Pre-note : Thanks a lot to Steph-Schell for pointing out the mistake I've made while posting(I had posted prelude instead! Oo), here is the real story, and this is a John/Helen one;)
Title : Accent
Author : DiBee
Summary : There was something about his accent that rang a bell. Like an old memory, an old sign of recognition. Way post Haunted, John reappears in Helen's life. Here is the discussion that ensues. John/Helen
Spoiler : Haunted, basically
Rating : K+
Disclaimer : Sanctuary and the characters aren't mine and belong to their respective owners, I'm just borrowing them in a hope to cheer up a few fans that were frustrated by the end of that haunting episode^^
Note : Begun a few weeks, maybe month ago, and while rereading, I spotted there was only a few sentences missing to make this a complete Os, so there you go. English still isn't my first language, though, but I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless.
There was something about his accent that rang a bell. Like an old memory, an old sign of recognition. When he appeared behind her in that dark alley, she didn't even jumped. When he raised an eyebrow at that, she smiled. An old, familiar looking sad smile. The kind of smile he had been missing, just a bit sadder.
"Helen" He had greeted her with his 'let's talk seriously' voice.
"John" Her voice was soft as ever, with an extra hint of determination.
It had been months since he had vanished into thin air along with his worst nightmare. She had woken up more than half a thousand times in the middle of the night in the meantime. Feeling surrounded by his lingering presence. Yet he was never there.
"It's kind of you to actually stay long enough to say hello, John." There was more than a hint of reproach in her voice, this time. There was more than a hint of amusement in his eyes as well. As weird as it seemed, there was hardly anything he liked more than their verbal joust. She was one of the rarest who had ever resisted him. Who had always had the guts. If not on her hands during one of her autopsies. She was one hell of a woman. And he was her soft spot as much as she was his. But did he really need to stay stuck in her glance that long before managing to form words?
"I needed to make sure everything was okay before I actually introduced myself, Helen."
He had missed saying her name, he realized. Along with a few more things. He hadn't been able to refrain from visiting her, and her letting the shield down had been her way to agree to his 'unknown' visits. Or so he had thought.
As she simply nodded, he tried his best to remember what he had prepared to tell her. He gave up, after realizing how impersonal it would be, and lifted his hand in the air, adding a few more words.
"I am clean."
She could barely hide her gasp, and took a step toward him, searching his eyes for any sign of either confirmation or invalidation.
She had questions. Hundreds of them. Among which where standing in pretty heigh position : How is that possible, and what were you thinking when you actually went through all that.
Instead, she shook her head, and tried to find words fitting the situation. Finding none, she closed her mouth.
"I'm glad" she finally managed after a few seconds that felt like hours. So was he. He was only a few feet away from her, yet wasn't sure whether he should make a move toward her. She looked lost, somewhere between their ancient time and their current time.
"How clean?" she added after some time. Her tone was sober, deadly serious.
"I showered before I came." he told, before even thinking of what kind of a not-so-stupid answer he could actually give her. That thought was 'not' supposed to get out. Neither was either of their smiles.
"Seriously?" this time, he could see the smile both on her lips and in her eyes.
"Seriously."
She was searching for his eyes again, and their eyes locked. Never since his return had they really talked about what had happened so long ago, nor what still could. They had made sure to nearly always have someone around, avoiding direct confrontation when it wasn't necessary. Now, what they were sure of, was that neither of them was willing to have anyone around for what was inevitably bound to happen in the following minutes. And of that, the single accentuation of their smiles was a confirmation as they both took a step toward the other.
