The Glass Scientists micro-fanfictions

Ungentlemanly awakenings

A grinding in the bones, deadly nausea, and a horror of the spirit that cannot be exceeded at the hour of birth or death.

No, it wasn't the agonising torture of transformation that so tormented the poor doctor, no but he wished it were for he knew that it would not linger had that been the case. It was something far simpler than that, but in turn was so much worse.

The good doctor Henry Jekyll had a hangover.

If he had allowed himself to entertain the possibility that the throbbing pain in his head could not possibly get worse, an attempt to lift himself up from the uncomfortable facedown position he had been proved that he could indeed feel so much worse. More ominously however, was that by striking his head on something hard had revealed that he was not in the plush bed of his home, nor was he in the small house he had rented out for Hyde – or, indeed, somewhere horribly disreputable that the blond had chosen to entertain his fancy – but somewhere wholly different. A certain somewhere that, following some undignified scrambling, was revealed to be under a park bench.

It was a mighty effort if there ever was one to even be able to drag himself into a somewhat upright position, his legs threatening to give way without even a moments notice, giving the poor man the general appearance of a newborn deer, unable to find their feet. His half-hearted musings on his instability of stance was interrupted by insistent burning in the back of his throat, a new wave of nausea washing over him like a wave, and –

Still doubled over, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand – gloveless, he noted with little more than mild interest as the other was still within the fine white cloth – as he regained his breath before he even dared straighten.

It came as much relief for the most pitiful scientist that there was no one close enough to see his horribly unseemly, ungentlemanly display, nor had he been seen crawling out from underneath a bench in a public park at near midday. Even now, in such a wretched state, he cared greatly for how he was seen by the general public, trying to maintain an obviously feigned air of comfortable wellness about him. Why, he even tried to arrange the unfitting clothes of Edward Hyde in a way that would at least make him appear somewhat presentable at least, before relenting and simply drawing the tattered cloak around him before setting off on the unpleasant walk back home, cursing the name of Hyde with every step.