Three months later
-
Helen sighed as she watched her team leave to recover another abnormal. With radio in hand, she sat at her desk, waiting to provide whatever support they ended up needing. She felt so utterly useless, she thought to herself.
There was a knock at her door, and she looked up. She grinned widely when she saw Dr. James Watson standing in the doorway. "I hope you don't mind that I've come for a surprise visit." He chuckled.
"Of course not." She said, standing slowly so that she didn't bump her gently rounded stomach against the desk's surface.
"You seem well." He said pleased.
"Is it that obvious?" She asked with a small smile.
He returned her chuckle as he leaned in and kissed her cheek.
"How was your trip, James?" She asked as she led him to the small parlor area beside the fireplace.
He helped her sit down before he took a seat across from her. "It was lovely. I've always enjoyed traveling beside the window so that I can see everything that I pass. It's just so lovely."
She nodded in perfect agreement though her gaze fell on the radio only a few feet away. She sighed inwardly.
"What is it, Helen?"
"Nothing." She said, shaking her head.
"Must I guess?" He asked with a soft sigh in gentle amusement.
She chuckled softly. "No. I simply did not wish to burden you with my concerns."
"After a hundred years, you believe me unwilling to hear your thoughts?" He tisked.
She smiled softly before sobering. "I suppose staying behind when my staff acquires an abnormal is harder than I believed it would be."
"I would imagine so." He agreed. "You have always wanted to remain a part of the action. Why do you think I kept from asking the question that Nigel asked when Nicola injected the source blood into your veins?"
She shivered involuntarily at the memory. "Yes, I suppose I always wanted to defy the standard conventions of the time."
"Medical school as a woman in the nineteenth century." He began. "Research scientist in the same nineteenth century, and the twentieth century, and you will probably continue on into the twenty-first century if I know you at all..."
She blushed.
"Of course, your father encouraged it."
"How could he not have encouraged it?" She asked with a chuckle. "He had no son to take over his work."
"And you complained loudly, I'm sure." He laughed.
"My mother complained enough for the both of us." Helen said, amused.
"You always were your father's daughter."
She shrugged. "I always knew that he was the smartest man I knew, but I could never prove it. I suppose that is what drove me to discover the secrets of the Sanctuary in the first place. I wanted to know everything that my father knew."
"And even he admitted just before he disappeared that you then knew more than he knew."
She blushed though the memory of her father made her somewhat melancholy. "He was simply being modest. Another of his infallible values."
"Your father was a remarkable man and a visionary scientist."
"That he was."
A moment passed as they remembered him.
"What sort of entertainment does your city afford?" He asked, looking over at her.
"Well, there are usually plays and musicals. However, I believe I might be able to find an opera." She said, looking over at him. "What strikes your fancy?"
"If there is anything from our era playing, I would appreciate it. If not, I will have to read the summary."
"That sounds fair." She said with a chuckle. "I will make the appropriate inquiries."
-
Helen walked into James's quarters nearly a half-hour later. She inhaled, trying to steady herself. Now was not the time to think about John, she told herself.
Besides the fact that she had a guest to whom she was trying to be hospitable, she also had a team searching for an abnormal. John would have to be pushed from her thoughts.
She knocked gently, and the Englishman answered the door in a smoking jacket and cravat. "Helen, please, come in." He said with a kind smile.
"Thank you." She said, entering his room. "How do you find your accommodations?"
"As hospitable as they have ever been." He said with a grin.
"Wonderful." She said, trying to manage a smile.
"Is something wrong?"
She looked at him, biting her lip before her eyes revealed that she'd decided to share her concerns with him. She offered him the piece of paper on which she'd written the possible performances. He studied her with a discerning eye as he took the paper before he looked down at it.
"La Boheme...a good opera." He said, looking at her seriously. "It may be true that Giacomo was abnormally nervous about its success...but the premiere was rather well accepted by the general populus."
"There's more." She said, biting the inside of her cheek.
"Les Miserables," he continued. "I have seen this one, I must admit. Still, if you have not seen it, I would be willing to see it again."
She shook her head before she pointed at the fifth line.
"Twelfth Night." He read as realization dawned. He looked over at her as he heaved a small sigh.
"John's favorite play." She whispered.
James thought for a moment before he returned the piece of paper to her. "If you would rather stay in tonight, I will honor your wish."
She shook her head. "It is your first night here. I should welcome you with a performance of some kind. Please...make your selection, and I will accompany you."
"If you're absolutely certain."
She managed a smile. "Of course."
She was too polite to admit her true feelings, he noticed.
"May I see the list again?" He asked, reaching for the piece of paper.
She nodded, grateful that he either hadn't seen through her rather pitiful excuse for a lie or that he had ignored it.
"There is a performance of "The Glass Menagerie"." He finally said, handing her the piece of paper.
"One of my favorite plays?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It is an unfortunate truth, but I have yet to see it."
"Oh?" She asked, surprised. She had first seen the play as a guest of Tennessee Williams when it had premiered in the United States in the 1940s. She had loved how the play had demonstrated how "abnormal" even humans felt when relating to one another.
He nodded. "Well, it is an American play, and I've been quite busy..."
She managed a small chuckle. "That has never stopped you before, James."
He offered a fairly casual grin as he shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps I have seen it. But I am getting older and my memory is fading."
"Never, James." She laughed.
He chuckled with her before she sobered slightly. "I will make the arrangements then?" She asked, amicably.
"Wonderful." He said with a smile as she turned to leave.