Hey y'all :D. I know, it's been a while... But I'm trying to buy your forgiveness with a very long chapter and answer's to Declan's quest (long time coming, I know). PLUS... *alert, alert* : THIS IS A TESLAPISODE, YAAAAY ! I'm happy, you're happy, we're happy, all good. Thanks for aaall your lovely comments and messages and support and friendship (I know, I say that every time, but seriously, you're getting more awesome with every chapter, so I might never stop writing this story).

Enjoy!

The sun had set a couple of hours before, and Helen was done with paperwork for the day, which was good news, as the clock showed it wouldn't be long before a new day was due. To her utmost surprise, she had had time to take a nice break so as to cook some kind of curry – they constantly had to adapt their recipes according to the food they could find in Hollow Earth – which she had shared with Erika. She hadn't been quite that efficient in weeks, not to say months. Whether this beautiful efficiency was due to the baby or to the renewal of her team's affection, she didn't know, but she could almost believe everything would come along quite nicely in the end. Almost.

Anyway, her day of work was drawing to an end. She had spent the last two hours devising with the head of the Cairo sanctuary through video conference, and she was looking forward to ending their conversation. Not because she didn't like her colleague, but her back was hurting from the sitting position, and the comfy sofa seemed to call to her from the other side of her office.

"Pili, I'm not sure you should mention that I helped you with the details of this draft. Not if you want it to pass, anyway."

On Helen's computer screen, the young woman smiled, looking positively amused.
"Helen, you're wrong if you think that any of us has any animosity towards you, or your work." She ensured comfortingly.
Helen chuckled lightly.

"Are you saying I'm paranoid?"

"Not that I can blame you for it, but we all agree to say you're the only one able to run this organization. On the surface, no one wanted your position as no one wanted to deal with the UNO and governments. Here in Hollow Earth, you are the only one with diplomatic relationships with the Praxians. And I'm not even talking about all the new technologies you invested in. You have no opponent, and we all admire what you are doing for us."

Helen offered Pili a tired and knowing smile.
She knew that no one would have wanted to depose her, not in a million years. It was she herself that was fed up with this position. That was saying something. She was a doctor in cryptozoology and terratology, not a bureaucrat, for God's sake! She had not seen one of her residents in days!

She was about to thank Pili for her honesty when the door opened, revealing a pale Nikola, holding – as per usual – a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

"Something just came up, I have to go. Thank you Pili. I'll see you at the assembly."

With that she ended the conference and leaned back in her armchair, trying to hide the sudden tension that had invaded her body when she had caught a glimpse of Tesla.
"Nikola!"
She couldn't have hidden her surprise had she tried to. She had not expected him to be back from his little trip around the transport network so soon. But more than that, it had been a very long time since they had last shared a bottle and their sorrows in her office, for no reason other than the pleasure they took in each other's company.

"You're back!" She added, choosing not to mention the prime source of her surprise.
Nikola grinned, weighed the bottle and put the glasses down on Helen's desk.
"I even bathed and had dinner." He said, with childish pride.

Helen couldn't help but smile at that: she noticed he seemed ill-at-ease, and her heart melted. He was trying to fix what laid broken between them, even though he had no clue as to how to do that.
"You'd deserve a cookie... But someone wolfed down the whole box this morning." She teased.

The sparkle of playfulness in her eyes eased him instantly back into their old banter. He grimaced, vaguely rubbing his stomach with his free hand.
"Ugh. Please. 'thou shall resist any temptation taking you away from the path that leads to wine'. I'm pretty sure that's in the Holy Bible." He said, crashing down on the armchair facing Helen's desk.
"It does seem wise, indeed." She agreed.
"It was. Until I smelled curry..."
Helen cocked her head to the side, frowning, and he went on.

"Evil unleashed. I finished the pot." He explained with nonchalance. "I craved spicy food all day."

"Oh Nikola..." Helen began, rolling her eyes, exasperated.

"Help me wash it down with Bordeaux?"
She sighed, looking at him through her eyelashes. She was both relieved and disappointed to have to decline his invitation. Relieved because as much as she had rehearsed the moment she would tell him about the fetus, she was still not ready to talk about it, and disappointed because she knew she would be ready to do it, in time, were they to spend more time together and let their defenses down.
"I would love to, but Declan should be here any second." She said with a sorry smile.

Nikola felt his hopes deflate in an instant. He wasn't there in her office only for the sake of socializing with his oldest friend. He needed help. Of a medical kind.

He had always been considered as a kind of hypochondriac, who always contracted the strangest of undiscovered illnesses. In time, he had learned to keep his mouth shut whenever he thought he was going to die of one of those illnesses afflicting him. But this time, he was sure there was something wrong with him. His back was hurting so much that he had put an end to his hike, telling Henry they had seen everything they needed to see. He knew he should not be eating so much either, but he just couldn't control himself. It was just like blood in the first years after his transformation. He craved food. Badly. All of his proper education was forgotten when he saw food, and he also ignored the part of his brain that told him he would get sick if he did ingest so much solid food – a thing he had never been used to anyway.

As a vampire, he was not supposed to be feeling this kind of pain in his lower back either. His body was resistant, and any injury was quickly repaired by his organism. And yet, there he was, sweating all over because he was in pain – a thing he wasn't used to anymore. Not physically anyway.
He was silently begging Helen, the stoical and gorgeous goddess, to understand he needed her help without having to ask for it. But she was blind to his silent pleas. Damn his pride, which prevented him from kneeling at her feet to beg.

Coming to think of it, this was weird too. He was a sensitive man, always dramatic, always on edge, sometimes inclined to exaggeration if you asked around. But those sudden flights of lyricism were reaching new heights. Seeing Helen Magnus had always triggered physical responses in him: his heart frequently skipped beats, an electric current flowed through his body, buzzing, tingling in his toes and fingers, a warm fuzzy feeling settled in his lower belly, he had sudden cravings for her blood, or the touch of her lips and skin... All of which – being a man of intellect and not a beast of instincts – he had brilliantly learned to control, at least most of the time. But there was something about her these days that turned him into a stupid and cheesy poet. Being a romantic was one thing, being ridiculous was unacceptable.
He swallowed hard when he realized he was staring at her, wondering if her hair was as soft as it looked. It looked beautiful, tied up on the side of her head, in that braided bun. The strangest thing was that it looked like there was more curly mass to grab in the throes of passion than usual. That was it, he was going insane.

"It's midnight, Helen. Surely you can both stop working without provoking a major crisis." He argued, trying hard to focus on safe thoughts.
She shook her head, smiling.

"It's not work-related. He wants to talk about James."

She didn't like to lie to him. But it wasn't so far from the truth. She shifted in her seat, trying to find a more comfortable position for her back.

"Are you alright?" Nikola asked, frowning, when he noticed the flash of pain that Helen tried to conceal.
Once again, Helen was surprised to hear Nikola ask about her health. He didn't usually bother asking. He much preferred guessing. She offered him the warmest smile she could muster.

"My back is sore from all the sitting, it's nothing to be worried about."

Nikola didn't think twice. He jumped to his feet and took a few steps, coming around Helen's desk. Yet, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her every muscle tense in anticipation. With her hair up in that new fashion of hers, he had a clear view of her neck, and he could see her pulse point on her carotid. Her heartbeat was erratic. She looked at him, her blueish gaze full of apprehension, and once again, his heart sank. He had ruined the fragile trust he had just established, once again. He sighed.
"Please Helen, let me give you a massage. I'll stop the second you get uncomfortable."

Judging by her demeanor, he could stop right there, as she was already looking like she was trying to disappear inside of her chair. He didn't move, and decided to give her the time she needed to weigh the pros and cons of letting his hands roam over her shoulders and back.

Helen pouted, biting the inside of her lower lip, which gave her a comical – yet cute as hell – profile. She awfully needed Nikola's gifted hands to work their wonders on her tired limbs. But she had no idea what could happen if he touched her. Would the fetus react in any way? Would they be glued together like magnets? Or on the contrary – would he be unable to approach her? Both reactions would require her to break the news, and now was not the right time. Not with Declan on his way to see her. She was so worried that she didn't notice right away that her fountain pen was slowly and silently making its way toward her hand.

She was saved when a knock on the door broke the tension of the moment. She sighed, and flashed a sorry smile in Nikola's direction. She felt like crying. It was so frustrating! For once, he was doing his very best to show he was a reliable friend, and yet, she had to keep him at bay. She had never felt so far from him, whereas she was carrying a part of him.
They stared at each other for a few seconds, Nikola was trying hard to interpret the sadness he could see in her big eyes, Helen trying just as hard to make him understand that, in time, she would open to him.

"Come in!" She called out, not breaking eye-contact with her vampire, who looked vulnerable until Declan walked in, forcing him to straighten his shoulders and assume his usual composed stance. He shrugged, turned away, and went to the door.
"I'll be in my lab if you wanna take me up on my offer." He announced, a smug smile on his face, all for Declan's benefit.

Helen shook her head, smiling to herself, or to feel more at ease – she didn't know herself.
"Nikola?"

The engineer stopped right in front of the door, but didn't turn back to look at her. However, the cat-like movement of his ears was enough to ensure he was listening.
"Thank you." She said truthfully.

Nikola didn't answer. He left the office, leaving Helen to wonder whether he had understood that her 'thank you' did not only cover his offer but his first move towards... Towards what? Reconciliation? Something more? She looked down at her joined hands, and frowned when she saw her fountain pen resting against her fingers. Odd, she usually put it down on her right side, next to her keyboard, meaning...

"Oh bloody Hell." She muttered to herself, hoping Nikola had not noticed this little parlor trick.

"Did I interrupt something?" Declan asked, stepping closer to the desk.

Helen cleared her throat, and rose from her seat, showing Declan to her lounging area.
"I wish you had." She said, inviting the young man to sit down.
Although relieved he had not disturbed any ongoing peace negotiations, Declan didn't comment on Helen's despair. He simply put a bundle of paper on the coffee table, careful not to even unintentionally dog-ear any of the century old pages.

It was quite a large parcel of yellowish bits and pieces of envelopes and letters, mixed with old daguerreotypes from the nineteenth century and more recent pictures. The whole bunch of documents was bound by a red satin ribbon, which Helen recognized with emotion as being one of those James and herself had used to wrap Christmas gifts for decades. A strange bubbly feeling invaded her when she recognized the handwriting on the envelope on the top of the pile as being that of Arthur Conan Doyle, and she could also distinguish some sheets of the letter papers as being that of which she had used for years. She extended her hand, barely brushing the knot holding the letters together with her index finger, and sighed. Her instructions to all the people in the network who had decided to bury their old lives in order to now live underground had been clear: their disappearance had to be fast and discreet. Of all the things Declan could have put in the simple duffel bag he had brought with him when he had faked his own suicide, he had chosen James' archives. If she had had any doubts about his abilities, that would have finally convinced her that he was James Watson's perfect successor.

"Thank you, Declan, it means a lot to me." She said softly.

Her colleague stared at her hand for a few seconds, taking in the tenderness with which she was assessing the materiality of the memories under her fingers. Then he sought her blue gaze, looking for any sign of weakness. He found none, but it didn't mean a thing. He had done his best to conceal the most painful pictures of the lot between folded letters, so that she would not see them first. She would find them though, after a while...
"Am I doing the right thing in giving these back to you now?" He asked, worried she would eventually lose it.

It took a few seconds for Helen to understand what Declan was talking about. But when she did, she offered him a reassuring smile, and nodded solemnly.
"I don't have much time to indulge in memories from the good ol' days. You shan't worry, I'll lock this safely in a drawer and wait for better days." She promised, doing her best to bite back her annoyance at how everyone seemed to mollycoddle her now she was pregnant.

Declan squinted, and it took Helen two seconds to get to the bottom of her stocks of patience.

"Now. You honoured your part of the deal. I believe it is my turn. What has James' diary taught you about the abnormals we found in the USSR?" She asked, getting down to business. She left James' personal papers alone, and crossed her legs, joining her hands on top of her knees.
Declan sighed, trying to gather the pieces of information he had memorized from his readings.
"Watson didn't write much about them. I know that in 1948 you found two highly intelligent humanoid individuals, a male and a female. Watson described them as being strangely similar to humans, as if they were the missing link. Their longevity was unusual for that kind of species, so he thought you might learn a few things about your own longevity. He mentioned they seemed to be a monogamous couple, and that the female seemed sterile. You found another female of the same species in 1976, and Watson went against your wishes by trying to get the male to mate with the younger female, which was a failure as the couple seemed to experience some severe state of depression. The older female finally got pregnant when Watson reunited her with her mate, whereas you both thought it would never be possible. He monitored the pregnancy until December 1976, when the government seized the three abnormals to send them back to the USSR. Watson's account ends there."

Helen had to admit that what James had consigned in his notes did not cover even half of the story, which was not surprising, as she had not told him the whole story either. James had always cared more about her safety than about the transparency between them. This sort of freedom had been a huge thing to expect from a man born during Victoria's time.

"Alright. This is going to be a long night. What do you know about...'humanzees'?" She asked planting her gaze in Declan's.

He frowned.

"Humanzees? I know some scientists have tried to breed human-chimpanzee hybrids, but it didn't work out." He hesitated. " That whole story of Stalin's humanzee army is nothing more than an anti-sovietic urban legend, right? These hybrids would be sterile anyway, so the abnormals you found could not be humanzees."
Helen lowered her gaze, smiling.

"You are absolutely right. And they were neither really human nor chimps. Until 1976, James and I were totally baffled by our discovery." She breathed in deeply, and began her story "In February 1948, I received a call from one of my collaborators in Georgia. Seismic activity in the Caucasus mountains had made an old disused mine collapse, and the abnormal couple you read about were lucky enough to escape out of the tunnels before they could be trapped inside. I organized their safe shipment to London and I flew there to analyze them as soon as they arrived. I was utterly unable to learn anything useful about them. They were remarkably intelligent, to the point that we succeeded in teaching them sign language. They could have spoken English too, but they seemed to react very badly to sounds. But even when they started being fluent in signs, they were still unable to teach us anything. They didn't have any memory other than that of being alone together in the mine. We soon realized we were wasting our time by randomly fishing for answers we knew we would not get without some major technological advances. Then in 1976, an entire village located in a recluse region of Siberia became the target of what a Russian expert, as well as myself, had believed to be a wendigo attack, pushing the villagers to kill each other and consume their flesh." Helen paused when she noticed Declan's agitation.

"A wendigo?" He asked an eyebrow raised, shaking his head slightly, clearly lost. "I thought they only lived in North America! Besides, they only ever use their psychic abilities on humans when they feel threatened and outnumbered." He argued.

Helen nodded.
"They are not frequently found in Siberia, but there were some living there, of whom some considerably older than those we've met in Canada. Wendigos live where they can find prey, which is why their population decreased dramatically over the years in Siberia. There were only a few of them left after the great famine of 1921. Still, the attack bugged me too. It bugged me so much that I decided to go there myself. The village was more of a hamlet, where little more than two families of political dissidents had lived relying on their own crops. There was no doubt that they had been the victims of a wendigo. But the most surprising thing is that my team and I had found that it had been chased down and killed by another abnormal that had not seemed to be influenced by the wendigo's psychic abilities."
Helen would have stopped for theatrical effect, but Declan had already guessed, so she let him voice his deduction.
"The young female..." He muttered, intrigued by his colleague's tale.

"Yes."

"How is that even possible? So far, there's never been a human being able to resist the hallucinations induced by a wendigo."

Helen pursed her lips.

"You actually knew one quite well." She corrected tilting her head with a sorry smile.
Her colleague frowned.

"You mean Watson?"

She nodded.
"Yes. His quick thinking and observational skills were only the most obvious gifts that came with the source blood injection, although we didn't suspect his high resistance to psychic invasions until he had some pentothal-related issues."
Declan raised an eyebrow again, but resisted the temptation to ask what that story was all about. There were things in the Five's lives that one preferred not knowing about. Ever.
"Wait a minute, Magnus, I thought the vial of source blood your father hid in Bhallassam was the only sample of its kind. How could an unknown species of abnormal lost in Siberia show some sanguine vampiris related mutations?" He asked, properly lost this time. There was probably another reason for this oddity, but then again, why would Helen lead the conversation towards the source blood if there was no link between that and the humanoids from Siberia?
"The abnormals we rescued were the results of Ilya Ivanovich's breeding experiments. He and his father had tried to breed humans and chimpanzees in the twenties, as you know. They never succeeded, but then Ilya got his hands on a sample of source blood, which he apparently used to create super-hybrids."
Helen stopped, just long enough to breathe in. It was not an easy story to tell, and obviously, Declan was at a loss.

"His research was certainly funded by the Russian government, which explains why they were so afraid that I had discovered something that they didn't want publically known. So much so that they came banging on my door to force me to hand the abnormals over to them. On Christmas day, a delegation from our English government paid me a visit, and produced proof that Ilya Ivanovich had acquired his sample of source blood from my father during a stay in London. Moreover, his father and himself had acquired chimpanzees from the Pasteur Institute in Paris, with which my father worked on a regular basis, out of brotherly love for Louis, my godfather. I knew Gregory would never have given anything as dangerous as source blood to the Ivanovichs, but I was not able to refute this. A good hundred people could testify to having seen the two of them in my father's house, as they had indeed stayed in London with us for a few weeks in 1918. And the delegation even had a letter from my father sealing the deal. A forgery, of course, but a brilliant one." She explained.
Declan was dumbfounded. No wonder Helen had such a hatred of politics when she had had her issues with almost every government or world organization on the face of the Earth, including their own dear England.
"They blackmailed you with a forged case against the Sanctuary. Bastards."
Helen had a side smile. She had come very close to losing all support from her country and the UNO, and maybe even her place as head of the network. Two lifetimes of protection and studies thrown away for some political blunder from part of a foreign power. Sometimes, in the dead of night, she wondered if she had made the right choice in letting the government inside her house to take the abnormals away. But no matter how much she thought about it, she always came back to the conclusion that she had made the wisest choice. Even though she had not followed her convictions on this one.
"They did. Times were different. Everyone was paranoid, spies were thought to be everywhere... And the network was not spared. The heads of houses were frequently mixing our work and politics. I had no choice." She explained, not sure if she wanted to convince Declan or herself, once more.
Declan cleared his throat.
"What happened to the abnormals?"
Helen shrugged.
"I paid the Russians so that they would take care of them and offer them a decent life. Which they did, according to a highly placed friend of mine. But they did not exactly send me a newsletter every year, and my informant died a few years afterward. I'm afraid I'll never know what became of them."

She lowered her gaze, biting the inside corner of her mouth, lost in thoughts. Three years before, she had given up on her position, and almost on her life so as to save Big Bertha, not thinking even for a second about politics. But then again, Declan would most likely have been elected as leader of the network, and killing Big Bertha would have threatened the planet's entire balance. She snorted. She could be so contradictory, thinking about downloading her daughter's consciousness into the fetus growing inside of her one day, and regretting having sent four hybrids back to their place of origin the next.

Declan had known Helen Magnus for a good decade, and seeing her doubting her own decisions was a first. He shifted closer to her on the couch, and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly.
"You saved thousands of our residents. As usual, you acted wisely. Don't be too hard on yourself, Magnus. You can't always get what you want." He said, as seriously as he could.
She turned to him, puzzled, and offered him a warm, bright smile.
"I can't believe you just quoted the Rolling Stones." She teased.

"Whatever works." He confirmed, laughing softly.