Jerk with a heart of gold

Serenity enveloped the Grayson household, with the only sound being the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Long shadows stretched across the floor as the afternoon sun’s warm colors illuminated the room. Debbie sat at the kitchen island with her elbows resting on its soapstone surface, arms wrapped around herself, seeking comfort in the familiar touch of her own skin. Her thumb was tracing the edge of her sleeve, an insignificant gesture that brought her a sense of calm amid the quietude.

“At least Oliver seems okay with it.” Debbie’s voice trailed off. “But I can understand they are as unsure as I am about moving out...”

“It’s a tough decision, I know," Hyde said as he moved around, stacking boxes of various pasta shapes in front of Debbie, who immediately pointed at the lasagna in a quiet, synchronized gesture. “But it’s necessary. For your safety and the safety of your sons.”

Debbie let out a small, discontented sigh. “So you’ve said.”

A heavy stillness fell between them, broken only by the sound of dishes clinking and Hyde’s humming as he shuffled toward the sink. Debbie’s eyes roamed over hanging pictures, some old and some recent, displaying happier memories with her sons and a noticeably absent father. Her gaze then drifted to the polished wooden floors, once marred by ash and debris, and the pale walls, so clean that one wouldn’t know there had been thick bloodstains a while ago. She glanced at the wine glass cabinets next to Hyde, where she kept the vice that had helped her cope since the moment her entire world had turned upside down. 

Time and time again, the GDA had done a decent job of concealing the scars of the past with each reconstruction, creating the illusion of the normal life Debbie now craved more than anything, but was painfully aware that it was way beyond her reach. 

“I spent twenty years of my life in this house,” Debbie continued, her voice tinged with emotion. “I raised Mark here. And Oliver. Despite all that has happened, good or bad, this is our home—”

The loud crash of a plate tore through the silence, making Debbie gasp. 

She looked at Hyde, frozen in place with his tense upper back and water still dripping down his forearms.

“Hyde? What’s wrong—”

A few incomprehensible sounds came out of Hyde’s throat. Turning off the faucet, he wiped his hands on his shirt and paced towards Debbie, taking her by the shoulders and guiding her to the living room.

“Hyde!” Debbie hissed, snapping away from his grasp. “What’s happening?”

Hyde withdrew his arms, blinked quickly, and remained silent, with his upper lip twitching as if searching for the right answer. After a moment, he closed his eyes and let the words spill loosely without any hesitation.

“…It’s Nolan…” 

He exhaled deeply, his voice strained, as if the name itself were an omen that brought disaster at the mere mention.

“…he’s here.”

The ambiance shifted. It was like the air got sucked out of the room.

Debbie didn’t even flinch, her shoulders tensing and her fingers clenching into fists with her nails digging into the skin, which turned red from the friction of her fidgeting. Hyde tried to look her in the eyes, but she was not all there, with her lips parted halfway as she turned around and sauntered her way to the couch with her hand on the edge as if keeping herself from collapsing to her knees.

Hyde acted on instinct, settling down right beside her, with one hand draped around her shoulders, in hopes of making his presence feel safe enough for her.

“Don’t play with me like that.” Her lip trembled.

“No. No, I would never.”

“Where is he?”

Burning anguish coiled within Hyde’s chest. “Outside, right above the backyard.”

Creases formed on Debbie’s forehead. She swallowed hard, but the nausea had already taken hold. That familiar, sickening weight in her stomach as memories vividly dragged her back to months of recovery; one after another, she saw her way out vanishing right before her eyes.

“Why now?”

No one could guess the answer to her question, but Hyde had left out a small detail about what he saw. Nolan hadn’t come alone. Accompanying him was a cyclopean figure with orange skin, likely an Unopan, significantly larger than others of its kind. Hyde imagined it was there to handle important matters. Their visit had serious implications beyond Nolan’s personal concerns. 

Whatever it was, it did not bring him any comfort, and making Debbie aware of it without concrete explanations would simply make things worse for her at the moment. 

Instead, he squeezed her absentmindedly, perhaps a little too tightly, not noticing her resistance. 

“Hyde…” Debbie grunted, prying herself away from his side.

“Sorry.”

Hyde’s hand moved subtly away from her back, awkwardly straightening himself with his arms folded at a more respectable distance.

“So…” he muttered.

“I won’t let him back into my life if that’s what he thinks,” Debbie snapped, a bitter edge creeping into her voice. “What if he lets himself inside and then… what? Expect me to receive him with open arms? Pretend a simple ‘sorry’ can fix everything?”

Hyde gave Debbie a sidelong glance, then shook his head.

“He destroyed everything, Hyde. Not just Chicago. Not just those people’s lives.” Her voice wavered but didn’t break. “He destroyed my life. The life I thought I had. The person I thought I knew.”

Finally, her eyes flicked toward him.

“I can’t just… let him back in. I won’t.”

“You don’t have to,” Hyde said quietly. “You’ve got to do what is best for you.”

Debbie studied Hyde for a moment, sensing uncertainty in the way he averted his gaze as if he weren't entirely convinced by his own words. 

“What would you do?” she asked. “If it were you?”

That made something in Hyde falter—not outwardly, but just enough to show in the slight shift of his expression, swallowing hard as his mouth went dry as cotton.

“I wish I had a proper answer for that,” he admitted. “I feel for Nolan, but I’ve come to understand it wouldn’t be that simple.”

Hyde’s voice cracked, and he took a second to clear his throat, facing down, struggling to meet Debbie’s unmoving gaze.

“I’ve done things,” he continued. “Things that I can’t undo. Lives that can’t be brought back. No matter how hard I try to make amends, the weight of my past actions still hangs over my head.”

He looked back at her.

“Even now that I’ve dedicated my new life to being better…I don’t know what it means to deserve anything after that.”

“But you’re still trying.” Debbie frowned, her words carrying a bitter reluctance to them.

“Some days, that feels like enough. Other days...” Hyde trailed off.

Time slowed between them as the looming darkness outside seeped through the windows, absorbing their features by the minute until only silhouettes remained, rimmed only by the kitchen lights in the room’s liminality.

“No amount of promises or good intentions will erase what he did,” Hyde continued. “It doesn’t undo what he took from you.”

Debbie’s lips pressed together, festering emotions threatening to surface all at once.

“He has to live with that. And you...” Hyde cautiously reached out again, clasping Debbie’s hands inside his with a small, reassuring squeeze. “You’re allowed to be angry. To let him see what it cost you and what it’s cost him. And most importantly, you’re allowed to move on.”

With the weight of years of grief, Debbie’s composure nearly shattered as a single tear slipped down her cheek, which she promptly wiped away. Despite this, she stayed poised, feeling too numb to break down again. Then her expression darkened.

“How do I know you’re not just saying it to keep me to yourself?” she said brutally.

“Goodness, Debbie…” Hyde sank with an aggrieved pout, quickly letting go of her hands. “It has never been my intention. I’m here to watch over your family, and I have kept my word since. What you and I have…it came as a surprise. But whatever your choice is in the end, I will respect it.”

Tension faded quickly, and so did Debbie’s defiant glare, her shoulders slumping back down.

“I’m…I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“With all this Viltrumite bullshit, I can’t—”

“I know.” Hyde took a deep breath and held it for a moment. “...I know…” he echoed quietly.

“I don’t even know what I’d say to him.”

“It’ll come to you. Only you know how you really feel.” Hyde assured her.

A faint, half-hearted smile tugged at Debbie’s lips, which quickly faded. With pounds of exhaustion slipping out in a single sigh, she sought comfort within Hyde’s chest, who wrapped her protectively in his arms, no less pained than she. 

Neither of them rushed to fill the silence. Hyde just held Debbie steady, with his hand resting at her back as her breathing slowly evened out against him. The world outside could wait a few seconds longer.

“I can stay,” he suggested carefully. “If you want me to.”

Debbie lingered there, eyes closed, like she was weighing the comfort against the cost. Then she finally pulled back, but it wasn’t abrupt. Her hands remained holding Hyde’s. 

“…I’d rather not.” Her voice was apologetic. “This is something I need to face on my own.”

Hyde studied her for a moment, his expression softening with concern, searching for any crack in that resolve. For all the weariness etched in her features, Debbie remained resilient—something he had come to admire from the moment he met her.

Without a reason to insist, he nodded.

“Alright.”

His thumb brushed lightly beneath her eye, catching an unshed bit of moisture merely clinging beneath her eyelid, and his hand slid to cup her chin briefly as both shared a tender look that would ease the moment.

Then Debbie’s phone rang.

The sound startled them both. She reached for it at once, glanced at the screen, and her expression shifted the moment she saw Mark’s name. “Mark? Is everything okay?”

His answer came hesitantly. “Yeah—yeah, I’m with Eve. I’m okay.” An awkward beat passed. “I… I thought I’d tell you that Dad’s here. He wants to see you.”

Debbie shut her eyes with an exasperated huff, turning to face Hyde, who leaned slightly closer to her to listen to the conversation. “I know.”

“You know?”

“Hyde saw him out in the backyard.”

“Oh…” There was a pause on the other end, followed by Mark’s uncertain, weary exhale. “Okay. Uh, Mom, there’s something I need to tell you...”

The remaining hours of noon light ebbed into the deeper darkness of dusk.

A pan still sat on the stove, ingredients half-prepared—evidence of a night that had been meant to be normal, now interrupted once again by inescapable fate. Hyde moved through the kitchen for a bit, his cane tapping on the linoleum floor as he paced without any real intention, adjusting something here, setting something down there, as Debbie stayed nearby, merely observing, although without really paying attention. 

“He’s taking Mark from me to a war out in space,” she huffed. “He’s out of his mind! I can’t believe he’s doing this.”

Hyde’s jaw tightened as he looked away. “It's outrageous. This shouldn't be his responsibility.”

Debbie let out a bitter chuckle, more jaded than amused. “Well. I’m glad we’re on the same page. I was half-expecting you to tell me this was for some noble cause.”

Hyde’s expression darkened. “Why, yes. I am upset, Debbie.”

That drew a short, surprised breath of laughter from her, though the anger never left her flushed face.

“Good,” she muttered. “Because I’m furious.”

Then, right on cue, Hyde stilled slightly, head tilting as if listening to something just beyond the walls.

“Is he still here?” Debbie rasped without lifting her head.

“…Has been for a few minutes.”

Debbie’s brow furrowed faintly, more tired than surprised.

“Just…standing on the sidewalk.” Hyde glanced subtly toward the front door, inching inward to the hallway where he hoped his silhouette wouldn't be visible through the wide window that looked out onto the street. 

That earned a soft, exasperated grumble from Debbie. She rubbed at her temple, shaking her head just a little.

“He’s definitely rehearsing what he’s going to say.”

Hyde watched her for a moment, a faint huff slipping through his nose. The disgruntled familiarity in her voice told him enough—Debbie knew Nolan better than most. A quarter of her life beside him had made sure of that.

It reminded him of something.

Of Nolan, years ago—a young teen under his tutelage, quietly mouthing his words before speaking, rehearsing them under his breath so that when his turn came, not a single stutter or flicker of hesitation would make it past his lips. And now… he wondered if the man standing outside was doing the same.

But even if Nolan had the right things to say and the perfect posture, nothing guaranteed the outcome would favor him. It was one of the harsher lessons for a Viltrumite to learn—that no amount of proficient manipulation and discipline could always secure what he wanted.

Even less so if it wasn’t deserved.

Hyde stepped back toward Debbie.

“Will you be alright?” he asked firmly.

Debbie held his gaze, and for a second, something softer and more secure flickered there.

“I will.”

That was enough for him. He smiled.

Hyde pulled her into a hug, firmer this time, yet not with the intent to protect. His chin rested briefly against the top of her head while she naturally nuzzled his chest with her arms comfortably wrapped around his waist.

“I’ll give you some space,” he murmured. “I uh… could take a flight around the city or something.”

Debbie chuckled.

“How about you get some ingredients for dinner?”

“So, no lasagna tonight?”

“Nah,” Debbie leaned back just enough to look at him again; her lips found a way to form a small smile through her fatigue. “I was thinking we could have something different. Ever had homemade Korean food before?”

“Huh. Don’t think I have…” Hyde’s whisker tugged upward from only one side. “I’ll get the best stuff then.”

They lingered there for a moment.

Then Hyde stepped away; the cane in his hand faded upward into thin lines of smoke.

At the back door, his hand rested briefly on the frame as he glanced over his shoulder, meeting Debbie’s eyes one last time. Without another word, he stepped outside, and he was gone—lifting into the night with a controlled, quiet burst, disappearing past the rooftops instead of tearing through the sky.

Down on the street and out of sight, a figure stood still. Nolan had been there for several minutes already, with his gaze fixed on the house. His attention shifted upward as Hyde rose into the air, tracking his silhouette without urgency as he disappeared into the darkness. It had only confirmed what he had seen earlier when their eyes met.

A flustered ire bubbled in Nolan’s core. But more pressing matters required his attention.

He took a deep breath in. Then he slowly let the air out.

Slowly, at last, he lumbered toward the main door.