Summary: After Normandy John finds himself in an ally bleeding severely.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sanctuary

Pairing: Helen and John

Rating: T

DOWN THE ALLY:

John staggered down a dark alley smearing blood on the stone wall. He had just teleported away from Helen and James, but he hadn't gone far. His powers were waning as his strength fled him from the gun shot wound. John could still hear Helen calling his name. She still cared. A misstep set John to his knees jarring more pain through him. "Helen," He growled to the darkness spreading out before him. He should have stayed, should have let her tend his wound. Turning, John put his back against the wall breathing heavily. It was an effort to stay awake from the loss of too much blood.

Helen moved through the quiet town of Carentan following the eerie link she still had to John. James had warned her against it, but she hadn't listened. Helen Magnus rarely ever listened to anyone. She did things the way she wanted. Going after John was something she wanted to do. Helen knew that James was still deeply hurt over what had happened between the three of them and some part of her still hurt as well. Still, John was injured and it had been because of her to some degree. Then, there in the dark, she saw him slumped over against the stone wall. Blood smeared the wall. "Oh John, you proud fool," Helen shook her head going to him. It amazed her that her heart could swell with love and break with immense sorrow because of him still.

John heard movement behind him. He tried to will his body to work, to be able to defend himself, but he had lost too much blood. "Helen," He mumbled. John couldn't even pick his head up to see if it was really her, but e could feel her. She was close and she felt pain for him. That alone lightened his heart. Like a phantom she materialized in front of him pulling his right arm across her shoulders to haul him up. The sudden jerk made him roar in pain at the ragged flesh tore open again. Fresh blood flowed from the wound.

"I'm sorry," Helen strained through gritted teeth as she hauled John against her. He was mostly muscle and heavy, but he was hurt and needed medical attention. John had used the last of his energy killing the Nazi who had shot him and had been about to shoot her and James. No matter the hurt between them she was a doctor and she had taken an oath to help others in need. John was in need. Carefully she guided him back up the ally and into the waiting car where James sat behind the wheel with Nigel in the passenger seat. Slowly she slid in the back seat keeping John against her so he could lie down and rest. Nigel got out to help get John's long legs in so he could shut the door and then they were off. Helen held john close keeping pressure to his wound while here eyes staying linked with James. She could see his disapproval. Then John's head lolled to the side resting over her heart. 'Oh John,' Helen thought, 'Don't die.' It was all she could ask.

SAFE HOUSE:

James and Nigel managed to get John in the safe house and to the back room. Helen looked around for some basic medical supplies, only found sutures, gauze, and a wrap. She had no anesthetic. John had regained consciousness as the other two were moving him. A fine bead of sweat had broken out on his brow while his fingers clenched at the sheets under him. Helen sat beside him fumbling with the buttons of his shirt so she could get it off of him and mend his wound. John said nothing, no quips, and no sweetly disguised insults. He just grit his teeth in silence. "John, I should tell you, I don't have any anesthetic to numb your pain. The bullet is still in there." Helen fumbled. She hated to see anyone in pain.

"I'll… be… fine." John groaned riding out another wave of pain as the fabric of his bloody shirt moved against the torn edge of his bullet wound. In the other room he could see Nigel lingering by the door watching them and just beyond him James stood in silent judgment of him. John would not give into his pain and give James the vindication. It was sad how someone he had loved so much could see him as such a monster. He had never wanted to become this; the blood had made him the killer.

"John this will be painful." Helen couldn't help the concern creeping into her voice. She could see the pain he was in; it was there in his eyes even though he had schooled his body into a rigid position. She knew he suffered. "Nigel can you find me a bottle of whiskey?" Helen turned her head and asked.

"Fine time to be drinking." Nigel quipped.

"It's not for me," Helen replied looking back at John to peel back his shirt exposing the gun shot wound. Half coagulated blood oozed from the hole. The wound was large than she thought. "I'm going to have to clean the wound with the whiskey." She said to John. He only jerked his head in agreement.

Nigel skirted James and walked back to the bedroom to hand Helen the bottle of whiskey, "It's all I could find." He muttered stepping back out of the way. Helen only muttered her thanks.

"You ready?" Helen uncapped the bottle locking her eyes with John. He nodded again digging his fingers in to the blanket tighter this time. She took a deep breath pouring the amber liquid in the wound. John reacted instantly. He kicked the foot board of the bed sharply trying in vain to keep silent, but a small roar of pain escaped from his tightly sealed lips. Helen grabbed gauze, pressing it to the wound to clean away the blood. "Its ok." She muttered over and over again.

James tried not to feel, tried to keep his heart cold to the look of agony on John's face. Before he knew it, he was walking over to the bed putting his hand on Helen's shoulder urging her to wait. James hobbled past her, to sit on the edge where he pulled John up against him. "Hold on to me." He whispered making sure to keep his eyes averted from Nigel. John's hands gripped his forearm squeezing tightly. James rested his chin on top of John's head.

Helen pulled out a pair of small forceps to use in removing the bullet from John. She took a deep breath lightly resting her free hand over his hip. As carefully as she could she placed the open mouth of the forceps in his wound trying to feel for the bullet. John growled and from her peripheral she could see his knuckles turned very white as he gripped James's arm. She felt the touch of metal against metal but as she went to grab it the blood slipped in between the teeth of the forceps sending the thin metal instrument against the edges of his wound. John howled in pain, Helen brought her hands away from his wound until he settled and the pain passed. James held him tight whispering soothing words.

John felt like his side was on fire from the inside out. He knew Helen hadn't meant to hurt him. All he had to do was fight back the agony spreading out. With his rapidly draining strength he tightened his hold on James trying to retain the feeling of one of his loves against him. "Just hurry." He gasped out. His breathing sped up in short gasps. The pain was getting worse. Helen set her hands carefully against him again resuming her work. He could feel every small movement of the metal clamps as the sought out bullet lodged in his side. It was like a thousand tiny needles skewering him at once centralized in one spot. Then the forceps touched the bullet; this time not slipping. Helen pulled it free of his side and John breathed a sigh of relief. Now he didn't feel like a lion with a thorn in his paw.

Helen looked at the bloody bullet, at John, and then at James. It wasn't too long ago that she had shot John in an alley much like the one she had found him in tonight. She tossed the bullet to the floor and set the forceps aside. Dousing a small towel with the alcohol she wiped away the fresh blood making John hiss. "Sorry." She muttered. Then she set the towel down to retrieve the needle and thread to sew the wound closed. "This shouldn't hurt as much." Helen glanced at John finally seeing the edge of pain abate from his eyes, from his face. His body's natural endorphins were kicking in again. Another deep breath to focus her mind and Helen set to work on suturing the wound. Every once in a while he flinched when she tugged too hard bringing the skin together. She tied off the end finishing up closing the wound and then she leaned down to cut the little bit of thread left over with her teeth. John hadn't made a move for the last few minutes. Helen looked at him to see he was lightly dozing finally able to rest. James held him still not making any moves to leave.

James watched Helen intently as she set aside the needle and reached for clean gauze to place over the stitches before she bound the wound to keep it clean. He was amazed that she could still care for a man who had done so much to wrong her and him. James tried to let go of his lover's anger so long ago, but just being at John's mercy, even though it was for show, had brought about all his tormented feelings in regards to Druitt. James and John had been closer than two people had even been before. Then Helen had come into their lives intriguing them both but John had been the one to pursue her while still being with James. After all these years he was still confused over John's choices. Now John was on the outside while James lived with Helen, loved her, and worked beside her.

Helen tried not to see the expression James currently wore. She busied herself with wrapping the clean bandage around his side to keep the gauze in place. So much had happened in one day it left Helen confused. She knew she should be furious with John, but he had saved her; would always save her. No matter what happened she could count on him to be her dark protector, her unyielding killer to do the things she couldn't do. "You can go if you want. I'll stay with him." Helen offered.

"No," James shook his head dropping a light kiss the top of John's head. Hold habits die hard. "We should stay with him for a few hours. He did save us." Rest would do James some good as well and he could see Helen needed to nap for a couple hours as well even though she wouldn't admit it.

"Let me get him a blanket from the next room" Helen carefully rose from the edge of the bed to go back out to the main room where Nigel was kicked back on the couch lightly sleeping. "Nigel." Helen gently kicked the couch to wake up one of her best friends.

Nigel startled awake sitting up rapidly blinking his eyes. "I'm up. I'm up." He tried to sound awake but didn't quite make it.

"You should start making your way back to London ," Helen walked around the couch to take the blanket Nigel had been using as a pillow. "James and I will be a few hours behind. We're going to stay to make sure John will be alright."

"Then you'll need someone watching your back." Nigel argued.

"No, the Allies need to know that we succeeded in our mission." Helen reasoned. "Go on. You cover more ground by yourself." She smiled.

"All right," Nigel conceded. "But if anything happens to you, I'm giving you a stern talking to." He joked as only two friends could.

"Yes sir." Helen mocked. "Now go." She sighed watching him slip from the safe house and back out into the night. Back in the bedroom Helen unfolded the blanket to cover John. While James had his eyes closed she gently caressed the scar emblazoned on John's cheek. Carefully, so as not to wake John or James, Helen slid across the bed sitting next to James and putting her body close to John offering him extra warmth. Before they left him, Helen wanted to be sure that John would survive. 'John always survives.' She smirked taking his hand in hers.

MORNING:

"We can't leave him like this."

"You know he won't come back with us. It's not his world any more."

Then the voices were gone consumed by blackness. Hours later John woke with the bright sun shining in his eyes. He rolled over too quickly jarring his stitches. "Last night hadn't been a dream." He coughed followed by a laugh as his hand cradled he bandage over his side. Helen's handy work. John had lost so much blood last night he thought he imagined everything but he hadn't and nor had he imagined the feeling of Helen's hand holding his. The feel of her still tingled against his skin. Slowly John sat up feeling the tug of the sutures hoping he had enough regained strength to make it back to his flat in Paris . Holding his side, gritting his teeth, John stood up breathing hard in and out. It took all of his concentration just to picture the wide open living room. Electricity spread out along his skin taking him out of space and time letting him materialize back in his spacious living room. The jump from Carentan to Paris took a lot out of him. Like he had last night, John staggered to his bed to sleep, to heal, to recharge.