AN: Written for the Teslen Gateworld April challenge of rain, or at least started. This is not finished, and I don't know when I plan on doing so. Set pre-series by at least 60 years, AU, established sort-of long distance relationship between the two. Ummm, probably no spoilers, unbeta'd - sorry, and I disclaim ownership of Sanctuary or its characters. Been dithering over this a while, decided just to post and hopefully continue/set it right later.

Expectations

Helen's eyes started to glaze over as she continued her ceaseless guard of her window. She had long since stopped being aware of the passing of time; the noise of her grandfather clock faded into the background along with the whirrs and hums of machinery and the relentless patter of rain. It obscured the landscape around her bedroom, but it wasn't so much what was out there that interested Helen, more like what wasn't there – what was supposed to be there. At least, according to the message she had received.

She glanced once more at the familiar writing adorning the unworthy sheet of letter paper, reading over the contents she already had memorised.

My dearest Helen,

It has been much too long since my last visit; and, if I remember correctly, that was quite some time ago. It also, I believe, ended rather abruptly with what was a most unpleasant encounter and I was dragged away before I could apologise for any inconvenience, embarrassment or irrational fury I may have caused you during my short stay.
But now fate has dealt me a fairer hand, and so I hasten to your not-so-humble abode in the hope that I may beg (literally) your forgiveness.
I shall arrive in approximately seven days time from the date I sent this (unless of course I've chickened out and my words are currently sitting in a draw in which case you will have never set eyes on them). I shall be there no later than 10pm.

Looking forward to kissing your lovely self once more,

Nikola

He hadn't signed his full name; there was no need to; after all Helen had spent enough of her life staring at his delicate handwriting to know it was his. Besides, she didn't know any other Nikolas, save for that dreary old man with the beard; never to be seen without a bottle in his hand or a hip flask balanced precariously on too wide hips. So she knew it was her Nikola.

Helen vaguely wandered when she'd started referring to the often self-absorbed vampire as hers.

She tried to stop the gentle flutter of her heart as her eyes perused his sloping hand; tried to stop her irritation as the clock slipped slowly towards 10:15; but most of all, she tried to stop the disappointment that was steadily creeping up on her. Helen knew she never should have believed he'd be true to his word – after all, he never had before – but for once logical assumptions hadn't quelled Helen's hopes, and she'd believed nonetheless. Her eyes were drawn once more away from the window, towards the ever-swinging pendulum as her grandfather's hands snatched a little more hope away with the chiming of the quarter hour. She sighed and picked up a pen, determined that she would get at least one of those reports finished she had set out to do as an excuse to convince herself that she wasn't waiting for him. So far she had filled in the first two lines of the top report, which consisted of 'Name', 'Age' and 'Address' and was approximately sixty characters long.

She swallowed roughly, laid her pen down once more and leant her head on one hand: Life, Helen decided firmly, seemed to enjoy finding new ways to torture her. She wasn't sure how much more her heart could take.

***~~~***

Helen was awoken suddenly. Her clocked struck midnight just as she realised she must have fallen asleep whilst she was waiting. No, she swiftly corrected herself, not waiting. She must have fallen asleep whilst she was not waiting.

It was then she saw the light: that's what she had been waiting for; that's what had woken her up.

Helen knocked her chair over in her haste to get downstairs, scattering forgotten papers, none important enough to warrant picking up over seeing him once more. Stairs were taken two at a time, never mind what she was always told about ascending and descending properly. Propriety be damned! But she did grab a coat before flinging herself out of the front door.

Torrential didn't do the rain justice.

It didn't stop Helen running.

She was thoroughly soaked by the time she reached the gate – the coat being no help at all – and the pebbles from the path were digging into her feet. Helen suddenly paused and looked down at herself.

Her feet were bare as she'd taken off her shoes as she sat by her window: they were resting next to the sofa, waiting for cold feet to realise their mistake. Her light cotton dress had become translucent in the downpour; she'd put it on before it had started, and hadn't expected to be making a trip out in such foul weather. Her coat – a blue, thigh length one – although thick, was certainly not waterproof. Only one button was done up, so it wouldn't have made any difference in any case. Her hair clung loose around her shoulders; pins and clips littering the halls and pathways of the estate – she made a note to watch out for them upon her return.

Although underdressed, Helen knew she'd come too far to go back now and she didn't want to either. As it was she doubted Nikola would mind.

She tugged the gate open as the light approached, and watched the figure that haunted her dreams drop out of the carriage and, taking the lamp with him, pass through towards her.

"Helen?" he stopped.

Helen smiled. It was him; he had come.

"Have you been waiting for me?" She could hear the smirk through the rain, even if she couldn't quite see it.

"No, I was expecting someone else." The sarcastic reply slipped easily from her lips – he was rubbing off on her. There was a small snort as Nikola padded closer. Suddenly he seemed to notice the almost-storm hammering around them, and her lack of adequate clothing.

"Helen," he scolded, but she didn't mind. "What have I told you about getting dressed before leaving the house?"

"Nothing." She replied truthfully, before she finally gave into the overwhelming urge and stepped further towards him. She watched as her glanced down at her non-existent footwear, and then sighed.

"You'll catch your death out here."

Before Helen could protest – not that she really minded, but appearances and reputations had to be kept up – she was swept up into strong arms, hugged against a well-muscled chest, and silenced by a lingering kiss. Then a warm cloak was draped over her and powerful legs walked them back towards the house, the still-burning lamp swinging on an already occupied arm.

Well, I would love to know what you thought, concrit appreciated :)