Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She's dead.

She's dead.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

He did it with his own hands. With his paws, with his claws.

Killing Laurel alone could not calm the beast's rage and thirst for vengeance. It raced through the hospital corridor like a tornado, like a natural disaster, and it was triumphant.

Wednesday didn’t flinch or run. She just pushed one of Willow Hill’s patients away from her.

Hyde paused for a moment, looming over her and looking into that beautiful porcelain face. He wanted her to be afraid. He wanted her to beg for mercy. He knew neither would happen.

There was a challenge and disdain in her eyes. He wanted to extinguish them.

He scooped her up and tossed her aside like a rag doll, like a nuisance, like one of those who had never cared about him.

The image of Wednesday lying on the wet cobblestones under the flashing lights of police cars was burned into his memory as vividly as their first and only kiss.

Now, Tyler is sitting on the couch in the hunting lodge his father and Carl built. Wrapped in a patchwork blanket, he shakes like a leaf. He doesn't know if it's from the long swim he took in the icy stream in the woods to wash the blood and stench of the mental hospital off his body, or if he's just coming down from everything that happened.

He isn't angry anymore. Nor does he feel the joy of being free again. He doesn't feel satisfied about Laurel's death. He doesn't feel remorse when he thinks about what he did to Wednesday.

He's devastated. That's what it must be like when you finally achieve your goal and face the consequences.

“A Pyrrhic victory,” his history teacher, Mrs. Pyms, would say. “Total crap,” Tyler thought.

He was now like a ship without a sail on a stormy sea. Without a helm, without control, without a destination.

He must have been really out of his mind to think that Wednesday would come to him out of love instead of business. He was sure that it wasn't over between them. At least, not while one of them was still breathing. He wasn't psychic like her, but he had a gut feeling. And he'd seen the way she looked at him. At both of them. At Tyler and at Hyde.

His mind is racing, his eyes are unfocused, and he doesn't notice that he's not alone anymore.

"That's curious."

Her tone is as even as ever.

Tyler looks up, and it's as if a collar is tightening around his throat again. Wednesday is standing in the middle of the room, staring at him.

"What are you doing here?" he asks. It sounds so stupid.

“My mother is throwing a charity gala in Nevermore to raise money. I came to ask if you would be my plus one," she says venomously. She approaches him, raising her hand. Her index finger runs through his forehead and back. Tyler shudders as if caught in a draft.

"You're a ghost. I killed you. And you became a ghost.” His throat is dry, and the words are hard to come by.

“I don't feel dead," she shrugs. Then she looks down at herself. Tyler notices for the first time that she’s wearing pajamas and is barefoot. Wednesday nods to herself and says, "I think I'm in a coma. You’re such a loser. Another attempt, another failure.”

He sees the cuts from the glass on her face and the backs of her hands.

"This isn't real," he says, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm just hallucinating. They turned my brain into a baked potato, and now I'm hallucinating."

“The side effects of ECT are more often memory problems and irregular heartbeats,” Wednesday says. "You can open your eyes now. I won't be here long.”

Tyler counts to ten before doing as she says. The room is empty again. He stands up, still wrapped in the blanket, and goes to pour himself some water from the canister he filled earlier in the stream.

"Porca miseria," Wednesday says, appearing out of nowhere with an Italian curse word on her tongue. Tyler responds with a basic, non-elegant English swear word. He spills the water he poured into the mug. 

"We're having déjà vu here," Wednesday says, raising an eyebrow. This is a new habit, apparently. He hasn't noticed her doing this before.

"Did you do this on purpose?" he asks, pouring water into his mug on his second try.

"I walked about a hundred meters through the woods, and then I ended up right back here. This situation is torture for me, not for you." She looks around, frowning. Then, she crosses her legs in lotus position and hovers in the air.

Tyler returns to the couch.

"Where's your Master?" Wednesday asks. "I saw Laurel in the hospital that night. I should have asked Uncle Fester to shoot lightning into her back."

"I killed her," Tyler says dryly and without boasting, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. "Before I even saw you in the hallway."

Wednesday says nothing, just watching him carefully for a moment.

"She had been transferred from the county jail the day before. Fairburn wanted to see how I would react. I tried to strangle Laurel by pushing Hyde's paw through the bars. Afterwards, I heard the doctor say something about affect accumulation." Tyler looked down at his lap, covered by a blanket. "Despite the outcome of our first encounter, she came to free me. She took off my collar and chains herself."

Tyler smiles as he remembers what happened next. He wishes it had been slower. More painful. Like it had been for him in that cave. But the final result wasn't bad either.

"How do you like free will?" Wednesday asks him.

"Enjoying every minute of it," he replies insolently, though he doesn't feel that way. He's still feverish, and the heat is spreading through his body. His stomach muscles are cramping, and he feels the weight of the world on his shoulders. He wants to close his eyes and plunge into the darkness to forget.

"Get up."

She appears next to the couch.

"Get up."

“What do you want, Wednesday?” He looks at her tiredly. He doesn't know if she's a ghost, a figment of his sick and broken mind, or his conscience talking. But he doesn't have the strength to follow her.

"Get up. Get dressed. Gather some vervain at the edge of the forest near the house. Pour boiling water over it. Then, drink the resulting infusion, and only after that, go to bed."

“Do you want to poison me? I have no idea what vervain looks like."

The infusion will bring down your temperature," Wednesday says, glaring at him. "Do you think I'll let a cold finish you off? That would be too easy a death."

"Aren't you afraid that, once I'm better, I'll go straight to find Enid?" He tries again to get rid of her.

“You won’t touch Enid while I’m in a coma. You'll want me there, won't you?" She says shrewdly. "Get up."

He groans as he gets up and heads to the closet. Throwing the blanket off his shoulders, he stands with his back to the room and starts rummaging through the shelves, looking for a shirt and pants that don't look like rags.

"How do you like the view from behind?"

"What makes you think I'm watching?" she says. Tyler grins.

Wednesday leads him into the forest and tells him which leaves to collect. They remain silent as the water boils and the herbal brews. Tyler blows on his tea to cool it down, then takes a sip.

"I hope you're not here when I wake up," he says. It's unclear whether he wants her to recover from the coma or if he simply does not want to see her anymore.

Chapter Text

When Tyler wakes up, it's daylight again. He sits up on the couch and looks around. Wednesday is nowhere to be seen.

It was too real to be a hallucination, he realizes. While in the cell, he spent hours—no, days—in mental conversation with her. In those fantasies, she was different, of course. She was someone who could accept him. Madness creeps up slowly, carefully, and imperceptibly, leading you to the edge of the abyss. When you collide with reality and see the collapse of all your hopes, you fall in.

Wednesday, who was here yesterday, was like the one who came to tell him about his father's death. Cold, mocking, hateful.

His gaze falls on the empty mug of vervain infusion. This detail doesn't fit, but Tyler doesn't want to fool himself anymore. 

He gets up, gets himself ready, and packs his breakfast. Crackers, nuclear-proof Twinkies, and canned meats are in the cupboard. He's just putting a sandwich in his mouth when someone behind him says,

"I see you're feeling better."

Tyler carefully chews his food before turning around and saying,

"I see you're not."

Wednesday doesn't react to the taunt. She looks at Tyler as if he were a guinea pig and she had a bunch of tests planned for him that day.

"The last time I was here, I only looked behind the mirror for the evidence the sheriff had collected. There were newspaper clippings and notes in your father's or his friend's handwriting. But I think I missed something. I want you to open the drawer of the table underneath the mirror and rummage around in there."

"What were you doing in Willow Hill that night? What did my dad find?" Tyler asks, realizing he's never even considered these questions before.

Wednesday tells him everything from the beginning. When she mentions the urns filled with animal ashes, Tyler feels a little queasy. When she describes the basement and the cells in it and the goals and motives of the woman whose name immediately vanishes from his mind, his throat tightens with anger. With one sweeping gesture, Tyler sweeps everything off the table. A tin can flies through Wednesday and lands on the floor behind her.

"After Mom passed away, Dad brought home an urn containing her ashes. He couldn't answer my question about why we weren't allowed to say goodbye to her. Was she there? Was she mentioned in the LOIS files?”

"Tyler," Wednesday says, looking at him impassively. "I don't want to be Galpin Sr. 's lawyer, but he lost his wife, he must have been devastated and..."

"Shut up," he cuts her off. "Don't defend him. Don't you dare."

Tyler stands up, walks over to Wednesday, and asks again:

"Was my mother involved in this program?"

Wednesday tilts her head slightly, as if considering her answer. Then she says quietly:

"I'm not sure."

Tyler steps around her and goes to the closet to pull out an old pair of combat boots. His hands are shaking as he tries to lace them up, cursing under his breath.

“Where are you going?” Wednesday stands over him, looking disapprovingly.

"Jerico. Home. Spit on his grave. I'll grab a few things from the cache, then head north. Or not. Burn Nevermore first, and then..."

"Enough!" Wednesday suddenly barks. Tyler looks up in surprise. "Learn to control yourself," she continues in an icy tone. "Your inability to cope with your emotions is killing me, both literally and figuratively."

Tyler is washed over with shame, then anger. Just like that time in the cell when Wednesday said he was a nobody, and that Laurel chose him because she knew he would be easy to manipulate.

He feels the pressure on his temples, feels his shoulders tighten. It's Hyde, trying to get out. Tyler exhales slowly. Now is not the time.

"Let's see what's in the drawer under the mirror," Wednesday repeats.

They only find a family portrait in a wooden frame. In the photo, Tyler is about five years old and sitting on the lap of a woman who leans down to kiss the top of his head. Wednesday looks at the photo so intently that a crease appears between her eyebrows. Tyler sets the frame down on the table.

"It was easier for him to put us both away than to deal with her death or the fact that I would inevitably inherit the Hyde gene," Tyler says, turning away. He picks up the dishes and wrappers he had swept off the table in his rage.

Wednesday is still looking at the photo as he cleans up a puddle of sauce from a can of gravy on the floor.

“How did you kill Laurel? How dare Hyde hurt his Master?” she asks when he’s finished cleaning up.

“She wasn’t my Master anymore,” Tyler says. “I just… knew it. Knew the bond wasn’t working anymore. But Laurel was so sure of herself that she didn’t even think to give me any orders first, before she unchained me.

"Because she was held in the county jail? Or because... Family, pack, like werewolves..." Wednesday starts to roll on the balls of her feet, muttering under her breath.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to think."

"No offense, but have you considered that this isn't your thing?" Tyler says venomously. "When you interfere, there are only more casualties. Last time it was your headmistress. This time, I suppose it's the entire staff of Willow Hill."

Wednesday shoots him a dark look and presses her lips together.

“Nothing hurts like the truth, does it?" he manages to say before she passes through the wall and disappears.

Tyler decides to go through all the supplies stored in the cabin, change his clothes and head out towards Jericho.