Title: No and Yes
Fandom: Jekyll
Rating: G
Pairing: Canon
Disclaimer: Not my characters or world. Blame Moffat for his amazing characters. I make no money at all from this.
Summary: Another scheduled change, but this time with a twist.

No and Yes

He is aware of the straps first, as always. They hold down his forearms, hold him fast to the chair. He opens his eyes next, looking down at his lap. He doesn’t expect to see the sea of balled-up tissues scattering his lap and the floor all around the chair. Slowly, dramatically, he lifts his head and meets Katherine’s gaze. “Hello there.”

She jumps, surprised. And that’s strange. She’s seen this dozens or more times now. And it’s seven o’clock. This is scheduled. She can’t be surprised by his appearance. But… she is. He can taste the surprise in the air. He can look into her eyes and see it rise up above all other emotions. He cocks his head. “It’s me. Who were you expecting?”

She shakes her head. “You, of course, Sir.”

He cocks his head in the other direction. “You lie… and you don’t. How is that?”

“What you are… it’s a wonder. Every time I see it, I am surprised. And tonight especially.”

“Why especially?” He looks down again, wondering when she’s going to release him—when, not if—and notices the discarded tissues again. “Hmm… let me guess. Oohhh I want to guess! It’s a game!” He bounces in the chair, in as much as he can, still strapped in. “Is it because of me? No… and yes. It is more because of him though. It’s about Daddy. But what about Daddy?”

He knows he can just play the tape recorder and it will tell all. Or he can look at the video to see. But what is the fun of that? None. No fun at all. And he likes fun. Likes it more than almost anything. Besides, he thinks he figures it out. There are only two things Tom Jackman would use so many tissues for, and he doesn’t think it’s the one that has to do with their pecker. “Daddy’s ill, isn’t he? He’s got himself a widdle cold in his nose, doesn’t he?”

He can see in her eyes that he’s right. He doesn’t need to play the tape recorder. But he does, because he knows it’ll be entertaining and make him laugh.

The voice on the tape recorder is his and not his. But it does make him laugh, as expected. “Hullo. The car is barked outside, keys with Katheride. Try dot to… to… hubtichooo! ekktchoo! Uhh… snrfff! Huh… Try dot to stay out all dight. For odce, would you just lie low add sleeb? Or at least dot let be wage ub id a gutter? I… hih… ihhh-ehhh…  oh God, dot agaid…” The recording cuts off at that, and tears of laughter rush down his face.

He throws his head back against the chair. “Daddy’s got a cold and I don’t. He’s a mess and I don’t have a single sniffle. That’s what surprises you, isn’t it?”

Katherine nods. “I understand how it works between you. I’ve seen it many times, as you’ve said. But Mr. Jackman was so very sneezy and here you are, perfectly fine. It’s incredible.”

He chuckles. And he thinks about it a little while. If he tries hard, he can feel the man inside him. He can feel him finally getting some rest, like he’s been put in time out to nap, while his body transforms and goes on.

“Would you like to be let out?” Katherine asks, her eyes not flicking toward the video camera or the light switch, both of which keep her safe and sound in his presence, despite wanting to double check them.

He thinks for a moment. As much as he wants to go out tonight, he wants to mess with the good doctor even more. He wants to fool with the man’s mind, make him miserable, make him suffer with a hell of a cold. “No,” he decides, and once again she looks surprised. “No. I’m going back in.”

“Sir, you—”

“It’s decided.” He picks up the tape recorder and says two words into it. They’re not “Get better” or “bless you” or anything of that sort. Then his eyes roll back. His head dips. His breathing races. His fingers flex and grip the arms of the chair.

And when he raises his head again, his eyes are bloodshot and his nose is red. Tom coughs and sniffles and goes to rub his nose, but he finds his wrists bound to his chair. And he’s surprised. It’s not a gutter, though. That’s something. “Katheride?” His voice is thick and stuffy and he breathes hard from his mouth because he can barely sniff, his nose is so bad.

“Right here, Sir.” She steps in with a tissue box for him. He unlocks himself using the keypad and quickly dips into the tissue box before he even gets up from the chair. His blows are tiny little puffs that make him slightly lightheaded by the end.

“What tibe is it?” Tom has taken off his wristwatch and given it to Katherine with his wedding ring because he likes the watch and worries he will pawn it for money or something. “I feel exhausted. Was he out dight then?”

“No. It’s only seven-fifteen.”

“Id…” He goes for another tissue, trying to contain the cold. “ih-hih-hihhh-IHKTchoo!” He wipes at his nose, which hurts so much he winces. “Seved id the bordig?”

“At night.”

He shakes his head. “That’s dot bossible. He’s dever beed id codtrol for ad edtire day before.”

“It’s still Tuesday.”

He gives a start. Fifteen minutes? Only fifteen minutes? “Why? He’s dever relidquished codtrol like that either. Ehhhh… ehhhh-KETChufff! Snrffff! What habbeded?”

She wouldn’t tell him. She kept their secrets from everyone, including them. “Play the tape recorder, Sir.”

Tom does.

The voice on the tape recorder is his and not his. There’s no roughness or stuffiness. But it’s still slightly deeper, slower. And the two words come at him. “Enjoy, Daddy.” The words chill him terribly, but he pretends it’s the cold that’s getting to him, that the shivers are from a fever he definitely doesn’t have.

“I’b goig hobe,” he declares. He imagines his bed, sliding in beside Claire and having her hug him to her. He thinks of the boys climbing onto the bed with tissues and handmade get well cards. He pictures soup and fluffy pillows and a long night of sniffling under a familiar comforter. And he can’t help thinking that this is some perverse gift he has given. What could be the thing he wants in return?