OK, so this is something new I'm trying. It's a heap of snippets from Helen's life, just moments here and there that I wanted to write. Some of them come from my other story, Anything Can Happen and I figured that it'd be nice to have them all together somewhere but I want to add to these and write more moments based on my own imagination and anything all you lovely readers want to see :D So, get to it! Gimmie ideas and I'll see what I can do :D

xx

August 29th, 1950:

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

It was a resounding cry and one that echoed about the space. Helen smiled graciously, saving her glare for James later.

He had, thankfully warned her this was coming but even still, it was ungentlemanly of him to force her to endure it.

Or something.

Times were changing and so were attitudes. Helen now found herself being granted significantly more freedoms than she could have even dreamed of back when she was slaving away for a place at Oxford. Barely two decades had passed since the Representation of People Act passed and since then it felt like the world had shifted in her favour.

No longer was James the signatory to every second legal document, no longer was she forced to rely on old connections dating back to her father's era. Now she was a woman of independent means. And she loved it.

The war was gone, hopefully for good and finally Helen felt at peace.

So why did they have to ruin it by reminding her of her age?

She'd only recently disclosed to the majority of her staff what her specific abnormal gift was. She and James had told only the nearest and dearest at first but now... Now she was leaving Britain for a new world and a new Sanctuary. It was a new time. And she no longer felt ashamed of what they were.

For so long the memory of what she'd done to her best friends, of the curse she'd bestowed on them and herself lingered, tainting her very existence but now...

Nikola was gone, Nigel living in France for the time being and it was just James. Only he remained with her and when she looked into his face it was easier to forget what had happened.

She could be herself, finally.

However that did not give her staff an excuse to throw this party. It was horrid, really. Lavish decorations, a huge cake and... a banner. A large, multicoloured banner that proclaimed proudly that Helen had officially lived for one, entire century.

She didn't consider herself a particularly vain woman by any means but all the loving comments she had received surrounding how wonderful she looked for her age did nothing but frustrate her. It wasn't by choice, none of it was. James looked good for his age, he'd worked every single day to make sure of that but Helen... Well, nothing she did could speed up or slow her rate of aging. She didn't look good for her age because she wasn't her age.

That and there was something menacing about a three digit number.

Holding her tight smile in place, Helen stepped forwards and tried to look pleased. She spotted James chortling away to himself in the corner and decided that once everyone had ceased the cheerful cries in her direction, she'd go box his ears in.

It wasn't that she wasn't flattered, because she was. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy a party or two, because she did. It was the fact that she hated, more than anything else, being the focus of all that attention when she'd done nothing to deserve it. Praise and celebration for her work at the Sanctuary she accepted with a wide grin but this...

"Thank you," she said as warmly as she could, brushing a stray red curl behind an ear. For all James had said he loved the colour, she was getting frustrated with it already and it had only been two decades.

People swarmed forwards, all clamouring for hugs and a few rouge kisses until Helen suddenly found herself rather alone. All the well wishers faded away, back to where the drinks and music were situated, leaving Helen apparently free to glare at James.

His eyes were dancing with mirth as she stalked towards him but, to his credit, he did not try and melt away as she was stopped numerous times.

She slapped his shoulder. Hard.

"It's just a party, Helen," he tried, still grinning like an idiot.

"And one that I am certain you organised," she hissed back, hitting him again. He captured her hand before she could slap his shoulder a third time, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

So she hit him with her other hand.

He jumped back from her and scowled.

"You really are a horrible person some times," he said, shaking his head. "Now go get a drink and cheer up."

"I told you I didn't want this, James," she said, voice low and dangerous. "I told you to make sure that all this idiocy was kept to a minimum. And what do I find?"

"A celebration for you, darling," he said, taking her by the arm. It was supposed to be a soothing gesture she guessed but she shook him off.

"I find that you have gone behind my back and not only ignored what I asked of you but have encouraged it!"

"Voice down, darling," he said softly, eyes flashing in warning as he tugged her that bit closer.

Much to her disgust, Helen found that tears were beginning to well in her eyes. James, of course, noticed merely a fraction after she did and pulled her into a tight hug.

"What's the matter?" he whispered soothingly against the side of her head. Helen sighed and sagged against him.

"It's nothing," she tried, knowing it wouldn't sit.

He pulled back and made a face.

"You are the worst liar I've ever come across," he said, shaking his head. "Now tell me. And don't pretend it's because you think you're old."

She smiled and wiped away a stray tear.

It wasn't the party. It wasn't the age. It wasn't the unnecessary expenditure on such a pointless occasion. It wasn't... it wasn't any of the things she'd been trying to convince herself of.

"They should be here," she whispered, bowing her head and taking James' hand.

"They're closer than you think."

His words startled her and her head snapped back up. She'd expected another hug, perhaps a few words of comfort but not that.

Smiling softly, James squeezed her hand before tugging her further into his little alcove.

He turned quickly and grabbed from the ledge behind him, two brightly coloured packages. One was gaudy, covered in pink and orange, tied with a huge blue ribbon while the other was plain red. But not quite red. It was a darker, more seductive colour. Crimson.

She took the orange package first, eagerly liberating whatever lay beneath the overt coverings.

"Oh my," she half breathed, looking up to James in excitement. It was a small, sealed glass bowl filled to the brim with crystal clear water. Inside was what appeared to be a fish crossed with a snake only in miniature. It glittered brightly despite the dim lighting, its deep blue scales catching the light as it swam lazily about its container.

"It is a Mitronvalic," James said softly, his eyes too trained on the creature. "From what Nigel said, it needs no oxygen to live. In fact, it produces oxygen as a waste product."

"We must unseal the glass," Helen said quickly but James pulled it away from her.

"Nigel also wanted me to warn you that he's a tricky bugger who takes pleasure in jumping from his home and into the ears of anyone around."

"Perhaps we should find him a secure home for him then," Helen said carefully, smiling at the creature as James set it aside.

"Now this," he said with a heavy sigh, "arrived on my desk a few weeks ago baring only a single note which stated that I was to give it to you today. I can only assume at its origins but..."

"But we both know who it is from," she finished eagerly. She tore at the red wrapping carelessly until she came to a small, beaten notebook that lay within. She paused for a moment and then smiled.

"It is the one they suspected was stolen," she breathed, brushing her fingers across the black leather. "The police were certain someone took it from his rooms before the body was reported."

"Apparently he did not leave all his worldly goods in that room then," James said with a faint smile. Helen paid little attention to him, too engrossed in what Nikola's old notebook could mean.

Smiling, she held it to her chest.

"See, turning 100 isn't that scary," James teased. She hit him with the notebook. "I take that back. It's bloody scary when you're me."