Title: Once More with Feeling
Author: scgirl_317
Summary: Helm gets a sense of déjà vu after an odd encounter with Tessa. When he finally figures out what it was that bothered him, things are forever changed.
Dr. Helm grimaced as he stood in the courtyard of Montoya's home. He hated parties. So why in the name of all that was rational and sane was he there? The cravat chaffed in the hot California air, and the colonel's fine wine did little alleviate his discomfort. He had to make conversation and be pleasant, and there was little he hated more than small talk.
He suppressed a groan as Señorita Alvarado approached him. He had little patience for the spoiled little rich girl. He was sure she was sweet, but her ignorance grated on him. But he was in public—with the dons, no less—and was forced to put a less unpleasant look on his face.
"Señorita," he greeted, managing to sound cordial.
"Dr. Helm," Tessa replied, saccharine smile in place. "Are you enjoying Colonel Montoya's party?"
"I'm enjoying it about as much as my patients enjoy a dose of ipecac, I believe," he answered honestly, for some reason he did not understand. "Though for someone used to formal gatherings, I'm sure you're right in your element."
"Everyone has their specialty, Doctor," she said, eyes sparkling as she flicked open her fan and whisked it in front of her face.
Helm paused, watching as the fan covered her face, leaving only her eyes visible. Something registered in the back of his mind at seeing her eyes. But before he could place what it was, she had flitted away, moving across the courtyard to talk to Señora Hildago. For the rest of the evening, he racked his brain trying to figure out what it was that nagged at him.
As soon as was earthly possible, he managed to escape back to the safety of the structure that doubled as both his office and home. He pulled at the cravat, tossing it aside as soon as it was free. With a weary sigh, he sat at his desk, leaning his arms on the worn wood surface.
Those eyes flashed in his mind once more, only this time, they were wrapped in fine, black lace. Helm sat up so fast, he almost fell out of his chair. It couldn't be true, but there it was, staring him in the face, no pun intended.
Doña Maria Teresa Alvarado was the Queen of Swords.
Helm stood and began pacing, turning the facts over in his mind. Tessa Alvarado was a typical Spanish aristocrat who cared little for the affairs of people she deemed beneath her, though she did seem to have a gentle spirit. The Queen of Swords was a modern-day Robin Hood of sorts, an avenger for the common man. But she was more than that. She was kind, intelligent, a bit sarcastic, willing to do whatever was necessary to help people—including kill someone, something he constantly chastised her for, especially if she did it to save him.
No matter how he looked at it, there was no way to reconcile what he knew about the two women, but there was no other way to explain it. They were one in the same.
He considered the situation further and came to another conclusion: the woman was a genius. Who would ever suspect innocent Señorita Alvarado of being the ruthless Queen of Swords? Her cover was perfect. Helm had to admit, he was impressed.
He continued to turn over the facts as he prepared for bed. Each encounter with both Tessa and the Queen was scrutinized in the light of this revelation. He could now see multiple instances of Tessa prompting him based on a previous encounter with the Queen. The rotation of memories continued into his dreams, and he smiled softly as he drifted off to sleep.
For the next few days, Helm continued to ponder this revelation, discreetly watching Tessa whenever he could, looking for some sign that he was correct. But she played her part brilliantly. He wasn't sure if she was just that good an actress, or if he was that far off base. He dared not openly ask her about it, for fear of Montoya's spies overhearing and reporting back to the colonel. So he watched, and listened, and mentally recorded everything he could for later analysis.
Helm wasn't sure if the Fates were taunting him or taking pity on him when one night, a week after Montoya's party, he entered the back room of his clinic to find the Queen of Swords leaning heavily upon the back door, bullet wound in her thigh.
"I'd heard the garrison had been called out," he said, moving to help her sit on the examination table. "They'll be looking everywhere for you."
"Everywhere but town," she said with a small grin, knowing as well as he did that this was not the first time they had had this conversation, nor was it likely to be the last.
Helm quickly cut away the fabric of her trousers, just enough to allow him access to the wound. The bullet had gone clean through the flesh, but there did not appear to be any serious damage. Some antiseptic, a few stitches, and clean wrappings would have her on her way.
Both were silent as Helm worked, save for a few hisses of pain from the Queen. Helm still did not dare question her identity, but mostly because he wasn't sure he wanted to know. If the status quo was altered even a little, it could throw both of their worlds into a tailspin. Why should he risk it? Things were fine as they were. He would get into trouble, and she'd save him. She or someone she helped would get injured, and he'd save them. There was no reason for anything to change.
Now, if only his brain could get his heart to agree.
The Queen bit back a yelp of pain as Helm gave the already tight bandage a tug to secure it, bringing him back to the present. He mumbled an apology and stepped away.
"There. Just make sure you change the bandage often so it doesn't get infected," he instructed, turning to wash off his instruments.
"Thank you, Dr. Helm," she said softly, easing off the table and limping towards the door.
There was a twinge of hurt in her voice, and he realized he had been unnecessarily cold to her, and it was all because he was a coward. He turned back just as she was reaching the door.
"Tessa?"
"Yes?" she replied, turning back to face him.
She froze, realizing what she had just done. How could she have been so stupid as to slip up like that? She opened her mouth, her jaw working as if trying to speak, but no words came out. Helm smiled softly, taking pity on her.
"Come into town tomorrow and say you're feeling ill," he directed. "It will give me a chance to check on your wound."
Still unable to say anything, she simply nodded, turning and hurrying away as fast as her leg would allow her.
Unsure of what he had just started, Helm went back to cleaning his tools and removing any evidence that the Queen had been there. He didn't know what he would say the next day when Tessa arrived, but he knew he would have to give some explanation. He just hoped he had one by then.
Just as he had instructed, Tessa came by the next day, saying she had been feeling light headed. He directed her to the back room and closed the door to keep away prying eyes. Once they were alone, Tessa grimaced in pain and sat on the table, pulling up her skirts to reveal the bandaged leg.
"How did you know?" she asked as Helm gently peeled away the blood-soaked bandage to examine the wound below.
"I didn't," he replied simply. "I suspected, but I didn't know for sure."
"What gave me away?" she pressed.
"Your eyes," Helm answered, looking up to meet her eyes. "That night at Montoya's party, your fan covered your face, leaving only your eyes visible. I realized later that I had seen those eyes before, but they had been clad in black lace. After that, little things came together, and it made sense."
Tessa couldn't believe that, of all the tings that could have made her, it was her eyes that gave her away. That meant that Helm had paid enough attention to her to notice them. Her stomach did a little flip as other implications started falling into place. Helm had all but confessed to care deeply for the Queen, and now he knew that she was the Queen. She was hopelessly in love him, but did she dare hope that her feelings were requited now that he knew?
Helm had finished replacing the bandage in the time that she had processed all of this. He took a step back from her and crossed his arms, considering her with a thoughtful look.
"You are an incredible woman, Maria Teresa Alvarado," he said with a slight shake of his head. "Don't let anyone tell you any different, and don't ever think that this act is all you are," he finished, referring to her very convincing "spoiled little rich girl" front.
Touched by his words, Tessa acted on an impulse that, before last night, she would have instantly squelched. Gathering every ounce of courage she could muster, she stepped up to him and pulled him to her, kissing him gently. A part of her was surprised when he kissed her back.
She pulled back slightly and smiled before kissing him again. This time, the kiss was much more passionate, reminding both of the all too brief kiss she had given him after he had saved her from El Serpiente.
Helm could not describe how good it felt to kiss Tessa again. The kiss she had given him after he had killed the serpent bandit had haunted him for weeks. In fact, he had found himself more than once waking up in a cold sweat from a dream that took that kiss so much farther. A part of him wondered how reality would compare to his dreams, or if reality might even put them to shame. He had to suppress a moan of delight at that thought.
In the back of his mind, Helm knew that things had just gotten exponentially more complicated, but right then, holding Tessa in his arms, he couldn't find it in himself to care.
Author's Note: I'm ending this where I am because I think this works far better as a one shot. Fear not, I intend to write more about Helm and Tessa's relationship, and how things go when the Queen gets involved. You know me, I can't let a perfect set-up just lie there untouched. XD