I meant to post this last night with the latest chapter of We'll Meet Again but totally blanked until this morning when I found my original notes for the story during a clean out! Whoops :S

O.K, wow. Way to surpass my goal guys! Perhaps I should set an even more ridiculous target for the next (AND FINAL) chapter... Also, this one is dedicated to Emmy1512 because I'm a rubbish person who misses messages :P And I'm sorry but Will couldn't help but redeem himself a little here.

Thank you to those reviewing, you all mean the world to me and I hope I didn't bamboozle too many people with the last chapter.

xx

"You need to get some rest," Will murmured, standing on the opposite side of the bed, arms crossed.

"I'm fine," Helen said sedately, not taking her eyes from Nikola as he lay prone in the bed, the scene almost reminiscent of the first time they had found him in that hospital a few weeks ago.

"Magnus, you're covered in blood and dirt, at least go have a shower or something."

"I'm perfectly fine right here," she responded tartly.

Will sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. Although she'd let them treat the bullet wound (which had turned out to be relatively minor), she'd declined to leave Nikola's side. It had been more than five hours since they'd arrived back at the Sanctuary and, even once they'd established that Nikola was in no immediate danger, she had refused any and all sustenance. Even Henry hadn't been able to get through to her, something that worried Will greatly.

"Just an hour," he begged softly, noting with apprehension the deep line around her eyes that spoke of her exhaustion. "I'll stay with him the entire time, I promise."

At that she looked up, meeting his eye uncertainly and for the first time in a very long time, Will saw the vulnerability beneath the hardened veneer that was the incomparable Helen Magnus. Her face was set, not betraying even an ounce of emotion but it didn't have to, her eyes said it all. She was terrified, whether of losing him or something else Will didn't know but either way, he knew that despite any misgivings he was starting to have about her, she needed him.

Sitting down on the other side of the bed, he gave her an encouraging smile, nodding.

"Go," he insisted softly. "I'll call you if anything changes."

There was a pause as she looked between Will and Nikola.

"The second there is any development," she clarified sternly.

"Of course," he replied firmly, hoping to set her at ease. Swallowing, she nodded once before standing on shaky legs.

"Do you want me to get Henry to help you up to your room?" he offered, pulling out his cellphone.

"No, no," she said, waving off his offer as her eyes remained glued to the man still lying unconscious before them. He watched as her fingers twitched by her side and pain flittered across her features.

"I'll... uh... go get a drink," he said abruptly, shooting upwards to give her a moment alone with him. It hadn't escaped his notice as he walked in that while she sat by his side, she did not touch him in any way, her hands folded in her lap. Even if it were only a few minutes of separation, she needed to say goodbye and while Will was more than willing to admit he had started to develop a soft spot for the vampire, that was something intensely private.

He busied himself with the cup, trying to make as little noise as possible yet make enough to drown out whatever she was murmuring to the man who was clearly her lover. Will knew the word was inaccurate, what they had was deeper than a physical connection, born of a century's worth of familiarity. Part of him pitied them, to have to suffer that much lost love was something he couldn't comprehend while another envied being able to know someone that well.

Only when he heard her let loose a soft sigh did he turn around with a weak smile. She was still looking at the unconscious vampire and, gathering from the smudge of dirt on the man's cheek, he figured she'd given him a kiss, the tenderness of the gesture making Will want to do nothing but go find Abby and kiss her over and over again. He knew if the positions were reversed, he wouldn't be coping anywhere near as well as she was.

Setting the cup down on the nearest table, Will took up his seat on the edge of the bed again. Helen sighed again and he watched as she shuffled around the bed.

"Thank you Will," she said softly, squeezing his shoulder. "For putting up with me."

"Ditto," he replied with a small grin, pleased when she chuckled before turning and walking from the room.

"Magnus?" he called just as she opened the door. She turned, giving him a quizzical look as she paused with her hand still on the door knob.

"Are you ever going to tell me what it is you've been planning?"

She closed her eyes and smiled, shaking her head softly.

"When the time is right Will, you will know everything."

With one last bittersweet smile for him, she turned and slowly made her way from the room, shutting the door softly behind her. Shaking his head, Will turned back to the vampire on the bed.

"I don't know how you can put up with that," he said quietly. "Enigma doesn't even begin to describe her."

Will chuckled.

"Look who I'm talking to though." Smiling at his own antics, Will settled back against the footboard, eyes flicking briefly to the monitors by the side of the bed before he looked to Nikola.

"You know if you don't come out of this alright she might kill you yeah?" he asked the unconscious man. "Hell, I might have to kill you."

Silence fell over the room and Will thought he could hear the first stirrings of rain against the windows.

"You aren't half bad when you try," he said softly. "And you mean a lot to her."

He sighed.

"Just try not to call me Junior. Or concubine... Or a child, 'kay?"

Shaking his head once more, Will mused at when he became that guy but remained silent. Tesla had already called him Junior so he thought the chances of them remaining vague friends were slim to say the least. Not that they were friends exactly but in the few weeks they'd been speaking Will had gained an insight into the man and actually learned that deep down, Nikola Tesla was just a man. And an interesting one at that. In this state he was far more open, willing to discuss almost anything. Of course, he very often shut down if Will tried to broach the subject of Magnus but still he'd caught a glimpse of the man Magnus seemed to hold so dear and he was beginning to understand why she kept him around.

"You really do need to wake up," he said finally. "For my sake as much as hers."

"Are you talking to him?" Abby asked softly from where she'd been standing in the door way. Startled, Will almost fell off the bed as he turned to look at her.

"How long have you been there?" he asked uncomfortably, eyes darting around the room as he cleared his throat.

"Not too long," she said, her voice ever so slightly teasing as she walked towards him. She gave him a small smile of understanding as she reached his side, resting her hand on his shoulder as she looked down at Nikola.

"How's he doing?" she asked softly.

"We can't really tell," he admitted, running a hand through his hair before covering hers with his. "I think he's just unconscious but he took a pretty huge electric shock. He may be a vampire but I don't know... He's gonna be out for a while."

"Well, in that case, want to come get some lunch with me?" she asked and Will sighed.

"Can't, sorry." He could all but hear Abby pouting behind him. Turning, he smiled up at her, hoping she'd understand. "I promised Magnus I'd stay with him until she gets back."

...

Helen slowly made her way to her room, thankful for the elevators that stopped right by her corridor. Her leg was beginning to throb despite the anaesthetic and the rest of her body was screaming at her for rest. Between the night she'd had and the effects of running around after the ginger devil in heels, she needed rest and she knew it. But she couldn't, she couldn't bring herself to take the respite she knew she needed. Even now, a few floors above where Nikola lay unconscious, her mind was begging her to return to his side. She trusted Will to stay with him but she knew that the first thing she wanted Nikola to see as he awoke was her.

But Will was right. She needed, at the very least, to get out of the scrubs she wore for pants and the now grimy top she wore. Taking the spill on the bitumen of the car park had roughed not only her up but her clothes as well. If it wasn't for the leather jacket she knew she'd have just as many scrapes as Abby. Neither of them were badly injured and both the boys had escaped most of the blast but still, explosions she hadn't set always set Helen on edge.

Sighing, she pushed open her bedroom door, tugging off her jacket with tired arms and letting it fall to the floor. She ignored the bed and the bathroom, instead heading straight towards the tiny indent in the wall beside her dresser. As she lifted her hand to press down on the panel, she noted her trembling fingers and, while she didn't really condone drinking on the job, she knew a few fingers of scotch would help her to find some calm.

She smiled as the hidden doorway swung inwards, allowing her entrance to her own personal sanctuary. It was a small room, only a few feet wide and it wasn't a complete secret (Henry had found it when he was 12 quite by accident) but still, it was a place where she could always be alone with her thoughts. It was the one part of her life that no one was able to violate.

Or so she thought. As the heavy panel swung forwards, admitting her entrance, she noticed that it was quite different to how she left it. Usually it was sparsely decorated, a few choice photographs dotted around the place and maybe a book or two, the window seat with only a pair of cushions against one side and the paper on her small desk neatly piled in small stacks across the work space but now her neatly ordered little oasis was almost a mess. Pictures were thrown on every available surface, set out neatly enough but covering everything from the small, apple green sofa to the chestnut coloured coffee table. And not only that but it seemed that someone had rearranged her furniture too. Her desk, thankfully, still sat against the far wall with its padded chair neatly tucked in but the sofa was pushed against the wall too, widening the distance between it and the window seat. The coffee table had been moved too, shoved awkwardly against the back of her desk chair, effectively blocking her from the small draw that contained the bottle of scotch she was after.

The coffee table was also covered in photographs that, as she took an unsteady step closer, she realised where all her own, pilfered from the photo albums she kept safely tucked in the chest beside the door. Now standing in the middle of the room, Helen spun around unsteadily, taking in the complete change. Then she saw a bottle of wine and two glasses on a metal tray sitting in the plushly upholstered window seat. Around the wine lay a few more pictures though far less than anywhere else. These were neatly arranged too into three small yet distinct groups, each of them slotted together almost like a puzzle, thus allowing none of the soft green fabric of the seat to show between them yet one photo sat apart from the rest, propped up ever so slightly on the tray.

Brow creasing, Helen turned and fumbled for the light switch because while the moonlight streaming in was beautiful, it wasn't nearly enough for her to properly make out the photograph. With fingers that were now trembling for an entirely different reason, she picked up the photo, gasping when she recognized it almost instantly. It was one of the first photos she ever remembered having taken. Of course, her father had commissioned a few shots here and there but this one was taken when she'd just commenced her time at Oxford, just before her 28th birthday. It wasn't a formal shot and hadn't been taken on any traditional sort of camera. It was of her, Nikola and James. The three before the Five, she mused affectionately. She'd met James through her father, their relationship being more of father and son than anything else and, of course, they had gotten on well.

This particular photo had been taken by her father one rainy day in November. Nikola had brought his prototype of something that functioned very much like a camera. He'd wanted to take a picture of Helen and her father but somehow her father had ended up being the one behind the camera, Helen and James seated on the couch as she tried to convince Nikola to sit with them. He'd shook his head and blustered out some half hearted excuse while she continued to tug on his arm. By that stage James had been laughing heartily, leaning back somewhat in the chair as he watched the two of them bicker.

Her father had accidentally hit the trigger just as Helen had managed to pull Nikola to the chair. He'd landed awkwardly, her arms around him as he leant towards her and the moment had been captured by the camera. Smiling fondly, Helen traced a finger over the slightly blurry image of her previous joy. Of course, her father had scolded her for being so inappropriate with two young men but the photo, the captured moment of happiness was one she'd always kept. This one was just a copy, the original sitting over on her desk beside three other small frames.

Placing the picture back down, she moved to the next one, examining it closely, unsurprised to find it to be one of the formal pictures they'd ever taken as the Five. She chuckled. It was the one she'd insisted on standing up in, much to the char grin of the photographer. Looking back it made the picture awkward and stilted but the look of discomfort on both Nikola and Nigel's faces as they sat was priceless. Laying it down too, Helen continued on through the photographs that seemed to be set out in chronological order.

Everything was here, from barely discernable images of her and Nigel laughing all the way through to the last picture she'd ever taken of her father. It was a staunch, formal one but, at the very last second she'd gotten him to smile.

Her leg was still sore and her muscles protested but slowly she made her way around the room and eventually she picked up on a pattern. Lower down on each surface, set out in a neat, straight line were pictures of times she'd been with Nikola while those that sat higher and were more spread out were memories he wouldn't have been privy to.

When she came to the mid 1920's Helen gave up on fighting the urge to grab a drink and, from where she'd sat on the floor on the blanket she'd found neatly tucked by the window with several large cushions, she leant towards the draw with her bottle of scotch. Pouring herself a healthy nip, she settled back against the pillows to look at the photos.

By the time she reached 1943 she was on her second glass and feeling considerably warmer. Drinking after having such a high dose of pain medication wasn't her best move but she knew her limits and after realising just how much effort Nikola had gone to for her, she truly needed the third glass. He was remembering, he knew who she was and who he was and why their relationship was probably a bad idea but he'd still done all this for her. Her heart throbbed with guilt at the realization that all her fears had been for nothing. He was still Nikola, her Nikola, the man she loved.

Biting back tears at her foolishness, she picked up one of the last pictures, one which she soon recognized to be one of the last she'd ever taken with Nikola.

They'd been out dancing, it was a few days before his 'death' but they'd both known it was coming and they'd been clinging to each other a little more reverently than normal. The photo had been taken at a club they were at by a roving photographer, if he could really be called that. She'd been reluctant at first, trying to wave the man on but Nikola had insisted on a picture and, after a few pouts he'd gotten his way. Helen had smiled for the camera, leaning into his embrace as his arm fell around her shoulders but, just before the photo had been taken, he turned his head, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Her shock had been forever captured, eyes wide and lips hanging open slightly in silent gasp and now, as she sat here looking at the image, she couldn't help but remember how her hand had slid to his knee at the gesture. Nor could she forget how his slipped to her lower back and then, after another drink, down to rest on her far hip.

Of course, they'd been far more intimate before then but something about the action had seemed so improper that her first instinct had been to slap him. Then of course the scotch had kicked in and their hands had gotten more and more adventurous under the table.

Before she could get more even more drawn into the heated memory, Helen set down the photograph and moved on only to realise there was only one more. She knew before she touched it what it was of, the green background giving it away in an instant. It was one of her favourite, the one that sat on both her desks and her bedside table. It was of her and Ashley, back when the girl had been about six years old. Henry had taken the picture and while all the others had come out blurry, this one of the young girl's infectious smile was perfect. Helen was laughing too, her face frozen in a joy that mirrored that of her daughter.

Hands once again trembling she set down the photograph only to have her finger tips brush against a folded piece of paper. Slowly she picked it up, at a complete loss as to what it could be.

Unfolding it, she breathed deeply. It wasn't aged or yellowed so it couldn't have been another from her memory box, the clean white paper being of a far heavier stock than anything she normally used too. The creases were neat, very much one of Nikola's then, she decided with a faint smile.

My darling,

I know nothing can make up for me missing so many moments and memories but please take this as a promise that I will never again miss one single second of your life.

With love,

Nikola.

Holding the paper to her chest, Helen finally allowed her tears to fall freely, her free hand pressed to her trembling lips. Stupid, incorrigible, ingenious vampire.

God how she loved him.