Chapter Text
The streets of London are awfully empty as Akmyll runs through them, her heart beating against her ribs as her thoughts are growing grimmer and grimmer. Dark clouds are covering the heavens, no star given any mercy, and where the police officers are now, she doesn't have a clue. While her bad leg is shooting pain through her entire body, her desperation to get away from the cops overpowers it, her lungs offering her an eternal source of energy, despite the exhaustion hovering over her. She's not used to running. Not this much, at least. Not with this much despair. Not with this much pain.
Her own face is plastered around the entire city, that same smirk haunting her no matter how much she tries to escape. Her sharp features softened. Her freckles gone. Her hair loose and messy, unlike anything she'd ever dare to show the public. It frames her face in a way that looks unnatural to her. It's the face of a criminal, not an esteemed scientist. There are many things to say about Akmyll, but she's not a criminal. She's not psychotic. Right now, she's just afraid. Afraid to be looked at as the person who committed the astrocities for which she is now wanted. Afraid that nobody will believe her when she says that she's not responsible for the harm done by the thing that took her face. Even the homeless people she passes, who usually ignored her passing by in the past, now widen their eyes in anxiety as she walks past them. Murder, they say. Theft. Assault of officers, and God knows what else. What must her parents think? Her colleagues? The patients she treated not too long ago? Akmyll Ywardhen: from a respected doctor to a lowly refugee. Crippled alchemist on the loose. Her whole reputation thrown to the hounds, because of a beast that held it for too long.
Just when their feet threaten not to carry her any longer, the door to her friend's home appears in sight. With quickened and urgent knocks, made by both fists meeting the wood of the one obstacle promising her safety, Akmyll calls attention to the need for an entrance. It doesn't take too long for Viktor Frankenstein to open the door to his modest abode.
Viktor has never looked relatively healthy. His skin has always been pale, and the bags under his dark eyes surely must be permanent, as Akmyll has never seen him without. His dark hair is disheveled, and his expression shocked. "Akmyll? What do you think you're doing here at this hour?"
Without another word, Akmyll enters his home, closing the door behind them. It's unlike her, she knows. But the officers may be near, and if not them, the creature she's hoping to have avoided. "I apologize for my intrusion," Akmyll immediately says, avoiding eye contact with Viktor. "It's just that, well, matters have spiraled out of control. My situation is dire, and I did not know where else to go." She sends him an apologetic glance, straightening her back. "I hope you do not mind?"
"Not if you tell me what's going on," Viktor responds, putting his arm under her shoulder in an attempt to support her, which appears needed as Akmyll limps with him further into the home. "You look horrible."
"No need to remind me," she huffs, taking a seat on the couch in his living room. Despite the space being relatively tiny, its interior is no less telling. Graphs of human anatomy are plastered on the walls, and one frame with butterflies, terms in Latin giving insight into the sciences. No classical art or anything of the sort: only images of biology, and a few framed portraits of Viktor with family, and one with his best friend.
"So, tell me, Heavens, what's going on?"
"The Devil is out to get me, Viktor," Akmyll explains, her eyes remaining on the blue wings of the insects as she takes a deep breath, her fingers trembling ever so slightly, the adrenaline not yet faded. "Everyone believes me to be the one to kill its victims, but I assure you, there's no blood on my hands. Tell me, have you spoken to it? Seen it recently? For I have no idea where she has gone."
"No, I have not. In all transparancy, I have only spoken to her once, if I remember correctly. But I have heard what she has done. I will admit I am not against all of what it has done, but... I suppose we can't all be perfect."
"Don't get distracted, Viktor. The murder on a bad man is no less a murder. A murder they are wishing to prosecute me for. And it's not like I can tell them about my recent experiments: they'll claim that I'm mad."
"You're clearly not sound of mind yet. Take a few deep breaths, alright? I can't comprehend you if you're speaking with such haste."
Akmyll grabs Viktor's hands tightly, her eyes, having closed as little as some believe his to have, piercing through his soul. "I am sound of mind, Viktor. In fact, I have not thought any clearer. By the Heavens, I have run for over half an hour through London, while the cops were in pursuit. I have run, without stopping once. I don't have my cane, and every single step hurts, but it has allowed me to dwell on what must be done. The longer it continues doing whatever it wishes to, the longer my name continues to be dragged through the mud, covered in blood it spilled, the more deaths that fall to its claws, the less chance I have of ever living normally again. For some of its past crimes I can still claim innocence, but I wouldn't be surprised if even Mother would be unable to tell the two of us apart now. She looks too much like me. And she's done things too degenerate for me to allow her to continue like this. She must be undone. Unmade. That's the only way to free me of this Hell which she has locked me into."
Viktor stares at Akmyll with a sort of anxiety. There are very few people in London who understand Akmyll, and Viktor is one of them. They met through their studies, and they've always found in one another a comfort nowhere else to be found. Ambitions to achieve greatness for the world, even if in the eyes of some ethical borders are crossed in the pursuit of it. Throughout his enterprises, she has supported him, and throughout hers, he has done the same. And now, she needs his support and aid once more, not in pursuit of achieving greatness, but of eliminating the evil her own ambition brought to life. "What are you expecting me to do?" he questions. "I can't just lock you up in my basement, Akmyll, and we both know I'm not a particularly good fighter."
"You wouldn't need to do any of the sort. She no longer inhabits my body. The two of us have separated not too long ago, which is the whole problem."
"What?" His eyes widen, clearly understanding the severity of the situation. "How can such a thing even happen?"
"You can thank Avery for that," Akmyll sighs. "Regardless, it being on the loose is the main problem, and the reason I'm needing your help. Had she still been my personal tormentor, then I could've taken action myself, either by another potion, or by, if need be, more extreme methods. But control has completely slipped from my hands, Viktor, to the point of me not even having her in sights. She could be anywhere. God, I'm not even sure if she's still in London: she might be on her way to Scotland as we're speaking, which I truly pray is not the case because that would mean the maniac is completely out of my reach."
A silence falls between the two, and Viktor's gaze is focused on the floor, the gears in his mind turning almost audibly. No longer is this a matter of security within Akmyll's direct environment: suddenly, they're discussing something that may become a risk to global safety. "Is there anyone else who could offer us aid? Your parents, perhaps?"
"My parents must not know anything about this, Viktor. I wish for this matter to remain between the two of us, just as it has always been."
"The three of us now," Viktor mumbles. "You do not know whom she will tell."
"I know they will not believe her, for they believe her to be me," Akmyll insists. "And my parents are still out of the country. I want them to stay there. I fear for what she might do to them once they return."
"You really think it may harm them?" The lack of a verbal response answers the tension with an electrifying threat. "Akmyll, do you really believe we can handle this matter on our own? Surely, if she's out there on her own, it will be easy to prove your innocence to any crime she may commit. You have an alibi now. And those can be easily faked as well."
"And tell them what? That we are sisters? Don't be ridiculous, Viktor. My mother knows whom, she bore. My father knows whom he taught. While there is no way to prove our relation, it is impossible not to see the resemblance, not to deny that we are one and the same." A stressed sigh leaves her lips. "Besides, even if only you knew of my attempts, it is not something acquaintances might consider out of character for me. Our former teachers, the employees at the hospital, the staff at my home, they would all testify that my desires for a better world lead to... unexpected experiments."
"But they can't lock you up for those. It was her who killed those people: all you did was brew the potion and drink it. There's no illegality in using your own sciences on yourself."
"The world cannot know, Viktor. Please, I am begging you, do not tell anyone about this, do not try to make them understand."
Finally, Viktor gives in, his tense muscles relaxing as he stands up from the couch. "Fine. I shall not. But we cannot discuss this as though it is not a challenge, Akmyll. You are not asking me to save a life: you're asking me to end one, or at least help you in doing so."
"Do not think of it as a life. Think of it as an entity, which crawled out of Hell itself. We aren't killing a person, we're exorcising a demon, and saving the world from its misdeeds. I should've been more careful and not have been so quick to consume the potion, but that doesn't take away from the fact that the harm has been done, and now she must be undone, before anymore damage is done to either of us, to my parents, or to London itself."
"There is not a potion you can brew to undo her?"
"Not anymore. I could give her a potion to end her life, but that is no different from killing her, and I'd need to know her whereabouts before I do anything anyway."
"Before we do anything to begin with," Viktor suddenly interrupts, "you need to rest, Akmyll. No plan can be made when your mind is clouded in misery and panic."
Akmyll simply hums, admitting defeat. If there's something she knows well, especially after hours of studying biology and studying the patients and their progresses, then it's that lack of sleep does not appear as a benefactor or anything of the sort. "I can't promise you that sleep will come, but I will try."
Viktor nods. "You can sleep on the couch for now. I'll be away early tomorrow, but you know where the kitchen is in case you wake up and are in need of breakfast."
"Thank you, once again."
"Of course. We will talk more tomorrow."