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bansheeoftheforest · 4 months

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Would you believe me? [Ghost Au]

This is officially my 20th fic! Of course I had to celebrate with some hopefully humourous Ghost Au :) Originally I envisioned this as a first part of a series of different au oneshots, all with the basis of "no one believes Henry" but now I'm not quite sure if there will actually be something out of that. Regardless, I hope yall enjoy <3 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wordcount: 5807

Summary: Dr. Henry Jekyll meets an unfortunate end after escaping the sewers. Too bad not many seem keen to believe his little predicament.

CW: Gore (I consider it to be quite light/nondescriptive but just in case!)

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So... This is how it all ended.

He stared at the mangled thing that used to be his body. He stared at the cracked skull, the blood that had already stopped seeping, and the dirt and mud which had further sullied the appearance he had so often sought pride in. You could barely see the green vibrancy of the waistcoat, or the rugged shape of the cape which had gotten stuck and torn by the carriage wheel. To think that this had once been a human being- once had been him- to think that this once had been Hyde, just moments ago, desperately attempting to escape through the sewers... But not anymore. There was no life behind those crushed eyes, no air within those lungs, no blood within that heart.

And yet, here he was.

Still conscious. Still watching.

He did not look like the man on the ground, the one who would now be reduced to nothing but mere maggots and dirt. No, around his waist was his normally red- albeit slightly paler- waistcoat. Around his neck was his cravat. He was not the corpse in the too-short clothing or even the familiar younger, blonder man, no, he was the man he had always been.

He was Henry Jekyll.

Huh.... How strange.

He had not really expected any of this. Truly, it was almost cruel. To have fought so hard for survival, for dominance over the mind and body he shared, and yet it didn’t matter, now it was all gone, and so was Hyde.

‘Well,’ he thought, ‘how unfortunate.’

But it was over, now. He knew that it was. Perhaps he should be glad- after all, his soul seemed to be whole once again, if it ever had been. But that did not change that his life- his own, unhappy, miserably comedic life- was now over. No last wishes, no last actions, no goodbyes- it was just... Gone. Just like that. Taken just like that, by accident, not even deserving of an active attempt of someone who truly wished him dead, no, all there had been to it was the exhaustion, the weary eyes, the seemingly empty road and a speeding carriage... The coach, in panic, attempting to wake him, and as he had died in his arms, he had decided that this stranger was not deserving of a funeral, of justice, and had dragged him into an alleyway, before escaping the scene of the crime, into the everlasting night.

He had not even screamed. He had gone quietly, gone along with his lot in life, like he always had.

Oh well, how unfortunate indeed.

At least, he was quite sure that he was gone, now.

He looked pretty solid. Perhaps a bit worse for wear, a bit ruffled- perhaps, if someone looked a bit too long, they would see right through him, metaphorically and literally. Perhaps they would see the way his limbs could not grab ahold of anything solid, the way it melted into the bricks of the building he had attempted to brace himself against, as he had moved away from the tether of the body. Or perhaps the darkness of the night would hide it, disguise it, conceal the death and become the new corpse he inhabited, until the break of dawn, where the sun would shine right through him without warming up his cold body. Or perhaps he would not be seen at all. Perhaps he was stuck, now. Not even deserving of purgatory. Of neither Hell nor Heaven. He could not blame God, of course, if there was one. But at least an eternal punishment in hell would be better than an eternity of unrecognition, a limbo of observation as the world moved on without him.

So, what now, doctor?

Well, perhaps he did not have to stay and stare at his corpse all night. But... What else?

He squinted. He was dead, now, so what could he possibly do? Wait for his cadaver to be found, walk around London’s endless streets? Attempt to gain contact, try to go home? Nothing seemed appealing- or possible, for that matter- but he was a scientist, was he not? Was the impossible really that unreachable?

He took in the sight of himself and his sorry state one last time. Then, he turned on his heel, and walked out of the alleyway, following the traces of blood, a trail of a body and the footsteps. Perhaps it would not have been so unusual in the grimy streets of London, where butchers threw remains as they pleased, but perhaps the hand sticking out from behind the boxes would get someone to realise what had happened.

Or perhaps the maggots would be faster.

He walked down the streets. His steps felt easy, like a weight had disappeared from his shoulders, which it quite literally had. All that was left of him was, of course, those seven grams. It was a funny feeling, having the wind breeze right through you, but it wasn’t unpleasant or unwelcome, it was freeing, like a cold glass of water in the middle of the night, or a breath of fresh air after weeks in the industrialised London Districts. Who could have known how limiting the physical body could be? He knew, oh, he knew- he would grieve. He would grieve the air which no longer stayed within his lungs, he would grieve the silent pulse of the heart he no longer had, he would grieve every laugh line, smile line, grey hair, wrinkle and blemish which would no longer grace his skin, a testament of his time on this earth. He would grieve the life he used to live, he would grieve the man he used to be, he would grieve the life which had been ripped out of his hands and he would grieve everything he had never achieved. He would grieve, oh, he would grieve, but now, nothing mattered. After all, he was nothing but a corpse, now. He was nothing but another memory, another corpse for the cemetery and another pile of food for the maggots.

He tried to touch every street lamp, every wall he walked past, tried to feel the cool touch as his fingertips went through the metal and bricks, as his new form took shape and hold and as his conscience stayed within his very soul. But his little walk, his little dance among the cobblestone paths was soon at its halt.

He was not at the Society, no, instead his little odyssey had led him towards a more discreet building- or perhaps discreet was a bad word. More humble than the bombastic residence of science that so many called home, he now stood before the Scotland Yard Police Station.

It looked abandoned, yet he knew it was not. It was not like crime stopped at night, no, and some lights were still lit. Through the windows, he saw the main office, where Sergeant Enoch Brokenshire currently resided. The closest he could ever get to a policeman who trusted him.

He did not bother to open the doors. He slid right through them, and luckily for him, no constables were lingering in the dark hallways. He doubted they would have seen him- but if they had, they surely would have gotten quite the midnight scare. The thought almost got him to laugh.

He arrived in front of the door, neatly and simplistically labelled “Sergeant Enoch Brokenshire”. He raised his hand to knock, attempted to make contact with the wood, and only realised his little problem as his hand simply went through- not deeply, mind you, but enough to get him to sigh. Instead, he attempted to call out.

“Sergeant? Sergeant Brokenshire?”

His voice- he heard it, but it sounded... Quiet, airy, like a loud whisper to the wind rather than the steady, unshakable voice of Dr. Henry Jekyll. Perhaps that was because he simply did not have a voice box, who knew? But he heard shuffling behind the door, footsteps, soon the door swung open, and he was face to face with the man in question.

The Sergeant- weary, tired, having been awake and working for multiple more hours than he should- had to take a moment to recognise the man in front of him, Dr. Henry Jekyll, a man normally tall and proud, now dishevelled. He squinted. Was there something wrong with the doctor?

“Dr. Jekyll?” he finally spoke, “why on earth are you awake at this hour?”

Something within Jekyll seemed to light up, a spark of hope at being seen, of being recognised, of being heard and understood- but Brokenshire did not know that, of course, he might not even have noticed, what with the overtime looming heavy over his head. Yet he moved, away from the doorframe, back into the office, inviting the doctor to follow him. Jekyll did so, despite the others' confused look as he left the door open.

“Well, Sergeant, you see, I seem to have run into a bit of a problem”.

He did not take a seat- as the seat, most likely, could not be taken- and instead stood close to the corridor, as if on the move. The room was dark, only lit by a single, lone candle upon the Sergeant’s desk. It did not take long for Jekyll’s nonexistent brain to piece together that the other seemed to be in the “migraine” stage of his overworking, a symptom which the doctor had been all too familiar with in the life he once had. Perhaps that's why the Sergeant did not manage to look closer, to notice a certain unfamiliarity, something wrong. Yet the furrow in his brow only deepened as the doctor spoke.

“What’s the matter, Doctor?”

He thought it over, for a moment, attempting to find a way to explain.

“Well, Sergeant,” he started, “would you believe me if I told you that I was just run over by a carriage, and that my soul may be slightly detached from my body?”

“... what?”

“So that’s a no, then.”

The doctor shrugged, a bit to himself, as the cogs in the Sergeant’s brain turned and turned.

“Well then, Sergeant, I think you best come with me, and I will explain when we are there.”

The Sergeant blinked.

“What? I’m sorry- what is going on?”

Jekyll did not respond, he simply turned around and walked out of the room again. He barely let the Sergeant grab his hat and coat, as he tried to catch up.

“Dr. Jekyll- what on earth is going on?”

“I think you will understand once we are there, sir.”

He slowed down slightly, just enough for Brokenshire to get to the entrance door first, masking the fact that he could not open them himself. Perhaps Brokenshire did notice it, perhaps he did notice the soft glow which seemed to follow the doctor, the lightness in his steps and his speed, but perhaps the late night was enough to make him question himself, rather than the state of the doctor.

They continued onwards. They did not speak. Jekyll felt as if pulled, or perhaps called, towards the cadaver which was currently rotting away in that fated alleyway, and Brokenshire had no choice but to follow. The officer couldn't help but wonder if this was all some sort of joke, or a trick by God, but if something truly had happened, what manner of man would he be if he simply ignored the doctor? No, perhaps he had no choice. And so he followed, down the streets, past the crossings, through the back alleys and various grimy shortcuts the doctor seemed to know. They continued onwards, yet they did not speak.

Suddenly, as they continued down the avenue, Jekyll stopped them. He put an arm out to keep the man behind him from continuing, a completely useless gesture as the Sergeant would have simply gone right through him, but it worked regardless. They turned towards the alleyway. Jekyll stared right into it for a moment, Brokenshire tried so as well, but could not see anything. Perhaps that’s when he noticed the dark, crimson trails upon the cobbled ground.

“Dr. Jekyll-”

“Come, in here.”

Jekyll continued inwards, slower than his steady pace here had been. Brokenshire- alone in the dark, with nothing but a gentleman and his baton- could not help but feel a bit nervous. The doctor continued and then stopped behind a few old boxes, rotten and with faded labels .

“Here we are, Sergeant.”

Brokenshire continued forward. Slowly, the subject of this odyssey came into view- first the hand, crushed and bloodied. Then the arm, twisted and broken. Soon the head, turned against the ground with large portions dented and missing. A freezing cold sensation washed over him, a horror slowly dawning, as he realised the sight before him.

“Oh god-”

He felt sick, sick to the very core of his body, and yet Dr. Jekyll just stood there, emotionless.

“Turn it over for me, will you?” the doctor suddenly spoke, breaking the Sergeant out of his shock… Slightly.

“I- What?”

“Turn the corpse over.”

Brokenshire just stared at Jekyll for a moment, trying to process what he was asking. Finally, he kneeled down next to the cadaver, took out his baton and carefully nudged it, until the face became fully visible.

The face of Dr. Henry Jekyll. Slack-jawed, eyes half-lidded, nose broken, eyes crushed, teeth knocked out. The Sergeant jumped back, eyes wide and stare evident- this- this could not be, could it? This could not be Henry Jekyll- no- no of course not- Dr. Henry Jekyll stood right in front of him-

“I was run over.”

The Sergeant blinked. Jekyll continued.

“A carriage- could not necessarily see who it was, but I suspect he did not properly see me in the dark. When he realised what he had done, he panicked, and dumped me here.”

He said it all so casually, like it did not matter to him, like he just expected Brokenshire to understand what he was telling him. It was incomprehensible, truly.

“...What?”

Jekyll had to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

“I’m dead, Sergeant. Killed. Murdered, even. I am showing you my corpse.”

Yes, Brokeshire was definitely hallucinating, he was sure of that.

“Sergeant, are you listening to me?”

He was definitely not listening to him, way too busy staring at the mangled dismemberment that used to be Dr. Jekyll.

“This… This can’t be…” Was all the copper managed to get out. Jekyll actually did roll his eyes now.

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me. Dear God, man, pull yourself together.”

“I pull myself together?! You- you’re the one claiming to be dead!”

The doctor groaned, frustration evident.

“Alright, listen; go home, get some sleep, whatever you wish- then come back, see the corpse in broad daylight, and realise that I was trying to tell you the truth, alright?”

He thought about it for a moment- he was sure that this was all some sort of fever dream, a hallucination, a trick of the light- but really- what could he do? If it was real, should he just leave the corpse here? In the alleyway? For anyone to find?

“Alright,” he said, “good evening, Dr. Jekyll.”

And with that, the Sergeant spun around, ignored his own confused thoughts telling him to stay and figure out what was going on, and left the alleyway.

Dr. Jekyll grumbled.

“Typical.”

What now, Doctor?

Well, he couldn’t say that he was particularly keen on staying out on the street all night, ghost or not. He was not sure what time it was, the night might be eternal for all he knew, and so, he once more took one last look at his body, before he left as well.

This time, he made his way towards the Society, not much further than the police station had been. He felt a tinge of melancholy, yet nostalgia as he watched his proud building come into view. His home, which no longer would be as such. He could not help but wonder what would become of him now; an eternal wanderer? Or perhaps a simple restless soul, bound to his corpse, or perhaps the life he had once lived? Would he be free once his body was buried, would he descend into Hell like he had resigned himself to? He did not know, for the moment he did not care, so as he stood in front of the portico of the building that had once been his pride and joy, he spared no thought as he silently walked straight through the doors.

He could go to his office, although he had nothing to do there. After all, he could not touch anything, so what would he do? Stare at the uncorked wine bottle, the open window which Hyde had escaped through? Ha, no, he had to make himself known somehow. Perhaps he could find a Lodger, tell them about his little problem, hope they would believe him more than Brokenshire. Or perhaps he could simply act as normal, perhaps they would not notice that something was deeply, awfully wrong with him. Or perhaps they would, perhaps they would not care. He couldn’t say that he did.

“Oh, my- Dr. J! Why on earth are you awake this late?”

Rachel, of course. It must be early morning by now, although the night was still abysmal and everdark, so it should come to no surprise that she was awake by now. Then again, he was well aware as to why she looked to be in such a worse state than usual; her cheeks seemed red and puffy, and the bags under her eyes were severely darker. Yet she smiled, as if nothing was wrong. She was carrying baking sheets, presumably having raided Doddle’s room for her own supplies which he had stolen, seemingly needing to get her mind off of the previous night as fast as possible.

“Would you believe me if I told you I was run over?”

Perhaps not too different from Brokenshire, Rachel did not seem to realise that he was telling the genuine truth. Instead, she just laughed softly. Either she did not believe him, or her mentally exhausted mind could not grasp it just yet.

“Well, you certainly look worse for wear!” She said, as if she was not aware of her own state, “Did you even get any sleep? Was the banquet that fun?”

Ugh.

“Sure.”

“Well, I’m glad you are back home! Give me a few minutes and I will get you something to snack on, alright?”

“Rachel, I can’t eat.”

“Oh, nonsense! Not with all the alcohol Robert must have gotten you to consume- now, tut tut!”

And with that, she continued onwards. Well. At least he tried.

With Rachel gone, he continued upwards. Perhaps a Lodger was awake, he frankly doubted any of them would believe him, or perhaps they were smarter than Rachel and Brokenshire- but regardless, he wanted something to do before Brokenshire would start his morning shift and hopefully return to the cadaver. He knew that some Lodgers most likely attended the now-raided bazaar, and could potentially be back and awake by now, as he doubted any of them had gotten caught. He also knew certain Lodgers were quite the night owls, perhaps the reason for why so many of them often did not show up until late afternoon the day afterwards, so he had quite a nice chance to find someone to pass time with-

His thoughts were quickly interrupted by a loud ‘BANG’ from one of the laboratories.

Good God...

Despite being dead, and therefore not really being responsible for the Lodgers anymore, Jekyll let his instincts and his curiosity get the better of him. His near-floating footsteps hurried towards the lab where the noise had been heard. Helsby’s lab, of course.

The door was locked, typical. No sense of lab safety. Jekyll just rolled his eyes and went straight through it.

Inside, the room was clearly lit. Turns out the loud “bang” he had heard was caused by Helsby’s pet kraken having knocked over its own ‘sleeping’ tank- which seemed to not have shattered, but had spilt water and all the different aquatic paraphernalia which had resided within it. The kraken moved like a kicked dog from the scene of the crime, while Helsby- wide awake and frantic- tried to figure out how to solve the problem. It did not take long until a dishevelled Bryson ran in, still trying to button on a shirt as to not be totally immodest. His eyes seemed to scan the scene, yet his attention was quickly caught by Dr. Jekyll, still standing indifferently by the doorway.

“Oh- Dr. Jekyll-” Bryson stopped, and blinked. Helsby turned his attention from his labmate and to the aforementioned doctor, “How did you get in? The door should be locked.”

“I’m dead.”

Helsby sneered.

“Don’t be dramatic, it isn’t that bad- Nicholas- Help me lift, please!”

How two men of their stature could lift a tank of that size was beyond Jekyll, yet he simply watched as they managed to get it back up. At this point he was glad that the floor was made out of stone and marble, otherwise convinced that it would already have begun to rot and mould by this point.

The two men panted heavily as they rested against the now upright tank, already dreading actually having to clean up the waste. Jekyll simply remained by his spot at the door, watching. The kraken cowered away from him.

“Could’ve at least offered a hand, Doc.” Helsby continued, “or are you scared to ruin your pretty little suit?”

Jekyll continued to stare blankly, then stuck his entire arm through the still-closed door.

“So what, some potion of yours backfired? Big deal. Now, please get out.”

He could almost guess that Helsby wasn’t in a particularly nice mood. Oh well. He shrugged and walked straight through the door. Seemed like he would have to find another way to spend the last few hours until morning.

He continued to walk around aimlessly. As usual, he did not to bring any more attention to himself, perhaps because no one seemed to be around. Despite that, he had a sort of… Gnawing. Like he wanted to do something- slam a door, flicker with a light, break something… He knew that he did not get a sudden cat-like need for mischief simply because he was now a ghost, but he also knew that, since he was newly noncorporeal, it would take quite a while before he could actually manipulate objects. At least he knew that he should be able to do so, eventually. It seemed like listening to Maijabi paid off. So, really, he did not have much more to do than to find someone that could keep him company.

It did not take long until he found his way to the alchemical laboratory, in which Ito was currently the only resident. Speaking of the Devil, his apprentice seemed to currently be working on something in the lab, as he heard movement inside. This time, the door was unlocked, but that did not really help him as, once more, he could not open doors. He quickly decided to simply glide through it instead, in hopes that his apprentice could entertain him for the remainder of the night.

Ito was, as expected, turned away from the door, slightly hunched over one of the tables and seemingly quite concentrated on the task at hand. He did not make any noise, but he doubted that she would have heard him regardless. He moved closer, until he was practically looking over her shoulder. Ah, that’s the problem; she was trying to decipher his own horrible handwriting on some notes he had previously given her.

Virginia stopped, seemingly feeling a light sensation by her side, turned towards said direction, and then proceeded to jump away and let out a small scream.

“OH- God- Dr. Jekyll- I’m sorry, you scared me- I- what on earth are you doing in here at this hour?”

Jekyll smiled gently.

“I was bored, and noticed that you were awake.” He replied, more matter-of-factly than he normally was. Ito- still trying to catch her breath- took a moment to process his words. He guessed she had been awake longer than she should.

“I... Okay, alright.” She attempted to straighten her dress and her hair, which were more messily put up than usual. “I was just trying to follow your notes on-”

The door opened.

They turned, and by the doorway stood none other than Dr. Maijabi, their resident ectoplasmic pathologist. He looked surprisingly well-put together for this hour of the night- or perhaps morning.

“I’m sorry, I happened to walk past when I heard Virginia scream, is everything alright?”

Virginia began to blush, embarrassed. Yet she attempted to explain the very simple situation- although she quickly noticed that Maijabi’s eyes were fixed on Dr. Jekyll, who stared back, as if he was challenging him. Virginia looked between them, confused.

Finally, Maijabi moved the eyepatch. His paler spirit eye was now focused on the younger doctor.

“Henry,” he said, calmly, “Why are you dead?”

Virginia blinked. Had she really heard him right?

Jekyll just shrugged.

“Carriage.”

Maijabi looked at him for a second, then nodded.

“Understandable, then.”

Jekyll grinned.

Finally, Virginia seemed to process the conversation that had happened right in front of her.

“.... What?”

The two men looked at her, perhaps as if they had forgotten that she was right there. Maijabi simply closed the door behind him and moved towards the two of them.

“Henry is dead”, he said, “what we are seeing of him now is nothing but his spectre, a ghost.”

“No-” she said, “no- that cannot be-” she turned to Jekyll, and looked at him- the ceiling light was turned on, the only obstacle to the truth was her own exhaustion. She stared at him, examined him. Finally, an expression of utter heartbreak graced her face. “Oh- Henry- Why did you not tell me?”

“Well, I did not get a chance to. Also, I did not think you’d believe me. I mean- I tried to tell Brokenshire, Rachel, Helsby and Bryson- neither of them believed me, so...” He shrugged, like it was the least bothersome thing in the world. “I mean, I kind of expected it.”

“I would have believed you!” she blurted out.

“Would you?”

She hesitated. She tried to reach out, tried to touch him, but let her hand recoil as it simply went straight through her mentor’s shoulder. She did not believe it now, either. It was late, she had been awake for God knows how long- perhaps this was all just a very bad dream she would soon wake up from... She was brought out from her thoughts by Maijabi, who had pulled out a chair, and attempted to get her to sit down. She complied quite easily.

Henry decided to try to explain the situation to his two favourite Lodgers- of course not mentioning anything regarding the scuffle with Hyde, the meeting with Queen Lucy, nothing of such- simply that he had found himself out late at night and had gotten run over by a stray carriage. Quite unbelievable, the streets of London were neither that dark nor crowded so late at night, but it was, in synopsis, what had happened. If he was lucky, no one but the coppers and the morticians would get to see his corpse and the clothes he wore, so there was no need to explain anything else, and especially so when Hyde seemed to be... Gone?

Virginia did not seem to grasp how nonchalant Henry was about all of this- after all, what was he supposed to do? Cry, scream, or perhaps beg God for a second chance? Ha! God is just as dead as he and even if He wasn’t, he would not care. All Dr. Jekyll could do was to accept the state he now was in. After all, he had an eternity to grieve, he did not need to do that now. Maijabi seemed to understand his stance quite better, even if he did not seem particularly happy over the noncorporeal state of someone he once- still did- consider as his own son.

...

They tried to converse, but quickly fell silent. Time passed, and dawn began to break. Neither of them were quite sure how long it had been, after all, two of them had the inevitable fog of night clouding their brains and the third would no longer be able to understand the concept of time at all. But dawn broke, and Sergeant Brokenshire should be here soon. Perhaps to try to meet the doctor, try to convince himself that the supposed dream he had was just that; nothing more but a dream, or perhaps to inform the Lodgers of the find in the alley. Or perhaps he would still not believe him, and Jekyll would be forced to find him again, and attempt to convince him of the truth.

Virginia had, at some point, fallen asleep against the table. Maijabi and Jekyll did not say much, after all, what was there to say? It wasn’t like either could console the other, offer condolences, grieve- it was simply a new matter of existence which they both now had to get used to. Maijabi had eventually offered to go and make tea, but had quickly realised that Jekyll could neither hold nor drink yet, although the man himself found that blunder quite funny.

Finally, by the time the grandfather clock in the alchemical laboratory read five in the morning, there was a knock on the door, startling Ito awake from her slumber. In came Rachel, looking weary.

“Dr. Jekyll? Sergeant Brokenshire is in the southern foyer, looking for you.”

She seemed hesitant, worried, nervous- Jekyll could not help but grin. Perhaps not at her emotions, but more or less over what might soon take place upon the stage that was their Society. He followed her immediately, Maijabi and Ito following close behind.

As they arrived in the southern foyer- or more colloquially, the back entrance, they noticed a handful of Lodgers already gathering, the few early-birds the Society had, or some which might have gotten woken up by the commotion. They stood wearily by the balustrade which looked down upon the foyer, a similar scene to the arrival of Frankenstein and Moreau. Down the staircase stood Brokenshire, a few constables which Jekyll recognised, and a single stretcher with something covered by a white sheet.

Jekyll’s grin stretched further.

Rachel seemed to get even more nervous by the sight, perhaps Brokenshire had not quite packed up by the time he had asked her to find the Doctor. Henry couldn’t help but wonder about the state of the Sergeant’s mind right now- did he believe what had happened the night before, and knew that the Doctor’s spirit was still not-quite-alive and well? Or did he perhaps hope that Rachel would have found the actual doctor, to prove that whoever now laid upon the stretcher was nothing more but a coincidence or a doppelgänger? Had he asked her just to see if there would have been a doctor to be found? Had he even asked, or was that simply what Rachel said, having panicked at the sight of the Scotland Yard?

Well, whatever it was, as Dr. Henry Jekyll and his entourage descended down the stairs, Sergeant Brokenshire turned even more pale. He opened his mouth, as if trying to speak, yet only a slight stutter came out.

“My dear Sergeant!” Henry cut in instead, “You did well and listened last night, I presume?”

He came close, very close. Maijabi, Ito and Rachel stayed by the staircase. Henry’s hand ghosted over what used to be his own leg, covered under the sheet.

“I- Yes, Doctor.”

Oh, this was going to be fun.

If he turned around, perhaps he’d see distraught expressions upon the faces of Maijabi and Ito. If he turned around, perhaps he’d see the overwhelming anxiety dawning upon Rachel, a fear that the body upon the stretcher was her own Edward Hyde. If he turned around, perhaps he’d see the confused and perplexed faces of the rest of the conscious Lodgers. But he did not turn around, no, he simply gave the Sergeant one of those brilliant smiles he had trained into perfection.

“Sergeant,” he said, “would you be a dear and remove the sheet?”

“You- I- I mean- are you sure?”

This was not necessarily standard protocol. Then again, it was not necessarily standard protocol for the Scotland Yard to drag a corpse to its place of work instead of straight to a coroner.

“You heard me.”

Brokenshire looked back at his constables, who looked as weirded out by the request as he was. Finally, the Sergeant took a deep breath, grabbed the end of the sheet which faced the back entrance door, and pulled it off.

A hush fell over the room.

Indeed, the corpse of Dr. Henry Jekyll laid now in full display. The broken skull, crushed facial features, dirtied hair, broken bones, limbs stiff to their very peak, green waistcoat and ragged cape.

The ghost of Dr. Henry Jekyll was, however, too busy examining himself to look around at the horrified faces.

His hands rested- perhaps more figuratively than literally- against his waist as he leaned over, inspecting himself. Soon one of his hands came up, placing his index and thumb against his chin.

“Oh my- whoever positioned me did excellent work! You would barely be able to notice the way I laid in before- especially with the rigour mortis!”

He laughed, so lightheartedly, like it was a funny little anecdote.

Brokenshire had often said that the doctor could be quite scary when he wanted to be. He now realised that he had severely underestimated how scary he could be when he was seemingly not even trying.

Henry could not help but to wish that Lanyon would walk right in now and see the sight before them.

Finally, he turned around, back towards the crowd. It was almost laughable- their expressions of pure horror, pure terror, pure disgust, pure disbelief. Perhaps it was a bit unfair for him to laugh at them, but then again, it was a bit unfair that he was dead. Still, he smiled, and faced his dear Lodgers. His dear Lodgers, who might now question the demise of their leader. His dear Lodgers, who might question the clothes upon his beaten body.

His dear Lodgers, staring down at him from the balustrade.

Yet his smile never faded, oh, no- the answers would come later, but for now, they had to believe him.

“What?” He finally said, “You all look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

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bansheeoftheforest · 4 months

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I see you are asking for oneshot requests! Might I offer; truth serum but Jekyll isn't drunk this time, and the Lodgers have to deal with the guilt of their founder actively panicking as he spills his secrets. (Bonus: Jekyll trans reveal + Ito loudly stating her support of him/him reconciling with the Lodgers)

!!!!! I am DEFINTIELY Rusty and realized now that I am finished that I could have probably moved this in a different direction, but I hope the wait was worth it and that you'll enjoy this oneshot!! :D

also pls tell me if there are any mistakes because I've been trying to read through this a million times and I've forgotten how to post fics- help-

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Title name: Secrets To Be Found

Wordcount: 4989

Summary: As Virginia Ito tries to keep her mentor calm during a day of anxiety, Dr. Ranjit Helsby and Mr. Seward Griffin decide that it is time to get some truths out of their founder.

Relationships: Robert x Jekyll (mentioned), Morcant x Jekyll (mentioned)

CW: Unconsenting drug use, internalized transphobia, transphobia

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Helsby was up to something.

The man was a gossip, and by extension, he was always in someone else’s business, trying to find out more and more in an almost deliberate attempt to get his curiosity killed. Dr. Jekyll had never liked it, never liked it when the older man would smirk and grin, like he knew something you didn’t, which he often did. It was uncanny already, but this time... He did not like what his gut feeling was telling him.

He had tried to wave it all off, when it first started happening earlier this week. When Helsby would throw smug glances towards Griffin, as if silently communicating. He did not have any capacity to care much about either of them, he would not have cared if Griffin was the target of Helsby’s plot, yet he knew that that wasn’t the case. Griffin was a recluse even among the Lodgers, his temper and chronic migraines often kept him from forming any sort of positive connection with any of them, and so his sudden friendship with Helsby was... Concerning. His own suspicion was not quelled when a handful of days passed and their dubious behaviour only seemed to get worse.

Safe to say, Dr. Henry Jekyll was nervous.

He forced himself to ignore this -probably imaginary- plot, and yet he had woken up with a horrible feeling within his very bones. He wasn’t really sure what it was, something within him was just... Jittery. Something was crawling inside of him but it was nothing he could put a finger on. He was almost certain that it wasn’t Hyde, as he had, in his own way, been quite calm and genuine the last few days, at least not seeming like he knew what was up with Jekyll or their body. He was not a stranger to anxiety, of course; but his anxiety normally came from something, it hadn’t come up without a reason in years, and that thought alone almost made him more nervous. Perhaps there was a reason, but really, why would he be nervous if Helsby and Griffin simply had a little prank planned? He could almost be certain he would not be at the receiving end, and yet...

The anxiety had only worsened during the day, perhaps solidified by a familiar, nauseating feeling within his body; a dysphoria in which everything within and regarding his body felt wrong, no matter what he changed or how much he had convinced those around him that he was a perfectly normal man. Deep down, he felt- or perhaps knew- that he wasn’t. His jaw was not angled enough, his waist was too thin, his hips were too wide and his hair was too long- otherwise obscure details to his appearance which now felt like tell-tale signs of his biological sex. Perhaps that was what had caused the anxiety; the very fear that someone, at some point, would find out, and especially so when he knew- or assumed- that Helsby and Griffin were sniffing for vulnerable secrets. It wasn’t like he only had one skeleton in his closet, either. There were a myriad of things which someone could find out about him, which would inevitably ruin his life, and his imperfect body was merely one of those.

Regardless, the physical signs of his illness had manifested quite early and throughout the entire day. By breakfast, his hands had been shaking, and his cup of tea had slipped right out of his grasp and shattered onto the floor, making him jump as his heart practically galloped out of his chest. Before noon, another one of Luckett’s fires had gotten a bit too close to the chemistry lab, and while it had been nothing but a minor explosion, with minimal harm to equipment and no harm done to any of the Lodgers, it had still been enough to scare the doctor out of his boots and leave the anxiety in a thick lump in his throat. After noon, yet another bill came, another one that would be put in the “overdue” pile before the end of the week. Safe to say, Jekyll couldn’t wait for this day to be over.

It was evening now. The Lodgers had clearly noticed their founder’s jumpiness. They had asked, of course, but Jekyll didn’t have answers. He didn’t know why he was like this today, all he knew was that he had slept and he had not consumed anything out of the ordinary, he did not drink anything remotely caffeinated and so he could not have made himself into a pile shaking bones through overconsumption. Whether or not the Lodgers believed that was an entirely different question. He was just happy that Robert was not here to see him like this. He was not necessarily ashamed of his irrational nervosity, but he knew that Robert would worry and, quite frankly, not leave his side until he had gotten him to calm down.

...

Perhaps that would have been a good thing, actually.

But it was too late now. Ito seemed to have sensed his nervosity, regardless. She was often a quite strict and stoic lady, but she could never help but to worry for her mentor, she seemed to sense his distrust and paranoia and had stayed close for most of the day, after the little explosion in the chemistry lab. Jekyll could get no work done today, and Virginia could not focus on her own work when her worry clouded her brain, and so they had spent the majority of the afternoon in Jekyll’s office. He laid down on his couch, one arm covering his eyes to block out the light in an attempt to rest, while Virginia stayed by his desk and looked through some of his old notes. Notes which he knew were safe, notes that she would be studying, as his junior. But it was getting late now, and Ito knew that Jekyll’s anxiety would not be made any better on an empty stomach. He had been reluctant, of course; he felt safer in his office, but Virginia did not want him to eat alone and there wasn’t enough space for the two of them to dine in here, so Virginia helped him up and linked their arms together as they left the office in search of the dining hall, where Rachel would have prepared today’s dinner. Jekyll could not help but look around in every corridor, as if afraid that someone was watching, or that something more would go wrong when he least expected it. He, of course, told Ito that it was just his nerves, and it was. It was not a lie, she knew it wasn’t a lie, but it sure as hell did not make her any less nervous.

They came right by rush hour. The dining hall was filled with chattering Lodgers, all behaving perfectly normal and no one seeming out of the ordinary. Mrs. Cantilupe and Miss Lavender met them with sympathetic ‘how are you feeling’s, and Luckett once more apologised for the day's mishap. The alchemists sat down by their own table, a bit further away from the rest.

Jekyll didn’t have an appetite. How could he, when his stomach was riddled with knots? The mere sight and smell of the food got him to feel full, but Ito had none of it, and left the table to get them both something to eat. She knew what her mentor liked and what would be good for him, after all, and she would make sure that he ate what he could.

But then again, this also meant that she left Jekyll alone.

His hands rested on the table. One grabbed the wrist of the other, thumb against his veins where he managed to feel his own rapid heartbeat, and he continued to look around. As he was turned away, he soon felt the chair next to him move, and as he looked back, he was met with the grinning face of none other than Dr. Ranjit Helsby- possibly the last person Jekyll wanted to see today.

“My good fellow!” he greeted, “how’s it going?”

Jekyll blinked, confusion already evident.

“I... I’m sorry, did you need something?”

Helsby waved him off. He grabbed the teacup that was neatly placed by Jekyll, pulled a teapot into view from vaguely under the table and poured tea for the other doctor, before giving him back the cup.

“Nothing at all! I just wanted to see how you were feeling, good sir.”

Jekyll squinted. Helsby -sarcastic, dramatic or not- never called Jekyll “Good” or “Sir”, and certainly not both in succession. Helsby was not quiet about his general dislike for Jekyll, or perhaps dislike was a strong word. He often thought that he was a toff, and he very clearly did not like the direction to which Jekyll was moving the Society, but that didn’t have to mean that he actively disliked him. Still, Henry did not trust his newfound politeness, and yet he also knew that it would only be terribly rude of him to dismiss the diplomacy which was now offered. He noticed that Helsby already had a cup of tea for himself, and as the other doctor raised his in a silent ‘cheers’, Jekyll had no choice but to smile politely and do the same, before taking a sip. As the liquid went over his tongue, he winced, doing his best to not cough up the metallic fluid right afterwards- what on earth was this abomination of a tea? He tried not to gag, really- it was absolutely foul-... He recognised it, he recognised the metallic taste and the sour smell- but from where?

He felt someone moving towards his right, soon Griffin slammed the palms of his hands against the table quite aggressively, making Jekyll jump and successfully gaining the attention of the Lodgers by the nearby tables.

“Well well, Jekyll,” He said, smugness evident, “You would not mind telling us a few things, right?”

His grin left little to the imagination, less like a human smile and more like baring teeth, more like a threat. Jekyll almost sank back into his chair, his heart beating and beating like it was about to crack through his ribs. Still, he tried to act calm, and pressed out a forced smile.

“Whatever do you mean?”

By this rate, or perhaps by Griffin’s loud movements, the rest of the hall had fallen silent and the Lodgers’ attention was now on the three men. Virginia, who was just on her way back, quickly placed the plates with food down at the nearest table and rushed towards her mentor. It was in this moment that Jekyll recognised the liquid which had practically been forced upon him, and he felt the panic take hold of his body.

Truth serum.

But it was too late.

“Jekyll, what are your biggest secrets?”

Something within Jekyll stirred, an involuntary feeling which was not unlike the one which rose when Hyde took over control- his tongue began to move, and the words began to spill from his lips faster than he could process what he was doing.

“I was born a woman.”

The men’s expressions were unreadable, yet Jekyll continued, spellbound.

“I’m bisexual and I’ve been in love with Robert Lanyon for over 15 years.” the words practically tumbled out of his mouth, he barely processed what he had said as the next confession slipped out, “I was in an unhealthy relationship with an ancient werewolf named Morcant.” His heart continued to thrum, he could feel how his breathing quickened, “I don’t think I’m good enough for anything and I fantasise about throwing myself off of the cliffs of Dover but I’m way too busy to even entertain such a thought” He attempted to struggle, to shut up, but he was as paralyzed in his chair, until his last confession finally came out, “I’ve been hallucinating my minds most horrifying creatures for weeks and I am Edward Hyde.”

…

Silence.

He was hyperventilating, now. Jekyll’s mind was an absolute mess, trying to process what had just happened- and yet the Lodgers around him just stared, mouths agape. He tried desperately to speak once more- any explanation, hell- any anger which he could throw towards the perpetrators- and yet he couldn’t. His vision- he hoped it was just panic- started to blur, and before he knew it, he had already pushed the chair away from the table, as he quickly got up and just ran, out of the room, into the corridors.

He heard yelling behind him. He heard rapid footsteps of Lodgers who tried to follow him. He was not sure where he was going, but he would rather be anywhere but near the Lodgers- his dear Lodgers to which he had split all his secrets, and Griffin and Helsby, who had drugged him and forced him into this. He had been drugged- just like that- His heart pounded within his chest, like a hare with a heart attack. Before he knew it, he was back in his office, slamming the door closed behind him and locking it from the inside, before the exhaustion took hold. His legs gave in, and he sank back against the door. He could barely process the footsteps that ran after him now stopping in front of the very office he hid in.

“Jekyll? Henry! Henry- Please, open the door!”

It was Virginia, banging on the door in hopes that he would, in fact, open up for her. He heard more footsteps as more Lodgers arrived, he could hear their various voices through the door. He pulled his knees up to his chest, attempting to hide his face despite there being no one to see him.

“You BASTARDS!”

Virginia seemed to turn her attention away from the door. He could hear shuffling and high-pitched yelps.

“How DARE you do this to him?! WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELLS WERE YOU THINKING?!”

“We didn’t think he- or she- or- whatever- was going to have THAT many secrets!”

“HE. Don’t you DARE call him by any different-”

“Hello? Did NO ONE hear that he confessed to BEING Hyde!?”

As the third voice spoke, the commotion stopped, briefly, like they all started to properly think about the things he had said. Soon more Lodgers began to speak.

“...Well- he also said that he is a bisexual!”

“Yeah, but is anyone even surprised by that?”

“Should we not focus on the fact that he said he wanted himself DEAD?-”

“Fantasising about jumping off cliffs is not the same!”

“Then what the HELL is it?”

Oh, God...

He could try to escape. He could take the HJ7 and jump out of the window like he usually did, escape into the night and not come back- well... Not come back until he thought the Lodgers had calmed down, that is. At the same time, he felt paralyzed. To think that he had freely and openly admitted his deepest regrets to the Lodgers- Lodgers, who were now arguing about the severity of what he had said. At the same time, his mind was only filled with the shame of his very first and last confessions; he had not been a woman in multiple decades- if he ever was- but his body was itching by a need to practically pull off his own skin in an attempt to rid himself of what made him unmanly and a monster, of what made him the abomination he is, the horrid thing which the Lodgers now knew about. That was to not even mention that he had just told them everything- from his shameful love for Robert and his horrid affair with Morcant- he had told them that he created Edward Hyde. Why could he not have simply been allowed to forget it all? Why did they have to dredge up the past- could they not have let him keep his secrets? They had no right, yet they had taken that liberty, unaware or uncaring about the damage they had done.

His mind was a mess, still trying to grasp what had happened. He couldn’t help it when a sob broke free. He could barely hear the Lodgers outside quieting down, destroying any hope that they weren’t hearing his anguish.

“Henry... Please, open the door. Griffin and Helsby are gone, we just want to help you.”

He didn’t believe it. He knew Virginia just wanted to help, but he did not believe for a second that the rest of the Lodgers wanted to. The others... He could barely imagine what they thought. Were they going to mock him? Or were they upset over the lies he had led them to believe? Would they blame this on him? Or perhaps some were already on their way to tell Frankenstein about what they had heard?

He felt something push against the door, and then the sound of something sliding down. On the other side, Virginia mirrored his position.

“Henry, I’m not leaving until you open the door. I can stay here all night if I need to.”

Through his tears, he couldn’t help but snort. As a Lodger, he only believed that she was staying to force more truth out of him, to shake out every last secret until he was nothing more than a sack of skin, but as his junior… Deep down, he could perhaps believe that she did care. It was confusing, yet a pleasant thought. He had no doubt that she would stay, she had always been stubborn, he couldn’t deny that. Whatever her true intentions were would, seemingly, not be revealed until he opened the door, but he was sure she wouldn’t stay that long...

...

He wasn’t sure how long they had stayed like this, now.

It was darker outside. He was certain it had been at least a few hours since the mishap in the dining hall, the serum should have worn off by now. He had not dared to show himself since, he had not moved from his paralyzed place against the door, but he was quite sure Virginia hadn’t either.

It was stupid, all of this.

He began to wonder if he had overreacted. Or perhaps underreacted. Griffin and Helsby had violated him in a way few could have managed… But he had no real choice, now. It was getting late, he had to open the door eventually and until then, he would be barricaded in his office, alone with nothing but his thoughts. He just wanted all of this to be over, even if it hurt.

He took a deep breath, and with shaky legs, he stood up and unlocked the door.

The sound of the lock and the push against the mahogany seemed to be enough to get Virginia to jump up and get away from the door, making Jekyll able to actually open it. She was ruffled, but she had indeed not left. He barely managed to fully open the door before she threw her arms around him.

“Oh, Henry.” She murmured, her arms going tightly around his neck. She was not much shorter than him, but she still had to stand on her toes to be fully able to reach him. He could not help but melt against her, his own arms going around her waist as he buried his face in her shoulder. They did not often hug- he was her mentor, after all, and she did not like people touching her, but this felt... Nice.

After what felt simultaneously like too little and too much time, they parted, and Virginia placed her hands on Henry’s cheeks. Behind her, he could see the faces of various other Lodgers, who also had stayed, although he wasn’t necessarily sure why.

“You don’t have to talk about anything, if you do not want to, but please, do not run away from us again.”

She didn’t necessarily sound heartbroken, but he knew her well enough to know that she most likely was. He couldn’t help but feel incredibly guilty.

“I’m... I’m sorry. Please, forgive me- for everything.”

She scoffed, shaking her own head in a gesture that seemed to only be aimed at herself. “I don’t think you have anything to apologise for”, she said. Her hands moved to straighten Jekyll’s cravat and waistcoat, equally ruffled from his stay on the floor. “What is important is that you are fine. Yes, there might be things that need some explaining, but that can wait. I have no doubt that you have good explanations for everything. ”

Jekyll took a deep breath, and looked around at the group of Lodgers- his Lodgers, who had waited for him. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about it, truly. He was not sure of their intentions, but today’s constant panic had left him... Indifferent, stoic. Like every emotion had been squeezed out of him. Yet, as he looked over the gentle faces of his Lodgers, he couldn’t help but furrow his eyebrows.

“...What happened to Griffin and Helsby?”

He glanced back at his apprentice, and watched as her expression hardened. Her eyebrows furrowed, but she forced herself to not get aggravated once more.

“I made sure they are now at the mercy of Rachel, after what they did to you.”

Jekyll winced.

“Good god.”

“Mmhm. Serves them right.”

The other Lodgers seemed to nod in agreement. They seemed unanimous that what the two men had done in the dining hall was violating and horrid, no matter if it just so happened to be Jekyll and not one of them. It was… Surprising, and yet comforting, almost. But he sighed, moved forward a little, before closing the door to his office behind him. Mirroring his previous actions, he sank back down to the floor, expecting this conversation to take a while.

“I... Guess you’d like some explanations.” He said, exhaustion and hesitance clear.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do. You all already know and I... I want to be able to explain.”

Virginia didn’t seem convinced, but accepted his stance. She sat down next to him, and the other Lodgers resumed their positions on the floor.

He began to explain Hyde; presumably his darkest secret. He did not want to dwell on it, he did not want to confess to the deprecation he had found himself in which had led him to Hyde’s creation, but he had to. And so, he explained, to the best of his ability; He is Hyde, but they are not the same. Hyde was everything that Jekyll thought wrong or imperfect with himself personified, yet he was his own person, with his own desires. He reiterated that they were separate multiple times, so none of them would think that they had been secretly talking with Jekyll, when they thought they were talking with Hyde. He stuttered and paused and had to regain himself multiple times, and through it all, the Lodgers just... Listened. Patiently. They simply let him finish his explanation on his own terms, without being forced.

Finally, as he quieted down, the silence remained for a few seconds. They understood, of course; what Jekyll had been feeling back then couldn’t have been easy, and while they were not entirely convinced of his reasonings for not telling them, they accepted it, and told him as such. They could especially comprehend his hesitance now, as they had not been particularly understanding of him and his situation lately, having been too busy admiring Frankenstein’s every word... At least Jekyll could feel happy that he did not have to dwell more on the fact that he didn’t feel like he was good enough, or the fact that he wanted to throw himself off of cliffs, as they seemed to have grasped that from his monologue about Hyde.

After a few seconds, Miss Lavender spoke.

“Wait- did you not also say that you have been hallucinating? Was that also Hyde?” she asked, confusion evident. Jekyll grimaced.

“Ah- well... Yes and no.” he started, scratching his neck a bit awkwardly, “after Moreau, Hyde and I fought, and, well... I wouldn’t necessarily say that he created the hallucinations, but he certainly kicked them out the door. It was mainly because I hadn’t slept in almost a week, though. They disappeared soon after I actually did so.”

“Was that why you looked constantly terrified a little while ago?”

“... Was it that obvious?”

“Well, yes, we thought you were suddenly terrified of everything and everyone- even Ito and Lanyon!”

Jekyll winced, although he tried to get out an apologetic smile. He desperately hoped that this was all of it, that he was done with explanations and could be satisfied with a neutral reaction from the Lodgers. He took yet another deep breath.

“Any-” he coughed, “any other questions?”

The Lodgers looked between themselves, then shook their heads.

“Nah, we already know that you like men, and we don’t mind if you happened to have been born a woman” one of them said, making Jekyll’s cheeks burn red as he realised what he had missed. “Although, like- are you and Lanyon dating or..?”

Jekyll attempted to cough out the ball in his throat, to no avail. He felt himself sinking down further against the door as he attempted to hide his face, clearly wishing to escape the conversation.

“I... We never... Dated, so to speak. We had a... A fling when we went to university, but he broke it off. And... I guess I haven’t moved on as well as I thought.”

He removed his hand and watched as the Lodger grimaced, Jekyll wasn’t sure if it was out of sympathy or because they thought he was pathetic, at this point it very well could be both.

“And the werewolf?” Sinnett spoke up, and promptly got nudged by Luckett.

“... Once, back in university still, I went on a vacation with Lanyon, to his family’s cottage. We came upon an injured werewolf and I insisted on nursing her back to health... I- I was young, and easily manipulated. I don’t... Like to talk about it.”

Sinnett looked apologetic, and Ito began to rub her hand against Jekyll’s arm in an attempt to comfort him. God, he was exhausted. Considering it must be past midnight by now, it certainly wasn’t hard to understand why.

“Well...” Ito began, “I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we are... Sorry. We did not know about Griffin’s and Helsby’s plan, we were definitely not in on it- and at the very least I am sorry for what you have been through, then and now.”

Jekyll closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the door. Still, he smiled gently.

“I know. I’m sorry you all had to bear witness to this.”

“I... I’m also sorry for... The Frankenstein situation,” Miss Lavender continued, “I didn’t know you were hurting so much.”

Jekyll opened his eyes, and watched as the group of Lodgers nodded in agreement. He normally would have simply snorted, it was awfully convenient that they were so sorry after he had a break about it, it really was. Water under the bridge, sweep it under the rug, whatever they wished to call it- but he was too tired to think about how genuine they were, or how convenient it was for them now. He just wanted all of this to be over.

“I accept your apologies.” he said simply. God, he just wanted to go to bed...

He wondered, for a moment, if the perpetrators would apologise, later. Or if they would double down and state that they didn’t see what was so wrong with what they did. It was wrong, so incredibly wrong and violating, they had to know that, too. But whatever would become of them would be the topic of another day, for now, Dr. Henry Jekyll was absolutely drained. If he was lucky, he could end the day and tomorrow would be perfectly normal, no one would mention or talk about the fact that he had spilt the contents of his heart and soul for them, unwillingly at that. He doubted that that would be the case, but he could always hope.

A soft sigh escaped his lips. He was just about to stand up and state that he would be turning in for whatever remained of the night, when he heard his own stomach grumble. He felt how his cheeks once more flared up in embarrassment.

“How about we see if Rachel has any food left in the kitchen, eh, Henry?” Ito suggested, “then you can sleep- and I will make sure you get no disturbances tomorrow.”

He thought about it for a second, but was interrupted by yet another grumble. He couldn’t help but crack a sheepish smile at his dear apprentice. “You’ve convinced me.”

And so Ito grinned, as she helped Henry stand up. The various Lodgers parted, some deciding to tuck in and others deciding to come with them for a late-night snack. It felt oddly anti-climatic for all of them, Henry especially, yet he was almost relieved. At least he could only be happy that his secrets had been... Accepted. Perhaps it all had just been his paranoia. Or perhaps it was fate, divine intervention- no, of course not. But his truths were told and his soul was bared, perhaps this was the beginning of a stronger foundation within his relationships with his Lodgers. At the same time, he couldn’t help but be curious. Of course he knew that he had been the target of Helsby’s and Griffin’s little plan, in some way he was glad that he was, so no other Lodger would have been at the receiving end of this treatment...

And yet.. he couldn’t help but wonder; if it had been someone else, what would they have said?

After all, who knew what secrets you might find, if you only knew where to look?

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