"YOU NEVER LOVED HIM THE WAY I DID!"

"Me?" Sheila Delacourt fired back at her soon-to-be ex-husband. "It was your fault we got into that crash! You always did have a lousy sense of direction…"

"Lousy?!" he echoed.

The screeching of the unfriendly exes bit into Helen's ears and she winced. Briefly, she closed her eyes, taking a long, deep breath before she opened them again. When she did, Nigel Griffin was looking at her across the conference table with a confused expression. He raised his eyebrows, and Helen looked down at her phone.

What are they talking about? it read.

Under the table, Helen texted him back. Their old car.

Nigel glanced down at his phone and stifled a snort with difficulty, his hand flying up to cover his face.

"Alright, Sheila, Mr. Delacourt," Helen said, rising. The only acknowledgement she got from either of them was an increase in the volume of their voices. She raised her own. "I think we've made some excellent progress tonight – "

"Definitely," Nigel agreed.

"So let's call it a night, and get a fresh start tomorrow," Helen said with strained brightness, hauling her fuming client up by the elbow and towing her out of the room still hurling colorful descriptors at Mr. Delacourt.

"Eleven o'clock?" Nigel did the same, shouting to make himself heard over the din.

"Sounds good!"

The stream of insults faded once she separated the Delacourts, and Helen saw Sheila off before she turned around and went back into her office.

It was somewhat darkened – most of her colleagues had already gone home, including her assistant Will. The aquarium light was still on, giving a rather eerie blue cast to the shadowed lobby.

Helen would be leaving soon herself, but she had to pick up something from her office first: a gift she'd gotten for her son Henry.

"Not exactly what we expected we'd be doing back in the day, is it?" Nigel asked, appearing in the door of the conference room. Bruno Delacourt was gone – Nigel must have left something behind just like she had and come back to get it.

"A far cry," Helen said, hoping she didn't sound as weary as she felt.

Back in university, her little circle of friends had all dreamed of changing the world someday through their work. Helen had cherished a particularly naïve belief that she would become a defense attorney and protect the innocent. They had all four of them been so very young.

Now, she and Nigel were divorce attorneys, James an overworked police detective, and as for Helen's ex-fiancé – she preferred not to think about how things had ended with him.

Of course, Helen was proud of her accomplishments. Perhaps this hadn't been the career she'd envisioned for herself, but she was damn good at it. In the past few weeks, there had been rumors that she was being considered as a partner in the firm. It was a wonderful opportunity; Helen would have been a fool not to be excited if it went through. Still, she had found herself thinking of her university dreams a lot lately.

Nigel gave her a small smile. "Ah, don't let it get you down. We'll manage it yet, you'll see."

Helen felt her lips twitching reluctantly. "Ever the optimist," she said.

He shrugged. "One of us has to be."

She shook her head. "Did you get what you needed?"

Nigel held up his phone, nodding. "Only took me ten minutes of looking around. Damn thing's invisible."

"You know that there are apps you can get," she said with amusement.

He winked at her and got an eye roll in response. For a few minutes, they walked in silence. Helen closed the office door and locked it before they proceeded down the hall towards the elevators.

"So how are the kids?" he asked cheerfully.

Helen smiled. "They're doing well – you should come around more often, Henry wants to show you his latest inventions."

"He still in that robotics club?" Nigel asked.

She nodded. "I'm picking him up tonight, and Ashley from karate practice, though only to drop her off at Kate's. She's staying the night – ostensibly to study, but if I know them, their night will consist entirely of plotting to become this city's next masked vigilantes."

Nigel chuckled. "Sounds about right. Getting on with James, are they?" This was said casually, but there was a keen concern in his eyes that made Helen suspect he knew the answer already.

Her smile froze. "Ye-es," she said.

"You're a terrible liar," Nigel said.

"Well, I, ah…" she stammered.

Neither of her children knew James very well; he had moved back to England after college, and they had only reconnected a few months ago. Henry, at only eight, was so open and cheerful with everyone that as long as James nodded and made occasional appreciative noises during a technological monologue, he would think the world of him. Seventeen-year-old Ashley was a harder nut to crack, though – she hadn't seen Helen in a long-term relationship since her father, and she was old enough to remember how it had ended.

It was understandable, but when James made a few pointed remarks about turning up the thermostat because it seemed so chilly every time he came over, Helen had told her daughter that the constant sniping had to stop. She had been sulking over it ever since, which had made the last few weeks rather uncomfortable. Even Henry had picked up on it.

Helen had tried to tell her that this time it wasn't like her father, that their lives wouldn't be shattered and turned upside down again, but the pain of that betrayal had cut Ashley too deeply, and so far Helen could only hope that time would help.

"They'll come around," she said.

Nigel gave her a long look, then shrugged again. "So what's that?" he asked, gesturing to the brightly wrapped package in Helen's hands.

His attempt to change the subject was painful in its blatancy, but since Helen very much wanted to change the subject, she went along with it.

"It's a present for Henry," she said. "He won first prize in a competition with one of his robots last week, and I thought it would fun to celebrate."

"Oh yeah, what is it?" Nigel asked. "Some new gadgets, or…?"

"No," she said, smiling. "Something even better."

"A book?" Henry asked after tearing the paper open.

"Yes," Helen said, grinning. "Look, it's about famous scientists, see? I know how much you loved studying some of them in school, so I thought you might like to learn a little more about them."

Looking doubtful, Henry flipped the book open.

"These were all brilliant men and women who changed the world," Helen continued, warming to her subject. Henry interrupted her, skipping to a random page and reading from it.

"After his work was stolen, he died alone and penniless," he read, then looked at her with wide, sad eyes. "Mom…"

"Oh, dear, that's unfortunate." Helen flipped a page quickly. The lights of New York pulsed with a steady rhythm through the taxi windows as they rode along, playing across the book in bright, gentle flashes.

Helen skimmed over a few more pages, her eyes landing on words like "radiation poisoning," and when Henry sniffled and began, "Even the pigeons – " in a pitiful tone of voice, she closed the book firmly.

"We'll just look at that later. How was karate practice, Ashley?"

Ashley barely glanced up from her phone. "Fine," she said.

"How's Kate doing?"

"Fine."

"School go well today?"

"Fine, I guess."

"I guess?" Helen echoed with concern.

"Ed Forsythe made fun of her," Henry piped up.

"What?" Helen asked sharply.

"Aw come on, Henry," Ashley whined. "I asked you not to tell. It was nothing, Mom, really. Just some stupid stuff about that stupid career day they're having."

"Hmm," Helen said, eyeing her. "Ashley, if you're having trouble with one of your classmates – "

"I'm not," Ashley said defensively. "And I can handle it. Ed's a jerk, anyway."

Helen paused. "Well, I won't argue that, but – "

"Ash said she wanted to punch him in the face," Henry said.

"And other places," Ashley muttered darkly.

"Ashley!" Helen reprimanded. "You could hardly call that a fair fight."

"I know, I – wait, what?"

"I doubt Edward Forsythe has been studying martial arts for the last eight years," Helen pointed out.

Ashley finally looked up from her phone, meeting Helen's eyes with a rather bewildered look. Then it gave way into a mischievous smile.

"Guess not," she admitted. "It wouldn't be much of a challenge to kick his sorry – "

"Ashley," Helen said.

She rolled her eyes.

Helen smiled; but before she had too much of an opportunity to enjoy the moment, the air was split with a deafening squeal.

"Mom, Mom, loooook!"

Helen spun to follow Henry's shaking finger, pointing out the car window.

"It's a superhero, Mom!"

"Oh, Henry, I'm afraid – " Helen peered out the window. "Bloody hell," she said.

The taxi had stopped at a light. They were in a quiet part of town – Helen didn't see anyone walking around. She couldn't make out any details of the building they were sitting next to, but there was a wide, rickety scaffold climbing its sides. And, clinging to the side of the scaffolding, there was a man with lightning crackling through him.

There was no other way to describe it. At first glance Helen thought wildly that the jagged bolts were jumping out of him, but that was impossible – but surely so was being struck by lightning when it was only drizzling out, while surrounded by taller buildings. It faded away before she could get a better look, leaving only an afterimage burned into her eyes.

"What the hell…" Ashley breathed, craning her neck to see past Henry and Helen.

They all stared, frozen by shock, until he slipped from the platform and Henry bolted up.

"He's gonna fall!" he cried, and flung himself out of the taxi.

"Henry!" Helen shouted, desperately unbuckling her seatbelt and throwing herself after him. She reached him after only a few steps and caught him.

"Never do that again, Henry, never, do you hear me?" Helen knew she sounded panicked, and tried to clamp down on the terror that had sprung up when he'd run off. Her heart was still racing as Henry nodded.

"Can't you help him?" he asked, turning back to look up frantically.

Ashley had run up to them, looking almost as scared as Helen had felt for a moment.

"Please, Mom?" Henry added, and Helen's pride at her son's compassion made her almost forget what a lecture he was in for later tonight.

"Ashley," she began.

"I got him," Ashley said.

Leaving Henry in her capable hands, Helen advanced slowly. The man on the scaffold scrabbled around for a handhold, swinging dangerously in the chilly night air. Helen felt water dripping down her collar from the rain and blinked against it.

She waited until she was almost underneath him before she called out. "Excuse me," she shouted up. "Do you – "

Then several things happened at once.

Helen took another step forward, positioning herself directly underneath him. At the same time, his grip finally failed on the edge of the scaffold and he fell with a yelp. From behind her, Helen heard Henry shout, "Catch him, Mom!" and she reached up, extending her arms with a vague idea of at least cushioning his fall so he didn't strike the hard concrete.

He didn't hit the concrete – he fell straight into her, Helen lost her balance immediately, and they both toppled to the ground in a flailing pile of limbs. She hit the concrete with a groan, some rather uncharitable comments passing through her mind.

The subject of her ill-fated rescue attempt squirmed around on top of her and all Helen could think of was how damned heavy he was, and how one of his bony elbows was practically stabbing her in the ribs. Using the ground as leverage, she pushed him off her, but she had forgotten that they were still entangled and all she succeeded in doing was rolling them over. At least now he was the one whose head was getting acquainted with the ground.

Until now, she hadn't been able to get a proper look at him. Now that she had, her mouth dropped open, and she felt a sudden, overpowering urge to break into hysterical laughter.

He was dressed not unlike an escapee from one of the steampunk adventure novels Ashley pretended she didn't read, or perhaps a terrible Halloween vampire; the gold buttons on his crimson waistcoat glinted in the dim light, and – oh dear God, that was a cravat. Helen snorted.

She focused on his face, and her laughter faded as she found herself looking into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. They sparkled at her, the light behind them catching at her and driving the words she had been about to say from her lips.

"Hi," she said instead.

He grinned, displaying a row of rather sharp teeth. "Hi," he said.

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

He tilted his head, considering her. "No. Are you? I mean, you kinda took the brunt of the fall…"

"I'm fine," she said shortly, pushing herself off him and standing. She considered offering him a hand up, but he scrambled to his feet with only minimal groaning.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she said with some doubt. "The lightning…"

"What? Oh, right, yeah." He waved a hand. "That was nothing. Thanks," he added in a cheery tone. "That probably would have hurt a lot more if you hadn't been around to catch me."

Helen raised her eyebrows. "Is this a frequent habit of yours? Falling off things?"

"Not usually." He looked around. "So can you tell me how to get to the portal?"

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

He looked at her with confusion. "I'm trying to get home," he said. "I was heroically fighting the evil queen – well, sort of – well I kinda had to escape – anyway, it was a little disorientating, and I can't quite find my way back."

"To the portal," Helen repeated. Ashley and Henry had reached them and were watching this exchange, Ashley with amusement and Henry with wonder.

He nodded with an encouraging look. "Yes," he said. "Surely, living in a technologically advanced society such as this, you must be aware of their whereabouts. I've been asking around, but you wouldn't believe how unhelpful everyone's been…"

"Yes, well, welcome to New York," Helen said automatically, still trying to determine what the hell he was talking about.

"Ooh, thank you," he said with a smirk. "I have to admit this place isn't all bad."

Helen raised her eyebrows. "I'm afraid I can't help you find what you're looking for," she said.

"Oh." He looked crestfallen, and Helen couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him.

"But where do you live?" she asked. "I might be able to help you get home."

"Andalasia," he said. Helen felt her eyebrows reach new heights.

"I'm not familiar with it," she said. "Perhaps I could call someone to come pick you up?"

"I doubt they could hear you from here," he said.

Ashley, whose shoulders had been shaking with the effort of keeping her laughter in, let out a strangled snort.

"I meant on the phone," Helen said, wondering if it was even possible that he might have been serious.

His eyes lit up. "Long-distance communication?"

"Yes…"

"Well then," he said, grinning again. "Lead the way."

Helen could have let him use her cell phone – but it was cold out, he had been outside longer than she had, and he was drenched through, his messy hair plastered to his forehead and dripping onto the strange goggles perched at a crooked angle on his head. He was starting to shiver, despite his many layers, and it felt rather heartless to let him make a call and then just leave him here as they drove away. And he was clearly quite confused, not to mention in possible need of medical attention after being struck by lightning. Helen felt a guilty pang as she thought about him wandering away looking for his portal before whomever he called even showed up.

"Come along," she said, jerking her head for him to follow her. "You can use the phone at home."

He trailed behind her as she made her way back to the taxi, and she cast a glance over her shoulder at him. "What's your name, by the way?"

"Nikola," he said. "Nikola Tesla."

She nodded. "Helen Magnus."

He smiled at her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Helen Magnus."

Ashley was dropped off at Kate's apartment without further incident, though not without a copious amount of sarcastic remarks directed at their odd guest. Helen and Henry proceeded home with him in tow.

Henry was staring at him in mute awe the entire time; but neither of them spoke until they were inside the elevator of their apartment building, and Nikola was looking around, his own eyes wide.

"So how does this work?" he asked Helen, nearly bouncing up and down with excitement.

"The lift? Ah, cables," Helen said absently, checking her phone. She had a text from James: Have a case to discuss with you, can I come over tomorrow morning?

Of course, she texted back.

"Ooh, what are they made of? How are they operated? How much weight can this support? Can it – "

"How did you do it?" Henry blurted.

Nikola blinked. "Do what?"

"The lightning. You made it, I saw you."

"Oh, that," Nikola said dismissively. "Just took a little concentration."

Henry's mouth dropped open. "That's so cool."

Nikola beamed. "Hmm, I suppose it was, wasn't it?"

"But why'd you do it?"

Helen was fairly sure he had done nothing of the kind, so to spare Henry from any disappointment, she interrupted. "I'm sure Nikola is very tired, Henry, perhaps your questions can wait."

As if on cue, Nikola yawned.

"Where have you been staying?" Helen asked.

He yawned again. "I just got here tonight," he said. "But I'm sure I can find something – a nice dungeon, perhaps, or a hollow tree…It's a shame it's not storming." He caught Helen staring at him. "It adds great atmosphere," he added.

"A dungeon?" Helen repeated.

"A dungeon?" Henry exclaimed. "You like Dungeons and Dragons?"

"Well, I've been in my fair share of dungeons, and I don't know if I would say I liked them, but all the dragons I've met have been quite interesting," Nikola said. "Much more intelligent company than most people, let me tell you."

Henry's eyes were nearly popping out, but thankfully, the elevator doors opened and Helen was able to propel the two of them down the hall and through her apartment door. She flicked the light on and stepped through with a sense of relief.

While the apartment was fairly large, the clutter left around by its resident teenager made it seem smaller than it was. Besides Ashley's things scattered everywhere, Henry had three ongoing robotics projects and about half of his toy collection carpeting the floor.

Helen glanced over at the small kitchen adjacent to the living room and grimaced; she had been so swamped with work lately that dirty dishes were piled high in the sink, and the refrigerator was quite understocked.

"Henry, go and get ready for bed, alright? I'll be there in a few minutes."

Henry scuttled off and Helen swept an arm in front of her, encompassing the view.

"Well, here we are," she said, feeling rather awkward. "You can use the phone – I'll make some tea, would you like any?"

"Ok," he agreed, in such a distracted tone Helen was certain he hadn't heard a word she'd said. "Where's the phone?"

"Ah yes, of course, it's over here," she said, leading him to the couch and pushing a dirty Doctor Who T-shirt and a sci-fi novel off the side table to free the phone underneath. "We don't use the land line much anymore."

Nikola crawled onto the couch, peering at the phone. "Fascinating," he said, picking up the receiver and examining it closely. He started unscrewing one of the black plastic covers while Helen stared at him.

"Do you need to call anyone?" she prodded.

"What?" he asked, looking over, then returned his attention to the phone. "No, I just wanted to see how it worked. So, tell me, does this – "

"I thought you said you were trying to get home," Helen said, pressing her fingers to her forehead. "Isn't there anyone you can call to pick you up?"

"No. No one."

Helen felt another pang, though she couldn't have said if it was prompted more by the words or by the soft, matter-of-fact tone they were said in.

"Where does this wire go?" he asked.

Helen sighed. "I'll call you a taxi and they can take you where you need to go, alright?" She took her cell phone out and started thumbing through her contacts.

"Alright," he murmured, yawning again, but continuing to prod at the phone. Helen wondered if she should disconnect it before he shocked himself.

She dialed the number of the taxi company and turned, taking a few steps away from Nikola. They picked up after only a few rings.

"Hello," Helen said. "I'd like to order a taxi, please – yes, I'll hold." She turned to glance back at Nikola. He had sagged onto one of her burgundy couch cushions, his eyes half closed and the broken-down phone loose in his hand, dangling limply off the couch.

As she stood there watching him, he gave a little sigh, his legs curling up and the phone dropping to the floor as his eyes closed completely. He took a deep breath in, let it out, and he was asleep.

"The address?" Helen said, distantly registering that the person on the other end of the line was talking as she kept gazing at Nikola. Where would they even take him? Helen had no clue where this "Andalasia" place was, and he hadn't been able to tell her on the ride over.

She couldn't just send him off when he had no idea where he was going, or anyone to help him. And he looked so exhausted, curled up there on her couch; his curious enthusiasm had melted away and now it seemed like he hadn't slept in days.

"Never mind," she said quietly, her mind made up. "Thank you."

She ended the call as Henry ran up. "Come along, Henry," she said. "You can sleep in my room tonight." Taking Henry's arm, she led him off, leaving Nikola asleep on the couch behind them.