Summary: back in the hunt for Worth, Helen wakes John after he missed a meeting with the Prime Minister. A/U

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sanctuary

Rating: K

Pairing: Helen and John.

IGNORING:

John trudged down the hall towards his temporary room in Helen's Sanctuary. It ate at him that he had to stay here being guarded by the Prime Minister's guards as the Five tried in vain to look for Worth. They had been trying for months with no success. He was feeling run down and in need of sleep. It was near dawn and John needed rest, needed to recharge his powers. He had been stretching himself to the limit for Helen and James, but mostly for Helen. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her. It was the one basic rule he refused to break. Helen's protection came first in any way that he could safe guard her.

Entering his room John immediately started stripping off his cloths. First came his overcoat, his tie, and his shoes. Slowly his fingers worked free the buttons of his pristine white shirt. That too went to the floor. Next to be free of his body was his pants. Lastly was the black ribbon in his hair. He pulled it free and let it fall to the floor to end the trail of clothes to the bed. John had enough presence of mind to grab the deep midnight blue silk sleep pants to put on before he climbed into the bed. It was pure bliss to sink down beneath the covers and rest his head on the fluffy soft pillow. His body was so weary, so tired, that sleep came easily. As the sun rose John feel into sleep.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON:

It had been such an inconvenience having the Prime Minister in her house the first time, now having him here every week was becoming tedious. What was worse, John failed to show at the meeting. For a fleeting instant she thought he had left them all to find Worth, but she buried the idea and went to his room. Opening it slowly she saw his trail of clothes. As quietly as Helen could she walked in and followed the trail back to the bed. It was there she found John. He was face down, pale skin gleaming in the thin shards of light that cut across his back. The covers were bunched down around his waist and his head was hidden under one of the crimson clad pillows. It was a shock to her system and thought formed, 'He was always restless'. He looked too good lying there deep in sleep. If Helen knew what was good for her she would leave him to his day rest. Just as she took a step away, from the bed she heard John groan and shift in the bed. Instantly she looked back to see him on his back, one arm dangling over the edge of the bed, and bruises over his chest. "Oh, John, what have you done?" She asked quietly.

John felt he was being watched; knew he was. As sluggishly as he could manage John rolled over in bed and barely opened his eyes. Through the veil of eyelashes he could see her. It was Helen. She was watching him. The lack of sleep put a damper on the small amount of manners he had managed to regain. John growled, "What do you want?" Sitting up John stretched and ran his fingers through his hair nearly contemplating rolling over and going back to sleep.

"Someone tried to wake you earlier, but you weren't answering." Helen explained looking away from the sight of John stretching, his fingers running through his hair.

John rolled his eyes, "I was ignoring, there's a difference." Going to her, he crouched down in front of Helen and reached for the black ribbon he used to secure his hair. Instantly Helen moved back.

"What are you doing?" She asked quickly taking a step back from John. He looked up at her and showed her the black ribbon. Helen felt foolish for reacting the way she had. She was trying not to see him bare-chested before her. John still looked marvelous even with the bruises.

"Nothing," John answered standing up. He wound the black ribbon up in coil. It was distracting having Helen so close to him in the state he was in. He might just forget his manners standing so close to her, towering over her. Helen close John could smell the subtle, gentle, scent of her skin. It was a scent that he would never forget.

"What happened to your chest?" Helen asked for strictly medical reasons. She was a doctor and she hated to see anyone suffer; including Montague John Druitt. As much as she hated it, his suffering still hurt her deeply.

"Nothing," John replied again. How could he tell her that he got it in a common pub brawl looking for information on Worth? John was a gentleman with lethal combat skills with an evolved nature of killing. The two traits, oddly enough, at war within him. He was doing so much to help her and she would never know. John only wanted to protect her.

"So, we're returning to lying to one another?" She quipped using the same tone of voice John had on that night, the first night they hunted for Worth.

"Did you want something or am I free to go back to bed?" John placed the ribbon on the table to his left backing up to where the bed was not waiting for her answer. His body was still in need of healing sleep as was his mind. This madness he was forced to endure took its toll on him as well as the exertion of his powers. John was run down and in no mood to field the hate he could feel rolling off of Helen and filling the room. John strode back to the bed and fell into the sweet nirvana of the mattress and the covers. Having Helen so near him helped to lull his ravaged senses. It was easier for him to fall asleep this time and he did so with a hidden smile on his face.

"John…" Helen didn't know what to say to him. She could only watch him as he fell into the bed pulling the covers around his waist and resting his head on the pillow. John's black air fanned out behind him. It looked like ink had spilled into blood. His hair was that black and the pillows were that red; blood red. John looked sinful lying amongst all that crimson. She should stop staring but she couldn't. He looked too good. That was always her problem with John; she enjoyed staring at him too much. So many things about him had drawn her attention; the curve of his smile, the devilish glint in his eyes, the way he moved with liquid grace.

There was nothing for them to do until night fell anyway. The world she lived in only existed at night. Helen moved a pile of clothes from the arm chair near the bed. Taking a seat she waited for John to wake again. She had nothing pressing to attend to and it afforded her the time sit and watch over him. When night came the hunt would be on for Worth again. Until then John was free to sleep and she was free to watch him.