Chapter Text
tick tock tick tock
The sound of the clock was the only thing keeping Robert sane at that moment. All day long, he and Henry had done nothing but lock themselves in the office, organizing papers and accounts. Their conversations were punctuated by the ever-present smell of ink and chemicals, and they stared at the black letters and numbers that seemed to mock them.
It was routine, exhausting. A migraine sat upon that doctor, wanting nothing more than to leave, to forget that a Society of Arcane Sciences had ever existed, and go to sleep, but he couldn't do that. Each time he exhaled, he sought an excuse to leave or simply rested his eyes; just seeing the man beside him was enough to remind him why he was doing it, for whom he was doing it.
Robert sometimes forgot why he agreed to all this, why he did it, but every time he saw him, he felt a nasty mix of emotions he'd never admit. Whenever he stayed late, he wanted to scream at Jekyll to drop all that crap and leave. But when he saw the wonder in those red eyes, the result of his efforts bringing a huge smile to his friend's face... he couldn't do anything but keep going, just to see that smile again.
A curious eye met Lanyon's gaze, and he quickly looked away. Shit, he'd stared at Henry longer than he'd thought. — Are you okay? You seem distracted — A bitter snort came from Lanyon
"Me, distracted? No, just tired of dragging this out for weeks. Not to mention we only have a week and a half left before the exhibition, so you know, no pressure." A hand rested on his shoulder, and he could feel the other man's pity or even guilt.
— Forgive me, Robert. I'd like to help you more with the accounts, but... I still need to find medicine for Frankenstein and... — God, no please, he really didn't want to hear this now.
"Don't apologize, I know you can't get rid of her because of your reputation or whatever. Just don't blame yourself, and stop putting so much pressure on yourself, you're going to end up killing yourself." Henry gave a small smile and laughed, causing his co-leader to put a hand to his face, which was suddenly warm — God, do you know how many times you said "yourself"? It was like three or four. — As much as shame was killing him, Robert inwardly acknowledged that perhaps... Henry was right.
"Well, I say that so often because it's the last thing you think about. Yourself." The Scotsman finally stopped laughing and nodded. — Maybe you're right. It's the last thing on my mind... — A sigh and... — Let's leave it at that for today. I really need to rest. — Yes! Finally.
As Robert rose from his seat on the red sofa, his back cracked with a swift movement, perhaps too swift... Henry got up shortly after, and together they crossed through the large red doors of his colleague's office. It felt liberating, and together they began to wander through the society's corridors, where strange gadgets and mad science hung everywhere you looked. It had its charm; that was something even Lanyon couldn't deny.
Finally reaching the exit, Robert wanted to scream. The night's chill, combined with the breeze from the heavy rain, filled him with intense anger as he remembered leaving his umbrella in Jekyll's office. — Damn, I forgot something, I won't be long — And with that he turned around, great.
In the distance he heard Jekyll shout "don't be long" but didn't pay much attention; after all, it was just an umbrella.
Although, if he were honest with himself, on any other day he would have left the stupid umbrella behind and packed it up tomorrow, but that day there was a road blockage due to an incident and he couldn't take the carriage; he had to go on foot, in the rain and cold. What a marvel.
Upon reaching the office doors and opening them, he had a slight feeling that something was wrong, but he was too tired to dwell on it. He grabbed the umbrella, but a breeze brushed against his hands and there he saw it... The window was open, but neither he nor Henry had opened it. In fact, they hadn't even closed the office doors when they left.
Some books fell from Henry's desk, and Robert knew it. This had to be a joke, a lodgers' prank or something.
The moment Lanyon knelt down to look under the desk, it took him a second, maybe more, to realize it was the biggest mistake of his life. "Very funny but— BANG
The sound was loud, piercing, literally... The impact knocked Robert backward, gasping for air. He couldn't scream, he could barely move. The pain between his chest and abdomen was unbearable. He looked down and saw it: a bullet wound in his ribs.
It was funny; Robert had never cared about what he learned at medical school, but at that moment it all came flooding back. How he met Henry, his annoying professors, friends, and exes, but the cruelest thing at that moment was the medical lessons. It was a fatal wound.
He looked up and saw him: a man dressed in a black trench coat, boots, and a cloth mask around his head that only revealed his eyes. The man was wet, paralyzed, and terrified... In his right hand, covered with a leather glove, was the weapon, a revolver. It was funny; Robert had once used one of those. Not to kill, he didn't kill anyone with that, but... Fate was funny, wasn't it?
Yes, it was. All his life he hated hard work, vowed never to be swayed by another's gaze, and that no one would ever beat him at the game called 'love'. But now there he was, spending his last day on earth working, beside a man who never loved him. That was his end, perhaps what he deserved, perhaps inevitable.
The man snapped out of his shock and quickly grabbed some potions from Henry's cabinets: red potions and white saline powders. Shit, was that what it was about? A robbery? Was he going to die just because he forgot to take an umbrella and got caught in the crossfire during a robbery?
He exhaled weakly, powerless, waiting. No matter how angry he was, this was his lot in life, this was what he'd wasted his time on. He should have done more, he wanted to do more, but his time ran out, it was that simple.
The man jumped out the window and Robert stayed there, waiting, feeling how his mouth now tasted of iron and the blood was just trickling from his lips. The doctor was about to close his eyes when a scream, a loud and horrible scream, called out to him, "ROBERT!"
Henry... He looked so handsome that night, yes, he looked very handsome — No... No, no, no, no, Robert, what happened?! Who did this to you?! — The desperation in that voice broke his heart, but there was nothing he could do, with the pain and the bullet... He couldn't do anything.
He tried to open his mouth to speak, but only air and pain came out. His beloved was even more horrified and quickly pressed his tie against the wound. It was useless, he knew it, Henry knew it deep down too, but he continued nonetheless, leaving his hands a beautiful crimson. — Calm down, Robert. I'll save you. I'll use flesh weavers and... Shit! HELP! Help, please! — Tears began to stream down his face, and his voice grew hoarse from screaming, louder and louder. Footsteps could be heard; people were running, but there was nothing they could do. There was nothing left to do...
"Henry, please." For the first time in a long time, Lanyon's voice was sweet, as warm as the sun but also terribly tired.
— No, don't talk, you need to conserve your energy — His beloved's hands turned more crimson as he continued to press harder and harder, but the blood just kept escaping from his mouth, his throat burning, and he simply couldn't help but spit out the red liquid. "Henry... I'm sorry, I wasn't honest, I wasn't a good friend."
He shakes his head, a remarkable anger in his eyes, a sense of helplessness, of pain... — Don't say that... Just no, please— Carefully, Robert clenched his jaw and sat down, or at least tried to; his body barely responded, but his friend supported him in his lap, still pressing on the wound. He smiled at his friend and, with the utmost care, touched his cheek, feeling his friend's tears run down his fingers.
Maybe this wasn't so bad. He spent his life like a bitter fool, but at least he could see Henry's face a last time, and maybe that was enough. Of course, it wasn't perfect. He didn't want to do this to his friend, his beloved, but there wasn't much more he could do, no matter how much he wanted to. He studied every detail of Jekyll's face, as if it were the last time he would see him. No, he had to make this moment perfect; he had to apologize for the distance, for the coldness, for not having been honest with him.
"Henry, listen... I have to tell you something, but after that you have to get out of that damn room as fast as you can. You don't deserve to see this, you don't deserve to suffer like this." His arms tightened around his body, clinging to him, to what little life he had left. Henry shook his head.
—I can't... I can't leave you alone. — Honestly, Robert didn't want to die alone, but his friend was the last person who deserved to see this. —I can help you, I can- I can.... —
"No Henry, you can't and you know it. But it doesn't matter, now I just want to thank you, for... For everything, for being in my life, for showing me beauty in things I never thought I could love... For showing me that I can love”
A thick fog tightened in Lanyon's mind, a fog he tried to keep at bay, but he simply had no strength left; his lips seemed bewitched, speaking only out of emotion. His heart pounded so loudly in his own ears it became unbearable. — What do you mean by that? — That question sounded so funny in Robert's delirious mind that he couldn't do anything but tell the truth.
"I want to say that I love you, I love you Henry" Finally, after 15 years, he could be honest with his emotions for once, holding nothing back, pretending nothing, shameless, fearless. Truly free, and if that was the case, maybe, just maybe...
his life was worth it.
A dense darkness settled over his mind after that.
Babum Babum Babum
And slowly
Babum Babum
That sound faded away...
Babum Babum...
“ROBERT!”
Babum....
Darkness. A darkness as peaceful as the sky or a still, undisturbed lake. Solitary emptiness, no sound, no thought, no time. Only that calm and peaceful darkness.
There was no one left, there was nothing left, until a small sound managed to disturb that infinite emptiness...
Babum
Small at first, but then....
Babum, Babum, Babum...
Babum, Babum, Babum, Babum,
It became strong, almost unbearable.
BABUM, BABUM, BABUM
And amidst all that noise, that consciousness, forgotten in the darkness, could do nothing but awaken.
Where was he? Why was there so much noise? Couldn't he return to that safe darkness? That darkness that was all he knew?
No, wait, he knew more than that, didn't he?
Yes! Small sensations, echoes of memories arrived: the breeze on his skin, taking deep breaths of air, the feeling of walking, of existing. How could he forget something as common and simple as existing?
And more memories came, slowly but accelerating faster and faster.
His name, his childhood, and he wondered, how could he have forgotten so much?
And finally, he could feel his body, his skin prickling with cold, he could move his fingers and toes. But something else came, warm, burning, painful... VERY PAINFUL
The pain coursed through his veins, from his heart to his fingertips. He wanted it to stop, he wanted it to stop. At the same time, along with the pain, the memories continued, his own, yet overwhelming, forcing him to become the person he once was, before the darkness, before that confusion.
Robert finally managed to let out a scream. He felt like a doll, a broken mirror being pieced back together. His voice was weak and hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in a very, very long time.
A wicked machine whirred and electricity crackled, but he was too preoccupied battling the tide of sensations. The smell of rust and metal hung in the air, and he felt sweat against his skin.
Then the electricity stopped and some of the pain subsided, but he was still sore from that experience, breathing with difficulty.
"Robert? Can you hear me? " That voice cut through the sensation of pain like a knife through butter. He knew that voice, that woman. It was his wife, his friend, yes... He slowly opened his eyes and saw the metal ceiling with multiple dents. Shit, he must be in one of the Lodgers' laboratories
"¿Ever...ly...?” A small feeling that something was wrong came over Lanyon, besides the pain and the cold. Why was his voice so weak? Why was it so difficult to speak? The woman mentioned earlier appeared before his eyes and gave him a smile.
— Welcome back — Cheers of joy echoed through the room, and Robert realized he wasn't alone with Everly. He could make out some Lodgers amidst the shouts: Ito, Tanis, and... two or three more people? At least it wasn't all the Lodgers, thank goodness.
He tried to move his head, not only to see who the other people were, but also to try to get clues about what was happening, when the sensation of a tight strap around his head stopped him. Not only that, now he could feel straps binding all his limbs. — Everly... What's... happening? Why am I tied up? Why do...es my head hurt so much? What the hell is going on?! — After saying that, Robert coughed, shit, he needed water, and fast.
Everyone stopped and looked at him again, worried. Finally, some decency. Whatever was happening couldn't be good, because as far as he knew, his options were these: 1. He'd been kidnapped by the lodgers for some damned experiment with Everly's help. 2. This was a twisted attempt to hurt Henry through him. Considering how the Lodgers had become, it wouldn't surprise him.
"Right, sorry about that." Tweedy, Maijabi, and Tanis quickly rushed to free him with Everly's help. Thank goodness.
—I recommend you get up slowly; you must be very dizzy and confused.— To Lanyon's dismay, Tanis was right; Robert felt like his stomach was in knots, and his brain too. He slowly sat up only to realize... God no. He was completely naked. Naked, in front of Everly and some Lodgers. Shit, what did he do to end up in this situation?
But when he tried to remember, there was... a fog in his last memory, easy to move but so mysterious that a part of Lanyon told him not to move it from there, that he didn't want to remember...
“Dr. Lanyon, are you okay?”
“Eh?” When he turned to see who was calling his name, he found Ito, holding out a blanket with a worried look. Almost hesitantly, he took the blanket and then quickly pulled his hand away as if she were trying to bite him.
—I'll be honest with you. No, I woke up for no apparent reason in one of your labs, tied up and naked. So no, I'm not okay... But thanks for the blanket.— Everything was so strange. God knows what those people, those scientists, did to him. But they seemed...concerned about him? Happy for him? God, he should have been terrified, but he felt strangely comfortable, as if this was just an ordinary doctor's appointment and not...a kidnapping?
As he pondered this and draped the blanket around his shoulders to use as a makeshift robe, he saw what kind of... stretcher he had woken up on. Let's start with the fact that the 'stretcher' was made of metal with an extremely rare pattern connected to the engine created by Tweedy for his exhibition, large and imposing like a metal tower with a large ball that shot lightning and electricity (God knows how difficult it was to obtain some of the material and the paperwork that Lanyon had to deal with because of it). But this model seemed more complex, larger, and with a companion beside it. There were also empty but smoking bottles scattered about, all seemingly connected to the stretcher via tubes and hoses, but for what purpose? Looking again at the pattern of the stretcher, he noticed three perfectly aligned holes where (apparently) his back had been lying, small, almost insignificant, but they were still there.
"What is this?" Everyone in the room shuddered at the question, and a (clearly awkward) laugh from Tweedy broke the silence.
— A silly prototype in my lab. Just let us get you out of there, make sure you're okay, and then you'll get answers. Just let me... — The scientist, with the help of... Frankenstein. (What was Frankenstein doing in that room? Was she now helping the Lodgers with 'silly projects'?) operated a control panel at the front of the stretcher.
And clearly doing something wrong because when Tweedy hesitantly pressed one of the buttons, Victoria shouted "Not that one!" and then... the three insignificant holes ejected needles... Needles... In the place where he was lying... Needles connected to bottles and strange chemicals.... — This isn't a 'silly project', is it? — Everyone looked at him with a mixture that Robert couldn't decipher, and honestly didn't want to.
"Listen. You're confused and scared, but we can expl-." Before Maijabi could finish his sentence, Robert jumped off the stretcher. There was no way he was going to stay and listen to what the hell those people had done to him. But when his feet touched the floor, they betrayed him; there wasn't even a resistance or an attempt. His legs were almost lifeless, his whole body... The sound his body made as it fell, like the pain, was intense. Everyone ran towards him, and for the first time, he felt what it was like to be completely helpless.
That fear, that urge to do something and not being able to move... But there was something about it, about that feeling, it was almost... familiar. Hands gripped his shoulders as Maijabi walked toward him. Trying to fight, to resist, was useless, almost like a cruel fate.
Maijabi picked up the blanket that had fallen to the floor and looked at Robert with concern, but something was wrong; he wasn't looking at his face. So what was he looking at...?
Following his gaze, Robert noticed something that wasn't there before. A small, circular scar between his ribs that he hadn't noticed until now. When did that thing get there? How or with what did he hurt? But when the answer came to him, Lanyon regretted it almost immediately...
He was in Jekyll's office, he'd forgotten his umbrella, and... and... Maijabi gently and lovingly took his face in his hands, pulling him from his reverie. The lights were so bright now, he could barely recognize the doctor. His throat burned and closed up, and the tears finally flowed. —Calm down, calm down... It's over, that pain is over, you're okay, you're alive and that's what matters — The way the old man said it brought him such a strange calm, even though the memory kept replaying in his mind.
"Very funny but— BANG...
The hands on his shoulders loosened and he clung to Maijabi as he remembered the fear, the helplessness, the pain, and could only breathe with difficulty. The man hugged him, comforting him, a reminder that it was just a memory, it wasn't real, he wasn't bleeding out in Jekyll's office while the man who shot him stole and escaped.
Another part of the memory: Henry screaming, trying to save his life. The memory became vivid, tangible, almost indistinguishable from reality. —No... No, no, no. Henry! I'm sorry! You had to get out of that damn room, you idiot! You're an idiot! — Why didn't Jekyll listen to him? Why did he stay and watch...?
"I want to say that I love you, I love you Henry"
“ROBERT!”
No. There was no way those were his last words; he couldn't have been that selfish. He had finally been honest with Henry, only to... die, to tell the truth and then leave like a coward. He had to find him, he had to look Henry in the eyes and ask for forgiveness, know how he feels, let him know he's back.
A blow to the nose snapped Robert out of his trance, and when he turned around he was still clinging to Maijabi, with everyone in the room watching him, worried and on edge. Ito held a syringe in her hand like a weapon; nearby stood Tweedy, his fist smeared with a little blood. Touching his nose, he felt the blood now escaping from his nostrils. Yes, the idiot broke it.
Everyone fell silent, and Robert took the opportunity to catch his breath. When he finally felt ready, he saw Victoria and her creation at the back of the group, looking at him with something different from everyone else, a deep understanding of something that could not be put into words, the others were watching him almost like a small child, a creature that could barely walk—perhaps that was what Robert was now.
With that, Robert understood everything: what she had done, what he and that giant green thing were... No, not a thing, a being, because if that creature was a thing, then he was too. —Why...? Why? How did you do it? Why did you do it?!— After saying that, Robert felt he couldn't go on; his throat was torn apart inside, his nose was bleeding, and the only thing keeping him together was Maijabi's grip.
God, after having tasted death, knowing what awaited him on the other side, and having returned, everything in that instant felt overwhelming. It was strange, he felt uneasy; the idea of having been a corpse, an object of pain and pity, was horrible. It was a rage only he could understand. Did Jekyll cling to his corpse? Did his father finally look at him with pity, or only with anger at not having been able to control his death as he had the rest of his life? But what angered him most was all those people who must have moved him like an object, with disgust, with habit. The people in charge of working with corpses—was he just another item on their to-do list? Robert couldn't be sure what happened, but he could be sure the Lodgers did it: an object placed on that stretcher to make sure it was the right size, moved and shaken, without needing clothes or any decoration. There is no life until after the experiment, no consideration until he regains the ability to think. He was nothing until he woke up on that stretcher and breathed again.
And on the other hand, they saved his life. He was truly grateful; just being able to breathe was a blessing. Robert saw it now: he had before him the life he'd always wanted, without responsibilities or work, just going to find Henry and leaving. But it wasn't that simple. He had to take responsibility for his past mistakes. God, was he even the same man who died in that office? Was he human? He could be a zombie, or worse, an experiment. Perhaps the life that awaited him wasn't so different from being dead.
All of this swirled in his head like a storm as Frankenstein and the Creature began to walk slowly forward, until she knelt beside Maijabi and in front of him. The Creature stayed close, watching carefully. —You're angry, aren't you? I don't blame you. I made you part of my damned legacy without asking. I injected and put things in your body that changed your biology and brought you back to life, but... God, I don't even know if you want to be alive, if you wanted to come back to this cruel world.— The way she said it stunned Lanyon; without mockery, without the sarcasm he had known her for, it was something intimate, silent yet powerful. An empathy she had learned through punishment. —I'm sorry... I'm really sorry— And with that, the storm subsided. Just hearing her, knowing that the leading scientist behind it all treated him like that, as a living being, as a human being, was all Robert needed.
Very carefully, the Creature helped him cover himself with the blanket again and took him in like a small child. —You must be tired; you probably want to take a bath and get dressed. What do you say?— The creature's voice was still deep but no longer distant; now it was very warm.
After nodding, the creature smiled and led him to Tweedy's room, where now the two of them alone, the results of Victoria Frankenstein's experiments, could have a moment of peace and understanding.
They had the peace of mind that someone like them existed. The other wasn't identical, and that's what made them perfect.