Summary: John suffers from his injuries. Helen finds him and tries to help him.

Pairing: Helen and John

Rating: T+

JOHN'S SUFFERING:

John stood in the light of the full moon as he rested his forehead against the cold glass of the window. Helen had given him a room at her Sanctuary during their long search for Ashley. Now he used this room for a shower and a change of clothes before he headed back into the fray of hunting and killing the remaining Cabal, the numbers kept getting smaller. John sighed, but that sigh turned into a wet cough as his lungs burned, just as the rest of his body ached. His leg muscled burned and his arms felt like dead weights. For five days he had been hunting and killing an arm of the Cabal with barely anytime to sleep or eat or to even heal from injuries that he had sustained. And now that lack of rest was catching up with him to the point his body pulled him back to the Sanctuary, back to his room for rest.

John had removed his shirt so he could clean the wounds at his side. He had a gash along his right hip, a gash on the left side of his rips, and a few scratches on his shoulders and back. There was even a deep laceration on his left thigh. It hurt so much that the throbbing was beginning to drive him mad. So far he had done a good job at cleaning them, but for he stitches he would have to get a Doctor, get Helen to sew them shut. But John was too proud to let her see him bleed. When he had come back she had seen the blood. True to his style and brutality John merely laughed it off and said his enemies had bled more than normal. He had wanted nothing more than for her to tend to him. The Ripper in him wouldn't allow it. John was strong, he was a fighter, and he never bowed to weakness.

Sinking down to the floor John sprawled on his back underneath the moonlight. If he had been a lesser man, John would have given in and howled in pain. He would have let his wounds consume his mind and make him think of nothing but the agony ripping through his body. But he was the Ripper and the Ripper never gave into pain. Suddenly another wave of pain broke out over his entire body that John had to grind his teeth together to keep from shouting. On the edge of his senses he could hear foot steps outside his door. They belonged to Helen, he knew that much. He would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him in pain. Though, he doubted that she would feel better to know he was suffering. Still he would not call to her. John was not going to be weak.

John glanced under the bed and saw what he needed. The last time he had been injured he had suppressed the pain by injecting himself with Morphine. That would keep him quiet and with luck it would make him unconscious as the worst of the pain tore through his sore body. Reaching under the bed John grasped the syringe. He removed the cap on the needle and jammed it into his right thigh. Pushing the plunger down John breathed a deep sigh of relief as his mind conjured the pain beginning to fade. But it would take several more minutes for the Morphine to take effect. Unconsciousness took him then. His body needed the rest and his wounds needed to heal. At least on the floor, should Helen come in, she would find it empty and not find him on the floor on the other side of the bed.

OUTSIDE THE DOOR:

Helen had listened outside John's door for a few minutes. She knew he had been wounded but he wouldn't tell her so she had let it go and now her conscience was getting the best of her. Helen had tried telling herself that she didn't want anymore blood on her floors, but that wasn't true. She wanted to make sure John was alright. Slowly she opened the door and found the room empty. It couldn't be. John had to be here. Helen took a step over the thresh hold and saw the tips of his fingers peaking out from the foot of the bed. He wasn't moving. Instantly her heart stopped as she feared the worst. Rushing to his side Helen felt for a pulse and saw he was breathing. And then she saw the syringe in his hand. "Damnit John." She whispered. Whatever he had injected himself with had been too much.

Automatically Helen moved to his side and checked all the wounds that she could see. The one on his left thigh was deep but the bleeding looked as if it had stopped. She had to unbutton the top of his slacks to see the gash on his hip. That wound was bleeding and Helen could see a small puddle of blood under him. Her heart sank. John needed immediate attention, but he was the only one with the power of teleportation and right now that was not ideal since she still had the EM shield up. Sighing Helen moved to kneel by John side. She was going to try and wake him up. Helen moved his head from side to side, lightly slapped his cheek, but nothing was working. "Damnit John, wake up. You are far too heavy for me to life on my own." Helen growled even as she tugged on John's right arm. His arm looked to be the only park of his body without scratches or lacerations.

Without looking Helen grabbed John's shirt. She ripped off one sleeve and tied it around his left thigh. Ripping the other sleeve Helen folded it up and held pressure to John's right hip that was still bleeding. As she applied pressure John arched his back and growled in pain. 'Ever the caged wolf.' Helen thought as she ripped more of his shirt.

With his wounds temporarily bandaged Helen moved to with right side. She put his arm over her shoulder and tried to get him to stand. By shear force of will she had him leaning heavily on her. Helen had barely made it down the hall when she took a wrong step. She managed to take the brunt of the fall. John's added 'dead' weight had put her off balance. And now because of that they were now back on the floor. "Why didn't you just say you were injured?" Helen snarled at John. They were alone, no one would see her stroke his cheek, and no one would see her shed a tear for John's pain.

. Helen slid both of her arms around John's upper torso and once again tried to stand, but he was unconscious weight. Again, she managed to get him to his feet and together they staggered down the hall towards the infirmary, towards getting John help. She hoped, prayed, that he had not resorted to using drugs. It wouldn't be in John's nature.

Helen managed to get John to the infirmary. For once she was glad that no one had happened upon them. She was mad enough at John, and still she felt the stirring of other feelings at the sight of his blood. Looking down at him with the fluorescent lights Helen could tell that John had lost more blood than she originally thought and to top it off he was dehydrated. Helen gathered what she needed; a bag of saline solution, sutures, and bandages. It would serve John right if he bled to death. Had she been someone else Helen might have considered letting John die, but her heart still held him and she still longed to see him smile at her even if it was that wicked smile.

Helen started his IV and then went to work on the wound in his left thigh. Removing the shirt sleeve she had tied there Helen was pleased to see the bleeding had stopped, but the laceration would still require stitches. Carefully she sutured his wound closed and then bandaged it. Moving over to John's right side Helen's hand moved instantly to the button and zipper on his pants so she could clean the wound and stitch it up As she thought about what she was doing her hands froze. 'This is ridiculous.' Helen berated herself. She was a Doctor. Helen undid the button and lowered the zipper far enough so she could fold down the right side of the fabric and clean the wound. The cloth from his shirt was soaked through with blood. Helen cleaned the wound and saw more damage; the wound was deeper than she had thought. John hadn't been cut, he had been stabbed. Though, lucky for John, the wound had started to heal. All that she would need to do was stop the bleeding and then suture the wound closed.

John barely knew what was going on around him, but he had the feeling of hands on him. Usually when he dosed himself with Morphine it would make him sleep until his body could heal the damage. John fought to open his eyes, fought through the haze to see what was happening. He could feel hands down at his right hip where wound was. Underneath the haze there was a slight tugging sensation. His wounds were being tended too. Though, at this moment all he had the power to do was groan in discomfort before the Morphine dragged him back down.

Helen paused her movements when she felt John shift and she heard him groan. For a minute she thought she had hurt him, but whatever he had taken would have dulled his pain. He shouldn't be feeling anything. Still she backed away. When he didn't move again Helen resumed her work. She finished the last stitch and then moved to his left side where the laceration on his ribs was scabbed over. That wound would only need a bandage.

Helen had finished with John, she made sure his bandages were sealed and his wounds were cleaned. 'What if you gave him a dose of your blood?' She shook her head but the thought would not leave her alone. It was the only way she knew to ensure John's survival, but she couldn't take the risk. 'Not going to have much of a chance if he's dead.' Helen scolded herself. Looking around she discreetly moved up her sleeve and took a syringe off of the tray. Subconsciously she knew she was going to do this again.

Putting the thought out of her mind Helen slid the need into her vein. She pulled back on the plunger so she could draw her blood into the tube. Taking the needle out of her arm Helen inserted it into the IV line. Helen pushed a dose of her blood into John's veins and prayed that this wouldn't affect him like it had the first time she had done this. Now all she had to do was wait and see what would happen. Moving over to the next gurney Helen settled down and watched him. Helen knew she shouldn't be here. She should leave and go to her room and rest. But this was John and he was in pain even though he didn't let on.

5 HOURS LATER:

John surfaced from his drug induced slumber to find himself in the infirmary. Slowly he sat up and felt tugging at his right his and left thigh. Looking down he saw bandages and under two of them he could count on finding stitches. Out of curiosity John pulled the bandage off his thigh and saw a neat row of black sutures. Warmth blossomed in his chest at the care she had gone through to suture his wounds. As stupid as it should have felt he was almost happy that he drugged himself into unconsciousness. If the truth was to be told John was feeling better than ever. That wasn't how he normally felt after waking up from a morphine nap.

"How long have you been dosing morphine?"

John turned to Helen. She was lying down on the next gurney with her gaze fixed on him. "Ten years. I'm not as careful in fights as I used to be." John relaxed back on his bed and breathed a sigh of relief. His body was healed, well healing, and Helen was talking to him. She had even tended to his wounds after he went to great lengths to make sure she didn't know he was in pain.

Helen climbed off the gurney and went over to John so she could check his wounds. She could yell at him for being careless; she could berate him for his use of Morphine but she didn't. Methodically she took off the bandage at his side where she saw a pale pink scar. In a few weeks you would never know he was injured. Her hands drifted down the bandage on his hip. Removing it the wound was still red and the stitches were aiding the healing. "You should leave these two bandages on for a few days." Helen spoke without looking at John.

John had the urge to pull Helen into his arms, to just hold her. If he stalled any long she would pull away and he would lose his nerve. Reaching out he hauled Helen against his body and just held her. Where he thought she would fight back, try to push out of his arms, she didn't. Helen instantly melted into his arms and John was shocked by that but he didn't let go. This would be the last chance he would have for a while to hold Helen and he didn't want to waste it

Helen had thought that if John would have tried to pull her into his arms she would have fought, but instead she let him hold her. Instantly tears sprang to her eyes as images of Ashley bombarded her mind. Before she found John on the floor of his room she had been in the cathedral saying goodbye to her daughter. She had avoided any physical contact with anyone until now. John's arms were warm and welcoming and his skin was still so soft. Her body shook and John only held her tighter. He was the one man who knew her and he was the one man she would never be able to live with out. 'Don't ever let me go!' Her mind screamed it. She wanted to say it to him but she couldn't.