monster, that she was beautiful. She had left before he could tell her what he truly thought of her. How she was a goddess, a demonness, and a dark angel who plagued his dreams, terrifying but leaving an ache that made him want to see her again. He loved the way her eyes became demonic when her darker side took over, and always returned to the shade emeralds were not even worthy of. In the deepest hours of his desperation, he considered sacrificing himself to her, leaving his blood to satisfy her hunger that was never satisfied, so that he could somehow be a part of her. He never did of course, and his obsession to please her so made him almost sick.
But he didn't care.
An insuppressible rage swelled inside of him. He wouldn't be reduced to silently obsessing about her if that damned Dorian Gray hadn't been on that journey. Henry could have been braver, stronger, more willing to make a move if that immortal hadn't aroused Mina's old feelings for him. Henry knew they had fallen to the bed once before, and that they had again in the Nautilus. How it disgusted Henry.
He threw the handkerchief away. Had she given one to Dorian too? Maybe this was it. Henry could be left to have the things Dorian no longer had from her. He was a recycling man, someone to give tokens that had been given already to a lover she really cared about. Who had touched her the way Henry had wanted to. Who had made love to her so bad that made her dream of him and whisper his name over and over again while never once thinking of Henry.
Henry cried out in a howling rage, tearing the curtain beside him into shreds. Dogs barked with him in the distance, while he screamed and shouted, cursing Dorian Gray all the way to hell and even further to where Lucifer and Brutus and Cassius were imprisoned**, chained to the ice cold walls of Hell, laid to suffer eternally for the way he corrupted society and lived a damned life.
"Damn you, Dorian Gray!" he shrieked, blinking madly into the moonlit night. "Damn you all the way to hell!"
He grabbed the ivory handled gun and raised it shakily towards him.
"I will come for you and make you suffer," whispered Henry, trembling and letting his hot tears roll off his pale face. He knew he looked like a madman, tired and pale and with a crazy look in his desolate eyes.
"I will make Mina mine, even if it must be in death!" he cried.
"Grant me the strength, if any god hears me!" He fell to his knees; almost close enough to fall out the window to a different death on the street below.
He heard Dorian's laugh in the back of his mind. He could hear his jeers, his taunting, and his soft words about how much Mina wanted him, not Henry. How he had touched Mina in ways Henry wouldn't be bold enough to dream about.
"Damn you forever, Dorian Gray!" he shouted, drowning out the mocking voice only he could hear.
'That's the spirit Henry,' spoke Edward suddenly, appearing beside Dorian in Henry's mind. 'Kill yourself and join Dorian in Hell. Mina will be alive on Earth, but you are too much a fool to ever have her. Congratulations, Henry Jekyll.' Edward's voice faded away in the nothingness, along with Dorian's last words about Mina.
"I'll do it!" cried Henry, tightening his grip.
"I'll shoot!"
Silence answered him. Only the moon stared back at him, scorning out Henry with it's contempt of pureness, innocence, white light and casting shadows that danced out in the woods.
Mina would someday be his. He vowed this silently, raising the pistol next to his head.
"You will be mine someday, Mina Harker," he said softly, holding his pistol straight.
For a moment, only the wind heard him, caressing his face softly-was it a sign of some higher power? Henry looked back towards the stars, weeping silently as he held the gun. The rage that had burned inside of him was gone, and now he remained a broken man.
Silver tears matched the glittering jewels in the sky. Mina's face flashed before him, smiling and reaching towards him.
"Help me," he whispered.
Her smile remained as she vanished. "I shall always care for you, Henry Jekyll." Her soft voice seemed as loud as a shout, yet quiet as a whisper.
"Perhaps I will live for you," he said softly, his heart thumping painfully against his chest. He closed his weeping eyes and raised the pistol, aiming.
"Someday we shall be together, my dearest," he said, pointing and pulling the trigger.
The bullet fired fast and free off in the distance, letting the wind guide it to its destination.
And destiny.
~*~
A/N: All right, feel free to cry now for the beloved Henry Jekyll. I've cried my eyes out already writing this, and feel absolutely miserable for him.
I wrote the opening poem for this story. I hope it's okay-I'm an all right poet, right?
** ~ Reference to The Inferno, part I of the Divine Comedy by Dante Aligheri, in the scene where the characters Dante and Virgil descend to the lowest level of Hell and see Lucifer frozen, Brutus and Cassius, the traitors of Julius Caesar, trapped with him. Judas Iscariot, who betrayed Jesus Christ, is also there, but not mentioned here. I tried to be accurate, so please don't be mean if I got my facts wrong. I try, folks, I try.