A/N: For Teslen Week day 4: "Vienna." Includes mentions of Helen/James.
Balancing the tray he held in one hand, Nikola raised his other and knocked on Helen's door. She had a small office not unlike his own, that served a double purpose as a kind of ready room before she went out on missions. She was no doubt preparing now for her next; Nikola had barely gotten here in time to see her before she left again.
She had arrived only six hours ago, and been locked away in meetings almost all of that time. He was certain she was working herself too hard, as she always did, but it was too late now for her to get any sleep before her plane was off. All he could do was bring her tea. It had become a bit of a routine – as often as they could, whenever Helen got back from a mission they had tea together before she left again.
It was one of the few routines they had left. For that matter, it was about the only time together they had left at all. Ever since the idiots in charge had decreed him too unpredictable for the field and chained him to a desk, he hardly ever saw Helen anymore, let alone got more than a few minutes to talk to her.
Nikola liked to make those minutes count. One of his favorites was when he brought Helen black tea from the dwindling stash he kept just for her, tucked away safely in a locked drawer in his laboratory. The look on her face as she inhaled and drank, relaxing for the briefest of moments and forgetting her cares, that was more precious to Nikola than anything.
But always, even in those quiet moments, there was the aching knowledge in the back of his mind that she would leave soon, and he might not see her again for weeks or months on end. Terse, hurried messages on the autotype were the only reassurance he'd have during those weeks that she was even still alive.
He supposed it could have been worse. During the last great war, Helen had been working at a hospital near the front lines. It had taken ages for their letters to reach each other, if they made it at all. At least it had seemed like an eternity to Nikola, waiting in New York, a jolt of fear running through him every time he heard news of the war.
More than anything, he'd wanted to be out there with her: helping her, watching her back. He wanted it now, too. But he was trapped here, and besides, the closeness they had shared for the first few decades of the new century had dissolved over the past few years as their work took them further and further apart. James was her closest confidante now.
Thinking about Helen and James together still made a tangled mess of emotions swirl together somewhere in Nikola's chest. James was one of his best friends, and one of the finest people he had ever known. He was suited to Helen in every way: intelligent and compassionate, with that dry sense of humor so like hers. And he was certainly more deserving of her than Nikola ever had been, or ever would be.
Nikola should have been happy for them. And he was, or at least he tried to be, when they were here and so obviously happy together that Nikola's heart had to lift a little at the smile on Helen's face. But when they were off on missions and he was left alone at allied headquarters, he couldn't help but remember the years he and Helen had spent together, sharing wonder and sorrow and ideas and adventures, or what it was like to wake up next to her with her warmth surrounding him.
Sometimes he wished things could be like that again. He knew they couldn't, of course. It was selfish of him, but, well, Nikola only rarely pretended to be otherwise.
Helen's voice sounded from behind the door, pulling Nikola out of his melancholy thoughts. "Come in."
He turned the knob and pushed the door open with his foot, returning both hands to the tea tray. Helen was standing by the desk in the middle of the room, going through a small pack. Her short reddish hair shone in the dim light of the lamp sitting on her desk. She did look tired, but not overly so, and Nikola sighed slightly in relief.
"Oh, Nikola, hello." Helen smiled at him when she saw what he was carrying. "You're going to run out if you keep up at this rate. Do I even want to know where you're getting it?"
"Don't ask. If you do, I might tell you." He set the tray on her desk and handed her a cup. "Off again so soon?"
He basked in the waited-for moment as her eyes closed for a brief second, savoring the tea. "I'm afraid so. Emergency extraction of one of our informants. Nigel and James and I will be heading out within the hour."
Nikola lifted his own cup to his lips. "Where to?"
Helen gave him a look. "I'm not supposed to tell you that. You're not officially involved in this one, Nikola."
"That's never stopped you before. Come on, Helen, you know I'm not a spy."
They had this conversation almost every time she left. Helen thought it was his insatiable curiosity at work, and that was partly true. But part of it was that if anything went wrong for her out there, he knew the higher-ups would have no problem throwing her to the wolves, and if that ever happened Nikola wanted a contingency plan.
One constant fear was always with him – that someday the autotype messages would simply stop, his best friends would vanish while he was stuck here, helpless. So every time, he played this game with Helen, and every time, she let him win. Helen rarely did that, which made Nikola suspect she knew more about his true motives than she let on.
This time she seemed more reticent than usual; it took her nearly half a minute of silent tea sipping to make the decision to tell him. "Just outside Vienna," she said at last.
Nikola looked away, his throat tightening. Memories bubbled to the surface, lazy mornings in bed and nights spent watching the stars, filled with light and laughter. And love, at least on Nikola's part, even if he hadn't been brave enough to say it.
"I see," he managed. "The bombings – "
"I'll be careful." There was a note in Helen's voice he couldn't identify.
Nikola swallowed. If anything should happen to her there, where they had been so happy such a short time ago…
"Thank you for the tea, Nikola." Helen set her half-finished cup down with a clatter, her voice a trifle unsteady. "But I really should be preparing to leave."
She straightened from where she had been leaning against her desk, but her hurried movements must have strained something, because she winced and halted, clutching her side.
"Are you alright?" Nikola asked quickly, with a sudden wave of dread that he had gotten to know all too well.
"Yes, yes, of course. Just a bruised rib."
"You're certain?"
Helen rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Nikola, you fuss like a mother hen."
He relaxed. Helen insulting him usually meant she wasn't seriously injured. To distract himself from how desperately he wanted to take her into his arms and hold her, he looked down at her desk. A flash of silver caught his eye in the bag she had been packing, and he tilted his head, getting a better look and confirming his suspicions.
"You kept it," he said before he could stop himself. His voice was soft.
During the first world war, Nikola had used to send her miniscule models of what he was working on along with his letters sometimes. It had been a way to share his work with her even though they were half a world away, and to distract her from the horrors she was seeing, that he read between the lines of her letters. And it been comforting in a way, like at least a part of him would always be with her, no matter how far away they were.
This one looked like one of the bladeless turbines he'd been working on around that time. He picked it up, smiling in distant recollection of when he'd made it for her. He had put so much detail into it – he never would have shared anything like this with anyone other than Helen.
"I kept all of them." There was that strange, quiet tone in Helen's voice again, before it shifted into something warmer and somehow more distant. "Nigel thinks it's good luck, after it got me through the last war so well."
"I thought you didn't believe in luck."
She shrugged, her lips quirking. "Well, it never hurts to be on the safe side."
"No." Nikola put the model down. Foolishly, a small fraction of the weight on his chest seemed to lift. "No, it doesn't." He joined Helen by the door. "I'll walk you, if you'd like?"
Helen hesitated before nodding.
Not so long ago, they would have walked arm in arm, engaged in conversation and a bit of banter; now their arms remained stiff at their sides, silence in the air, Helen's face sober as she contemplated her next mission. Familiar worry was already starting to creep over Nikola.
Still, for now at least, he was at Helen's side. No matter the circumstances, there was no other place on Earth he would rather be.
