Alright so apparently my mojo is back. Kinda XD This is a very very short fic (not even sure you can call it a fic XD) I had it in mind for a while but didn't have the chance to write it down. And since I planned this entire day for watching and discussing the newest Sanctuary episode "Trail of Blood" (which btw was bloody amanzing), I felt inspired and finally wrote it. I "borrowed" one of Helen's lines from Doctor Who (my newest obsession haha XD) because I thought it's SO something she would say! Basically the action takes place at the end of Sleepers. Enjoy!
One more thing, 67 years stands for the time since Helen faked his death ;)
"This may cheer you up." Helen said handing Nikola a bottle of wine.
"Oh, the premier cru? You must be feeling guilty." He replied lifting an eyebrow.
"You can't seriously blame me for this!" She exclaimed.
"Forgive me, Helen. It's just my soul-crushing depression talking. I'm not myself." He locked his gaze on his wine glass and let his mind wander.
"On the contrary. You are your real self again...human, mortal." Helen replied.
"Watch your language." Nikola spoke in an angry tone. There was no point in hiding it. He could not accept the truth. How could somebody who lived in the graces of immortality for more than a century embrace so easily an ordinary life?
"I'm sorry, Nikola, but it's true. I've tried everything I can think of. There's simply no way to re-vamp you."
"You see how this puts a crimp in my plans for world domination? Not to say I won't keep trying. I'll just have to speed up my plans a little. I don't have another hundred years to take care of all the details." He said forcing a smile.
Slowly, he lowered his gaze and took another sip of his wine. As much as he wanted to hold on and maintain his nothing-can-ever-bring-me-down attitude, he wasn't sure he had the necessary strength for that.
A silence followed then she spoke.
"Some people live more in twenty years than others do in eighty. It is not the time that matters, it's the person. A longer life isn't always a better one. In the end you just get tired. Tired of the struggle. Tried of losing everyone that matters to you. Tired of watching everything turn to dust. If you live long enough, the only certainty left is that you'll end up alone."
"Well then, I have just wasted 67 years of my life." He replied with his gaze still locked on his glass of wine.
"How can you say that?" Helen asked surprised.
"You said it yourself. It is not the time that matters, it's the person. And I have spent 67 years alone."
He finally raised his gaze to confront hers. He had spent 67 years without looking into her blue eyes and now, the same eyes he dreamt about every night were exploring the deepest corners of his soul. He was unguarded because that night, he was just too tired to hide behind his usual mask. That night he was vulnerable.
Gently, Helen squeezed his hand.
"Not anymore." She said and a warm smile appeared on her lips.
Then her arms encircled him in an ever lasting embrace. An embrace which spoke the words they hadn't found the courage to say: "thank you", "always by your side", "I love you".
As he closed his eyes and allowed his soul to be overwhelmed by an ocean of feelings, Helen's words sounded clearly into his mind and he realized that the perspective of an ordinary life wasn't so frightening. Not anymore.