Author's note: I know that I have not finished my other fic, but I have recently been suffering from a really bad writer's block for that story. I am sorry, but as soon as I am able to get my thoughts back on track I will update that one ASAP. This story was written on a sudden inspiration. It is about how Henry Jekyll turned out the way he did, and why he created Edward Hyde. Henry Jekyll at the start of my fic is around twenty-five years old (I know that in the book version, Jekyll was like a fifty-plus year old man when he created the elixir but in the movie he looked to be in his forties). As the book version and the movie version are vastly different, I am sorry about the liberties taken with the book although I tried to remain faithful whenever I possibly could. Since this is put in the LXG fandom, it will be much closer to the facts in the movie than book. Reviews are greatly appreciated!
Chapter 1
There is such a fine line separating a good man from being a bad man.
And what exactly that line is depends greatly on the person himself.
Henry Jekyll realised that one day as he walked down the streets of London.
It was evening, and all was quiet. The sun had already begun to set, sending out its now feeble golden rays for one last grope of England. Its faint yellow fingers danced on top of the houses and trees lining the roads amidst the slowly elongating shadows.
He lengthened his stride. It would not be good for a gentleman to be caught alone in this particular section of London at night.
The streets were empty, save for a few passer-bys.
A sudden sharp scream shattered the evening tranquillity however, and it was followed by a sound that made him involuntarily cringe.
He was very well acquainted with that sound.
It was the noise made by beatings, the dull thuds heard when wood hits flesh periodically.
***
Six-year old Jekyll looked up fearfully at the huge oak door in front of him.
It was from behind that door that he received his worst punishments…
Raising a small fist, he nervously knocked.
…but he knew that he deserved them.
"Enter," issued the cold voice from within.
Jekyll reached up on tip-toe to grab the door knob and opened it. Stumbling in as quickly as he could, he silently shut the door behind him.
"Good evening, father."
He trembled before his father, standing so imposingly before him, one hand grasping the end of a long wooden stick and the other, stroking it.
"I've heard from the servants that you have been playing in the garden since eleven. Why is that?"
Dark eyes bored into his own frightened brown ones.
"I-I had finished all my w-work already, s-s-sir…"
"Didn't I tell you not to leave your studies until noon, you rebellious boy?"
"Y-Yes, father. But…"
"There are no 'buts' about this matter. You have disobeyed my orders time and time again and you know what the punishment for that is…"
Jekyll's throat was very dry. He knew that it was useless to justify his actions.
He was always wrong, and his parents, always right.
"I'm sorry, sir."
His father eyed him pitilessly.
"Turn around and bend down."
The boy did as he was told, shivering with fear and praying that the beatings would soon come to pass.
He closed his eyes, bracing himself.
He could hear his father's deep breathing behind him, could imagine the stick being drawn into a graceful arc behind his back…
There was a swish, followed by excruciating pain.
But he dared not cry out.
Crying out is a sign of weakness, his father had always told him…
Another swish…
Always strive to be the best, Jekyll…
Another thud.
The world has no room for the one in second place…
Yet another swish…
People stumble when they have not fully defined their goals and dreams…
And yet another thud.
Hold yourself to the highest regard as possible…
Swish, thud. Swish, thud.
To prevent yourself from doing acts that would shame your mother and father.
Swish, thud.
***
A woman's high-pitched wail punctuated that sinister melody of low thuds and sharp pauses.
"Stop it! Stop it! I really have no money left…"
The rough, coarse voice of a man cut across hers abruptly.
"You lying bitch!" He slurred. "I know you've still got some dough left! Hand them over now!"
"No, I don't! Please Jack, listen…"
The man let out a string of swear words in fury.
The beatings intensified.
More screams.
The crowd outside the house from which the commotion was coming from grew steadily larger.
Jekyll vaguely wondered why no one was bothering to come to the aid of the woman…
The door to the house was suddenly flung open.
…when he realized that he too was also not doing anything of help.
A burly man stepped out, one hand gripping a wooden stick, the other clutching… something… that was still obscured by the open door.
Jekyll edged nearer to the scene, curiosity overtaking him.
What he saw shocked him to the core.
The man had the shrieking woman by the hair and was shaking her like a dog would do to a doll.
"You filthy bitch! Get out of here and don't you dare come back without any money! You can beg for all I care!"
With that, he threw the woman out on the streets and retreated back into the house, slamming the door behind him so hard that the pane-less windows shook.
There was a long silence.
The woman sobbed quietly. She lay there on the filthy road, torn and broken, hair cascading like a black wave down her scarred face.
The people around her drew away, acting as though she was carrying some contagious disease from which they could not bear to be contaminated with. They began to disperse, like a crowd of spectators leaving after a show had finished. Each quickly went their own separate ways.
Jekyll noted with some disgust that none went up to the woman to offer any sympathies or help.
The sun had by now almost fully set against the horizon, save for a few stubborn rays of light that refused to be blotted out by the approaching darkness of night. Stars began to appear, dotting the eternal skies like glittering diamonds on a cave. It would be a clear night. And from its slumber, the moon awoke, ready to begin its nocturnal duties. An icy wind heralded its arrival. It began to rise lazily into the heavens, casting silvery beams down onto the mortal world below and illuminating everything with a bright ghostly light.
The doctor stopped an onlooker who had just turned away to leave.
"Pray sir," said he. "Why did none of you help that lady in distress?"
The man's displeasure was clearly displayed on his face. "Young lad, you surely must be newly acquainted to these parts. That man was Jack Slade, a real killer." He lowered his voice fearfully. "No one dares to cross him. Interfere in his affairs and you will sooner or later find yourself dead with a knife sticking out of your back. Nay, it's best to ignore and play safe if you cherish your life."
He then brushed past Jekyll and hurried on his way without another word.
The doctor gazed at his retreating figure for a while, deeply contemplating what he had just said.
'It's best to ignore…'
The bruised and battered woman was now curled up in a ball, shoulders heaving as she cried. She was very much alone.
'… and play safe if you cherish your life.'
Although it was already dark, Jekyll could not bear the thought of leaving that poor defenceless woman who may very well bleed to death out on the streets without giving any medical aid to her.
If I don't help her, what then, makes me better than the beast that has beaten and mishandled her in such a way?
He slowly walked up to her, and she looked up at the sound of his footsteps.
Her eyes were red and blotchy from all the crying. One of them was almost swollen shut.
Jekyll could see the open wounds from beneath her tattered clothes. Blood steadily poured from them. He shuddered, wondering about the primitive brutality of mankind that causes men to act like beasts.
The woman edged painfully away from his approach.
"W-who are you? What do you want?"
Jekyll raised a hand in greeting. "Don't be afraid, Madam. I will not hurt you. I am a doctor, and would very much like to treat and tend to your wounds."
"N-no, you shouldn't. I think it is best you leave. I also have no money to pay you. If h-he catches you…"
The woman tailed off hesitantly, and Jekyll caught the look of fear as she glanced at the house from which she was thrown.
Her fear bears an uncanny resemblance to my own when I was young, when I had to face what lay beyond that oak door…
"I insist. Money is no consideration. It is my duty as a doctor to help those in need," Jekyll said firmly, brushing away her protest. He opened his small bag of medical equipment which he brought with him at all times and began to dress the woman's wounds.
There was a long pause, in which he was uncomfortably aware that the woman's eyes were boring into the side of his head.
The atmosphere around him seemed to thicken.
He so badly wanted to ask her questions and offer his help. But he was much too afraid of being thought rude and nosy.
The woman's silence and stare was slowly oppressing him, as though she was taunting him…daring him to speak his mind.
Somewhere, a dog barked.
And already slightly agitated, Jekyll jumped, fingers trembling. After nearly spilling the cleaning lotion he had planned to use on the wounds all over his clothes, he decided to just spit it out and be done with it before he implodes.
"Madam, if you don't mind me saying, that man who did this to you is no better than a beast. If you need protection from him, I would only be too happy to help you," he finally said in a rush, trying to relieve the overwhelming stifling quiet.
Blood was bleeding profusely from all the long gashes that seared across her pale face and body…
"No, no," the woman quickly said. "Y-you must not think bad about my husband, good sir. He does get drunk occasionally but-"
Jekyll looked up quickly into her eyes, feeling incredulous.
…steadily staining her tattered blouse…
"Why do you support your husband so? He has beaten you, a WOMAN, into such a state…" He stared down at his used cotton swabs now littering the place beside the two of them.
Each had soaked in so much blood that their original pure white colour had been entirely replaced by blood's reddish hue.
"No, you don't understand. He jus- OW!" She snatched her right leg away from him. "That hurts!"
"It is necessary to put the cleaning medicine on your cuts and wounds. I beg your pardon, I should have warned you about the pain you are bound to experience. I'm sorry," he apologised.
A tiny pause.
…from beneath the tatters there was an alarming number of swells and bruises…
She extended her leg slowly back to him.
"I'm sorry too. I should not have shouted at you like that, although please be more careful next time."
"I will and I'm sorry, Madam."
She winced again as Jekyll once more applied the lotion.
…where heavy blows from a blunt object had been administrated…
The woman sighed, raised one bleeding hand and pushed her scraggly black hair away from her face. "You think him a monster."
It wasn't a question, it was just a simple statement.
Jekyll eyed her briefly and nodded.
"How do I explain… he's actually really sweet. I mean, he does drink and all that but…" Her face softened. "I still love him. I know you think that I am foolish but you haven't seen him when he's sober. He will always apologise after beating me and be such a dear…"
Silence.
Jekyll looked down again, now intent on bandaging her scarred legs. He wondered at what he thought was her stupidity.
…they were enormous, and full of pus…
"There is still no reason for a man to act like that to a woman," Jekyll said quietly, contempt lacing his words.
Another pause.
"Why do you love him so?"
The woman frowned, liquid blue eyes turning a shade darker.
"I-I don't know. There is no answer, really. Sometimes, he seems like two different people trapped in one body."
Jekyll was now cleaning the wounds on her arms.
"What do you mean?"
…Her legs were bruised and swollen…
"Well, when he's not up to his head in beer, he's a great husband. He takes good care of me and brings home food and lovely presents often. But when he drinks or gambles, it is like as though… as though a demon has stolen his soul. Like the beer has unleashed some hidden evil within himself… He will be like an animal, crying out and lusting for money. And when he does not get it, he hits me the way you saw just now…"
Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over and leaving two long trails of translucent liquid stretching to her chin like scars.
The doctor did not know what to say and so just kept silent. Gently stretching her arm out, he began to wrap a piece of clean cloth around the wounds.
What separates the good and evil within us?
What makes men do hideous and evil deeds?
Alcohol brings out the beasts in some men. What about others?
…flies had begun to swarm around her…
What about me?
Jekyll finally finished putting the last bandage in place.
"I have done all I can for the cuts on your arms and legs. I'm sorry, but the wounds on your body… I would help, but to do it here would be… would be uh…inappropriate." He blushed. "Unless you absolutely insist…"
The woman drew slightly away from him, and her hand instinctively clutched at the tattered fabric covering her front. "No, no. It's fine. I think I can manage on my own now. Please do not trouble yourself any further, young master."
Jekyll hid his relief.
"Here then," he said, handing over to the woman another bottle of cleaning lotion and a roll of bandages. "Change the dressings twice everyday until they have healed."
"Thank you very much, doctor," she said gratefully. "Your help and time is most appreciated."
Reaching into his pocket, Jekyll drew out a card and gave it to her. "If you need more assistance, please do not hesitate to contact me at this address."
The woman scanned the card.
"Thank you again, kind sir, but hopefully, I think I would not need to."
…attracted to the copper tang of blood.
The doctor fidgeted slightly.
"Is there something wrong?"
"No, no… I would also like you to take this, madam." He slowly drew out a fifty dollar bill. "I think you will need this more than I do."
Her eyes opened wide with astonishment and shock. Fifty dollars was quite a sum of money at that time.
But suddenly, her face was lit up by a serene smile and she pushed the offered note away. "Your generosity has me staggered sir, but I cannot accept the money. I know you mean well, but I do not need your pity. Besides, when my husband is sane again, I trust him to take care of me."
Jekyll felt like laughing at her devotion.
No wonder women are so weak.
They are always tied down by some petty or shallow emotion…
… so dependent on their more intelligent male counterparts.
"I am sure you know that this is not the end of your troubles, madam," he said simply, trying hard to keep scorn from seeping into his voice.
"I know. I also know that you think me as ignorant, and just a weak woman."
Again it was a statement, and not a question.
She gently got up from her place on the grime-encrusted street. "You are still young, and inexperienced about the ways of the world. You do not understand the matters of the heart and soul. Perhaps, as you grow older you will begin to understand. And by then, able to realise why I feel this way, why I am able to look beyond him as just a mere beast."
Silence.
"Thank you once again for your help. I bid you good night."
She stood up, and left him standing there rather stupidly, fifty dollar note still clutched in his hand that hung numbly by his side.
Her limping figure vanished into the shadows.
The woman's speech seemed to Jekyll like a puzzle, an interesting challenge.
His intelligent and curious mind which, already aroused, became more intense.
As he hurriedly walked home in the moonlight, he began to wonder if there was a possibility, even though how remote it was, whether he would actually be able to divide men into two separate entities, the good and evil sides. The more he thought about it, the more excited he grew about the notion.
It would solve the problem of hypocrisy, with the upright twin doing good, and being free of the dark taint of the other side. The basal side of man would then be able to pursue his own secret pleasures and desires without the conscience of the good twin hanging over him and weighing him down.
I would no longer have to hide my evilness…
I would still be honest and good to the public eye, while in the darkness of night able to indulge in my hidden vices…
I would no longer be haunted by evil thoughts and temptations that could shatter the high views and regard that I hold so closely to me…
I would be able to drop the constraints and confines of Jekyll any time I want.
I would be able to fully experience myself.
He believed that he would somehow be able to find the answer.
But before he started his research on universal evil, he would have to look inside himself first.
For how could he hope to understand others if he did not understand himself?
Where does his evilness come from? What spurs it?