A/N:: Several of these characters I own, several I don't.
Enjoy!
1899, Chicago.
She hadn't meant for this to happen. She'd been lonely, having to stay away from those she loved, and cared about. Either that or or else she had to be so very careful with her words and actions, that even if her hair was blonde again, the stress of it all almost wasn't worth the visit.
He'd just been a nice guy at first, someone who was not involved with the abnormal business, so there wasn't any chance of him recognizing her. He respected her independence, her passion for strange things, and didn't care at all that she was smarter than him. He was a very rare catch at that point in history.
Helen simply told him she was a doctor, and odd as though it might have been, he accepted it without another thought. She saw no need to tell him of how she filled most of her days. The secret laboratory she had under her presumed office building that was filled with strange technology? That she worked the stock markets in her spare time, with her knowledge from the future, trying to gather enough funds to rebuild her sanctuary for monsters? That she frequently visited a city under the earth's crust; investigating it, studying it, without them even knowing?
These were hardly things one would spread around, especially when she was trying to stay hidden.
He was a criminal lawyer. With his own firm, he was respected enough that he could hand pick his cases, He would only represent those he believed in, no matter how good the money was on the other side. He worked hard to improve the lives of those who were hurt by others, and was proud of his accomplishments. He led a relatively simple, black and white life; comparatively speaking.
She'd liked that.
"Miss- I'm sorry,-" he corrected himself, "Doctor, can I ask for your help?"
Helen spun around in an elegant motion to look at the man who would be so bold as to call out to her, a stranger, on the street.
"I suppose that depends entirely on what you need from me."
He smiled a confident grin. "Forgive me, It's nothing urgent, but I've heard you are quite an expert with the odd and mysterious medical cases."
"That may be." She was curious. "You're clearly not ill, why would you need my help?"
He dipped his head in greeting, "I'm a criminal attorney, and I believe you can help me win my case." He paused and found himself caught in her beautiful eyes. Helen smiled, and he shook his head to clear it. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a calling card and placed it in her open palm. "Please, if you're interested, contact me at this number." Flashing another smile in her direction, he bowed his head and started walking backwards. "Good day to you, Doctor Bruyere." He left a surprised and intrigued Helen standing on the side of the street, and hopped into a buggy.
She agreed to give professional witness for his case, but only in writing, and only under a pseudonym. Not only would the judge frown on her being a woman, but she could hardly use her real name. Not that the lawyer knew her name anyways. All he knew was that she'd come highly recommended by a strange gentleman his father had known when he had studied in London, and that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
He never told her how he'd found her in the first place, although when the time came, he told her she was beautiful as often as he could.
At first it had simply been an invitation to go dancing, or a walk in the park, but things progressed quickly. Both of them having access to empty houses didn't help either.
One thing lead to another, and around mid 1900, Helen found herself unsure, surprised, and without a clue as to how to proceed.
She'd been careful, but technology and medication weren't what they would be.
She was with child.
"Darling, I have something I need to tell you." She called out as she entered his living room a few days later."
"You don't have to go to London again do you?" The look on his face was so forlorn, she couldn't help but laugh. "No no, something different has come up."
"Oh thank god. I hate it when you have long trips and I don't get to see you.
Helen smiled wryly. If only he knew her true destination.
"I need a favour from you, and it's going to be hard, but I need you to do it."
"Anything, you know that."
"This isn't going to be so easy." Helen took a deep breath. "I need you to promise me, that you will never ask me to marry you. I will stay as long as you like," (Rather, as long as she could stay hidden,) "but please don't ask that of me." She just couldn't. There really was no logical reason why, but she knew she would not do it.
He looked at her with a face filled with confusion, and it hurt, but could not deny her what she wished.
"Do you promise?"
"I promise. Helen, what is this all about?"
She took a deep breath. Even though this was her second child, it would be the first time she got to tell the father. "We're going to have a child."
He kept his promise.
During the pregnancy, she did her best to find out if this child would have the same genetic markers as she did, as Ashley had had. She eventually found out that her son had some, but not all, and she could only hope that they wouldn't affect him in any obvious way.
She got her wish.
Iain was born as healthy as could be, with his mother's eyes, and his father's dark hair.
For the first year, she never let him out of her sight. Every time she looked at him, or thought of him, she couldn't bear to leave. As time passed, she found herself constantly reminded of Ashley, and so wished that she could have met her little brother.
Thoughts of Ashley pained her, and she knew she couldn't bear to have him ever put in the same position she had. She swore that she would never let her work bring him harm. She wouldn't let it happen all over again.
They lived comfortably for several years, somehow, luckily, always seeming to avoid the hardships in the economy; that, and they always seemed to be elsewhere when things went wrong.
The lawyer began to see her as his lucky charm, and Helen never told him anything of how little luck was actually involved.
When Iain was almost four, Helen made one of the hardest decisions she'd ever had to make, and it tore her apart. But she knew it was the right thing to do.
She died.
She answered a call for medical professionals to see to the injured in a particularly bad Union Strike incident. There was another attack while she was in the midst, and Helen Bruyere, the loving mother of Iain Neilson, didn't make it out alive.
It was better this way; before the father started asking questions about how she never changed; before her son could know her, and grow to miss her. She would look out for them, always, but it was better this way.
She watched her own funeral from a distance, barely able to restrain herself as she saw their grief unfold.
It was better this way
Helen immersed herself in her work, building up the new Sanctuaries, moving money around, using what contacts she could in her situation, all the while leaving as little a trail as possible.
At the start of the First World War, Iain was only too eager to go overseas, to be a part of all the fun. She wouldn't stop him, but she would use her contacts to make sure he was somewhere safe, and somewhere that alternate her, wasn't. Fortunately his father convinced him that the scholarship he'd received to Princeton was a better use of his time, and those around him considered it an acceptable reason to stay.
His education and father's statue on society helped him to avoid the draft as well.
Helen knew she should feel guilty, but couldn't.
She sighed in relief.
When he met a lovely girl at school, and asked her to marry him, it filled her heart with happiness and joy. She sent a wedding present, some spending money to keep them comfortable; anonymously of course, with love. They bought a house with it, and started a family of their own. She may have forgotten that half a million was a little more than spending money at the beginning of the 20th century.
In 1922, when her first grandchild was born, she visited the mother and child. She didn't think that Iain's father had had any photographs of her, she'd taken great care in the few years they spent together to avoid or get rid of any visual evidence, but she didn't want to risk it. Picking a day she knew her son would be out of town, she posed as the child of Iain's mother's cousin, and expressed her disappointment at not being able to meet him.
Helen knocked gently on the door, and smiled at the housemaid who opened it. "I'm here to see Mrs. Neilson?"
"One moment madam. If you could wait in here?" she showed Helen to a lovely little living room.
"Of course, there is no rush."
"May I have your name?"
"Ms Bruyere will do."
"Ms Bruyere?" a lovely young woman came through the door, a small child cradled in her arms
Helen stood, and smiled. "That's right."
"Bruyere, that's Iain's mother's name, isn't it? Is there a connection?" She tilted her head and looked behind Helen to the fireplace mantle before commenting, "You do look quite alike"
She nodded slowly. Looking behind her she saw a dreaded picture. Not a great one, but she'd need to change her hair next time she visited. "My father was a cousin of hers, they were quite close growing up."
"And to what do we owe this visit?"
"Well, I was already in town, and I thought I'd stop by, meet the little one; if it's not too much trouble that is, and just say hello before I have to go back to London."
She spent the day getting to know her daughter-in-law, and her grandson. It was a day well spent.
When Iain's father died, she paid for the funeral, and hung around in the back as he was lowered into a grave next to her own empty one. He'd never found anyone else.
She returned to Chicago again in 1925, meeting her granddaughter, and once more in 1928 to meet her second grandson. Her daughter in-law found it funny that each time this mysterious cousin happened to come, was when her husband wasn't home. She had no reason to be suspicious.
On their last meeting, Helen advised her daughter in law to sell any stocks that they may have and to sell them quickly.
When the stock market fell, they made it though rather well off because of her advice. Iain said it must have been his mother's ghost, always looking out for them. His wife laughed, and looked for an address to invite his cousin to Christmas. She could find nothing.
During the Second world war, Ian designed the planes- he was the best mechanic they had. He'd inherited his mother's already superior, and then heightened intellect, and put it to good use.
He did the same for his sons as his father had done for him. Both of her grandsons would attend university before he would let them enlist.
Her granddaughter attended as well.
The eldest was still in university when he met the girl of his dreams, just as his father had.
In 1942, her great grandchild. Debra Neilson was born. Not wanting to stretch the truth, and by association the plausibility of her claim too much, She met her great granddaughter in a different capacity. She became a friend at a local sit down café, seen seldom, but her presence, and wisdom were always valued.
When asked if she had children of her own, she replied with a well used 'Once'. It avoided most of the awkward and unnecessary questions.
When Debra went to university, it was almost too obvious what would happen, given the family history. Sure enough, she fell in love, and was soon married to a military man.
Helen did what she could to ensure his safety as he made his way around the globe on military escapades, and sometimes even surprised herself with her success.
In 1969, she was there when her great-great granddaughter was born. It became clear as the girl grew up, that some genetic traits had skipped a few generations. Samantha not only possessed her elevated intellect, but also was the spitting image of Helen. Helen thanked the heavens that she coloured her hair; otherwise the resemblance would have been far too striking, both for those in Sam's life who came across her, and those in the present she would have to soon get back to.
Helen found that she had an intense amount of respect for Sam. She was determined, resourceful, intelligent, and driven, and although she would never pick favourites out of her decedents, she couldn't deny that she felt more of a connection with Sam; they were so similar
When Sam lost her mother, Helen could empathize in many ways. She'd lost a family member too, even if they weren't close, and she'd lost her mother at a young age. As well, the driver had been a friend of hers; someone she'd asked to pick up Debra when Jacob hadn't shown up. Both of their deaths were on her. She'd asked him to go pick her up, if she hadn't, they might have both been alive.
She did something she'd never done before on the day of her great granddaughter's funeral. Helen introduced herself to a descendent who was old enough to remember her, who could possibly recognize her in the future.
She introduced herself to Samantha Carter.
Helen apologized for her loss, and told Sam how she'd too, lost her mother at a young age. She struck up a small conversation, following it wherever Sam wanted it to go, hoping she could help this girl with the loss of her mother, while at the same time trying not to think of Ashley.
She couldn't help but think that they would have gotten along, for the most part. No doubt there would have been arguments and heated discussions, they were both so passionate, but Sam was a lot like Ashley was when she'd been young.
When the event was over, Helen gave Samantha a phone number that she could call, whenever, for whatever reason.
The card read simply 'Helen'
Samantha called that number only once, years later, at an impasse. She couldn't decide which scholarship to accept, (only one of which was Helen's doing,) and for some reason she'd thought of the mysterious stranger from her mother's funeral.
They spoke a long while, eventually coming to a decision that neither of them had foreseen. Helen asked her for her reasoning, regarding the schools, and she gave it easily. Her mother would have wanted her to accept the Harvard full scholarship; her father wanted her to go to MIT. They were both far away, they were both prestigious, and she didn't want to pick one parent over the other.
Helen asked a simple question. Which did she want?
She wanted to become an astronaut. Space. Helen smiled briefly, and hoped that the only reason she didn't already know this girls name from the future, her past; was because she hadn't gone up yet.
Slowly, with reluctance, she suggested another option.
Sam needed no help getting in to the Air Force Academy, but Helen kept an eye on her anyways. When Sam graduated, Helen felt a little useless. Her great-great granddaughter didn't need her. Sam's incredible intellect had already opened all the doors Helen could, and more. It worried her when Sam started getting involved in things that even she didn't have access to, or have clearance for. Helen couldn't protect her if she didn't know where she was.
It was over fifteen years later when she worried about Sam again. She spent far too much time under that mountain, although she really didn't have any right to judge her for that. Even though she didn't know what she was really doing down there, she knew it was important work.
There was a man she had heard about though, through her limited sources, that she wanted to talk to. A good man, a kind man, some even said a broken man. The man that she believed Sam loved.
One day, with no prior warning she paid him a visit.
She sat on a chair in the corner of his living room, legs crossed, hands in her lap, alone with her thoughts in the dark until he arrived.
She'd left her car in the drive as a heads-up. He would know there was someone here.
"Helllo?" He called out, a little curious, a little suspicious, but not really worried. He could handle himself.
Jack entered the living room and flicked on a light, confusion spread across his brows as he saw Helen in the corner. "Sam?" he asked
"I'm afraid not." Her accent cut through the air.
Jack dropped his keys on the table. "Are you sure? You look a hell of a lot like Sam- although your hair is darker, I'll give you that." he paused. "The accent's neat!"
She smiled wryly. "I'm quite sure."
He looked around for a moment, trying to make sense of what was going on then turned back to face her. "So? Whatcha doin' here?"
"I wanted to ask you how she was."
"Do you know her?"
"I did, a long time ago. And I kept an eye on what she was doing, for as long as I could, Although I expect you know that it became rather difficult when she got involved with Cheyenne."
Jack narrowed his eyes, and Helen held her hand out. "Relax General. I don't know any of your secrets, just as you know none of mine. And however curious I may be, you will find no one who understands better than I the importance of a well kept secret.
Jack nodded slowly. "So I'm assuming you're family?"
"On her mother's side." Helen confirmed
"You two are- Wow." Jack looked at her for a moment longer, and Helen gave him a glance that warned him off. "I-uh, I'm gonna go grab a beer… you want one?"
She shook her head lightly.
"Right. Be right back." He left, and Helen breathed a sigh of relief.
She'd heard various odd tales about this man, some of them quite contradictory, and so she hadn't been sure how this meeting would go. It was going very well.
"So, while I was in the other room, I realized something."
Helen dipped her head in acknowledgment
"You never said if she knew you."
"You never asked."
"So does she?"
"She used to." How to explain this without explaining anything? "She knows me as someone else. I don't want to spoil that memory, I just want to make sure that she's happy, and safe."
"Well, to really know, you have to ask her, but I'm pretty sure she's happy."
"I would think the man who loves her would be a little more certain."
He shot her a sharp look. "And how would you know anything about that?"
"I'm an influential individual in my line of work, I have contacts. Some things are easier to find then others, and some are easier to see."
"Right." Jack fidgeted awkwardly with the top of his bottle, before downing a rather large gulp. "Yeah, I think she's happy."
"And safe?"
"You know for someone who could be her sister, but never talk to her, you sure are strangely obsessed with Carter."
"She loves you too, I hope you know that."
"You-" he froze. "you are really good at changing the subject."
Helen shrugged, but said nothing.
"Yeah," Jack said softly, "Yeah, I know she does."
Helen nodded, she'd seen what she needed to, heard what she wanted. There was just one last thing she would ask of him.
"Promise me you'll keep her safe?"
"I already do, as best as I can."
She nodded and stood, and reached her arm out for a handshake. Instinctually Jack rose, and grasped her hand firmly. "Take care of yourself, and Samantha." She asked.
"You know I will." He held open the door, but couldn't quite let her leave like that. "I have one last question though. Why do you care so much?"
Helen sighed. "Her mother asked me to look out for her if anything should happen." She lied, "I take my promises very seriously"
"I can see that. Breaking and entering seriously." He eyed his front door.
"You do know it's not technically breaking and entering if the door isn't locked?"
Jack rolled his eyes. "You sound just like her when you say things like that."
Helen smiled. "I know"
"So I'm guessing you don't want me to mention this little, chat?"
Helen shrugged. It didn't really matter. "You can tell her what you like Jack, I leave that in your hands."
"You're an odd, but very reasonable woman-" He let the sentence drop, realizing that he didn't even know her name.
"Helen"
"-Helen." He finished, and tilted his head. "Will I ever see you again? Will Sam?"
Helen just bit her lip and looked away. "It's always possible, but I doubt it."
"Alright." He nodded, "Just checking."
She bowed her head. "Have a pleasant evening General."
A/N:: Just putting it out there, I know it's a bit of a stretch, but to go with this headcannon, I have a smaller sub-headcannon that Sam and Jack's kid gets the immortality gene… because how can I resist? XD