Summary: John goes in search of medical attention and finds Helen.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sanctuary

Rating: T

Pairing: John and Helen

SOOTHING THE PAIN:

John had broken away from the others to head to the infirmary in the London Sanctuary. At the time the wounds on his chest hadn't hurt, but now the danger was past his adrenaline was waning; John was feeling the pain. His intent was to clean the wound and let his source altered blood do the healing, but that wasn't going to be the case when he happened upon Helen. She hadn't heard him come in. He was going to leave her alone when Helen put a hand on his shoulder. John turned to face her, noting that her gaze was on his chest and the wounds their daughter had left. The wounds he deserved. They were some small penance for the pain he inflicted on Helen.

"It's not as bad as it seems." John muttered causing Helen to look at him.

"Still, they should be cleaned." Helen backed away and went to retrieve the items she would need to clean and bandage his wound. "Go over to one of the beds and take your shirt off." She spoke frankly even though she knew that when she turned around he was going to use her words to tease her.

John tried not to smile, tried not to feel a stirring of emotion when Helen asked him to take off his shirt. Logically he knew that she had to ask him that to get at his wound so she could clean it. Still deep down he had wished there had been just a little warmth in her words. Lying down John tossed his shirt on the ground and waited. More blood oozed out of his wounds while the pain grew. It felt like his chest was on fire. Keeping his left hand out of sight John clenched his fist as another wave of pain rocked his nerves. He wouldn't scream. He wouldn't let on that he was in pain. Pain was a weakness and John hated weakness in himself. The pain eased and he unclenched his fist.

Helen gathered what she needed; saline, peroxide, and gauze. John may not need his wound bandaged but it did need to be cleaned. She slipped her hands into a pair of latex gloves and went over to him noticing that he had just relaxed his fist. He was feeling pain. "If you're feeling pain, let me know." Helen said sitting down on the edge of the gurney. Dipping the gauze pad in the saline/peroxide solution Helen began to gently clean away the blood. With every pass she felt John twitch. Her heart clenched at the knowledge that she was causing him pain. She tried not to feel for him, but she couldn't help it. He was the best and worst part of her life. He was the reason she had a fabulous daughter. He was the reason she knew what love felt like. John was the reason she knew heart wrenching pain.

John was not about to cry out in pain, not with Helen so close. He wasn't going to appear weak in front of her. She could claim it was his ego and nothing more, but it was pride. John wasn't weak and he would not appear so in front of Helen no matter the state of their relationship. The gauze lightly scrubbed at some of the dried blood and he had to catch himself before he growled in pain. As it was he gasped in pain and gave himself away.

"John, I told you to tell me if you were in pain." Helen stopped her ministrations to glare at him. He was being ridiculous in keeping quiet. She could see the way he twitched and the slight way he would shift away from the gauze pad.

"It's nothing." John whispered clenching his left hand again. The pain had started again; it was nothing he couldn't endure in silence. In his mind John deserved a great deal more.

Out of spite Helen poured peroxide in the scratch mark that ran over his abdomen. It bubbled while John hissed in pain. "Does that hurt?" she asked sweetly.

"Damnit woman!" John exclaimed involuntarily cringing from the stinging pain. He had the urge to hold his hand to his chest in an attempt to quell the rising pain.

"I told you to tell me when it hurt." Once again Helen started to clean his wounds. She gently wiped away the peroxide from the lower laceration. Helen could only hope that the cuts healed without scaring. Even though they were no longer lovers Helen would hate to have scars mar his pale perfect flesh.

"It was nothing I couldn't handle." Muttering John focused his gaze on the stone ceiling. In truth John would endure all the fires of Hell just to have Helen's hands tending to him.

"I don't need a hero." Grumbling Helen taped gauze over the top and bottom wounds. The two in the center would need a few stitches until John's body could finish healing. Getting up she rummaged for a suture kit. John would abject but in the end he would relent. It was the one power she still had over him, limited as it may be.

"What are you doing?" John asked shifting so he could see what she was doing. He thought she was just going to clean and bandage the wound.

"You need a few stitches," Turning back to him Helen offered in a small smile. "They will be temporary until your body can heal the damage." She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding when John nodded. Sitting by his side once again Helen set about stitching up the worst of the wounds. She had no doubt that these wounds were inflicted by Ashley. "Did Ashley do this?"

"Yes," John turned his head away and replayed the fight inside his mind. "I only saw a flicker of the light that was our daughter." John flinched again when the needle dug too deeply. Relenting John whispered, "That hurt."

"What did you see?" Helen paused stitching him up. She hadn't missed him telling her it hurt. There may be hope for him yet.

"When my sword went through her chest," John turned his head back to Helen and covered her mouth so she couldn't scream at him. "I saw her eyes change; she was Ashley again only for a moment." After he finished speaking John dropped his hand and waited for her to do something.

Silence descended between them as Helen processed what John had told her. Serious damage was the only way to regain Ashley. But could Helen truly inflict bodily harm on her child? No she couldn't. There was no way she could ever hurt her child. He had turned his head away from her once again.

"Thank you." John muttered.

"I had some free time," Helen responded trying to banish the mental image of John's sword through Ashley's chest. She tried to concentrate on the task at hand rather than the soft look John had given her before turning his head away. That look brought back too much, too many memories. That's all they were anymore; private looks, furtive glances, and painful memories.

"Still, thank you all the same." With her hands tending to him the pain lessened. She soothed his ragged soul in ways no other could. Helen was his only medicine.

Helen cupped his cheek and turned his head she he was facing her. "You're welcome."