One look. That's all it had taken. He'd never looked at her like that, and never since. But it had changed everything. Half a second and things could never be the same.
Helen sat in her study. The lights were low, and the rest of the house had retired for the night, there had been silence around her for hours. Her work in files and papers was spread out before her expectantly, but she hadn't made any progress for over half an hour. She sat, her hand against her temple, an almost glazed expression in her eyes. Her concentration had suffered the last week, and more and more it was becoming urgent that she should solve the puzzle in her head, regain her composure and get back to the business of running the sanctuary network. But she couldn't get his eyes out of her head and it was keeping her awake at night. Why, why did it bother her so much? She groaned under her breath and rose from her desk. Walking to stand in front of the window, she looked out over the old city hoping to glimpse some sort of distraction in its glimmering lights. Instead, she found herself staring at her own reflection, and once again, replaying events in her mind.
After over 200 years in this line of work, she found herself occasionally needing to remind herself not to get over confident, and to never get comfortable. Unfortunately, this time, an abnormal chose to do it for her. It should have been very simple: a common, rarely dangerous abnormal, tracking and capture, but through a series of unfortunate events she had been separated from Will and Kate and stuck in the corner of a warehouse that looked like every other warehouse she'd been in. She had found herself between the abnormal and its escape, never a good situation to be in. The size of a large dog, and claws to match, the unwarranted fear it inspired in the general public was enough to need to have it removed from the city. A fear that in that moment Helen was feeling quite keenly. Having already been hit by several stunners, the normally docile abnormal's scaled hide was already heaving with rage and desperation. It knew fresh air and freedom lay beyond this last obstacle, and she could read in the green eyes sizing her up, that she had no chance of calming it. If it hadn't been so enraged, she would have stepped aside and worried about capture later, but she couldn't let it free in such a populated area in such an aggressive state. So she stood her ground. She continued to do so when it attacked her the first time, and the second. She didn't remember the third.
She had woken in the infirmary under the watchful eye and care of her oldest, and furriest friend. He had quickly reassured her that Kate had successfully knocked out the parawode with tranquilliser rounds and it was safely ensconced in the SHU. Next in line was a lengthy yet succinct description of her injuries. Not as bad as it could have been, she had effectively shielded herself from the parawode's claws until the final attack when it had knocked her into a crate and she had cracked her head open, at which point it had raked her across the neck and chest, though it would seem that her fall backward had effectively saved her from the deeper cuts and impact that he had expected to see. She remembered though, there had been something in his tone then and when she pressed him, he had admitted she'd scared them again. He'd shrugged it off, and although she had been surprised by his sentimentality, she had accepted the explanation.
Going back to work had been painful. She was used to operating with fresh injuries, but she remembered the first day as being particularly difficult. The wounds across her chest pulled with almost every movement. Despite this she was able to carry out the morning briefing and her rounds without too much trouble. By the early afternoon though, she could tell from the feel of heat under her bandages that she needed to change them.
So she'd called for him. She wasn't too proud to enlist the aid of her reluctant MD when necessary and some of her cuts were too high for her to see herself. He met her in the infirmary and helped her with her shirt. Having considered this possibility that morning she'd worn a vest in preparation, and now sat patiently while he removed the old bandages and prepared and applied antiseptic lotion.
At this part of the memories, she paused, shifting position in the study so that she rested her hands gently against the edge of her desk, her dark curls falling about her face as she looked, but didn't look at the light glinting off the vase on her desk. She wanted so badly to be able to remember something, some aspect in his behaviour that might have warned her. There must have been a shift, a change in him that she had obviously missed. But there was nothing. His behaviour had been normal and throughout her bandage change they had discussed work. The only thing she could say - and she didn't think her memories were false –is that he had seemed more solemn. A little older. Some things can only be seen retrospectively she supposed.
Re-focussing on the memory, as she had gingerly pulled her shirt back on he had asked about her head wound and she had responded that it was healing very well and hadn't even caused a concussion.
"They often look a lot worse than they are" she remembered saying.
She'd smiled at him then, with the smile she uses when letting him know that his concern has registered, but is still slightly amusing to her. But he hadn't smiled back.
It dawned on her, what the scene must have looked like. She must have been a bloody mess, lying in a pool of it, by the sounds of things, and freshly mauled. It seemed her unfortunate complacency so ably demonstrated, may have also spread to the effect this job could have on those close to her. Something else to remember.
As she'd done up her last button, he'd said "I'm glad you're ok Magnus"
Just that. He'd said it before, and she'd been in much worse shape when he had. And under normal circumstances it would have been business as usual. But at that moment she had turned. She remembered every instance of this moment almost as if in slow motion. She had been sat on the treatment table, her back twisted, she registered a minute twinge of her wounds, the edge of her hand pulled slightly across the white cotton sheet, her gaze slid up his blue shirt and over his face, and she met his blue eyes.
She felt jerked back to the present this time. She realised her breathing was slightly rapid as she hesitated to recall what she'd seen.
When she forced herself to remember she came to the same conclusion. She was sure. This is what had been keeping her awake and sapping her concentration. She almost wished she were a coward and could hide from what she knew.
Almost.
Helen blinked hard. Her head raised slowly from the almost penitent position she had been in. With the realisation that she couldn't hide, came the realisation that she really didn't want to. She felt a weight lifting from her shoulders and the lines on her face smoothing for the first time in an age. It felt like she had carried this particular weight for a lot longer than a week.
Perhaps the Sanctuary network could wait a while longer. She took a deep breath, stood up, and with a small smile, started walking.