Sequel to 'Their Room'. Strictly speaking you don't have to have read that one to follow this but it'd probably make more sense if you do.
I'd been meaning to write this a while ago, but I found myself stuck about half-way through. Hazzah! Tis finished now...
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It had been a day since Will had stumbled obtrusively upon Helen and Nikola in their private chambers.
He was feeling down, his world seemed so much smaller, despite the much larger Sanctuary. One could almost feel the thrum of life and activity each morning as the artificial sun rose above their small kingdom. Creatures of all kinds roamed the grounds freely, not having to worry about discretion and concealment for the first time in many of their lives. It truly was a Sanctuary, the Sanctuary. Perhaps the very place Helen, and indeed her father, had striven to creature all those years ago without even being aware of it. This was her legacy, beautiful, breath-taking, harmonious.
Yet, Will couldn't help but feel it was not hers alone. True, it had been built by her and it was Magnus in every way, but another had made his presence known in such an indelible way Will doubted the mark would ever be gone.
Will was walking down the corridor the morning after having witnessed the intimate moment between his boss and Tesla, when some lab-tech had come over to him. He had asked a seemingly reasonable question. But it was the last part of the query that had caused Will's thoughts to spiral away. The tech had said 'sorry to bother you, but I couldn't find Mr Tesla'.
Will wasn't sure he'd fully noticed it until now, so caught up in his own problems and worries. But there were touches of Nikola everywhere about the new Sanctuary – right down to his proclaimed selection of curtains. Because, apparently, Magnus had the most horrid taste in drapery – she always chose such a hideous shade.
The other employees of the glorious new Sanctuary looked up to the brilliant, eccentric Serbian vampire. They requested his advice, his guidance, his encouragement even (subtle, almost imperceptible, as it always was if present) when Magnus was not around. He'd become the sort of unofficial director of the laboratories. They were state-of-the-art facilities, a whole wing just dedicate to research and development. But, of course, a selection of the labs still held true to Magnus's Victorian upbringing, with quirky decorative pieces and old-fashioned ornaments. Will had never seen Magnus and Tesla look so much like children in a candy store than when they worked away half the night in the labs. Tesla was like the director of scientific affairs in the new Sanctuary. Magnus was so busy running the whole show that she needed to delegate, and Tesla had slipped into his new role so seamlessly Will had barely noticed the shift.
Will decided to remain watchful for the next few days. He carefully analysed Tesla's behaviour, scrutinizing him, wondering exactly what had changed so drastically that irked him so.
Soon, Will began to see Tesla's scrawled signature signing off on reports, on order forms, and then even on official authorisations. There was no need for Magnus to sign off on such things in addition, Tesla's signature would suffice, and she was far too busy for that. It was common knowledge that Tesla's word was as good as the green light of approval from Dr Magnus.
With all the old Sanctuaries under one large inclusive banner – and this new underground domain significantly more substantial in size – Magnus was seen less often. She delegated more, she had to. As a result, she'd become even more of a mythic figure, more so than ever before.
She needed someone whose word was as good as her own. Someone she trusted implicitly in their judgement, someone she knew would do what she would have done had she been available. Will had barely noticed that he was not this person. It should have been. He was her protege, supposedly her second in command. But it wasn't him, not anymore at least.
Tesla was the one she trusted, the one she confided in. The one she discussed her suspicions and puzzlement at strange cases with, someone she bounced her more outrageous ideas off. He was her right arm, her left arm, and Will suspected the person who held her heart.
Will, so caught up in his own affairs, in his own grudges and complaints, had barely realised he was no longer her confidante. It left him wondering just what place he held in her – in her and Tesla's – new Sanctuary. Or just what place there was left to hold in her life. Perhaps he'd burned more bridges than he'd realised. Perhaps he'd never had a chance, a fleeting life competing with her eternal companion.
But, either way, just as the bedroom had been their room, this was undoubtedly their home.