|
|
"How long has it been? Quick, I
must record the time . . . " Henry Jekyll spoke softly but tensely. Helena
hastily placed the strip of gauze over
the spot of blood on Jekyll's forearm and hastily checked the pocket
watch on the bedside table.
"It's been all of 13 seconds, Henry . . . just relax, concentrate on your feelings . . . "
She watched, as he sat propped
up by pillows, no doubt in her mind that it would have been impossible
to sit on his own accord. He
positioned the pen over the paper, anxious for an inkling of pain,
any sensation worth recording . . .
"It's much to quiet, Helena. Say
something, please?" He said, looking up at her anxiously, his face resembling
that of a child about to be
scolded. Helena knew that he was much more upset then he let on, always
trying to be the stronger for her. She smiled gently, thinking of all the
times
he had shielded her . . . all the sweet, innocent things he had done
to see to her safety and well-being. His passion for his work-for his wife-was
nothing compared to his ability to arouse the passion in her. Not just
the feelings of love that had tormented her these past months, but a passion
for life
and the quality of it . . . for protecting others, for changing the
hypocritical norms of society. He sparked in her the very fire that drove
her onward,
and now it was up to her to keep his fire burning. Now he was the one
who needed the tenderness, and there was nothing she could do to ease his
anxiety.
"Well, what do you propose I say . . . Henry?" She asked quietly, seeing the innocent look on his face change to one of fear.
"It's starting . . . " he whispered.
She sat down quickly on the bed beside him, taking his free hand as he
began to write fervently in his
journal. "A sharp, stinging in the gullet . . . sweating palms, swimming
. . . vision . . . Helena, please . . . " He murmured, letting both pen
and
journal sip from his hands, she retrieving them instantly and finished
his sentence as he collapsed slowly against his pillows. She couldn't help
but
look up at him every few moments, to watch as he instantly flushed,
his eyes opening and closing groggily as he fought to stay conscious.
"Henry, keep talking. Tell me what's happening, what you feel . . . " She said patiently, her heart beating crazily in her chest.
"Pain . . . heat . . . " He whispered, his hushed words meaning little as Helena watched on in agony.
"What pain, Henry? Where? Are you
hot?" She said, leaning forward to feel his forehead, finding that he was
no warmer then earlier that
morning. He spoke to her with far away eyes, no longer aware of her
presence.
"My veins are on fire . . . the
room . . . is melting, the walls are melting!!!" He gasped, trying desperately
to sit up. "Helena?! HELP ME . . .
." He cried, she discarding the book hastily to take him in her arms,
gently leaning him back as he clutched her.
"Henry? Can you hear me? Henry, you must calm down . . . you're hallucinating, Henry, these things can't hurt you . . . "
"God help me! Oh sweet Jesus .
. . the blood . . . " He moaned, his voice raspy and full of terror, staring
at her and then himself . . . holding
his hands out to her in disbelief. He began to shudder violently, weeping.
"I need a cloth! Please! Her blood is all over me!"
"Henry, Shhhh . . . ." She said
as calmly as she could muster, leaning over him, taking his frantic face
in her hands, stroking his cheeks.
"Listen to me, Dr. Jekyll-"
"Helena . . . "
"Henry, you have to stop taking
now. These things you say make no sense. Do you understand?" She asked,
looking deep into his eyes,
searching for a sign of sanity in his crazed soul. "Henry, lie back
and close your eyes . . . it will pass soon, I promise you." She said softly,
removing
several pillows from behind his head, helping his trembling body to
lie down flat.
"Oh God help me . . . God help
me . . . " He sobbed, her hands showing him little comfort from the terror
he could see. "I killed her . . . I
killed . . . " She silently placed a hand on his lips, forcing his
silence, leaning down to gently kiss his forehead. She retrieved the blanket
from the foot
of the bed and covered him gently, like a mother would her child. His
sobbing growing louder at her gentleness.
"My darling Dr. Jekyll . . . try
to calm down. Please, Henry, it was Hyde that did these things. You and
I both know it wasn't yourself . . .
you are safe here with me. I'll protect you." She said lovingly, tying
her hardest to keep away her impending tears.
"How can you s-stand the b-blood?"
He asked her in a tiny voice. Still crying openly, his eyes flashed around
the room with less shock then a
few moments ago. He was terrified, however, and Helena had no way of
knowing if this confused behavior was merely a shock of seeing his horrible
visions, or-in fact-a side effect of the drug itself. "Please . . .
I'm so dirty . . . " He begged, and she smiled at him sadly, taking his
hands in her own.
"Here now, Henry. I want you to
rest. You close your eyes and sleep, I'll clean your hands, alright?" She
spoke quietly, hiding her concern.
He nodded, sighing heavily as he relaxed on the pillow for the first
time voluntarily. She stretched to reach the cloth she had used to keep
the needle
clean and dampened it in a basin by the head of the bed. Silently,
she proceeded to wipe his already clean hands, gently washing away his
invisible
guilt. She hoped that he would not be able to recall this episode when
he awakened from his drug-induced slumber. As she continued to clean the
phantom stains, his sobs died down to sniffles, his closed eyes hiding
his imaginary hell for the moment.
"Are the walls still there . . . its so cold . . . " He mumbled sleepily, and she shushed him yet again.
"Yes, the walls appear to be in
tact, Henry . . . and your hands are now perfectly clean . . . sleep now,
my darling Macbeth . . . " She
whispered, praying sleep would soon take him. "Hush, . . . don't open
your eyes, just lie back. I'll go get you another blanket." She rose and
moved
quickly to the closet, finding a quilt on the top shelf. Spreading
it carefully over him, she leaned in to kiss his cheek lovingly. "There
now, Henry . . .
we're all done. It's all over now."
"Helena . . .thank you . . . "
He whispered, opening his eyes slowly, lids drooping precariously. He smiled
then, at her concerned expression
hovering over him. "You're so beautiful . . . " He murmured, closing
his eyes again. For a moment Helena's heart skipped a beat. Those words,
that
slurred, exhausted sentence he had just spoken touched her beyond reasoning.
Yet she knew that his state was the reason for this flattery. He was a
sick, sick man ... more convinced that the sky was falling then in
her beauty. He loved his wife, everything about her, and he longed for
Emma every
second the two were parted. She was foolish to even acknowledge such
comments. He could never love her, Hyde was right. Henry was too blind
to-Hyde was right? What on earth am I thinking? That ... that thing
knows less about Dr. Jekyll's feelings then Emma's dog! It took Helena
St. Just a
moment to realize what she had said, a few more moments to rationalize
her slip ... and no time at all to realize she was wrong. Hyde did know
what
Jekyll was feeling. Hyde was part of him. Hyde was ... right.