Summary: Sometimes Helen's taste in music can surprise Nikola. Sometimes it doesn't surprise him one bit.

Setting: After Chimera. Nikola hangs around for a while to make sure everything's all fixed.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the laptop this was written on. I don't own Sanctuary, any of the songs/music mentioned, or (unfortunately) Amanda Tapping.

A/N: I regret nothing. Except neglecting revision to write this. This is partly inspired by LoveActuallyFan's story 'Sail'. Originally it was intended as a oneshot songfic, but somehow a totally different piece of music inserted itself and I just couldn't bring myself to combine Meat Loaf and Elgar in the same chapter. Happy New Year!


Part I ~ Cello Concerto in E minor
~

"So tell me something, Sophie. Back there in crazy town, when you had to choose between sacrificing Will or moi..."
"Yes..?"
"I mean, if it had been a real choice... If you hadn't stacked the deck in favour of the house..."
"Whom would I have chosen?"
"Yeah, kinda."
"Ah, Nikola... Do you really need to ask?"

He'd looked at her in disbelief, not quite believing what she'd just said. He watched as she took a sip of her wine, wearing her 'dear God, now he'll be insufferable' face.

"Well, in that case..." He paused, rolling the wine around his glass while still watching her intently. She turned to cut off anything else he might say, tilting her head slightly in that way she did that could make any man – or woman, for that matter – pliable to her wishes.

"You can stay a little longer to help Henry patch everything up?"

"That's not exactly what I had in mind, Helen..." he countered, in a low voice.

"I know exactly what you had in mind, Nikola..." She stood and rolled her eyes as she walked over to her desk, knowing he was watching as she bent down to unlock and open the bottom drawer. "I also know you'll be disappointed..." her tone was light, teasing, as she lifted something heavy out. "Which is why I got you this," She straightened, revealing the bottle to him as she set it on her desk momentarily. "Call it an incentive, if you will. Now, I really am very tired. If you'll excuse me..." She downed her wine – such a waste, he thought – and left the room, bottle in hand.


"There. All back to its usual chaotic state." announced Tesla, before remembering that Henry had abandoned him hours ago for the comfort of his basket, and that he was in fact speaking to an empty lab. "Charming." He muttered, spinning his chair away from the desk to face his prize.

A bottle of '96 Château Lafite sat on an end table by the window. He vaguely recalled the sasquatch dropping in an hour or so ago, presumably to deliver it, but he'd been too absorbed in fixing as much as possible of this ridiculous coding the wolf-boy preferred. Now, of course, he could claim it.

Not here though, he decided as he glanced around. God knows when this couch had last been cleaned. No, Helen's study would be better. Helen's bedroom would be even better than that. The thought came unbidden into his head, but he suppressed it; there was plenty of time for that in the morning. No, her study would do for now.

He made his way there and manipulated the electromechanical lock easily. The old-fashioned mechanical lock she still insisted on using was a little harder, but he managed to push the tumblers into place to unlock the door fully with a few seconds of concentration.

Perfect. She'd been expecting this intrusion, and had set out a glass and corkscrew for him with a note in her impeccable handwriting telling him to stop breaking into her office. He tossed it into the bin with a smirk, and set about pouring himself a half glass, leaving the bottle open to air and noting the soft classical music playing on her computer.

"Elgar? Ever true to your roots, Helen." His mind conjured an image of Helen in an ivy-green dress with apparently infinite underskirts, playing the solo from this very cello concerto. She'd been asked to give an opinion on it before its première with the London Symphony Orchestra, and Nikola had been roped in to listen as well. Her hair had still been blonde then, and it fell softly down her back, swept out of the way of her delicate fingering. Nikola shuddered at the memory as he made his way over to the monitor.

"Perhaps something else. Let's see what Helen Magnus listens to the most..." His fingers skimmed the keyboard, opening her music library in seconds, and finding her 'most played' songs. He skimmed, mouthing the titles to himself. Mostly classical, until...

"My, Helen, I didn't know you had it in you."