A/n: Since chapter one left you in the dark, this will hopefully light a couple candles for you. Thanks for reading, and reviews are always welcome!

And, of course, I don't own Sanctuary.

On the first step over the threshold to her office, Helen felt dizzy. She noticed vaguely that there was someone waiting for her, but she was much too busy clinging to the doorframe to keep from falling over to pay much heed.

Belated recognition kicked in as she was focusing blearily on the floor, and she looked up with a start.

"Boo!" Kate said unconvincingly, sitting in Helen's chair with her feet slung on top of the desk. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

It couldn't have been…

She shook her head. "I'm here to go through some old logs."

Kate frowned, slouching down further into the seat. "We already did that. That's why I'm here."

"We did?" Oh, dear.

"Yeah. Right after you told Vlad that he was a dumbass and Jackie-boy that he'd kicked the bucket. You told me to stay here while you went to check on something else."

"You know John?"

" 'Course. Big tall guy—can't miss him."

Something started to form in Helen's mind, an idea of some kind, but it was of yet a primordial essence of thought. "Kate, what happened after you all surprised me this morning?"

In the process of balancing a ballpoint on her nose, the younger woman shrugged. "You pretty much went berserk. You kept asking where some woman was, and then when we tried to cut you up some cake you said that there wasn't any time for it—something about some ginormous war with the vamps, extinction of the human race, yada yada. Oh, and you really went bonkers when you saw Jack the Ripper. We thought you were pulling another one of those crazy-Magnus gags, you know like you did to get rid of that mind-reader lady who was after Big Bertha?"

The idea in her mind began to cement. "I think I may know what's been going on."

"Damn," said Kate, having dropped the pen. "You already said that, too. That was before you walked off to check on something. Speaking of which, you dropped something right before you walked in here."

Helen looked to the floor; sure enough, there was something there. She bowed to pick up the slip of paper and regarded it carefully, identifying her own handwriting. A note to herself—it made her smile a little at her own expense.

All the paper really had on it were the words divergence and John, but that was all she really needed to know. Her alternate had picked up on it a little quicker, but it hadn't taken long for her to catch up.

Somehow—and she was still a little iffy on the how—she was being slung back and forth between this universe and another, alternate one. It was the only explanation, and the answer to that, she was sure, lay with John. It made a prickle rise on her skin because she knew where this would inevitably lead.

It was her fault.

Nikola—the other Nikola—had said John had died in 1888. She remembered this distinctly as the year he had come to her requesting treatment. Without it…she felt a tiny shudder pass down her spine. The only reason he would go without would be that he no longer believed it to be of worth. She had given him that reason when she had altered her past: when she had stood up to his advances, beaten him, and demanded he stay away. She had proven herself to be dangerous and unpredictable, untrustworthy and no longer capable of being manipulated, but above all she had rejected him.

…and it had driven him to a path of murder and suicide.

"You ok, boss?"

Helen started to find herself still in the room with Kate and nodded swiftly to cover up the gesture. "Yes, fine," she answered a little too sharply. Before ducking out the door, she added, "Take your time; I don't know if I'll be back."

She headed out towards the labs, moving quickly, but she didn't get far. The next turn brought her into a collision course, and it was Druitt who caught her by the shoulders before she had the opportunity to run into him.

"John," she said, not displeased. When he didn't release her, she took a step back. "It's good you're here. Come with me; I need to find Nikola."

This was not a time for salaam and salutations.

"If that's the case," he said, not following after her as she started off down the corridor, "I believe you're heading in the wrong direction."

She stopped, mildly peeved. "Would you mind telling me where he is?"

"This way," he gestured cordially to the other end of the hall, giving her a slight smile.

As they walked, him slowing his pace to match hers, she could feel him struggling for words. There was a stuffy silence between them that lasted for almost a minute before he broke through with, "Helen…"

She didn't let him finish. "I have a theory, but I'll have to confirm it with Nikola first."

"Helen, let me help you. Trust me."

Helen kept her eyes on the floor, sighing. She had yet to figure out if she was glad to see him or not, and she wasn't in the mood for more guesswork. "John, I honestly don't know if it's possible I can be helped at the moment. I appreciate the offer, but I think the best that can be done is if you listen to what I have to say to Nikola."

She spotted the man in question skulking about in the library, pouring over her wealth of scientific theory. He was currently balanced at the top of one of the ladders there, squirreling away one of the smaller publications on spectroscopy.

"Come down from there," she told him. "We have an important matter to discuss."

"Helen!" He grinned down to her, the expression dissipating somewhat when he glanced to her companion. "I see you have a new collection of historical research. Been busy?"

"Nikola, you haven't touched my anthropological compilations in decades."

"How can you tell?"

Impatient, she pointed for him to come down. "The wine stains."

"Ah. They add character, don't you think?" Once he was planted firmly on the ground before them, she noted the sudden spike in the room's intensity with little surprise. It was like this every time they were in a room together; anyone else might have called it rivalry.

"I would like your opinion on something," began Helen slowly.

"I promise I'll be brutally honest," he said, smiling devilishly. A meter away, Druitt glared, but mercifully held his tongue.

"You may need to be," she admitted. "I trust you're both familiar with temporal theory?"

"Some more than others," Tesla interjected.

"I suggest," growled Druitt, "that you watch yourself, Mr. Tesla."

"No need to be jealous."

"You're out of line, old boy."

"Gentlemen, please," Helen intervened with a growing lack of patience. "That's quite enough." Once satisfied with their level of attention, she elaborated. "Now, we know of course that in the case of altering the course of history, the result would create a divergent path: an alternate universe, if you will. What I'd like to know is if it is at all possible that the creation of such would allow for any sort of…instability, or…paradox that might allow for the merging of these two universes."

"Are you saying you've done something to alter the path of our history?" Druitt wanted to know.

"Oh, Helen," chided Tesla, "of all people, you should know better."

"What I'm saying is…I believe that what happened this morning was the result of my shifting between two separate realities. The Helen Magnus you saw was likely just my counterpart."

"As exciting as you make it sound, I'm afraid I'm way ahead of you." A little smug in her opinion, Tesla held up the book he'd just retrieved in emphasis. "Whatever little dirty deed you pulled one hundred years ago could have separated any future beyond that point into a range of paths. Think of it as light going through a prism—the rainbow of our realities. Pot of gold sold separately, of course."

"I've only visited one other reality," put in Helen.

"So you've noticed. May I refer you to the first law of thermodynamics?"

"You don't mean…?"

"Keeps it interesting, don't you think?"

"You're assuming the universe is a closed system."

"You're assuming it isn't."

The moment she flung her arms up in defeat was the moment Druitt chose to reacquaint them with his presence in the form of a loud cough.

"Careful now, we mustn't upset the children," smirked Tesla.

Feeling a little guilty, Helen turned to meet the impatient gaze that was directed at her. There was no good way to put it. "He thinks that the only reason I haven't as yet been able to enter more than one other reality is because…" She averted her gaze. "Any other reality besides the one has been rendered inaccessible to me."

"How?" By the look he fixed onto her, he'd already started to work out the answer to his own question, but owning to some softer emotion, only waited for her confirmation.

It was Tesla who answered him. "Quick lesson: matter and energy are only exchanged equally. If she hasn't popped up in any other wayward realities, it's because an exchange isn't possible. Need I make that simpler?"

"Do you mean to say that in some countless number of universes, she's dead—that she could have been dead for years?"

"So nice of you to join us—try to keep up."

Druitt bristled, but rounded instead on Helen. "What aspect of history was it, exactly, that you altered?"

"Oh yes, do tell," prodded Tesla.

She felt herself immediately on the defensive, biting back a tactless remark on who, exactly, had gotten her into this mess. The fact that she'd be required to disclose to them what had transpired had until now been an added truth at the back of her mind when searching for their guidance; it was something she had known was necessary but hadn't quite had the peace of mind to properly dread. Now faced with the task, she was oddly uneasy.

"I had no choice, John. I didn't have time."

"Go on."

"I was chasing Adam through the streets. You located me, unaware of my identity. You were dangerous. You cornered me."

"…and?" He watched her with a frown, seeming not to like where she was headed.

"You killed him," guessed Tesla, a little too pleased.

"Not quite," answered Helen, "although I might as well have. He got off with a few bruises, but that isn't what worries me. I'm sorry, John. I told you to stay away."

Though Druitt looked more remorseful than resentful, Tesla looked incredulous. "Don't tell me you actually listened to her…?"

"Would we be holding this conversation if I hadn't?"

"I was told," said Helen, "that you died in 1888."

Recognition darkened his next glance. "The year I sought your treatment."

She nodded once, apologetically. A brief and reflective silence governed their next pause as they all contemplated the gravity of the situation.

"Nikola," prompted Helen after a moment. "My original question…"

"Ah. What was that again?"

"How is all this possible?"

He tapped at the table behind him, thoughtful, and she regarded him with a leveled measure of hope. Somewhere in his mind was the key to unraveling what was happening, and perhaps even reversing it. Although she wouldn't in a million years feed his massive ego by admitting it to his face, he was a genius, and she needed every bit of that genius now more than ever.

"One thing," said the vampire, looking across at her.

"Yes?"

Tesla only shrugged unhelpfully. "I refuse to work without wine."