Word Count: 1100 words
Notes: I went with the vignette. Jackman/Hyde.
He calls me ‘Daddy’. She calls him my ‘brother’. So who am I to trust? Trust myself, or trust a ghost. Such a difficult question.
Trust no one. Makes the most sense. Don’t imbue anyone with the power of --- what is trust, really? The imparting of information? Allegiance? Belief? Acceptance? It’s dangerous. It weakens you. I’m weak enough as it is.
Because I wouldn’t be trusting myself. I’d be trusting him. I can’t trust myself anymore. I’m not sure I ever did.
Jackman awakens bloodied and battered. Hyde didn’t take the damage this time. Why not? The answer’s simple. Hyde’s punishing him. The wounds are likely self inflicted. Punishing him for what? Oh, it’s bound to be something inconsequential, but vitally important to a small mind. Jackman forgot to get his shoes shined, or didn’t leave the money in unmarked tenners. It’s times like this he misses Katherine. At least she could tell him where he’d gone wrong. Or would that be violating patient confidentiality?
The first thing in order is a shower. Then, he’ll inspect the wounds. He’ll call Claire and hear how Eddie and Harry are doing. And continue, as usual.
She ran away. He still can’t believe it, even if he would have done the same in her position – already did, in her position. She ran away and he’s had to deal with the consequences, pick up the pieces, try to understand how it’s circled round to the beginning. He thought he’d had all the solutions, all the pieces of the puzzle, but he had nothing. It disappeared in a puff of smoke like she did and left him dazed and confused.
So it’s research, again. Physical searching, again. This time without Syme’s helpful nudging or unwanted snooping. All too often a little voice, probably his whispers, ‘just give up.’
It is, after all, the human condition to be searching for ‘who you truly are’. He’s just got a particularly special case that sometimes involves dead lions and dramatic chases.
Tired? Tense, nervous, headache? What you need is a little excitement in your life! I find a nice 1996 Saint-Emilion’s the ticket, followed by squeezing the still-beating heart of an arse-licking punk, rounded off with a crème caramel. Actually, scrap the wine. And the crème caramel. Add in some hookers and blackjack. And we’re done.
I don’t know why you bother, Daddy, I really don’t. Didn’t you grow to accept me? Just a little bit? Weren’t we working together? But now you banish me, like a naughty little boy, to the corner of the room. The dunce’s cap doesn’t fit. I’m not just stronger than you, you know, I’m smarter too.
Hyde wants to remind him that this body, though it changes, is not his and his alone. It’s theirs. Just like Claire is theirs. Jackman may have the advantage during the day, but by Devil, Hyde has it by night. And sometimes his night extends to three in the afternoon.
Cuts and bruises did little to remind his alter-anti-ego of his tenuous grip on total domination, so this time he’ll go for a more insidious, subtle message. Hyde grins, stretches out, and gets to work.
“Hyde, I know you’re awake. I can feel you breathing down my neck. Have you been playing with the equipment? More than usual? Answer me, now. Don’t be a bad boy.”
“You finally noticed.”
“Noticed? My morning piss lasted three minutes and swung so violently left I had to stand on the diagonal from the toilet bowl. What are you playing at?”
“Playing with, Daddy, playing with. Just trying to give you some perspective.”
“The last thing - the very last thing I need is some Hyde perspective.”
“How’s your fancy business coming along, Daddy?”
“The one with Mummy. Or should that be Grandmummy? It’s all so very, terribly confusing.”
“It’d be going wonderfully if you’d take it upon yourself to, I don’t know, help once in a while.”
“I prefer wanking.”
It’s hard not to feel repugnance. Are his actions my actions and vice versa? How accountable am I for him, when I have no control? In the beginning I was sure everything he did was my responsibility, my fault, but the longer he lives with me, the longer I feel distanced from everything he does. Perhaps I’m taking the easy way out. Maybe I’m sick of taking the blame.
I’m his victim too. It’s bad enough he’s got the obsession with Claire, but it’s downright disturbing how obsessed he is with me. He’s raided my memories. I’ve felt his presence in there, when he thinks my mind’s been turned. He touches me, in places, and if I felt at any stage that he was just touching himself, it’d be more power to him, but it’s so obvious he’s trying to reach out to me. Why? Do I really want to ask? I don’t think I have the stomach to ask myself, let alone him.
He’s been through more than the average man. More than two average men. Three or four. He’s been through a lot. So what’s with this seeming that much harder? He knows why she’s doing it. It’s for his safety, his own good.
He doesn’t want to be safe anymore. He doesn’t want to be protected. He wants the truth.
When it comes down to it he should be most worried that when Hyde reappeared his initial foremost feeling was joy. Not anger. Not sorrow. Not disappointment. Joy. “Yay, Hyde’s back” was not a suitable response and yet it was the one he felt. Yay, Hyde’s back. Yay, that murderous, binge-drinking, drug-taking, hooker-bedding egomaniac is back.
Jackman picks up his bag and goes to the car. He’s had a lead and he’s not going to let it vanish like all the others.
If I help you, will you finally understand? Will you wonder what schemes I’m getting up to? I don’t know which I’d prefer. It’s a lost cause. Not me. Her. She managed to fake her own death and hide for fifteen years, but you expect to be able to find her after a month. Wishful thinking.
I trust you. I put my life in your hands, because I know you’ll do the right thing. You always do the right thing. I’m here to do the wrong thing. I think it’s time you accepted that, Daddy. I know everything about you now. We have an allegiance. I believe in you and it’s obvious you believe in me.
So why don’t we put our animosity to one side and power on? I know, in your heart of hearts, that you want to. After all, I am your heart of hearts, Daddy. And you’re the object of my affection.