Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

It was late in the afternoon when Mr. Utterson found his way to Dr. Jekyll's door. The atmosphere was dark and gloomy, and the sky had a slight dusting of clouds strewn about, given the circumstances. Even the wind had persisted since the lawyer had been called by Inspector Newcomen early that morning, and he shivered from both the biting cold and the events that had transpired that day.
His decision to visit the doctor stemmed from his great concern about Jekyll’s involvement, but the depths of his mind also simply yearned for a familiar face. He ascertained that the doctor might also desire a bit of welcome company. Rather, there was no harm in visiting his friend at this time; quite the opposite.

His hand gently knocked upon the sturdy wood, and he pulled his coat closer to himself as a strong gust of wind rustled his hair. He was answered by Poole, who only opened the door about a third of the way.

“Good evening, Poole,” Utterson began, a little rushed. “May I speak with Dr. Jekyll?”

“I am afraid he is from home, sir.” The butler spoke calmly, but Utterson’s keen eye could sense his unease. Even more so, a small glimpse of the hall inside revealed three or four huddled servants, all of different standings, whispering to each other. One was wringing his handkerchief, another paced from side to side, and he could swear one of the women, usually a cheerful lass, was about to cry. Utterson raised his brow.

“Is everything alright, Poole?”

Poole followed the lawyer’s gaze, and his shoulders drooped when he realized his visitor had become suspicious. Utterson had never seen the butler so worried.

“Well… no, sir, not everything is well,” Poole opened the door wider, letting the lawyer in from the whistling wind. The servants also noticed their visitor and crowded around him.

Utterson gave them all a look but continued talking to the butler, “Is Dr. Jekyll well? I must admit, your frowns are worrying. You may tell me if anything is amiss.”

The small group around them had grown, attracting more of the doctor’s household. One even muttered, “he was not himself today…” under their breath. They all looked at Poole, almost pleadingly, before the butler sighed, “Actually, sir, Dr. Jekyll is from home because he has fled.”

Utterson’s heart almost stopped, and his mind became flooded with arguments. Luckily, Poole continued, and his voice grounded the lawyer.

“It is not my place to assume anything of my master, but he came out of his chamber early this afternoon, running around like a chicken without a head and ordering us to gather a number of supplies. I fetched him his largest traveling trunk, as per orders, and the others gathered his clothing and valuables. We were already nervous before he informed us he would be gone for a long while. When we inquired why, he only shook his head and told us he had to leave for Harwich immediately.”

Utterson was able to gather his thoughts during Poole’s explanation, and he rubbed his brow in contemplation. “I only suppose he fears Hyde will come after him next. You have heard of the murder, have you?”

Poole and the others nodded, “They were crying it in the square, and I bought a paper for the doctor himself this morning.”

“So he knew about it, too. It is only rational to assume he has fled because of it.” The lawyer ruminated for a moment before his countenance fell. He knew Hyde would be difficult to track down, since there were no official files on him, and, knowing the doctor quite well, Jekyll would not return unless it was clear the murderer had been brought to justice. How long exactly would that take? Weeks? Months? Even years? What would happen if the case went cold? Would he never see the doctor again and have no means of contacting him?

Oh. No, that just wouldn’t do.

“Did you say Harwich, Poole?” Utterson asked quickly.

“Yes, sir.”

“When did he leave?”

“Not long before you arrived. Perhaps around 3:50?” Poole glanced at the clock behind him.

“Right, thank you, Poole.” Utterson quickly stepped out of the house, the wind catching his coattails.

“Are you following him?” One of the servants butted in before Poole gently shooed her away.

The lawyer turned around with a small, anxious smile, “I shall try to. I assure you, I will do all in my power to return him, Poole.”

The two men shared a warm smile, and the butler nodded before shutting the front door.

Utterson immediately called for a carriage and told the driver to go to the Great Eastern Railway station, even offering extra if he drove faster. The lawyer was deep in thought as the wheels bounced along the cobblestone, each jutting rock adding to the mountain of anxiety he felt.

Utterson knew how the doctor rationalized, and he knew the great port city that Harwich was. It did not take much inference to know Jekyll was trying to flee the country entirely. That only brought more worries to the lawyer’s mind.

Once out of the country, there was no telling where Jekyll would go, nor for how long. Utterson was almost offended that his friend had not told him he was leaving, but his lawyerly mind only returned to pity when he contemplated Jekyll’s position.

He decided to set his mind on what he saw outside of his carriage window. They were passing by all the streets that Utterson was well familiar with. It was comforting, in a way, to see the people walk around him. Shopkeepers closed their shutters to signify the end of the afternoon, and children played about with tin cans. The domesticity of it all made Utterson long for something he did not have, but he never knew exactly what it was.

His thoughts were struck still when the station came into view. He stiffened as the carriage stopped, and almost jumped out after paying the driver.
It was bustling with people leaving and boarding the evening trains. Vendors called out from the side of the walkways, selling everything from food to housewares.
It had been a long time since Utterson ventured into a train station. The sight of all the people and the smell of the running engines startled and overwhelmed him for a moment. He fumbled with the coins in his pockets, trying to gain his composure, and Utterson had to admit he snuck in front of a few people in line trying to buy their tickets, to save himself time.

“Where to, sir?” a young man at the ticket registry asked in a deadpan. He looked dull, with no noticeable accent, and his fingers were stained with stamp ink.

“Harwich. First class carriage. Your soonest train, please,” Utterson tried his best to hide his panting. He gave the boy the money, even dropping a coin and counting it as a forever loss, and received the paper.

“It leaves at 4:15. Have a good trip.”

The lawyer barely heard the last words before he was running through the terminal. He looked around and searched for his train frantically; he only had about 5 minutes.

As he paced along, he could overhear the characteristic tones of the crowd’s chatter. A couple hugged tightly, tears in the woman’s eyes as she watched her husband get on a train. A few ragged children ran around as their mother urged them into a third-class carriage. It made Utterson’s heart fill with a comforting warmth at this movement, this sign of life, around him.

As he searched, he had expected to find the desired train number first, not the deep, somber eyes of Dr. Henry Jekyll.

The pair looked at each other, the doctor raising his eyebrows in slight surprise upon recognizing the lawyer. He was already in his first-class carriage, looking down through his window to where Utterson was standing on the walkway. The lawyer was about to speak when Jekyll curtly pulled down his curtain.

Utterson could almost feel the blatant rejection in his chest as he walked over to his own carriage, gently pardoning himself as he passed by a couple of people to reach his seat. He saw he was the last one on before someone shut the carriage’s doors, and the train’s wheels screeched against the metal rails as it began to move.

He looked out his window and saw the people pass by like autumn leaves. He was always fascinated by how objects moved outside of a train, almost as if time itself was sped up until everything was one big blur.

He could not see the carriages in front of him, but he knew Jekyll was in one of them. Utterson always knew Jekyll was an impulsive type, but never this bad. It was the last thing he would have thought Jekyll to do in such a situation, actually. It was more like the doctor to hide than to run from his problems, and while neither was good, Utterson almost preferred the first. At least then, he only had to uncover his friend from his hiding spot and not chase him down until he was sweating a lot more than any man in the middle of a cold London day should be.

A memory resurfaced as Utterson lay his head against the window beside him, and the lawyer smiled softly to himself.

Yes. Jekyll, his dear but rather reckless friend, had always hidden in the face of his fallacies. Back in grade school, it became a habit of young Henry’s to always drag a poor Gabriel into all of his mischief. Hastie, too, although usually he was more willing and knowledgeable of the schemes pulled than Utterson ever was. Eventually, the average week would end with some school property being broken or vandalized, Jekyll nowhere to be seen, and a small Utterson the scapegoat in his headmaster’s cane’s presence.

Despite the pain he still remembers quite clearly (he shifts in his seat uncomfortably), he could never bring himself to be bitter toward his friend. Utterson had always been the teacher’s favorite. His quiet, reserved manner and quick wit made all his superiors nod in acceptance, and even then, he knew the headmaster always went easier on him with the caning.
Jekyll had been the opposite. Utterson always admired his boisterous manner and cheerful disposition, but his feelings were not shared by their teachers. To them, he was seen as rowdy and undignified. The few times Jekyll was caught in their schemes, instead of Utterson, resulted in him comforting a quietly sobbing friend after a very painful flogging. Utterson never cried that hard after meeting with the headmaster, so he quickly realized the distaste their masters had of his friend.

From the many hours spent in their housing, trying his best to cheer up young Jekyll, a deep affection grew between the two boys.

Enough indeed that Utterson would rather take the beatings instead of his friend, and spare poor Jekyll from any more pain. He really never deserved it all. He was simply a young schoolboy who never cared for those easy classes they took and needed another way to release his energy.

And so, every time Utterson was dragged away into that cursed office and came out with a sore backside, he always returned to where he knew Jekyll would be: hidden under his rickety bed like a mouse seeking shelter from a storm. There, his friend would offer his apologies, and Utterson would shrug it off and say something witty to make them laugh instead.

This cycle would repeat almost every week, with Jekyll reassuring they would not be caught this time, and Utterson almost always taking the blame.

Now the memories only brought a small smile to his face as he watched the trees outside disperse, and the few signs of approaching city life came into view. It was as if consciousness just returned to him as he felt the train slow. As he looked outside, he saw the station’s sign and recognized Colchester.

The train wheels screeched against the rails as they came to a full stop, and the carriage doors opened. Utterson watched a couple of people beside him get up to leave, and only then did his eyes fall once again on someone right outside those open doors, dragging a heavy trunk with him as he walked away from the train.

It only took a moment until Utterson was scrambling out of his seat to chase Jekyll down.

Chapter Text

Utterson ignored the coarse and uncomfortable feeling of people brushing up against him as he pushed past the open train doors. He called out Jekyll’s name, but it was drowned by the buzz of station chatter.

It came as a surprise to him to see Colchester packed to the brim with people. Enough that he strained to remain tall and keep a tracking eye on his friend a few paces ahead of him. He persuaded himself that the trains and their inhabitants must have been seized with an electric need for travel.

One of the worst times for it, he mumbled to himself.

The top of Jekyll’s dark hat, which towered above the sea of passersby, served as Utterson’s lighthouse in its fog. He felt the perspiration bead on his forehead from his rather quick stride and the boiling heat of the station. That, and the heavy coat he still wore on his figure, only added to his discomfort. He would have taken it off if he had the space or the time, but since neither seemed to be available for him, he wiped his brow instead and continued.

Only by some miracle and grace of God was he able to maintain sight of Jekyll and follow him through the corridors of the train terminal. He even felt rising anticipation when he noticed he was nearing his friend, instead of chasing that ever-lengthening chasm between them. It sent a surge of determination through the lawyer, and he plunged forward between the last wall of straggling passengers.

His foot caught on something (blasted busy trains), and he just about toppled onto his unsuspecting friend.

“Goodness! I say, excuse me-” Jekyll sputtered as he was thrust forward, catching himself and turning around only to widen his eyes in a panicked surprise. “Utterson?”

Utterson pulled himself up and met the doctor’s gaze with an equally shocked expression. He cleared his throat to speak before he noticed they were far too close to each other in a still bustling station, and stepped back.

“Jekyll,” He was panting, holding his chest in an exhausted manner and struggling to find the words. For a moment, the surprise vanished from the doctor’s face and turned into concern.

“Are you perfectly alright, Utterson?” He muttered; a hand twitching at his side gave away his uncertainty whether to reach out to the lawyer or not.

“Just... ran a trifle faster than I am accustomed to. Nothing to worry about,” Utterson waved dismissively.

Jekyll looked over his shoulder, back at a train that was nearby. He turned back and frowned, “Why are you here?”

Utterson stood up straight and toyed with the handkerchief in his pocket. A wave of some variation of guilt stabbed through him, and he was unable to meet the doctor’s eyes.

“I know you are trying to flee the country, Jekyll. I came to stop you. I must not let you do something so rash.”

There was an unreadable gaze on the doctor’s face. His teeth grazed the inside of his cheek as he processed what Utterson said.

“I am afraid my mind cannot be won over,” He started, “my good Utterson, don’t offer me that look. It has nothing to do with you, not at all. It is... something of a cautionary move, rather. Now, if you will excuse me, I mustn't miss my train.” His voice strained the last sentence, and he walked swiftly towards the carriage behind him.

Utterson was quick to react this time and grabbed him by the shoulder at the train doors. The doctor gave him an annoyed look back.

“Jekyll. This is about Hyde; I know everything. Please, listen to me for once instead of always acting so hasty.”

Jekyll only looked mildly perturbed, “Chasing me to Harwich was rather hasty as well”.

It was enough of a cold-handed comment for the doctor to slip from Utterson’s hold and walk into the carriage, leaving the other stunned and frozen to the ground.

The lawyer stared into those open doors, his mind blank yet also racing with deafening thoughts.

Was he acting hasty? He never perceived it to be that way. He was merely helping a friend, stopping him from committing a mistake that might ruin the rest of his life.

Hasty was leaping with reckless abandon into something he was unaware would destroy him, not stopping another man from his own shortcomings.
Besides, Utterson had never been hasty. For every moment of his life, he had pondered deeply on each decision he made. It would be preposterous to assume his manners would instantly change because of one careless friend.

Yes. He was convinced that Jekyll was only trying to cease him from pursuing any longer.

Therefore, before he could stop himself, he stepped onto the train and followed the thin corridors where he knew Jekyll would be. He found him sitting alone in a relatively empty carriage and walked toward him.

The doctor showed no physical sign that his momentary peace had been thwarted as Utterson found and sat in the adjoining chair in front of him. It was an awkward silence as they both sat next to each other, yet neither acknowledged the other’s presence. Not until the train began to move did Utterson turn to gaze up at Jekyll again.

He was preparing to speak, but Jekyll forestalled him before he was ready.

“I assume, then, that you have a ticket?” He let his eyes flit to the lawyer’s for a moment before looking through the window. The doctor was sitting with his shoulders rolled back and his head tall. He looked stiff and almost uncomfortable, which nearly surprised the lawyer, who was accustomed to his friend being at ease in his presence.

“I do,” Utterson shot him a look, but kept his speech monotone. They heard a quiet tapping to their right and turned in curiosity. A gentle rain had begun to fall outside; its droplets clung to the train window as the wind from its speed pulled them aside and blurred the view. It seemed Jekyll was more comfortable watching the raindrops race across the glass than looking at his friend.

“Henry.”

The informality forced the doctor to tear his gaze from the window and eye the man in front of him.

“Will you not hear me for a moment? I am your lawyer, Jekyll, but I am also a close friend. I am simply bewildered as to why you’ve decided that fleeing the country is the best idea,” Utterson rubbed his brow as he watched Jekyll become even more guarded. “Let us begin with something simple, then. May I know where you wish to go?”

Jekyll hesitated extensively, but he eventually let his arms, which were crossed together, rest on his lap. “I am afraid that information is private, Utterson. But if you wish to know, I am leaving toward the North, somewhere far away.”

It was better than nothing, but Jekyll’s repetitive rejection started to wear on Utterson’s nerves. He took a deep breath.
“And I assume this is because of the murder, is it not? You, being closely acquainted with Hyde, must feel in danger.”

He only received a curt nod in response, but it satisfied Utterson. It would have made him feel more pleased, were this all under different circumstances. If one were to dig the optimism from this deep, dark grave Utterson was facing, Jekyll was cutting all ties from Hyde. It was something the lawyer had prayed about for months on end, to liberate Jekyll from whatever hold that demon had on him.

He had himself investigated the habits of his unfortunate rival. Down dark and dingy alleys, and even more tenebrous estates, Utterson spent much of his leisure time inspecting all the areas Hyde seemed to linger around. None of them were respectable places, and every time he discovered something new, each more sinister than the last, he further feared for his good and noble friend.

Now that Jekyll was leaving, it also meant he was leaving Hyde; at least Utterson hoped so.
He simply did not like that it also meant Jekyll was leaving him.

A long while had passed, around a good thirty minutes, where the two men sat in deliberate silence. Silence on the outside, but both men had been pondering in the depths of their own minds. Utterson’s own was plotting a plan, anything that could delay Jekyll’s final departure.

“Jekyll, is there anything you can tell me about Hyde? Did you know-”

“I had nothing to do with him or the murder,” Jekyll barked defensively, startling the lawyer after such prolonged quiet. “It was his own fault, and I condemn him for it!”

In an instant, Jekyll had turned from restrained to agitated, even gripping his arms and holding them close to his chest. Utterson was too stunned to think, his only instinct being to reach out and comfort his friend, just as he had done those many years before. He laid a hand on Jekyll’s knee and offered a soft yet concerned look.

“I was not implicating you in anything, Henry; I apologize if it came across that way. I was merely curious. We can forget I ever asked.” Utterson noted how using his given name always seemed to ease the doctor from a distressed state. Perhaps it reminded him of those nights at the boarding school, when they had comforted each other in the most honest of ways, and formalities only applied to their superiors.

“I will inquire, however,” the lawyer continued before Jekyll could slip into his habit of overanalyzing the connotation of his words, “must you leave so quickly for another country?”
It may be fanciful thinking (since when had he indulged in fanciful thinking?), but Utterson wondered if he could dissuade Jekyll from plunging headlong into the abyss just yet.

“I must,” Jekyll began, but Utterson quickly interjected.

“Why not take a holiday instead? When was the last time you left London for a leisure trip, Jekyll?”

The doctor eyed him suspiciously, but decided to humor his friend for a moment. “I am not sure. Utterson, you do realize I intend on leaving indefinitely?”

“Perhaps travel somewhere else up North. Have you ever visited Scotland, my friend? I believe your name has Scottish origins; it would be very opportune to learn about your family’s history,” the lawyer callously disregarded Jekyll’s question. He did, however, let his eyes rest somewhere in the corner of his sight and lowered his voice, “I only wish for you to reconsider your plans. If you leave…”

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but his mind had suddenly gone blank, as if disconnecting the link between his brain and his lips. In defeat, he looked up at the doctor across from him, wishing he could understand those unspoken words.

To Utterson’s surprised delight, Jekyll’s eyes seem to have more conflict in them than they once did. His next words sparked hope in the lawyer’s bosom: “I would not know where to go.”

“Enfield, my cousin—you have met him, have you? He owns a lodge up in Ballater, and he has it available for anyone who desires a quick respite from the struggles of London life. I can assure you, he wouldn’t mind you staying for a nice holiday, and it would ease my mind knowing where you would be.” Utterson gazed at him expectantly, tense to the point where he felt he would break if Jekyll rejected.

“Utterson, I would feel horrible staying at your cousin’s estate knowing so little of him and without asking him prior. We are hardly acquainted enough for that. I am sorry, but I must not.” The shake of his head was definite, but it was accompanied by a soft, apologetic smile. Still, Utterson would not abandon all hope.

Before he could completely register what he was saying, before his mind could stop itself again, he asked, “What if I accompanied you?”

Jekyll was just as shocked as Utterson was when those words hit the cool carriage air. The lawyer straightened himself and cleared his throat, “By which I mean, of course, Enfield has always allowed me to visit the lodge, and is indifferent about bringing guests along. If… if you joined me, you can rest assured he would not be bothered by it.”

The lawyer glanced at his friend through the corner of his eye and waited expectantly as he contemplated.

“I suppose that a man should be due for a short holiday every so often,” Jekyll finally muttered, hesitating on each word before allowing them free. His shoulders had lowered, and his hands had returned to his lap.

Utterson swore he had never put on a wider grin as he did that moment, and it seemed to be infectious as Jekyll offered his own lighthearted smile upon seeing it.

“It will be a long ways from Harwich, I’m afraid,” Jekyll added to keep the mood light. It was nice, and the two had not shared a casual conversation in years. The distress seemed to fade away with the notion that they were traveling for leisure now, and both men sat more comfortably in their seats.

“Only a minor issue. I am sure we will be in a sleeper car for most of the journey,” Utterson smiled, “Rather exciting, I say. I can hardly remember the last time I was on a train for longer than a couple of hours.”

Jekyll leaned in and decided to indulge in this fresh topic, “When I was a young lad, my father would take me on trains often, for his work. You must remember, they were much earlier models than these, but I used to enjoy it a great deal. We were privileged enough to sit in first class on every occasion, but,” and he let out a deep chuckle, “oh, well, you are aware of my habits at the time. I always had the desperate need to explore about and find every nook and cranny on those machines. My father reprimanded me for straying too far, but he was always more lenient than usual whenever we boarded. I think he simply enjoyed traveling enough to let me get away with more than I was usually allowed.”

Utterson listened with rapt attention as Jekyll painted the story of when he once found the train’s balcony vestibule and almost fell off the side by leaning too far on the rail. It was a rather exciting tale, and the lawyer was almost surprised to see the doctor had quite the knack for storytelling. It was easy to get lost in those descriptive, flowing words and the deep timbre of Jekyll’s signature cadence. He hardly noticed the time pass by, and frankly, it never crossed his mind to care.