#oopsie-daisy

Possibly, said Jekyll. Or it could be more serious. After tonight, we'll have to take a hiatus, possibly a long one. Certainly until the exhibition's done with. I'll have to think of tests to run, to make sure nothing's seriously amiss. God only knows the effects of long-term use, something that traumatic to the system—

"Oy, have the nervous breakdowns on your own time," Hyde said, scowling at him. Jekyll was hanging about in the cheval glass, sitting curled up with his elbows on his knees.

I am not having a nervous breakdown, Jekyll snapped, glaring at him. I am being practical. It does neither of us any favors if we die from organ failure.

"Oh yeah? Says the man who was poisoning his own wine not two days ago."

And next time I'll drink it, Jekyll threatened. I am taking an immense risk, letting you do this. You'll only hurt yourself if you decide to ruin it.

"Not true, I'll hurt you, too," said Hyde. He shook out his overcoat and draped it over his shoulders. "My very favorite pastime."

We don't have time for this. We've got to find out what it is Rachel wants with you. I have a bad feeling—

"A feeling? You? I don't believe it."

You are not helping.

"Of course I'm not helping," Hyde scoffed. "I'm going to do whatever I damn well please, and there's nothing you can do about it. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a meeting that you're not invited to."

That's exactly where I was asking you to go!

"Not invited~!" Hyde sang. He threw open the window and hopped out onto the roof opposite. The skyline was riddled with white columns of steam, pillars to hold up the dull orange clouds overhead. Hyde danced from rooftop to rooftop, quick as a cat, light as the mists. A dazzle of noise rose up from below, voices and music, the clatter of wheels and hooves, the crackle of fires. Hyde flitted above it all, a bat, a phantom, the spirit—

Of excessive repetition, apparently, Jekyll sighed.

—of London at night! Nothing could compare, nothing even came close. The city was a monster, huge and sprawling, the dull roar of its lifeblood ever-present and ubiquitous. The streets were its veins, pulsing with light, driven by some beating heart hidden deep beneath the earth. It was a grimy, ugly thing, riddled with parasites, but it was his.

All too soon, he came to the bakery window. It was propped open, spilling out light and the smell of fresh-baked pastries. Hyde crouched in the shadows for a time, watching, waiting. Rachel bustled about inside. He could faintly hear her singing to herself. He waited until her back was turned, then slipped through the window and tip-toed up behind her, grinning with insatiable mischief. He crept up closer, closer, just inches behind her. . . .

"Boo!" he cried.

Rachel screamed. A rolling pin scythed towards his head. He ducked just in time. His hat took the full force of the blow as the rolling pin whistled through the air. Hyde popped back up, affronted.

"That's my hat!" he said.

"God's sake, don't do that," Rachel said, sagging with relief. She prodded him in the chest with the rolling pin and picked up his hat off the ground. He snatched it from her and dusted it off. It was completely flattened. "I could've killed you."

"No you couldn't," he said, climbing up onto the island counter in the center of the room. "I'm much too quick. If it came down to a real fight, you'd be dead in seconds. Less than a second!"

"You're adorable," Rachel said.

"I am deadly!" Hyde cried. "I am a force of nature! I am—don't laugh at me! Stop that! You won't be laughing when you're dead!"

Rachel folded nearly in half, wheezing. Hyde folded his arms and pretended she wasn't there, his nose turned up. He spotted a lovely plate of fresh-baked pastries and his ire was instantly forgotten.

"I heard you almost got dead last night," Rachel remarked, while Hyde slowly extended himself along the counter.

"Wildly exaggerated," he said, subsiding onto his elbow. "I had everything completely under control."

"Really? I heard it ended with you wailing like a baby in Jekyll's lab."

"Well you heard wrong," Hyde sniffed. "Who told you these things? They were lying to you."

He stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. A little push with one toe inched him closer to the pastries.

"Oh, everyone," said Rachel, grinning. "Apparently you could've woken the dead. Jasper said you got shot, I'm sure it must have hurt oh so very much, you poor thing."

"Keep your pity off of me, that's disgusting," he said, flapping a hand at her. "And yes, it was excruciating. Lesser men would have died."

"Are there any lesser men? Only you're very small."

"Someday I am going to strangle you and it shall be immensely satisfying," Hyde said, scowling. "Your eyes will bug out all horrible and you'll turn blue."

Rachel snorted. "As if you could," she said. "I don't think your tiny hands could get all the way round my throat."

"That—youuuuu—!"

She laughed at him. He scooted closer to the pastries while her eyes were scrunched shut.

"God, you're so much fun to tease," she said. "Where're you off to tonight, then? Blackfog again?"

"I was given to understand you wanted to see me," he said. "Apparently just to insult me. I don't know why I bothered."

"Oh," said Rachel, sobering. "Right. That message got through already, did it?"

"Obviously."

"I s'pose you talk to him all the time."

"Personal assistant," Hyde reminded her. He was almost within snatching distance of the pastries, and they did look heavenly. . . .

"You're never," she said.

"Believe what you will, love, I don't care," said Hyde. "Personal assistant's what it says on my paycheck, not much else worth talking about."

"Why don't you ever talk about it?" Rachel asked, with a fearsome perspicacity. "I would've thought you'd take every opportunity to . . . like, embarrass him."

"My dear!" Hyde said, delighted at the prospect. "I was only trying to spare you from embarrassment. I could go on and on about Henry. For example, did you know he's got absolutely no gag reflex whatsoever?"

Why would you tell her that? Jekyll exclaimed, tearing his hair out.

"It's true," Hyde added, waggling his eyebrows and grinning lasciviously.

I don't care if it's true, why would you tell her that?!

"Never mind!" Rachel said, both hands pressed over her eyes. "Never mind, I changed my mind, I don't want to know!"

Hyde cackled and popped one of the pastries in his mouth. Rachel slapped him on the wrist. He gave her a friendly kick in the rear. She jumped and then scowled at him with steam coming out of her ears.

"Careful what you wish for," he said, grinning. "Speaking of a notable lack of gag reflexes, how's your wolf-boy?"

"He's—what?" said Rachel.

"Nothing!" Hyde said, the very picture of innocence.

If she stabs you, I'm letting you bleed to death, Jekyll said.

"Don't make jokes like that, it's not funny," Rachel said, turning away and pouting.

"Oh, what," said Hyde, rolling his eyes. "Is the kitchen princess jealous of somebody? Listen, love, if you didn't get there quick enough, that's your own bloody fault."

"Stop it," she snapped. "Just because you've never been jealous a day in your life."

"I have too," said Hyde. "I am the very embodiment of jealousy. A green-eyed monster, that's what they call it, and they call it that because of me! You've only never seen it."

"Yeah? Then how's it make you feel to know your Henry's been snogging my wolf-boy?"

Well, Jekyll remarked coldly. It seems the treachery goes both ways.

Hyde gasped, all a-sparkle, ignoring him. He propped his chin on his fingers and kicked his feet.

"He has?" he trilled. "What a juicy juicy little tidbit! Tell me everything, do~"

"You're not upset?"

"Hah! Not a bit. Better he gets all that gooey shit out of his system. Now come on, you can't lead with something like that and not tell me the rest, it's not fair!"

"I can't," Rachel said, folding her arms. She turned her back on him and tossed her head imperiously. "I promised."

"You promised?" said Hyde. "Who'd you promise?"

"Jasper," she said. "And Dr. Jekyll."

"Ah, fuck Jekyll," said Hyde, waving a hand.

"I'm not telling you anything. I've already said more than I should."

"Then why not say the rest?" Hyde purred.

"Why don't you go away?" Rachel retorted.

Hyde sat up and crossed his legs, pouting.

"Fine, don't tell me," he said. "But I'm not leaving until you do tell me what you wanted with me. Unless you just asked to see me for the sake of squeezing something out of Henry. Which I couldn't ~possibly~ blame you for."

I hate you so much, Jekyll said.

Rachel rolled her eyes and sighed. She leaned against the brick oven, looking less stubborn and more put out.

"You know Jekyll's posh friends?" she said.

"As little as possible," said Hyde.

"Yeah, well, they asked me to ask you to clear off," said Rachel.

"As if," said Hyde, rolling his eyes.

"Thought you might say that," said Rachel. "In that case, Dr. Lanyon wants to meet with you, probably to be stuffy at you until you drop dead."

"Can't wait," Hyde drawled. He hopped to his feet and hung off the pot rack one-handed. "Maybe I'll drop in on him now. Might as well, while I'm out and about."

"It's the middle of the night," Rachel said.

Hyde grinned. "Yeah, maybe I'll get to see him in his jammies."

"Maybe you'll get the peelers called on you."

"Like I give a damn about them," said Hyde. "Couldn't catch me if they tried."

He jumped down off of the counter and immediately bounded back up onto the windowsill.

"One day they are going to catch you and I'm going to laugh," Rachel said, coming to stand by him.

"Nah," said Hyde. "I'm the spirit of London at night, love. Nobody can catch me. Not even the bloody Forty Elephants could catch me!"

"And now I'll laugh all the harder," said Rachel, a smile tugging at her lips.

Hyde pouted at her, then yanked one of her pigtails, then leapt out the window to the sound of her offended shouting.

It was only a brief jaunt to Lanyon's place, and the night was young. Hyde was tempted to drop in at a pub or two, but his vanity got the better of him. What fun it would be, to ambush Lanyon in his quaint little home! What a delight, to see him all out of sorts! He could only imagine the pathetic, meaningless threats he might employ, the childish frustration on his silly little face when none of it did any good. He'd laugh in Lanyon's face and probably make him cry. There was no getting rid of Hyde, and Lanyon would soon know it. Maybe he'd steal the silver, while he was there, just to make a point.

It was harder getting around Cavendish by the rooftops, but he did still manage. The houses were farther apart, but some had trees and outbuildings that could be used to great effect. It was a challenge, a new game, and a delightful one at that.

Hyde found Lanyon's house and perched on the rooftop across from it, taking an inventory of the place. There were far too many windows, at least six chimneys, a glass conservatory off of one side. A couple of policemen were loitering not far off, smoking. Several of the lights were still on inside, although all the curtains were drawn. A couple more policemen rounded the block, nodding to the first pair. Hyde skirted along the peak of his current roof to get an angle on the other side of the house.

Four more policemen were hanging about in back.

The kernel of Jekyll-ness sitting in the center of Hyde's chest went so cold that it burned. Numbness radiated from it, like his ribs had been filled up with ice. Hyde didn't like it. He could feel himself being dragged under, subordinated to the pressurized rage Jekyll had been amassing for decades. It wasn't fair. It was stupid and vicious, consuming, smothering, utterly unbelievable, treachery of the highest caliber—

That posh fucker had sold him out.

Hyde clenched his fists, blazing with violence. He'd smash in the head of every bloody peeler down there, torch the bastard's shiny white house, burn down the whole fucking neighborhood, burn them all, burn everything. Lanyon would rue the day he'd ever crossed Edward Hyde. He'd be screaming it in Hell.

Stop, Jekyll said. You have to change back. We'll be caught like this. I'll handle Robert.

"I'll kill him," Hyde hissed. "I'll beat his bloody head in!"

No you will not, said Jekyll. Back to the Society. Now.

Blistered by the heat of his own wrath, Hyde whirled from the house and darted back along the rooftops. He kept low, ducking between chimneys and gables. His ears were pricked for the slightest sound of pursuit, his eyes flicking over every twitching silhouette. Gone was his leaping enthusiasm, gone the visceral joy of the night. Now it was fear, now it was frenzy, now it was the untempered fury of self-preservation. The hissing pillars of steam and smoke hid paler terrors, and in every velvet shadow he could see the cloak of death. When the bristling minarets and smoke-stacks of the Society rose from the skyline, he scrambled towards them with single-minded determination. Just ten more blocks and he would be safe, five more, three, he could see the open window of the laboratory, warm red light from inside only interrupted by—

Oh, hell, said Jekyll.

"That's all you have to fucking say about this?" Hyde snarled, flattening himself against a chimney. "Oh, hell?"

The house, then. All the servants will be asleep, you can let yourself in. There should be enough spare reagent there to change back.

"You can let yourself in," Hyde mocked, his lip curling. "Let myself right into prison, more like! They're bloody everywhere!"

If you've got any better ideas, I'd love to hear them, said Jekyll.

Hyde glared through the open window like he could murder the two policemen inside by sheer force of will. Doddle was with them, stupid, well-meaning Doddle, wringing his stupid hands and pouting into his stupid mustache, and Hyde would snap his stupid neck if—

Other than murder, for God's sake. Pull yourself together.

"We're fucked, Henry," Hyde said, trembling where he crouched.

Not yet. Get back to the house. This is still fixable.

Snarling, Hyde lit out across the rooftops once again.

Gabriel goddamned Utterson was loitering by the front door, his hands in his pockets, his hat on his head. He probably even thought he looked inconspicuous.

"What now?" Hyde demanded of Jekyll, fixated on the lanky, dusty figure by the door.

Now you walk up and go inside, said Jekyll. The most he'll do is talk at you.

"He'll shout for the police, is what he'll do," Hyde said. "He's in on it, they're all bloody in on it!"

Yes, said Jekyll. But I don't see any police, and Gabriel isn't the type to cause a scene. He's a lawyer, not an avenger. He may not even know what Lanyon's done.

"Not bloody likely," Hyde grumbled.

No, said Jekyll, it isn't. We must try anyway. It's our best bet.

"And what if I knock him over the head, what then?"

Then there will be no hope of clearing your name, now or ever, said Jekyll. This is fixable, but only if you listen to me and do as I say. Walk up to the front door, Edward. Like you've done nothing wrong.

Still seething, Hyde picked his way down from the rooftops and into a narrow alleyway. He straightened his hat, his shirt, his coat. He slipped the dagger he'd bought at Blackfog into his hand. He squared his shoulders and crossed the street. His footsteps were like gunshots in the silence, metallic and deafening. Utterson's eyes gleamed in the lamplight as he watched Hyde approach, and Hyde watched him right back, coiled to spring, tensioned to the breaking point. He mounted the steps to the door. He got out his key.

"Mr. Hyde?" Utterson said. Hyde turned like a whirlwind. Utterson backed up a step.

"What?" Hyde snapped. His hand was clenched on the dagger, trembling, sweating. His brain was buzzing in his skull.

"Do you remember me, sir?" Utterson said. There was a tremor in his voice.

"Of course I remember you, what do you want?"

"I am here on behalf of Dr. Jekyll," said Utterson.

"The hell you are!" Hyde snarled, bristling. Utterson took another step back.

"I can see by your agitation that you are aware you are a wanted man," Utterson said. "I am offering you this chance to escape. Leave London and Henry Jekyll behind, and I shall see to it that you are not followed."

"Liar!" Hyde raged. "It was never on Jekyll's behalf! I won't trust any promise you make, Utterson, you're a liar and a traitor!"

"Tonight, I am not Utterson," he said, drawing himself up wooden and towering. "Tonight, sir, I am Mr. Seek. Guest!"

Strong arms caught Hyde from behind. He kicked out, snarling. The knife flashed in the lamplight. Utterson leapt for him. Hyde kicked him in the chest. Utterson tumbled backwards over the railing. Hyde struck out blindly. The knife sunk into flesh. A gasp of pain, a burst of hot blood. He struck again, like a scorpion. The arms lost their strength. He wrenched free. His attacker staggered back. Hyde plunged the knife into his chest. Blood sprayed his face. He leapt as the body fell, onto the railing, the gables, the roof. Shingles clattered under his boots. The blood was hot on his skin. The air burned his lungs. Chimneys flashed past, steam and smoke. The rooftops rose and fell like storm-tossed waves. He tripped on his own feet and tumbled into a darkened corner. The night was cold. He tasted copper.

For a long time, he did not move.

Hyde began to shiver as a bitter wind chased through his alcove. He could not seem to catch his breath, nor would the weakness in his limbs subside. Where once the blood had been hot, it was cold now, sticky against his skin. His right hand was covered in it, glued to the hilt of the dagger. The blade was dull and black under the yellow smog, dripping with gore. The bricks were rough and chilly against his back, catching his coat. The smell of dust and sweat and blood thickened the air until his lungs seemed stuffed with wool.

The horror came up slow and rotten, swelling from the core of him like maggot-riddled meat. Numb fingers let the knife fall from their grip, and it clattered away down the shingles. He looked down at himself, at the blood drenching his hands and splashed across his clothes. He cried out in terror, scrubbed desperately at the mess with his coat, only managed to smear it up to his elbows. He was going to hang. He could feel the rope already around his neck, choking, squeezing. He tore the coat from his back and fled in desperation. They would follow, they must already have been following, he had to escape, somewhere, anywhere. He was blind in his panic, he didn't breathe once as he fled, one mile, two, hunted and haunted. His sweat mingled with the blood and made it run, dripped candle-wax trails behind him. When his legs gave out he collapsed, weeping, lost.