Summary: John and Helen share a heated kiss on the terrace.

Rating: T

Pairing: Helen and John.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sanctuary or the characters.

FOR ALL ETERNITY:

John stood on the terrace over looking the garden Helen had at her Sanctuary. The night was warm and the moon was full; it allowed his mind to wander. His mind could forget that he had no shoes on, that he had no shirt; his mind could forget that he was only wearing a pair of black silk sleep pants. For the last hour he had been trying to get his body to still enough for him to engage in sleep, but even as he shut his eyes something would wake him and he would have to start all over again. It got to the point where John found himself outside enjoying the summer night and the full moon. John placed his hands, palms down, on the railing and heaved a heavy sigh. His mind was taking him down paths that were best not traveled while alone in the night. John traversed his memories when he and Helen had been lovers. They had burned brighter than the sun and had a love that the Gods would envy. When they were together the world just faded away until it felt as if they were the only two people in the world. When they were together nothing else mattered and that was something John missed more than anything. John missed being Helen's lover, being her consort, and confidant. Their days in London together had the been happiest of his life and they had been gone too quickly.

Helen stood just inside the balcony doors watching John as he watched the moon. She had been heading to bed when she had heard foot steps passing her bedroom door. Setting aside such thoughts of a restless sleep Helen tied the sash of her robe and went silently to the door to see who it had been. Helen had cracked the door just enough to see the clean lines of John's back disappear around the corner. Extinguishing her light Helen followed him. Now she stood watching him and regretting her choice to do so. Instantly Helen was intensely aware of the light black gown she was wearing. She should be in her room trying to sleep and putting thoughts of John Druitt out of her mind. But try as she might to banish them, the thoughts crept back into her mind to plague her. To Helen's eyes John looked gorgeous standing the pale wash of the moon. Her hands yearned to reach out and touch him, to caresses the muscles of his back, to feel him shudder and shiver at her touch. The need was so strong that Helen inadvertently sucked in a breath to try and still her heart that had started to beat wildly out of control.

John's ears perked up at the sound of Helen's sharp inhalation of breath. He knew it was her, his body knew it was her. After all these years he was still so in tune to her, to her moods and to her body. Just as his heart was beating harder than before, John was sure it was the same for Helen. He had a momentary thought to teleport away, to change his appearance, to don the clothes of the Ripper, the armor he had used for so long, but he could not make it so. His mind kept him rooted to the spot and waited for Helen to make the first move. John wanted her hands on him, wanted her arms to wrap around his waist and for her lips to gently brush his skin. So great was his want that John had to tighten his hold on the railing to keep from going to her, to keep from possessing her and taking her back down a road that he knew she did not want to walk again.

Helen took a step out on to the terrace. Her common sense screamed at her to go back to her room, to leave John out here, but she couldn't. She took another step and another until she could slip her arms around John's waist and rest her cheek on his left shoulder blade. This was her John, not the monster that lingered in the day. This was her man that only surfaced at night and in the moon light. Helen delighted in the shiver that ran through his entire being at the contact of her skin on his. It was like they had never parted, never stopped being lovers. She still had the power to make him shiver, to make him want her.

John forced himself to keep breathing after Helen wrapped her arms around him. He was being tortured by the sensuous slide of her skin and her night clothes against him. This was more than he had hoped for and more than he deserved from her. Tentatively John loosened the grip of his left hand from the railing and touched one of Helen's arms. More than anything he wanted to make sure that she was real and not just a figment that his mind conjured to torment him. But she was real and she was wrapped around him. It was then that he felt her light kisses to his shoulder, to the center of his back, and over to his right shoulder. John sighed in contentment and pleasure and then smiled when Helen laughed a delightfully wicked tone that had his heart kicking into high gear with the need to kiss her.

"This is where you belong," Helen whispered as she ran her nails over his hips and nipped his shoulder.

Like lightening John turned in Helen's embrace, threaded his fingers through her wild mane of brown hair, and whispered, "For all eternity." Then his mouth descended on hers giving her a kiss that was wild and full of passion. His hands did not stay in her hair. They ran over her shoulder to feel her silky soft flesh, down her waist rubbing over the material of her nightgown, and then they settled on the back of her thighs so he could pick her up. Turning again John placed Helen on the railing while continuing to kiss her, to devour her moans. John laughed when her knees came up and her legs locked around his waist. In all of his life he had never sampled a pleasure as wicked as the taste of Helen's lips. She was his drug of choice.

Helen had her arms draped over John's shoulders content to feast at his mouth. He tasted like sin and desire; it was something she would never get enough of. She inched closer and put as much of her skin against his as she could manage while still remained clothed. Her body would always want his, always want the feel of pleasure that he could bring her, but Helen had to guard her heart against loving him again. As much as she wanted to leave, she couldn't. Helen needed his sinful kisses, needed his hands running over her waist, along her thighs. Helen needed John, but she knew she could not keep him. This was the reality of who they were. But in the nights they could return to the young naïve humans they had been. Right now they were two people very much in love and in lust with each other.