Sweaty – they were both sweaty and moving and breathing hard – Jekyll pulled back a moment and watched his dreamlover move toward him languidly smiling – grinning a wicked promise – here – he reached out and cupped his lover's face took his lips with his teeth and-

            Woke to a black pitch room to the sounds of gasping, sobbing and gasping.

            That's not fair

            He fumbled for a moment before finding the lamp and turning it on. Then he stumbled over to the water basin. An old plain mirror leaned up behind it, had somehow miraculously survived the explosions and Gray's exit. He'd been uneasy about having a mirror in the room, for privacy's sake.

            Jekyll splashed water on his face and wiped it off with a hand towel. Sure enough, he could make out auburn hair sweat-dark and eyes red-rimmed by lack of sleep for a few seconds before Hyde's brutish visage superimposed over his own. Only that Hyde's face was his and his was Hyde's – but it's thoughts like these that keep him awake too long into the night.

            "Been havin' dreams again, eh, Henry?" Hyde bared his teeth in a gruesome smile.

            "Shut it, Edward," Jekyll snapped. He placed his hands on the bureau and leaned into it, stretching his shoulders.

            "Ha! You know why you have that dream, Henry?"

            "No," he sighed, "and I suppose you'll tell me."

            "'S cause something in you isn't right, Henry. 'S why you made me in the first place." Jekyll shook his head but they both knew it was true. Something is wrong with him.

            "To separate from my baser instincts –" he muttered.

            "Didn't work, did it?" there was something like pity in Hyde's voice and it was the pity Jekyll hated. You're my monster, you don't pity me, I made you!

            He turned and walked back to the bed while Hyde's voice followed him, "Stop hating it, stop hating you – it's part of you…" Then he ruined the uncharacteristic kindness by laughing cruelly, "I'm part of you."

            Jekyll sighed and turned off the lamp. He lay staring up at the ceiling with the cover pulled up to his chin. He remembered when he first woke, thinking That's not fair – because he kept having the same dream with no escape, that he woke up before the good part –

            His face heated in the dark, embarrassed at his own thoughts, even though he's alone in his head.

            Except Hyde can probably hear everything I think.

            And then he thought, Damn him.     

            And then he slept.

            He looked at his plate and breakfast stared back at him. It was a small octopus, which Nemo assured him was a delicacy. Delicacy or not, Jekyll decided fruit was safer.

            The gelatinous black eye didn't stop Sawyer who was eating and talking excitedly, occasionally pausing to swallow. He was trying to convince some of the Indians that America was simply the greatest place – especially the Mississippi, which Jekyll understood to be farther inland then where they were going. In a few days they would dock in New York so Sawyer could meet with his superiors and beg a vacation to continue traveling with them.

            "Good morning!" Jekyll started, then looked to his left to see – or rather, not see Skinner.

            "Good morning," he returned.

            "And the ladies there – whoa! It's like a party every night!" Sawyer waved his arms for emphasis and his listeners chattered in their native tongue and nudged one another.

            "Sounds alright, eh, Jekyll?" Skinner nudged him in the side, "Find a buxom gel for a good time?" Jekyll smiled weakly. Gel, right. He turned to agree but watched in horror as Skinner thoroughly chewed a piece of tentacle, then swallowed. Even through his disgust, the doctor in him wondered why he could see it chewed and swallowed, but not see it in Skinner's stomach. On reflection, he was grateful.

            Then he said something he quickly regretted, "I thought Quartermain – " he stopped. No one said his name much, especially around Sawyer. He looked up guiltily but the boy hadn't heard him. Somewhere in his head Hyde chuckled.

            "All that, 'in clothes at all times'?" Skinner asked. Jekyll knew if he could see Skinner's face it would be the epitome of innocence. He was pushing the envelope again and again with Quartermain gone. He had no real incentive to behave, no goal they were working towards. Jekyll paled slightly as Skinner took another bite, this time of the head. He looked over just in time to see one of the eyes pop between invisible teeth. He closed his own eyes and waited until the room stopped spinning.

            "You alright, Jekyll?" Skinner asked. Thankfully the sound of chewing through soft cartilage stopped when he spoke. Jekyll didn't answer, just concentrated on steady breathing.

            Skinner looked at his plate, then at Jekyll's. He hadn't touched his creature munchy, so – not being as stupid as most believed, Skinner excused himself.

            "Be right back, ducks," he said. Jekyll opened his eyes as he heard Skinner leave.

            Ducks. That was new.

            Skinner came back in his trenchcoat and makeup a moment after he'd left. The two ate in silence, listening to Sawyer –

            "Best hunting, too, and fishing! Well, y'know, maybe not as good as the open sea, but pretty darn near."

            Finally, one of his captive audience spoke up, "Is all this in New York?" and Sawyer deflated a little.

            "Naw, New York is city stuff. Still great ladies! But it's mostly shops 'nd stuff."

            Jekyll's eyes slid to the side and he was thankful that all he could see of Skinner's food was a white bulge in one cheek. He could still hear it, but it was better then seeing it – but you know it's just like the time we chewed the ears off that chap outside of Oxford.

            Nausea made his stomach turn and he rubbed his eyes with one hand hissing, "Shut it, Edward!"

            "What's that? Jekyll? You alright, you look 'orrible, mate!" Skinner said. He touched Jekyll's shoulder and the man sat up with a gasp.

            "I'm fine," he said, "Just…haven't been getting enough sleep lately."

            Skinner looked skeptical, one white gray eyebrow tilted downward and lips twisted in a disapproving line.

            "Ed – Hyde's been pleading his case. He thinks he deserves some freedom for playing nice and helping at M's fortress." Hyde sniggered. Liar.

            "Yeah, so? Once we get to America, give him an evening out," he said.

            Jekyll grimaced, "You don't know what he's like when he isn't being a team player. Sometimes, he eats things – parts of people he's ripped to pieces to make them leave him alone or just because he's bored. I-I'm there," always, "I can never make him stop. I can only watch."

            Skinner watched Jekyll hunch and was glad that he had no "company" in his head.

            "Good morning, gentlemen," Mina settled opposite the two and Jekyll straightened.

            "Good morning, Mina," he said, and began to pick at his fruit again.

            "Mornin' luv!" Skinner said with a cocky grin. Mina smiled warily.

            As Jekyll finished up he could hear Sawyer regaling them with a tale of his youth, "Me and Huck got into the most awful trouble! Once we- "

            "Who is this Huck?" the Indian to his left asked.

            "Oh, my best pal, Huckleberry Finn. Last I heard he's in training to be a copper. Anyway, my aunt would cool her pies off by puttin' them on the windowsill, an' – "

            His voice grew smaller as Jekyll walked back to his room.

            "Are you going to sulk all day?" Hyde asked from the mirror. Jekyll ignored him in favor of continuing his paper, effects of extreme cold on burn victims. The only subject he'd observed was Skinner, of course. Moving him to the Nautilus had shocked his system, but it was better than the alternative.

            "Yes, you're going to sulk." Not getting an answer, Hyde continued, "I don't see what you're so upset about, it was only the one time. Though they were a tad clammy, English weather and all. I wonder what they taste like warm – "

            "Bugger off!" Jekyll yelled, shutting his journal with the smack of paper. In three quick strides he stood in front of the bureau and snatched the mirror down. He shoved it face-down under his bed.

            The he continued his paper in relative and didn't leave until dinner time.

            He was not sulking.

            Heh, sure.