Chapter Two
Lucy flinched as Henry carefully cleaned the cut on her cheek. He was gentle, but it stung.
"I'm sorry, Lucy… It'll feel better when I'm finished," he said, frowning down at her. She nodded and sighed, staring steadily at her hands, determined not to look at Henry; for she knew if she did, she would cry. That was the last thing she needed right then, to cry, resulting in sympathy from Jekyll.
Sympathy that she adored, tenderness that she had held in her memory and dreamed about every night… so often that she had convinced herself that that's what it had been, simply a dream. But no, she wasn't dreaming now, although Jekyll seemed somewhat more aloof than he had been the last time she'd seen him. Well, he has good reason to be, she thought to herself.
What was it about him that stirred her feeling so? Feelings that she had never felt before, but did not seem foreign… Why did it seem so right to be with him and yet so wrong? How had she allowed herself… simply to feel?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jekyll frowned and wondered what Lucy was thinking, what she was feeling, as she blankly stared at her elegant, tapered hands. Beyond the soft moan she had uttered when he first started treating her cut, she hadn't made a single sound, and had barely moved. Once, he had stopped doing anything altogether, had just stood and stared at her, and she hadn't made a single move, though she had let out a shaky breath, and more life had seemed to go out of her with it.
At that moment, the only desire in his heart had been to restore that life to her, put the spark back into her eyes that he had seen that first time in the Red Rat, even if it had only been for a brief moment. He wished she would smile, cry, anything… show some sign that her incredible spirit had not died.
But as he finished, and knelt beside her, he quickly recalled that wish. She looked up, meeting his gaze, and all he saw was emptiness. Then suddenly, tears came, and she buried her face in her hands, appearing so destitute that Jekyll was helpless to do anything but embrace her gently, pulling her down to the ground beside him to rock her back and forth, the way he would with a child.
What had happened to this woman to take all the strength and life from her? Even just weeks ago when she had come to him, she had still seemed … alive… So strong… she had to be strong to have survived as long as she had, but was this the end of it? Would she spend the rest of her life unresponsive, in the depths of despair? He felt the urge to weep as well, knowing that he was headed for the same place, knowing what hell was like. He had to save this woman. If it took everything he had left in him, he would save her.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Things had calmed, but only on the exterior. Jekyll was in turmoil, as was Lucy, but both tried to hide it. Helpless to do more for Lucy, after giving her a fresh dress and lying her down on the couch to rest, Jekyll climbed the stairs and entered his study once more, then sat down at his desk, slowly picking up the pen that sat by several pieces of parchment.
Shakily, he began to write.
Never have I felt so helpless…
Except perhaps when at first, my proposition was rejected by those
bastards who call themselves The Board of Governors.
A woman, so enticing, so beautiful and elegant
and so unfortunate
has become the epitome of grace in my mind.
She is so much Emma's opposite. How could I be attracted
To the opposite of what I love so deeply?
Sighing, he put down the pen, and read over what he had just written. Tension filled him as his dilemma became ever clearer, and the helplessness in his soul overcame him. Crumpling the paper in his hand, he began to weep softly, and every title or outward part of him had no bearing. He was simply a man, a shattered man, whose love and compassion for his father, his fiancé, and an elegant woman - forced into an unfortunate lifestyle by cruel society - this love had turned his world upside down. And, as a result, he knew not what to do, what direction to go in. Direction was for naught, in a world turned askew.
A precise knock sounded at the door downstairs, and Jekyll sighed, burying his face in his hands momentarily, tears still tracing paths down his cheeks. I cannot handle a visitor now, he thought to himself, quickly wiping residual tears from his face, and fighting back the sob in his throat. Not now, not now…
"Miss Emma Carew, to see you, Dr. Jekyll," Poole announced.
Jekyll did not know which emotion to succumb to; the elation he felt at the simple sound of her name, or the reluctance to let her see him in such a state.
Well, it did not matter. Perhaps she could offer some peace.
"I'll see her," Henry said quietly, and immediately Emma walked through the door, looking concerned and angry and glad to see him, all at once.
"Emma, love…" he murmured, wondering why she looked so angry… his calm, sweet Emma. Angry? Oh, no… Lucy, he thought to himself.
"Who is that woman… H.. Henry? Are you alright?"
Henry watched in amazement as, like always, concern took precedence over all else.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Emma stood still in the doorway, feeling emotions flood over her as she saw the face of her beloved fiancé. At first, she had been fuming, after having seen such a woman, asleep on Henry's couch… but then she saw the look in his eyes, his tear stained cheeks… She wanted to cry as well. What torment did this dear man go through every day and every night of his life? What had happened? He had immersed himself in misery, in work, in everything but her. She shook her head slowly, and walked to him, the man she loved but barely knew.
"Henry?" She repeated, growing more and more concerned at his lack of response, at the emptiness in his eyes.
"Love," he finally whispered, and she leaned closer. Such despair! How can someone feel such despair? Emma though to herself in amazement. My poor Henry…
He slowly reached his arms out to her, and she rushed to him, embracing him and planting a kiss on his cheek.
"I'm sorry, Emma, it's been a hard and confusing night… it is so good to see you, my love," he said quietly.
"And you, Henry. Tell me, what is troubling you?" She beseeched, pulling away to look into his eyes.
"It is… just my work, Emma darling, it's been a long day, I've had many things to think about. Frustration is not hard to come by these days," He said, attempting a smile. Emma frowned. There was more to it than that, she knew… perhaps it had to do with the woman downstairs, perhaps not.
"Yes, of course," she murmured quietly, knowing she would not be able to pry any more out of him. "Henry… who IS that woman downstairs?"
"She is… a friend. She needed a doctor, so she came to me… she is quite ill, and… is she asleep?" He asked, curious as to her condition.
"Yes, she appears to be asleep. Well, I trust you, Henry, I really do… don't betray that trust, my love, for it is precious," Emma warned, wanting to say more but knowing it was not wise. Instead, she kissed him lightly.
"When this all began… you knew there'd be a price, Emma, did you not?" Henry whispered, feeling tears surface once again.
"Yes, Henry, but I also knew that no price could be too great to surmount our love… and it is too late to turn away. We shall get through this together, if you will let me support you. Please, let me in… I do love you," Emma whispered, feeling her heart constrict as she spoke.
"I… love you too… dear, sweet Emma."
