Author's note: This story uses a mix of existing and original characters as well as the lyrics, slightly adjusted, of the song “Confrontation” from the stage musical Jekyll and Hyde, which inspired it. The author encourages you to listen to this song, in which Jekyll and Hyde confront each other directly after struggling for control of their shared body and life for most of the show, to gain a better understanding of the story.
He spins into a room and closes the door. A patch of memory nags at his mind. “Do you know how it feels to have two sets of memories - two different people - banging around inside your head?” he had asked her.
“It’s over now, I know inside,” He sings, following a tune he doesn’t know already exists. “No one will ever know: the sorry tale of…” lost without a true name for Him, his brain fills in with a trisyllabic clash of color, “…and those who died.” His throat closes off as his body hunches gently. “No one must ever know."
“They’d only see the tragedy… they’d not see my intent! The shadow of His evil would forever kill the good that I had meant…”
His head lifts on his neck as the two sets of memories flash in front of him, dueling for control of his feelings. Finally he swallows, back in blue.
“Am I a good man?” Briefly, vaguely, selected memories from the first set fly though his mind, as if to remind him who the good man was. “…Am I the madman?” Memories from the other set nearly overwhelm him in a tide of burnt orange-red. “There’s such a fine line,” he whispers, his voice coming apart at the edges, “between a good man and a…” a chill races up his neck, steel creeping through his bones as his hair stands on end.
“Do you really think that I would ever let you go?” A haunting voice beckons from behind him - behind him? Inside him? In some vague, quantum, imaginary way, it is both. He turns, stiff, poised to fight, to the mirror behind him, wherein stands a life-sized reflection, deep, wide, tall - and staring directly at him - but the face, the form, the apparel is not his… but His. “Do you think I’d ever set you free? If you do, I’m sad to say it simply isn’t so…” he steels himself, rising in his mind to the challenger… “you will never get away from me!” He feels his strength swell inside him, lacing his mind.
“All that you are is a face in the mirror,” he calls back, determined, “I close my eyes and you disappear!”
“I’m what you face when you face in the mirror, long as you live I will still be here!” The words blur into red haze, he doesn’t hear them as much as he hears his next words.
“All that you are is the end of a nightmare, all that you are is a dying scream! After tonight, I shall end this demon dream!” His confidence washes through him - in his mind he calls on her image for comfort, the things she says to him when panic rises like electricity through him, the things she says that root him in blue, that remind him of what he already knows - chased immediately by a shiver of red, of Him, of His memories, that runs through his mind, surprising him with its ease to such an extent that for a moment he stumbles.
“This is not a dream, my friend, and it will never end… this one is the nightmare that goes on! I am here to stay no matter what you may pretend, and I’ll flourish long after you’re gone!” Through lancing waves of red that stab through his mind, as if to prove His point, he fights - hunched over, one hand over his face, but staring down the figure in the mirror, now bent over as if to sneer at him, mirroring him.
“Soon you will die and my memory will hide you, you cannot choose but to lose control!”
“You can’t control me; I live deep inside you! Each day you’ll feel me devour your soul…” That red, the memories… like brine, it will wear him down, it will wear him away if it persists. He knows that. He can feel the truth in His words, but still he straightens his knees, choosing to fight, choosing to stand. Slowly, she fades from his mind, his focus - he is alone with Him now; this is their battle.
“I don’t need you to survive like you need me, I’ll become whole as you dance with death -" his words feed back into his strength, his hope… his body shakes, racked with adrenaline, rattled by the clash inside his skull, “And I’ll rejoice as you breathe your final breath!”
“I’ll live inside you forever!” The figure in the mirror as good as shouts, burning him with His memories. His hands fly to his head, pulling at his hair, his eyes closed, blinded by the colors, the memories exploding in his mind.
“No!” he screams, doubling over.
“With Satan himself by my side!”
“No!” he screams again, seeming to himself even louder.
“And I’ll know that now and forever they’ll never be able to separate your soul from mine!”
Finally, the assault abates enough that he can think. Now, more than strength or pain, terror radiates through him; fear… a creeping yellow fear that insists He’s right…
“Can’t you see… It’s over now, it’s time to die,” he roars, stumbling in a desperate attempt to keep his balance, reaching out to catch himself on a table, a cabinet, anything - but nothing appears.
“No, not I! Only you!”
“If I die, you die too!” His eyes open and he shakes a finger at the mirror.
“You’ll die in me; I’ll be you!” He grits his teeth, raging against another tide of red that threatens to overcome him.
“Damn you -" again, he is left without a name for Him, and trips over his tongue as he fails to find a word to fill the space “- leave me be!”
“Can’t you see? You are me!”
“No! Deep inside…” He searches for the answer to that question - he knows where it is, but all he meets is a thick net of yellow vines, hiding everything from him except the dangerous words that his adversary hurls like darts.
“I am pure, you’re the lie!” Those words trigger something in him, a fresh wave of strength, a second wind, a new wave of blue.
“No! Never!” Now he knows it’s true, he braces himself to face the mirror head-on.
“Yes, forever!”
“Damn you, liar!” he screams at the top of his lungs, “take all your evil deeds and rot in hell!” He flings out his arms as if tearing away cobwebs in front of him, doubling over with the effort. As he straightens back up, she crashes into him from the side, her arms wrapped around him. For a second, he doesn’t recognize her, and then he does, and his hand goes to her shoulder, his other hand, as good trapped between them, finds its way to her waist and he leans into her.
When he sends a glance back up at the mirror, there he is, holding her - being held by her, more like. The red ebbs from his mind, but as it fades, he hears one last haughty whisper.
“I’ll see you there, old friend.”
He buries his face in her hair and lets himself shake, back in blue.
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