When Nikola awoke, he was greeted with several rather strange sensations all at once. Firstly, his hips in particular were sore while the entirety of his lower body was a few degrees colder than normal. The flagstone floor beneath him was unforgiving and, as he shifted in an vain attempt to move from the coldness, his hip began to throb even more painfully.

The second rather strange thing was the fact that, while his lower body was uncomfortable and cold, his head and shoulders were being cushioned by miles of soft, sweet smelling fabric. He groaned softly, moving to burrow his face further into the soft cushion of fabric until his nose brushed against something harder than he expected.

Soft murmurings from somewhere above him briefly filtered through his consciousness but Nikola did his best to ignore it, bringing one hand up to hold his pillow in place.

And then his pillow moved.

A foreign hand ran through his hair, nails scrapping ever so gently at his scalp and Nikola found the tension in his body dissipate, even the painful stiffness of his lower limbs soothed by the touch. Which was odd, he decided. Because he didn't like it when people touched his hair. Or when people touched his person in general.

People had germs and germs meant sickness. Plus people often smelt rather terrible and held little physical interest for him.

People were, in every definition of the word, messy.

But, for some reason, Nikola found himself almost perfectly at ease with absolutely everything that was occurring in that very second. And, when, after further nuzzling into the fabric his head rested upon, he encountered yet another set of delightfully sweet scents, he decided that he would be perfectly content to stay where he was for the rest of his days.

The fabric beneath his cheek was slightly rough, as if someone had meant for it to be more durable, however the sensation was not unpleasant. In fact, the warmth of it was delectable. Between it and the soft, slow press of fingers through his hair, Nikola was certain he was in some kind of heaven.

Part of his mind was slowly starting to suggest that getting up or even opening an eye would be advisable but Nikola did his very best to ignore that voice, pressing his face deeper into the pillow of fabrics and inhaling deeply once more. The more logical thought processes he prided himself on were starting to come back to the forefront of his mind no matter how hard he tried to suppress them. He could only content himself with sensation so long, it seemed. Now the overwhelming need to open his eyes and take in whatever heavenly body was touching him with such reverence was sneaking up on him until, finally, he succumbed to his trademark curiosity.

However, the sight that greeted him provided no more explanation as to his predicament.

The fabric beneath his head that, after his continual attempt to bury himself in it, now obscured his vision, was a dark red, like a particularly good glass of wine. Small streaks of light were making their way to the very edges of his vision and, again cursing his curiosity, Nikola turned his head to better understand where he was.

The ceiling was familiar, as were the candles mounted on the walls. With his nose now free, he could pick up an entirely new range of scents, the most pervasive of which, was blood. It was tangy and salty and somehow beautiful. It filled his nose, settling on the back of his tongue, thick and overwhelming and... and... and delicious.

At that, he sprung upwards, scrambling away from the warm, delightful fluff of fabrics he'd been resting against, eyes wide as his gaze darted around the room.

"Nikola?"

He barely heard his name, his heart pounding in his ears and breath coming in loud, gasping pants that had his entire body shifting. He could feel his own disgust with himself warring against the sensations that had his mouth watering at the faintest scent of blood. He tried breathing through his mouth alone, desperate to rid himself of the want pounding though his veins.

"Nikola?" someone said again. He snapped around, focusing on the sound of the noise. It was louder than he anticipated, the voice booming through the room. Which was odd because it was Helen speaking and though her tone almost always commanded attention, he'd never before described her voice as 'booming'.

But it was.

"Niko?" she said, scooting forwards. He frowned, wondering exactly why she was on the floor. More importantly, why was he on the floor? "Niko, what's the matter?"

He looked up to her again, astounded by the clarity with which he could see her. Each curl stood out, glistening in the half light while the little fly away hairs around her temples flitted about in a most distracting way. Her eyes which, to him, had always seemed so beautifully deep with flecks of colour, now seemed even more astounding, now full of colours he'd never seen before, let alone had a name for. He could have very well drowned in the look she was giving him.

Nikola watched as she blinked, the long eyelashes he'd noted all those months ago casting beautiful shadows against the cream of her cheeks. The way her cheeks twitched as she watched him, the way her lips shuddering with each intake of breath, made strange things within him flutter to life. Things that, as he noted the flush of soft pink beneath the flimsy, paper thin covering of her skin, grew to a dull roar at the base of his skull.

"He-len," he croaked.

She breathed a soft sight of relief, the corners of her moist, pink lips turning up slightly in a smile. He could hear a soft thud of something raise in pitch slightly before evening off. His breathing increased as the steady thud began to resonate within his body, making his teeth ache slightly.

"You all right, mate?" another voice said from somewhere off to Nikola's right. His gaze flicked up, taking in Nigel's form slouching against the furthest wall before he looked back to Helen.

"You gave me a fright," Helen said. It almost sounded as if she was trying to speak softly but still, her voice was too loud, making Nikola's ears tingle and a strangely sweet taste appearing down the right hand side of his tongue.

She was still talking, her pale brows furrowing slightly until a crease appeared between them, but Nikola found himself unable to focus on the words, no matter how loudly she was speaking.

He was leaning towards her, his heart shuddering while something hot and burning started to snake up his spine. The sweet taste disappeared, turning dark and seductive instead as he swayed up onto his knees. He could feel himself reaching for Helen, her warmth and beauty drawing him like a moth to a flame even though she was frowning at him.

And then he was falling into her, his senses addled and confused and lost to him for a few long moments. It wasn't until his temple impacted her shoulder and a pair of small hands landed upon his arms that he remembered to breathe, or even that he could. Helen was saying his name repeatedly, her tone laced with fear and, as she cupped his cheek, his own fear started to mirror hers.

It was strange in that, although he could feel her cupping his cheek, in the same breath, he couldn't.

"Helen," he rasped, wrapping his hand around her wrist to hold her to him. "Helen," he said again, growing more desperate. There was something wrong, he was certain of it but not only was he struggling to identify just what was the problem, but he was also struggling to find the words to express as such to Helen.

Part of him was certain that she'd be able to provide at least some kind of explanation to whatever had suddenly overcome him, in fact, he was desperate for that to be the case.

"Helen," he said again, his voice clearer. The sensation of her hand upon his cheek was steadily becoming more solid, as was the feel of the skin of her wrist beneath his fingertips. The world was ever so slightly starting to right itself and his inability to look away from her eyelashes diminishing, leaving him instead with an extreme sense of fatigue.

"Whatever is the matter, Niko?" Helen asked softly, her voice no longer ringing in his ears.

"I... I am uncertain," Nikola breathed in reply. He looked her straight in the eye, desperate to see some understanding, if not consolation in her gaze but, instead he was greeted with yet more uncertainty and confusion.

"Help me get him into a bed," Helen said, turning to Nigel though she did not remove her hand from his face.

"No," Nikola said, his voice a little stronger. "No. I... It is passing."

"Nikola, something is very wrong with you," she said gravely. "You've been unconscious for nearly an hour and... your eyes. Something... happened."

"All I require is a moment," he insisted, taking a deep breath. The room was perfectly still, however Nikola could still detect the same, if not subtler scent from before that left a peculiar, not entirely unpleasant taste in the back of his mouth.

Helen was still watching him warily, her mouth puckered in something of a frown.

"I... I felt peculiar," Nikola said, using the most English turn of phrase he could summon. "But I am fine now, Helen. I give you my word."

She seemed to relax a little at his words, apparently unaware that he was lying rather poorly. Nikola knew full well that he was not any better than he had been moments ago. Yes his vision had cleared and he could focus on Helen more easily, but he knew, deep down, there was something astoundingly wrong with him.

As if to disprove the niggling fear brewing within his belly, Nikola pushed himself up off of the ground, smiling down at Helen even as his vision swam before holding a hand out to her. She took in somewhat reluctantly, allowing him to pull her to her feet. And then, on a whim, Nikola used her lack of balance to pull Helen into his arms. She squeaked as she fell into him and, for a brief moment, Nikola wondered if he could stay upright but, before Helen did so much as blink, his arms were around her, confidence restored.

"See?" he drawled, enjoying the way she fitted in his arms. "I told you I was all better."

Helen seemed to freeze for a brief moment, her eyes going wide in a way that made something within Nikola jump about frantically until she pushed away, rolling her eyes.

"Much better," she replied with a shake of her head designed to cover a smile. "However," she continued, "do not think you shall get out of any number of tests and examinations when we have less pressing issues."

Nikola groaned, hanging his head as he tried to pretend that his heart was not beating far faster than it had any right to in fear of her threat.

"Don't look so hurt, Tesla. We're all likely to be up for all manner of poking and prodding from our soon-to-be-doctor," a voice said, startling Nikola. He turned, taking an involuntary step back as he took in James' slightly humoured smile from where he sat in one of the two infirmary beds. Beside him in much the same state was John, though his expression was far less welcoming.

"I'm afraid he's right," Helen said, smiling rather broadly. "Now Nikola, unless you would like me to tie you to a bed, I suggest you sit over there and rest. Perhaps have a drink, too. I shan't be pleased if you faint again and give me another patient to deal with."

Blinking dumbly at the two now apparently perfectly healthy men sitting up in bed, Nikola made his way to the rough wooden chair by the door. He sat, rather glad to give his legs something of a rest, and watched as Helen flitted about the room, clearly in her element. Just watching the way she moved, the play of muscle beneath the back of her dress mesmerising to Nikola. There was something fascinatingly strong about her, in body and mind. It was so unusual to see in a woman, let alone a delicate woman of supposedly delicate sensibilities. Nothing about Helen was truly delicate, or at least not in the traditional sense. Often, Nikola felt she was like a sharp, polished diamond encased in the finest, most delicate silk; a living, breathing contradiction.

He wanted to go to her, to run his hands across every span of her body and take in everything that made up her, made up his Helen.

And then he started. Where on earth had that come from?

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Nikola blew out a deep breath to steady himself somewhat. He had no claim to Helen, let alone any true reason to be running his hands over her body. Not that he'd ever be running his hands over anyone's body; too many germs.

He shook his head slightly, bowing his shoulders and closing his eyes. The sound of the rain hitting the roof soothed him slightly, allowing him to, at the very least, ignore any of his more troubling thoughts. The steady thrum had always calmed him, even as a boy. His mother had thought him perfectly odd for the way he enjoyed thunderstorms though she'd always maintained that his birth during the fiercest storm she'd ever born witness to had everything to do with it. Regardless, each push of rain against the roof pulsed through his veins, slowing his heartrate and with it, his anxiety.

He didn't even realise he'd let out a contented little sigh until he heard James, Nigel and John chuckling. He looked up, frowning slightly at Helen's amused little smirk.

"Feeling better then?" James asked.

Nikola scowled at him.

"It is the rain," he grumbled.

"Rain?" Helen echoed.

"Yes, rain." He turned his scowl to Helen, unwilling to discuss his sentimental attachment to the current weather.

There was an uncomfortable beat of silence before Nigel cleared his throat.

"There's no rain, mate," he said cautiously.

"Even if there was, we couldn't hear it all the way down here," Helen said. "There are two thick floors between us and any glass or roofing."

"It's raining," Nikola said, shaking his head. "And-" he paused, looking about the room, "there! Did you not hear that? Thunder."

They all fell silent and the sound of the rain grew in his ears, the static-y silence of lightening followed by deep rumbles of thunder.

"Nikola," Helen began slowly. "I think you're hearing things, if you'd let me run a test-"

"No," James cut in suddenly, looking at Nikola with some strange kind of fascination. "No, go check, Helen. I don't think Nikola is hearing anything. Or at least, not anything that isn't there."

"What are you on about, Watson?" Nigel asked.

"I... I can't hear anything," John said softly, frowning as he concentrated until, with a crackle and pop and a dash of red smoke, he disappeared.

Helen shrieked.

James jumped.

Nigel swore.

Nikola's eyes widened until he thought they may just pop out of his head.

Helen was the first to move, throwing herself at John's empty bed, hands swiping desperately at the sheets as if she could summon him back with a wave of her fingers.

Nigel swore again, falling back against the door while James continued to regard the bed in a quiet state of shock. Nikola felt his limbs begin to tremble as he worked to stay calm though every desperate thought he had was of alarm.

And then he heard it.

The voice was unmistakeably John, his frenzied cries for help starting Nikola into a state of further panic. He jumped to his feet, not certain of where he was going or what he would do but knowing he ought to be prepared to do something.

"Nikola?" Helen asked, her voice breathless and strained.

"I..." he tried, shifting his weight forwards.

James regarded him queerly, watching as Nikola fought to contain a sudden trembling of his limbs. He needed to go, to move, to do something. John's cries were getting more and more panicked and the weather getting more and more inhospitable and Nikola couldn't figure out why the others weren't going to his aid.

And then James' eyes opened wider than they ought to.

"Where is he, Nikola?" he asked hurriedly, tossing back his sheets. His feet reached the cold stone floor just as Helen realised what he was attempting to do.

"James, get back in bed," she tried.

"Where, Nikola?" James pressed, ignoring her as he stumbled towards the other man.

"Ou-outside," he huffed. "I... I think. I ca-can hear... It's John."

"John?" Nigel echoed, taking a step forward.

"We have t-to he-help him," Nikola tried, his voice wavering under the scrutiny of the others. They were getting too close to him now, their body heat nearly unbearable. He went to move back from them but not only did they follow him far too closely, but the stone wall behind him gave Nikola no means of escape.

"Show me," James almost growled, eyes growing dark. He stumbled and reached for Nikola, his fingers just barely managing to take a hold of the fabric of Nikola's shirt sleeve. Nikola jerked away from the too warm touch, gasping in a stuttering breath of air tainted with a scent heady and intoxicating.

"C'mon, Tesla," Nigel put in, grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him towards the door. "Show us."

The door gave way beneath his hand, the cool, clean air of the corridor settling his nerves a little though the two men pushing at his back did not help things. He could hear Helen from her place on the bed crying in alarm after them, begging them to return to bed so she could check on them but, with Nigel and James' new found belief in Nikola resulting in several unfriendly pokes in the back, Nikola had no choice but to race up the stairs. He listened closely to John's voice, following the sound of his fear blindly. The footsteps of the others soon fell away behind him but Nikola couldn't stop.

His heart beat was loud in his ears yet not as fierce as he would have thought and, though he'd always made sure to keep fit enough, the speed with which Nikola was moving through the halls of the Magnus' Oxford home was one he had never before sustained for such a period of time. Not that Nikola was much of a runner but since he'd known Helen, he'd found he had more and more reason to be running.

Regardless, Nikola knew he was moving in the right direction. John's calls for help were growing louder and louder, much like the crack of thunder than threatened to drown out John's voice.

Nikola pushed on, more and more determined to find John for some kind of perverse reason he couldn't identify.

He threw open the door that led from the sitting room at the rear of the house to the gardens, sucking in a deep breath as he did so. His eyes scanned the dark expanse of carefully manicured lawns, a sudden bolt of lightening giving him just enough light to make out John's tall figure a little way off.

In a heart beat, Nikola was after him, running at full speed, every muscle on high alert as he continued to scan the grounds for any signs of John. Another well timed bolt of lightening helped him to ascertain exactly where his prey was but, suddenly, time slowed down.

He could see John not ten foot from where he was, clear as day. And he could see the path of the lightening about the strike the ground. There was a faint blue static surrounding the other man, trailing high up into the sky like a beacon to the Gods of Thunder. The sight was almost beautiful and Nikola wondered why he'd never noticed it before. He'd watched so very many thunderstorms yet his eyes had never managed to see the electricity as it crackled in the air, drawing down the electricity from the clouds to earth.

Suddenly, Nikola wanted nothing more than learn to harness such beauty.

And then he remembered John. John. The beacon for the electricity, drawing down the raw power of nature. Into his body.

Nikola threw himself across the distance between them, somehow certain that he'd reach the other man in time though just why he thought using his body as a shield was a good idea, was beyond him. But none the less, as he made contact with John, forcing the other man to the ground, he made certain the arch his back to capture the impact as best he could.

It burned, he noted with a strange sense of detachment. The electricity searing through his body burned like nothing he had ever felt. It carried an intensity he had not been prepared for but he welcomed it, welcomed the strange sensation that floated through his limbs, awakening each sinew, each muscle, each bone of his body until he felt full to bursting.

There was something else though, something dark and sinister and controlling that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up without the help of the electricity coursing through his body. He pushed at it, forcing it as far from him as he could manage but it fought back. It snarled at him, snaking past his guard until, with a growl, Nikola threw himself backwards and away from both the creature and John. Electricity still seemed to crackle in the air, finer than the fat drops of rain that had soaked them both.

The lightening was long gone and John, it seemed was fine, lying on his back and panting heavily not three foot from Nikola but he knew that they were not... safe. With a grunt, he reached for John, pulling the other man to his feet before turning them back towards the house. He could just make out three figures silhouetted against the house and he gave no thought to John and the speed with which he would have been capable to move at, instead dragging the other man with every bit of strength he possessed back to the warmth of the house.

It was a short trip, really, but for Nikola it seemed to take an eternity, weighed down by John as he was. The other man muttered in an accent that didn't belong to the cultured, soon-to-be lawyer the entire way back to the house, not ceasing until Nigel and James came running to their aid, reliving Nikola of John's weight and allowing him to walk at a far more reasonable pace. He beat them both back to the house, allowing Helen to ignore him as she too ran into the rain to help their other friend.

Nikola merely strode into the sitting room, coming to a sharp stop before the roaring fireplace. He was almost vibrating with energy he could not explain and, even as the others entered, bringing with them a series of worried murmurings, Nikola could not bring himself to focus on them. He had to... He needed to... There was something...

"Nikola," Helen said softly from where she knelt beside John's limp form along one of the sofas.

Nikola did not reply, merely glancing over his shoulder.

"Niko, are you all right?" she asked, making no move to go to his side. A sudden prickle of animosity rushed up Nikola's spine and he turned away from the others. He could hear John's incoherent mumblings and James' orders to Nigel for medications but his ears were trained to the rustle of skirts as Helen eased herself up.

He waited for her to reach his side before he turned to her, regarding her with a far less sentimental eye than he ever had before. Something about Nikola felt... different. He could see all the beauty of Helen, all the allure that had pulled at his heart and he could even summon up those feelings of absolute devotion she had always inspired in him, but suddenly he could see so much more. He could step back.

His breathing was still laboured though somehow, not from the exercise.

Helen's eyes were wide as she looked him over and she raised a hand to his cup his face gently. She opened her mouth but, before she could speak, a fearsome growl echoed through the room and they both turned just in time to see John launching himself from the couch and in their direction.

Nikola did not think, he had no need to. Instead he turned to Helen and shoved her away with all his strength. She screamed in fear but Nikola managed somehow to tune it out, instead focusing on the huge man moving towards him, rage in his eyes.

"She's mine, Boss!" John screamed, his voice distorted with that same accent Nikola had noted before. His hand wrapped around Nikola's throat but Nikola slashed out at him, his nails somehow tearing through the sodden cloth of John's shirt and raising angry red welts across his skin. John roared, his grip faltering as he stumbled back and Nikola moved to run to Helen's assistance, his heart skipping a beat as he took in her crumpled frame lying at the foot of a large bookshelf.

He knew it was a mistake the moment he stepped towards her and the way her eyes widened as a shadow loomed behind him told him that his instincts had faltered. He took another step, stumbling to his knees, meaning that the fire poker that John had aimed at the base of his spine, instead pierced his upper back.

Nikola looked to Helen, his lips falling open in a silent cry of pain as he reached for her. He heard her scream and the sounds of a struggle as Nigel and James pounced on John but nothing registered for Nikola as the poker re-emerged from his chest.

Right where his heart ought to have been.

He glanced down at the bloodied metal that stuck out from his chest, watching as small rivulets of blood trickled down the front of his white shirt, mixing with the rain water that was still dripping from his body. He did not even attempt to take a last breath, instead looking up to Helen once more, letting her beautiful blue eyes be the very last thing he saw before the velvety darkness swallowed him whole.


Sorry for the delay! And for the bad proofreading. Life has been hectic. But here you go, lots of gruesome, Victorian, Five-y times! Dead Nikola is fun, dontcha think? :P

xx