One Month Later:

It was nearly three o'clock in the morning when Will walked into the kitchen to find Helen sitting at the table with a small pint of ice cream in one hand with a spoon in the other. She wore an ankle-length pink, quilted maternity robe that covered everything but the gentle lace neckline of her nightgown. Her dark hair was hastily, but neatly, knotted at the nape of her neck, and she looked deep in thought.

Even when she looked like she'd been unexpectedly awoken in the middle of the night, she looked perfectly put together. And perfectly Victorian in her own modern way.

"Can't sleep?" He asked, looking over at her.

She managed a small smile as she acknowledged his presence. "There is no rest for the weary." She chuckled mirthlessly.

"Yeah, I suspected as much." He said with a shrug. "So...ice cream?" He asked, noticing the pint in her hand as he walked to the fridge. "Sounds good."

"There...might not be much more left..." She said, looking a little like the cat that swallowed the canary.

"What?" He asked, puzzled.

"While the thought of eating artificially flavored frozen milk has never appealed to me before," she began with an apologetic and somewhat amused smile. "Right now, I can't seem to get enough of it."

"Ah. Cravings..." He said with a chuckle as he closed the fridge.

She threw him a pointed look, and he shrugged apologetically. "Sorry." He laughed.

"With Ashley, it was French fries." She said, somewhat reminiscently. "I never believed that I would ever taste a French fry – willingly or unwillingly - but I sent Bernie to McDonald's so often when I carried Ashley that I should have bought stock in the company."

"Ashley wanted her fried potatoes." He said with a chuckle as he sat down beside her.

"Well, she couldn't have been conscious of what I was eating, Will." She said, shaking her head. "She hadn't even been born yet."

"I know." He corrected. "I just...never mind."

"I know what you meant." She said with a faint smile.

They sat silently for a moment before Will sighed and looked at her. "This is hard for you." He said, studying her. "We can all see that."

"I don't think parenthood was ever meant to be easy."

"Single parenthood is even tougher."

She tensed as she took another bite of her ice cream. "Well, it's certainly no...cake walk, I believe is the phrase."

"It's probably even more difficult with all of the loss..."

"I would really rather not talk about that right now." She said with a sigh.

"You need to talk about it, Magnus. If you don't, one day you could just...explode..."

"What stunning imagery," she said sarcastically, giving him a pointed look.

"Sorry. You know what I mean."

She sighed. "Yes." She admitted. "I do know what you mean. But I have never actually handled grief very well. Ever."

"What do you mean?"

"When my mother died, I refused any visitors other than my father and John for a month." She said, softly. "When my father disappeared, I holed myself up in my study for three weeks...the fact that I only locked myself in my study for one week with Ashley should tell you a lot."

"When my mom died, I didn't talk to anyone at school. They asked me to see the counselor, and I just sat there." Will said with a sigh. "I just sat there, and stared at her."

Now finished with her ice cream, Helen sat back and rested a hand on her rounded stomach. "You were young, and you missed her." She whispered with the distinct sound of empathy coloring her tone.

"Yeah, but then I grew up." He said as he looked down at his hands. "And thanks to you, I remembered that the monsters under the bed aren't just myths."

She watched him closely.

"They're beings that reason like you and me."

"They truly are sentient beings with feelings of their own." Helen agreed with a sad, but proud, smile as her mind wandered to all of the creatures who depended on her.

"If you could take it all back and keep Druitt and Ashley," Will began cautiously. "Would you?"

She tensed as tears moistened her eyes. "That's the question, isn't it?" She asked, sniffling lightly. She reached into her sleeve and retrieved a handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes and nose.

"Did I say something wrong?" He asked, worriedly.

She shook her head as she twisted the linen fabric in her hands, nervously. "No. But that's been the thematic thread in my life. When John and I were in London, he began to resent my work. Only a few months ago, Dana forced me to choose between my daughter and my work."

"You did the only thing you could have done in both situations."

She shook her head. "No, Will, I didn't. I may have made the right choice, but there were other avenues."

"You're going to make yourself crazy if you keep thinking about what might have been."

"I am one-hundred and fifty-eight years old," she began with a wry smile. "And I'm going to give birth to another child fathered by the most infamous serial killer of my day." She sighed. "I think I've already passed the threshold of crazy."

He managed an appreciative smile, and she exhaled loudly. "I should go back to my quarters."

"Want a hand?" He asked, offering her help.

She gave him a grateful smile as she accepted his hand. He helped her out of the chair, and she reached for the empty carton. "Thank you, Will. For listening."

"You're welcome, Magnus." He said, sincerely.

She smiled softly before she threw the ice cream carton away. "Good night, Will."