Chapter Text
The sound of a door slamming shut pulls Rachel out of her thoughts.
Dark spots dance in her vision from staring at the oven fire for far too long.
Looking out the kitchen window - which had already been shut - it seems to be a particularly windy and dark night tonight. Perhaps a new moon?
Oh, right, she was waiting for the cake to bake! It was one of those nights where the noise wouldn't let her sleep, so she had decided to make it count.
She turns back to the oven - the cake seemed to be a little burned on the bottom. That was fine, she could scrape it off just fine!
She puts on her mittens and carefully takes the cake out, quickly setting it on a plate and backing away before sweat starts to show up.
She remembers the sound of the door again, taking her mittened hand to her chin in worry.
Maybe it wasn't safe to have open windows with such a wind, not with all the beakers, glasses and overall fragile things all around the Society.
What if someone tripped on a broken glass and fell? Or if Zosi stepped on a broken beaker and hurt its paws? Oh no, that couldn't happen!
So, taking the mittens off, she decides to check if all the windows are closed while the cake cools off.
Rachel’s navy blue dress flows as she paces up and down the hallways of the gigantic building - most of the windows were gladly closed.
That's when she reaches Dr. Jay’s office, doors closed, but not locked at this hour of the night.
That must mean he's still working, busy; Lanyon could be in there as well, for all she knows.
The Exhibition had been barely two days ago, and Rachel couldn't help but worry; were these two overworking already?
“…They're grown men, Rachel” she thinks to herself, sighing with a frown “they can take good enough care of themselves.”
And with that, she knocks thrice before she opens the door, ready to find a very tired Doctor Jekyll slaving away in paperwork.
But luck was not on her side that day.
In front of her, an awfully familiar, skinny silhouette of a man with wild blond hair, which moved with the wind that came from the open window behind him.
The light that came from the hallway behind her let her see his shocked, panicked expression.
“...Master Hyde?” she hears herself ask before she can take anything else in.
He pulls a smile - a very strained one, at that - before he hesitates on what to even say.
She thought he always had something to say, some dumbassery to spill to anyone who would listen; that was something she liked about him.
But this was eerie, terrifyingly so.
That's when she sees everything else.
His red clothes.
His red-stained hands.
It wasn't that obvious at first, but the cuffs of his white shirt had red stains. He had red under his nails. His waistcoat had a different, duller red than the one the cloth was made of, stained on it - if she hadn't paid close attention, she would've missed the way some stains looked like handprints, as if he had pressed his hands and wiped them on the cloth. Some of the stains looked like stabwounds and splatters.
Hyde hid his hands behind his back when he saw her staring in worry.
“...Hi, Rachel. How's it goin’...?” he tries, an awkward, wide smile on his face.
“...Are you okay? What happened?” she asks instead, closing the door behind her and turning on the lights of the room; Hyde winces at the change.
“Oh, nothing- bad bar fight, you know-” he manages to reply as he attempts to reach his cape, one he probably just took off, to flee.
Rachel felt her heartstrings being tugged on like a puppet, watching and unable to do anything about it.
“Are you sure?” Is all she manages to say, feet stuck to the floor. Her mind was racing, conflicted over her options. What to do?
She had to stop worrying over Hyde so much, he could do that himself!
But at the same time, she knew he wouldn't; and by the looks of it, he wasn't worried about his condition at all.
“Is that your blood?” she asks. At least she could help him dress an injury, or even stitch a slash! He couldn't do that himself, could he?
And Jekyll didn't seem to be around…
“Maybe I should call Dr. Jay?” a doctor would be a better help than her, she was sure.
“Uh… no- yes-” he babbles for a second “I already went to his house and- he dressed me up. That's why I have his clothes!” he finishes, a little too triumphantly.
“And you cleaned your hands on his clothes?” she had noticed the odd colour of the waistcoat, but the blood had taken the foreground in her list of worries.
“Yes? I had to open the window somehow!” he exclaims now, almost bothered by the silly question.
“Okay, okay! It's just…. It's been so long since I last saw you, and-” she gestures at the space, at him, unable to find words.
“And?” he asks, but a cabinet seems to have caught his attention.
She doesn't notice, though, still fussing over wording her feelings.
“Well-! I was worried you got hurt-” Hyde cuts her off, raising his hands to emphasise his point.
“Well I didn't. Oh, isn't this exactly what Queen Lucy said? You're still trying to fill your dead brother’s role with me!”
She tries to justify herself, but no sound escapes her throat.
“Can you stop doing that? It's so annoying to have someone you don't care about fuss over you like you're some helpless kitten in the streets. I wasn't born yesterday, you know?!”
Rachel stays quiet, tears welling up in her eyes as she scrunches her apron in her hands. Hyde’s face softens, but before he can do anything a sob escapes her and makes him hesitate.
“Rachel-” he starts, but his voice seems too weak.
“No, no; it's fine! You're right- I’m sorry… I’ll stay out of your hair, I’ll leave you alone…”
She then forces her way out of the office without looking back at him, tears streaming down her face; blind enough to be oblivious to the supernatural change that occurred in his friend right in front of her eyes.
The man stays behind, watching her go in heartbroken silence and bloodstained clothes until the doors swing back closed.
It's way past sunrise of the next day when Rachel is woken up by the slamming of yet another door.
She sits up, realising she had fallen asleep in the kitchen as she looks around - the morning light creeped in lazily through the window, illuminating the wooden floor, wooden tables and - oh, the cake! Rachel had completely forgotten about it. Well, did it matter anymore…? After last night…
But before she gets up to take care of it, the voice talking to her finally gets processed in her brain. To her right, standing up with his arms crossed, was Lanyon.
“Rachel? Are you even listening?”
He’s almost screaming, but he just looked annoyed with mild anxiety.
“Sorry… What’s up? You’re early, aren’t you? I doubt Dr. Jay is even awake…”
He winces, changing to rest his weight on just one of his legs.
“Yeah, he’s not here. Do you know where he is?”
That was confusing.
Last time she saw Jekyll, Lanyon was taking him to a private room in his house to discuss something that seemed to be pretty serious, right after the exhibition; a day and a half ago.
“I thought he was with you?” she asks back, sitting up straight in confusion.
He presses his lips, looking away.
“Well… We went to sleep after the exhibition - in different rooms of the house, mind you - and while I admit I slept in by a lot, when I woke up I looked all around the house for him and he was gone.” he switches to resting his hands on his hips, notably nervous.
“So I thought that, you know, what is Henry without his work? He probably went straight back to dive his nose into paperwork as soon as he woke up. Then I myself just went home, and decided to come to the Society the next morning and look for him. Now I’m here.”
She blinks, still half asleep.
“Why are you looking for him?”
He stares in silence for a few seconds, looking for the right words to say..
“...We didn’t really finish the conversation…?” he hesitates, awkwardly standing still “so, you haven’t seen him?”
She shakes her head no, starting to let worry get to her.
He’s missing…? But that can’t be, right? Why couldn’t that be?
Oh, right!
“I know who’s seen him!” she exclaims finally, standing up so suddenly she kicks the stool over and scares Lanyon, who just exhales after the initial jump “Master Hyde said he saw him last night!”
“Hyde? What the hell was he doing with Jekyll last night?” if Rachel hadn't been distracted, she’d have realised Lanyon almost sounded jealous on top of all the anxiety.
“Hyde got into a fight and he went to Jekyll to get the injuries healed.” she explains, picking the stool back up and placing it down. “We could ask him! Or- well, you could.”
She looks back at his friend once the piece of furniture is back up, trying her best to not show how sad she was. Which, to her judgement, worked just fine - Lanyon just looked at her in bewilderment.
“You want me to talk to that guy? Have you also gone crazy?!”
“Well, it’s the only information we have, don’t we?” she tries to remain calm, hoping to influence Lanyon into lowering his voice so early in the morning.
Lanyon, on his end, seems to finally realise why Rachel was so hesitant to talk to Hyde.
“...Right, I had forgotten. Either way, Hyde is even harder to find than Jekyll in the first place. I think our best bet is to contact the police.” he reasons, resting back on the kitchen counter.
“...You’re right. But… can we not tell the Lodgers just yet? I feel like it would only stress them out further with all the work they already have...”
“Wasn’t planning on it.” he nods, arms still crossed on his chest while Rachel finally tends the cake she had forgotten last night - thank goodness, it seems like it was still fine. Maybe after going to the police she could start decorating it.
Time was running out!
Her thoughts are interrupted once again by her friend’s words.
“...I have another thing I wanted to… ask you about. I’d go to someone else more… versed in science, but I don’t necessarily trust anyone else in this building more than I do you.”
She looks back at him, curious.
It wasn’t every day that Lanyon looked so hesitant - he was always pretty straight forward, never one to do more than necessary and certainly not someone who liked acting so serious as he looked at that moment.
“What’s up?” she asks, now almost scared herself.
“Do you know… if there's any potions that are able to change eye colour…? Even just hypothetically.”
Rachel stays still for a few seconds, deep in thought - she knows a little more than the average girl about alchemy, but nothing close to an answer comes to mind.
“Not really. Maybe I could go ask Ito, or even Frankenstein as a last resort-”
“No” he cuts her off “I don't think we should go asking anyone else.” he starts looking around to try and find the appropriate words once again - had talking always been so hard for him? “It's something… private? I'd rather not share this to anyone else for now.”
Rachel frowns in worry, now mimicking Lanyon’s expression as she gets closer.
“...Is this also about Dr. Jay?”
His breath hitches in surprise for a second, now turning to her with anxiety almost tangible in his features. What could have shaken him so much?
“What did you see? It might give us a clue!” she presses, sitting on the counter next to him.
He hesitates once more for what feels like eternity, playing with the cuffs of his shirt as he struggles to decide what to say.
“...I saw his eyes turn green. Then, back to red in just a few seconds. I didn't question it at the moment, but now that Henry’s nowhere to be seen, I can't stop thinking about it”
And then turns to her, hoping she’d have an answer they both knew didn't exist.
“...I'll try and ask Ito about it. Without context, of course, just enough to find the answer. Maybe we can look in his office too, see what we can find?” She tries to calm both of them down, not really succeeding.
Rachel then exhales, the cake back in her vision. It was going to be a long day, wasn't it?
She couldn't help but have a terrible feeling about all of this.
“...Fine.” is all Robert manages to say before they both hear a loud knocking and yelling come from the front door; it seems like the office search would have to wait.
Disturbed, they both rush to open it, the noise making both their heartbeats quicken with nervousness.
Instead, all the two saw was an exhausted Sargeant Brokenshire with his arm raised to keep knocking on the door. When it opens, he starts coughing - covering his mouth with his hand - and then looks at the pair with furrowed brows.
“Is Doctor Jekyll here? I need a word with him.” he asks, voice hoarse.
The man had clearly not slept in a long, long time.
“Well, uh… we don’t really… know where he is at the moment. Sorry.” Rachel says, nervously holding her apron in her hands.The way everyone was looking for Jekyll that day was starting to scare her. Where the hell was he?!
“We actually wanted to talk to you about him. We… we haven’t seen him-” Robert continues before a loud thud cuts him off, followed by quick steps down a staircase.
All three of them turn to look at a radiant Henry Jekyll coming down to greet them, wearing a bright smile; perfectly dressed, with the usual crimson waistcoat and impeccable hair.
If Rachel hadn’t known him better, she wouldn’t have realised how strained the smile was, or how dull his red eyes looked.
And by the looks of it, Lanyon noticed as well, for he glanced at her in even more worry.
“Good morning, Sargeant! What occasion brings me the pleasure of seeing you today?”
Brokenshire then pulls something from his pocket, and places it in Jekyll’s hand without breaking eye contact or uttering a single word. All the other two were able to see was a glint of golden light and the attempt the gentleman makes at keeping a straight face.
“I believe it’s yours.”
Jekyll stares back in terror for what feels like eternity.
“Can we continue this conversation elsewhere? For privacy…” he pleads while shooting a glance at both of his sides; Rachel knew he was talking about Robert and her.
“No need, we have a witness. All we need is your total collaboration to catch this culprit.” the policeman explains, blinking heavily as he sways slightly in place. The man could collapse right there, for all she knew.
“What happened?” Lanyon interrupts the eerie interaction, holding his own hands behind his back in an attempt to keep composure.
“A murder. Of Sir. Danvers Carew, no less; in the middle of the street, barely at sundown last night… There was a witness too, who claims the murderer is one short, blond man wearing a characteristic dark red waistcoat. I can imagine we all know who this is.”
There was no way.
There was no way that could’ve happened.
Hyde wouldn't just go and do that! Right?!
Or, at least, that's what Rachel thought, in complete disbelief.
She turns to look at Jekyll, and sees Lanyon do the same - him not in disbelief, but surprise - only to receive no answer.
Jekyll stares at Brokenshire, lips pressed and brows furrowed for the longest time.
Then, with a smack of his own lip, he finally talks.
“...We should get some privacy for this.”
“Henry? We really need to know what's going on.” Lanyon argues, trying to set a hand on the other’s shoulder, which the red-eyed flinches at.
“...I’ll explain later, alright? This is just… private.”
And just like that, the policeman and the gentleman disappear behind a door, leaving Rachel and Robert to once again stare at each other.