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The bubbles silently slipped
through the beautiful crimson waves. Their tiny trails spelling death for
any that should come too close. At last the
final bubble burst, and Helena St. Just ceased her tapping motion.
She gently placed the syringe on the white cotton cloth covering the bedside
table,
sighing wistfully, Henry Jekyll's eyes following her every movement.
He solemnly watched as she readied the gauze for the bandage, swiping
unconsciously several times at an unruly lock of hair covering his
pale cheek.
She poured the pitcher, rolling
the cloth that would serve as a tourniquet, her eye catching his as he
batted away the stray wisp for a fourth
time. Laughing lightly, she stopped her preparations and made her way
to the bead, gently pulling his loose hair into a band.
"Thank you, Helena." He said softly, his anxiety over beginning his costly experiment clearly evident.
"Think nothing of it, Henry . .
. just relax. You'll need your strength." She said, finishing his ponytail
and tapping her finger on the tip of his
nose before returning to her duties.
"I can think of nothing I need
more at this point then my wife. Helena, I miss her so already . . . "
His melancholy tone breaking her heart
almost as much as the words themselves.
"When we've finished for the day
. . . when you've rested, I promised her she could visit with you. The
effects shouldn't be too devastating
today . . . we'll merely be recording for the first time the process
of the drug as it takes effe-"
"I know the procedure, Helena!"
Jekyll snapped harshly, startling her with his angry words. She sighed,
sitting in a chair beside the bed,
knowing that not only was he terribly nervous, but that he did miss
Emma as terribly as he claimed.
That morning she had found the
two sound asleep, Emma's face beautiful and still rather pale as she clutched
Henry dearly, her arm draped
across her husband's chest. Her sickly shade was nothing compared to
Henry's, however, his color still having failed to return. It was such
a beautiful
scene, him sighing faintly with each labored breath, his lips slightly
parted against her fair hair . . . she with her cheek snuggled against
his muscled
forearm, their feet entwined. Indeed they appeared to be to sleeping
seraphim, both perfect in their own right. Henry so brave, so strong, and
Emma,
the perfect picture of innocence and beauty. She had intended to cover
them and let them sleep, retrieving the blanket that Henry had kicked off
the bed
in his slumber. But as soon as her feathery touch came in contact with
his bare shoulder he jumped, eyes fluttering open, and the moment was lost
to
his agonizing waking pains, Emma waking and being ushered gently out
of the room to her own bed shortly there after.
"Henry, if you know the procedure,
then you know how important it is that we begin now, without further delay
. . . and that Emma be kept
far from this bedroom until it is safe for her to return."
"Yes, I know . . . I apologize Helena . . . my nerves are not what they once were."
"Understood." She said softly,
retrieving the gauze and dampening it with alcohol quickly, refusing to
let him dwell on his wife a moment
longer. "Once I give the injection, Henry . . . I want you to write
as well as you can what you feel . . . every detail you can describe."
She said, gently
lifting the syringe and squirting a bit of fluid from the end.
"Shall I speak aloud as I write?
I usually do, it aids me with the wording of sensations . . . " he said,
snapping out of his depression now that
his work was underway. Helena gave his a small smile as she wrapped
the cloth around his arm, twisting the fabric and tightening it around
his bicep.
With a sly grin and a successful attempt to lighten the oppressive
atmosphere of his ever-shrinking chamber, he leaned forward to write, speaking
aloud . . .
"11: 41 am, Helena has tied my
tourniquet unmercifully tight. I hold back the tears only by clinging to
the knowledge that if I whine she may
strike me." Helena burst into giggles, indeed slapping him on the cheek
playfully.
"Stop it and be serious you silly,
silly man!" She said, the smiles fading slowly off their faces as their
eyes locked in silent understanding.
After this injection, nothing would ever be the same. She moved closer
to where he lay, easing him carefully against the pillows, cleansing his
arm
with the alcohol before gazing into the syringe a final time. Once
again completely sober, she spoke. "I wish you the best of luck Henry,
and me God's
grace be with you."