Read Silver Lining :: Chapter Eleven

When he came to in an alleyway, a frustrated scream ripped itself from his throat.

Good morning to you, Edward.

Hyde gazed upward, the remains of the scream dying in his throat. What he had screamed for, he did not know, but God… the daylight hurt his eyes.

I'm glad you restrained yourself.

“Well,” Hyde took off Rilon's glasses, staring at them in disdain. “Your brother pisses me off. Beyond….”

He muttered a string of curses under his breath, stashing the glasses on Rilon's coat pocket.

Language, Edward.

“I'm not a fucking child.” Hyde took off the coat after deciding that it was rather uncomfortable, throwing it over his shoulder and glancing around the alleyway.

He was nowhere near the main street, judging from the missing voices. His breath was the only thing that he could hear, alongside the blood pounding in his ears. Judging from that, Rilon must've gotten out of whatever situation in a hurry.

Even then, Hyde wasted no time getting out of the alley. He could find a crowd and blend in, and, at the very least, nobody could pick him out from all the sea of faces that didn't care.

A couple of passersby spared not even a glance at him as he emerged into the street, immersed in a silent conversation. Hyde was wary, watching them for any reaction, but they gave no sign of seeing him.

He decided to follow them and see what they were up to.

After some distance down the street, they merged into a large crowd and out of Hyde's sight. He pushed through after them, shoving those who might have gotten in his way.

They appeared to be in some city square, all in the same melancholy mood and dressed in black. Funeral? Memorial?

He was correct about the latter, which came to him and nearly threw him to the ground.

The President.

It was Lear.

He didn't want to care, and truly, he didn't, for what Hyde retained of Rilon's childhood was not…

He shoved the memories away, choked them down.

Why do I have to be the one stuck with the trauma?

Nobody knew what he was thinking, or had experienced, or even the fact that he was not a real person, but a fragment.

Or even the fact that the President 's murderer was standing among him, full of self-doubt. He didn't regret it, killing Lear, but the doubt was...

Again, he shoved the thought down. He was forgetting what his purpose was here, besides shoving Rilon away to the back of his mind.

Forgetting what?

Meeting... He was meeting someone. Blending into the crowd had only distracted him.

He refused to rebuke himself for this mind slip. It was a simple mistake than anyone could have made.

He weaved through the crowd, back the way he had come. From there, he slipped back into the alley, where he allowed his thoughts to gather.

Ott… Ottawa. That was her name. The woman back at the hospital.

They had met in the five years between their first meeting and now, more times than Hyde would have cared to admit, and more times than Rilon would have approved.

Rilon didn't control him. He was his person; he had his own life.

Think, Edward… where did she say? When did she say?

He slapped himself multiple times, attempting to remember. It was too quiet for him to think properly, which sent him into ruffling his hair.

She had always met him in different places, always random, with no pattern. She seemed to know how much these things would frustrate him.

It was too… problematic.

He paced down to the other end of the alleyway, where he found fewer people there. Some were involved in idle chatter, while others just simply glanced at him and carried on.

Hyde supposed — from the empty carts lining the edge of the street he had entered — that on a normal day, this would be a small marketplace.

It’s supposed to be a normal day. Their voices were nearly synchronized, although Hyde found that Rilon’s was more distressed. He’d been in this place before, although a long while ago. He wasn’t saying what he was saying for today’s events.

He was stuck in the past, reliving an old, unwanted memory.

Hyde had forgotten to shove it back into the back of his mind along with the rest of his threats. It was Rilon’s mother’s murder.

She was murdered in a marketplace.

Hyde, please get me out of here.

Non-verbally, Hyde agreed and quickened his pace.

How empty it felt, how desolate these streets were. The autumn wind seemed to blow hidden messages past his ear, ones he would never decipher in time for them to disappear.

“Get out of the way!” Hyde was suddenly yanked aside by someone and nearly crashed into one of the market stalls. He whipped around, ready to scold the person, when a carriage flew by, only inches from Hyde’s face.

And I could have died.

“Jesus, we don’t need two people dying this week.” The figure shoved him away after he spoke, right back out onto the street. “One asshole is enough.”

“Are you calling me an asshole, bitch?” Hyde snarled to the man, who he had to turn his head to look up to him.

“Well, for one, you weren't paying attention.” The man glowered down at him, his golden eyes nearly blazing with annoyance. “For another, shouldn't you be with everyone else?”

Hyde wanted to retort but took in the strange detail. The man was wearing all red, and not black like everyone else. The man caught Hyde studying him and grimaced even more.

“Okay, fine, neither am I, but — do I know you ?”

Pulling a face, Hyde shook his head. “I have never seen you before, at least...” He hesitated, trying to recall any memory of his mind. Perhaps he was the man Rilon had long forgotten. “I don’t think I have.”

The man sniffed, shrugging. “Again, I might be remembering things wrong.”

He shoved past Hyde, stumbling out onto the street. He offered Hyde a long stare, studying him, then shrugged again.

Hyde turned to face him, but by the time he had done so, the man’s back was turned to him, and he was fumbling through his coat pocket. When he pulled out a small box, Rilon finally spoke again.

That’s a matchbox.

“So?” Hyde muttered, quiet so as the man could not hear him. “Does it have any significance to you?”

I know him.

“Faust?” It was Rilon’s question but in Hyde’s voice.

The man turned around to face him, nearly dropping the matchbox. “Oh, so you do know me.”

Hyde stammered, shaking his head erratically. “No, I was… just talking to myself.”

It was a terrible lie, and even the man could see through it. His eyes narrowed, and he sighed, crossing his arms and facing Hyde. “Do you or don’t you?”

“Alva Faust.” Once again, it was Rilon who spoke through Hyde’s voice. “Your name is Alva.”

How the hell are you doing that?

“How dim-witted are you?” Alva stood over Hyde, tapping his head, which only irritated Hyde — and to an extent, Rilon — more than he already was.

“Dim-Witted enough to murder the President.” Hyde waved Alva’s hand away, snatching the matchbox out of his other.

Although Alva appeared slightly upset at the loss of his matchbox, which Hyde suspected from a quick inspection, was stolen, a mingle of amusement and disbelief sparked in his eyes. “Fine.” he pointed at the matchbox in Hyde’s hand. “Now give that back.”

Hyde shook his head and smiled childishly. “No.”

Alva swiped for the matchbox, but Hyde dove away from it, holding the box close to him.

“Give it back, asshole.” Alva snarled as Hyde crashed into another stall at the opposite side of the street.

“What did I say?” Hyde examined the box before Alva dove for him again. He smiled as he replied with, “No.”

Aren't you supposed to be meeting someone? Rilon's interruption prompted Hyde to toss Alva back his matchbox.

Not for a while, if I’m recalling correctly. Hyde sniffed.

He was hesitant but amused as he watched Alva fumble for the box. “You're from Vienna.”

“So?” Alva finally caught the box, staring at the box, examining it as Hyde had done. “How’d you get that detail from just the box? Last time I looked, this was -” He held up the box before abruptly cutting himself off in realization. “It’s the… voice… isn’t it?”

“Dumbass,” Hyde muttered under his breath, a hint of a snarl in his tone. “I guess I’m not some dimwit, after all, Alva Faust.”

Alva snarled back as if to challenge him, but Hyde wouldn’t even remotely consider picking on him, as he appeared more experienced than he was.

But yet, so had Lear.

You’re clouding your mind, Edward. Stay focused.

Alva tossed the box once in the air, before catching it in the opposite hand and stashing it back in his coat pocket. He had seen the look in Hyde’s eyes, studying him again, how he had gotten a small knowing of Alva’s experience. He shied away, and Hyde heard him fight to suppress a small snarl of embarrassment.

Hyde held out his hand, although Alva was out of arm’s reach on the other side of the street.

Alva still shied away — he had no social experience if any at all. It was a weakness, Hyde noted, but not a very relevant one. Still, he put in the back of his mind for later, in case he needed it.

“Well?” He smiled. “It’s either shake my hand and let me introduce myself, or… you can give me back your matchbox.”

Alva snarled again, but hurriedly walked across the street and shook Hyde’s hand before turning away again. “Don’t… take my matchbox…”

Hyde nearly laughed. “I wouldn't chance it.”

Alva relaxed at his reply; a faint smile appeared on his lips before vanishing completely. He nodded. “Good.”

“I suppose this is the worst time to introduce myself, then?”

“You said you were going to.”

“I did?” It took several seconds for Hyde's brain to click and get what he had said earlier. “Why yes, I did. ”

Alva stared at him as though he'd spoken another language completely.

“Well,” Hyde felt the urge to flee from this place. Someone would notice a missing First Lord sooner or later. “I'm Hyde. Mr. Edward Hyde.”

“You're weirdly formal.” Alva pulled the matchbox out of his pocket again. “Anyway, nice meeting you, Edward.”

He pulled a match out of the box, striking it as he dashed off down the street.

With a small smile, mostly to himself as there was nobody there to speak to, Hyde shook his head. His cheeks began to burn. Was it from excitement, embarrassment, or something else entirely?

Again, he shook his head, but more vigorously as though clearing his thoughts. He peeked out of the stall to see Alva staring at him from some distance away. The expression on the man’s face wasn’t clear, but Hyde figured that it was some form of amusement.

Alva tossed something aside, which Hyde figured was the match he had seen him strike only moments earlier. It was confirmed when one of the nearby market stalls burst into flames. How easily it had set wasn’t something Hyde would easily figure out, and figured did not matter.

Of course. After his short hiatus of silence, Rilon muttered in disdain. Another arsonist.

“Another?” Hyde whispered, backing into the stall as footsteps rushed past him. Part of him prayed that Alva had gotten away in that short time.