#oc: a mind alight turns seven wheels

[mindfulwrath]

The Door Ajar - Chapter 1: Introductions

I’ve never written any fic with OCs and I’ve been feeling like a damn coward because of it, so here it is, my very first OC and/or lodgersona fic.

The general conceit is that Frankenstein and the Creature never turned up during Hyde’s night out, so Moreau never turned up and the Society remained intact (for the moment).

Fandom: The Glass Scientists Words: 3,548 Warnings: None yet

Dr. Leslie Fletcher was a handsome, well-dressed man, with a boyish face and a lanky figure. His suit was tailored, and his hair, while longer than was fashionable, was glossy and neat. He wore no beard or mustache and carried a slender black cane, which he did not lean on when he walked. He had a firm handshake and made uncomfortable amounts of eye-contact.

"Dr. Jekyll," he said. He had a pleasant tenor voice. "Thank you again for agreeing to meet with me."

"Thank you for contacting me!" Jekyll returned. "I must say, your offer of sponsorship was, while unexpected, certainly not unwelcome."

"Yes, alas, science is a pauper's profession with a princely price tag," Dr. Fletcher said.

"Ah, how true," Jekyll lamented, shaking his head. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you," Dr. Fletcher said, settling into the indicated chair.

"Could I get you a drink?"

"I'm afraid I shall have to decline," Dr. Fletcher said. "Anything stronger than Earl Gray plays havoc with my sleep."

"Even coffee? How unfortunate," said Jekyll. He sat himself down and glanced cursorily at Dr. Fletcher's letter, although he'd read it eight times through by then. "I find that so long as I keep the coffee to the morning and the wine to the evening, I manage."

Dr. Fletcher offered a polite laugh, which Jekyll echoed.

"I do envy you that," Dr. Fletcher sighed. "A cup of coffee in the morning will have me up 'til dawn and a glass of wine in the evening will keep me in bed past noon."

"I'm sincerely impressed with your ability to attain a doctorate without the use of coffee," Jekyll said. "I practically lived off the stuff my last year."

"Oh, as did I," Fletcher assured him. "I simply forewent sleep eight nights out of seven."

Jekyll laughed. "I wish I could say I don't miss those days, but at times I do."

"They had their benefits," said Fletcher. "Out of curiosity, where did you attend?"

"Cambridge," said Jekyll. "And yourself?"

"Ah, I was an Oxford boy," he said. "With a brief stint in Italy."

"What did you study? I was ostensibly in chemistry."

"I was a scholar of religion," Fletcher said, then added playfully, "perhaps the with same ostensibly as yourself."

"Religion? Fascinating," said Jekyll, raising his eyebrows. "You mentioned in your letter that you were interested in becoming a member, as well as a sponsor."

"So I am," said Fletcher.

He did not elaborate, and Jekyll's conversational footing slipped, like Fletcher had been building a staircase for him and suddenly omitted a step.

"And what is it, precisely, that you do?" Jekyll asked. He could have kicked himself. "Not to discount you, of course, I realize that came out a tad more condescending than I had intended."

"Not a worry," said Fletcher. "I was, admittedly, purposefully vague."

"I had wondered," Jekyll said, scrunching up one eye halfway to a wink.

"Mainly, I dabble," Fletcher said. "A dash of astronomy, a touch of botany, a pinch of chemistry. Religion carried me a certain distance in the beginning, but I found it . . . lacking, in some points."

Jekyll watched him for a moment, searching his face.

"Lacking in which points, precisely?" he asked.

"A person might get the sense that you're accusing me of something," said Fletcher, laughing. "I'm no mad galvanist, more's the pity. Have you seen the play next door?"

"I have," Jekyll said. He winced. "It was . . . interesting."

"In a word," said Fletcher, his eyes alight with amusement. "I could certainly think of a few other choice words to describe it."

"And how would you describe your profession?" Jekyll asked. "In a word."

Fletcher considered the ceiling. The light caught his eyes, turning them to topazes. He bit his lip and arched a brow.

"Extraplanar explorer," he said, turning his gaze back to Jekyll. His mouth pinched with amusement. "Although I recognize that's two words."

"And, again indulge me, but what does that have to do with religion?"

Fletcher sat forward, holding Jekyll's gaze.

"Dr. Jekyll," he said, his voice low and intense. "Are you a religious man?"

"I . . . would say so," said Jekyll, apprehensive.

The corner of Fletcher's mouth twitched, a smile instantly fought down.

"Do you believe in angels?" he asked.

"Yes," Jekyll said carefully, narrowing his eyes. He was too curious about where this was going to play hard-to-get.

"You must, then, believe in demons, as well," said Fletcher.

"The Good Book says that they exist, so yes."

"I don't," said Fletcher.

"You don't?" said Jekyll shocked.

"No," said Fletcher, "I don't. There are creatures that have been described as demons, and as angels, but they are all simply more monsters. God is a monster."

This blasphemy was proclaimed with such frank sincerity that, again, it threw Jekyll off.

"I cannot imagine why you might have difficulty in polite society," he said, before he could stop himself. Fletcher laughed.

"Yes, that one would certainly earn me a few thrown stones," he said. "I don't mean it in an . . . accusatory way. God is a monster, much as that little church-grim I passed on the way in is a monster. What I think, Dr. Jekyll, is that the monsters we see in our world are but . . . shadows. Mice and cockroaches that have wriggled in through the crack under the door."

"And angels, demons, and God are behind the door?"

"They're what we see when we peek through the keyhole," Fletcher allowed. "Ezekiel describes the ophanim as wheels with rims full of eyes round about, wreathed in flame. Does that not sound monstrous to you? God is so terrible to behold that to look upon Him is to die! There is, I believe, a world outside of ours, surrounding it on all sides but invisible and walled off. I am simply trying to find the door."

"Are you trying to open it?" Jekyll asked, excited despite himself. Dr. Fletcher could certainly paint a tempting picture.

Fletcher smiled. He had not blinked in quite some time, and did not do so now.

"I suppose I shall make that decision when I find it," he said.

Clearing his throat, Jekyll wrestled his enthusiasm under control.

"What I am asking," he said, "is if you intend to summon demonic forces into my Society."

"No no," said Fletcher. "Under it."

"Oh, under it, of course," Jekyll said, rubbing his eyebrow.

"The esteemed Mr. Mosley lodges here, does he not?" said Fletcher. "I'm certain I could make use of some of his shallower excavations."

Jekyll looked up at him sharply. "You seem to have done your research," he said.

"Of course," said Fletcher, smiling pleasantly. "A scientist never enters into anything without doing the proper research. I trust you've done your research on me, hahah."

"Some," Jekyll said. "Only . . . shallow excavations, shall we say. Admittedly, even the topsoil is saturated with unpleasantness."

"Only the topsoil," Fletcher said. "I understand your misgivings, I really do. It may please you to know, I've developed a stringent containment protocol that has yet to fail me."

"Safety is . . . a primary concern, yes," said Jekyll. "But why us? Why here? It doesn't seem like what you're doing is, if you'll forgive my bluntness, particularly scientific."

"Anything is science if you apply the proper methodology," said Fletcher. "As to the why's: what I intend to do is never going to be completely safe, and is on the verge of becoming extremely dangerous. There's no safe place for it. Your Society is, however, the safest place I can think of to do it."

Jekyll didn't answer right away, drumming his fingers on his desk.

"I'm also very rich," Fletcher added.

"So I've heard," Jekyll sighed. "Would you like a tour, or would you prefer to find your own way?"

Fletcher grinned, preening. "I think a tour would be lovely!" he said.

"I will warn you, the lodgers are incorrigible gossips," Jekyll said. "There's doubtless a contingent of them with their ears pressed to my door, even now."

"Ah!" said Fletcher. "That would explain the whispering."

For a moment, there was silence.

"What—what whispering?" Jekyll said, the back of his neck prickling.

"I have excellent hearing," Fletcher said with a wink. He got to his feet, and Jekyll, for politeness's sake, was forced to rise as well. "I should mention, I don't intend to lodge here. I have my own place in Whitechapel."

"I have no doubt it's infinitely more comfortable than anything we could provide you with," Jekyll demurred.

"Not at all," Fletcher said brightly. "It is, in a word, austere. Still, it's home, and I should hate to have to let the servants go."

"I see," said Jekyll. "Well, should you ever change your mind or simply require a nearer bed, there will always be room for you here."

"It's much appreciated."

Jekyll went to the door and opened it. He caught the tail end of Archer's coat vanishing round the banister at the bottom of the stairs, and could smell the distinctive gunpowder perfume of either Luckett or Sinnett. Miss Flowers, Miss Lavender, and Mrs. Cantilupe were all conspicuously nearby and all wore varying attempts at innocent faces.

"Perhaps some introductions, to start off with?" Jekyll said, raising his voice just slightly more than was necessary. Flowers, Lavender, and Cantilupe all looked up, cranking the intensity on their innocent-faces.

"Capital idea!" said Fletcher, following Jekyll down the stairs. His cane tapped on the marble, slightly out of sync with his footsteps.

Jekyll introduced him to the three women, and he kissed their hands with perfect grace and sincerity. Jekyll paid closer attention after the first one, memorizing the details of the motion—the half-bow, the softness of his hand, the nigh-flirtatious eye-contact after the fact, the slightest brush of lips against knuckles, as though he had intended to place the kiss on air and just missed it. The performance left Flowers blushing and smiling, Lavender rolling her eyes, and Mrs. Cantilupe properly charmed.

It left Jekyll burning with jealousy.

Is it that you know you'll never be that good, or just that you want your hand kissed? Hyde chortled. Jekyll clenched his teeth.

Fletcher's eyes flicked to him, just for a moment, and his ear wiggled. Jekyll nearly crawled out of his skin.

"Henry, I do believe this is the first gentleman you've managed to drag in," Cantilupe declared.

"I mainly dragged myself in," Fletcher said, turning his attention back to the ladies. "Much to poor Dr. Jekyll's consternation, hahah."

"Certainly not," said Jekyll, although his charm was sitting slightly askew. "I'm simply unused to being—solicited, is all."

"He pulled most of us in off the street," Lavender said. "Generally out of the path of screaming mobs."

"Good heavens," said Fletcher. "It seems to have been tremendously good fortune for everyone involved!"

"Oh, yes," said Flowers. "That's part of why we're all working so hard for the exhibition."

"I wouldn't say that," said Lavender, side-eyeing her.

"It's part of why I am!" said Flowers. "The fate of the Society hinges on it!"

"You're always so dramatic, Camilla," Lavender sighed. "The exhibition isn't make-or-break, it's simply an opportunity for improvement."

"That's what you think," Flowers said. "But you know how things go wrong. Next thing you know, all of London will be up in flames!"

"It will not!" Luckett shouted, from somewhere near the stairs.

"I imagine it would be difficult to get all of London up in flames," Fletcher said kindly. Flowers shrank into herself and dropped her gaze. "Though certainly not impossible!"

"Are you going to be presenting at the exhibition, Dr. Fletcher?" Cantilupe asked.

"Me? Goodness, no," Fletcher said, laughing. "I doubt that would go over well. No, my contributions to the exhibition will be purely fiscal, and I think that's for the best."

"Surely not," said Lavender. "We'd love to see some of your work, if you'd be willing to show it."

Luckett and Archer both materialized at either side of the conversation, a pincer-formation of gossips.

"Certainly would," said Archer. He stuck out a hand. "Flynn Archer, pleasure to meet you."

"Leslie Fletcher," said Fletcher, shaking his hand and grinning. "Fletcher and Archer, what a pair we make!"

Archer laughed. "What a pair, indeed!"

"And this is Mr. Luckett," Jekyll said, presenting him. Fletcher shook his hand, too. The elbow of Luckett's sleeve was currently smoldering.

"A pleasure," said Fletcher. "Perhaps I'll run into all of you again later on the tour, and you can demonstrate some of your work for me. I'd love to see it, up close and in person."

"Ah, not everything ought to be seen up close," said Luckett, making a face.

"At a reasonable distance, then," Fletcher said with a wink.

A few more politenesses were exchanged before Jekyll managed to extract Fletcher from the conversation, which he had to do as quickly as possible because more lodgers were converging on the knot. He took him around the back way of the Society, which was generally less populous in the daytime, and where the lodgers would have to spend a few minutes inventing a reason to turn up.

"Most of the interesting things are upstairs, of course," Jekyll said. "The downstairs is primarily for showing off, in the case of the atrium, and for mundanities, in the case of the kitchen."

He gestured to the large oak door as they came to it. Thankfully, it was closed, although the smell of baking bread filled the corridor.

"Do you employ a cooking staff?" Fletcher asked, strolling past the door with Jekyll.

"In a manner of speaking," said Jekyll. "The staff currently consists of—"

"One moment," Fletcher said, stopping on a dime and leaning back on one leg, swinging his cane jauntily for balance. "I distinctly heard the phrase murdered his whole family. Excuse me."

Before Jekyll could catch him, he had doubled back through the door to the kitchen, and Jekyll was forced to scurry after him.

"I'm certain it wasn't—" he began.

"Speak of the Devil and he shall appear," Fletcher said, leaning on his cane and crossing one ankle over the other. Rachel and Jasper nearly leapt out of their skins. Rachel knocked over a bowl of apples, and Jasper let out a loud squeak and tried to hide behind her. Fletcher grinned like a shark.

"Ah, Jasper, Rachel, this is Dr. Leslie Fletcher," Jekyll said, laying a careful hand between Fletcher's shoulders.

"Please don't touch me," Fletcher said amiably, his smile unmoved.

"Yes, sorry, terribly sorry," said Jekyll, removing his hand from Fletcher's back. "Dr. Fletcher, these are Mr. Jasper Kaylock and Miss Rachel Pidgley. Mr. Kaylock is a lodger, and Miss Pidgley is our cook and day manager."

"And evidently reader of gossip columns!" Fletcher said. His eyes were fixed on Rachel. He crossed to her and stuck out a hand. "A pleasure."

"Y-yes, of course," said Rachel, taking his hand gingerly.

Fletcher raised it to his lips and kissed it, holding her gaze the entire time. Rachel flushed, but not, Jekyll thought, from any sort of flattery. Fletcher let her go and turned to Jasper, sticking out his hand again.

"Er, good to meet you, sir," Jasper mumbled, shaking his hand.

"Very!" Fletcher said. "What is your field of study, Mr. Kaylock?"

"Um," said Jasper. Fletcher still hadn't let go of his hand. "Er, cryptobiology, sir."

"Sir, I'm not a professor," Fletcher said, laughing. "Please, call me Leslie. Everyone does. Except the newspapers, of course, but when have they ever called anyone what they wanted to be called."

He turned and looked very pointedly at Jekyll, who could only incline his head and smile.

"Rarely," he said. "Ah, while we're here, I suppose I might as well mention, the kitchen is open at all hours, although lodgers are encouraged not to attempt anything . . . shall we say ambitious after-hours."

"Of course," said Fletcher. He pivoted and pinned Rachel with his gaze. "And what is it a day manager does?"

"Um? Well," said Rachel. "It's—it's all a bit dull, really."

Fletcher leaned on his cane and crossed his ankles again.

"Really?" he said.

"Dr. Fletcher," Jekyll said, approaching sidelong. "I'm sure Miss Pidgley is very busy just at the moment. Perhaps you could catch up with her later, after our tour?"

"Capital idea," said Fletcher, finally turning his gaze back to Jekyll and locking eyes with him. "Where to next? I'd love to see some of the labs, if possible."

"Yes, of course," said Jekyll, trying not to let his relief show. He had a feeling he'd failed, partially because Fletcher was so intently watching his eyes. "They're mostly upstairs."

He'd almost, almost gotten Fletcher all the way out when the man turned back for a parting shot.

"By the way," he said to Rachel, "it wasn't the whole family. Just the sister."

"Um?" Rachel squeaked. Jekyll herded Fletcher out the door before he could make it any worse.

"Dr. Fletcher, I would sincerely appreciate it if you would refrain from menacing the other lodgers," Jekyll said, his voice taut.

"I wasn't menacing," Fletcher said, insulted. "It was a joke! As was the investigation. I was in Venice when it happened, for goodness' sake."

"Ahah, yes, well, these things do tend to get blown out of proportion in the rumor-mill," Jekyll said, fighting down an embarrassed flush.

"Have I just met the miller?"

"I regret to inform you, Dr. Fletcher, that they are all millers."

"Oh, excellent," said Fletcher, sounding genuinely amused. "I'm certain that helps when separating the wheat from the chaff."

Jekyll laughed politely.

I hate him already, Hyde drawled.

Again, Fletcher looked at him, and Jekyll was struck by the sudden and insane terror that he could hear Hyde.

"It, ah, it can prove, in some cases, beneficial," Jekyll said. He resisted the impulse to tug on his collar, although he couldn't stop himself from sweating. "To have such an informed . . . body of people."

"I'm sure," said Fletcher. He kept looking at Jekyll's eyes, like he was expecting to see something. "And speaking of bodies of people, I really haven't murdered anyone. In case you're harboring doubts."

"No! Me? Certainly not," said Jekyll. "As you said, the investigation was unwarranted."

"I never said it was unwarranted," Fletcher said, still watching him. "I just said it was a joke."

"Ahah," said Jekyll. "Quite. Shall we head upstairs? I believe Dr. Maijabi is in, you'll probably enjoy his work. . . ."

Fletcher finally turned his gaze back to the Society at large and allowed Jekyll to get on with his practiced, polished rambling. The rest of the tour went off without further incident, Fletcher playing the perfect gentleman and Jekyll playing the perfect host. They concluded in Mosley's underground launch bay, where Jekyll left Fletcher and Mosley to discuss the specifics of where Fletcher might set up. The sense of relief when he got back to his own office and shut the doors behind him was profound.

He definitely murdered his whole family, Hyde said, lounging in the cheval-glass. He's mad as a bat in a belfry.

"He is, admittedly, a touch unsettling," Jekyll said, moving to his desk. "But none of the lodgers are strictly speaking sane. I doubt he'll cause any trouble."

You're only after his money, Hyde scoffed. If he wasn't rich, you'd never have given him the time of day. What a pretty whore you are, so sweet and desperate.

"Must you do this every time?" Jekyll asked, exasperated.

Oh, I must, dear doctor, I must, said Hyde. And you had better be careful about talking back, now that Batty Fletcher's Incredible Ears are wandering the halls.

"I'd be less tempted if you didn't talk in the first place," Jekyll muttered.

Where would be the fun in that? Hyde said. You should let me meet him.

"Absolutely not."

I want his cane.

"Absolutely not."

He doesn't use it. It'd look much better on me. And think of what fun it would be, to burgle Batty Fletcher! I can see it now: Robbery in Whitechapel, Police Baffled!

"Neither you nor I is robbing any of my lodgers, and that is absolutely final."

We could pin it on somebody else. Think of the ~drama~!

"You really are in a mood today, aren't you."

Maybe whatever Fletcher's got is catching.

"I think he has some very sound and interesting ideas," Jekyll said stiffly.

Of course you do, said Hyde. You're just as crazy as he is.

"Neither one of us is crazy," said Jekyll.

You so are, said Hyde. I give it a week before he figures you out. Before he sees how cheap and hollow you are. I bet he can hear it.

"So long as he doesn't withdraw his funding, I don't much care," Jekyll said.

Bo-ring, Hyde said, yawning. Call me when the first demon turns up. We'll see if Batty Fletcher can't give you some more interesting fears.

"Good, go away," said Jekyll.

Just for that, I won't, Hyde said. He then launched into the longest drinking song he knew, raucous and off-key.

Jekyll sighed and put a hand over his eyes.