A/N: Things are going to get a teeny bit angsty before they get better. Packing is stressful and brings out the worst in people. Reviews are love!
Exploring the catacombs beneath the Sanctuary was like visiting the storage areas of some of the world's top museums—all the best things are hidden from the public, in sealed wooden crates covered in dust and cobwebs. Everything from the last of the five autotypes to relics from some of the tombs of ancient Egypt were kept hidden in Helen's "basement."
"Helen, all of this has to come with us. It's all priceless history." Nikola protested the way Helen was ruthlessly leaving behind anything that wouldn't contribute to her work with abnormals. The only exceptions to this rule had been gifts from her father or other items of sentimental value, although those were few and far between since, otherwise, they wouldn't have been packed away in the catacombs.
"There's an old rule about packing—if you haven't used it since the last time you moved, you get rid of it." Helen teased. "But really, Nikola, we are starting over. Doing things the way they should have been done the first time. This needs to be a clean break; there is no sense in making this more difficult by bringing the past with us."
"I get what you're saying, but funerary statues from King Tut's tomb!" he protested as he pried open another crate. This one had not been labeled, and Nikola wasn't prepared for what he found inside. He growled viciously, and Helen turned, startled to see him partially vamped out and staring at the contents of the crate like they were about to attack him.
"What in the world?" She asked him. "What's gotten into you?" He took a deep breath, calmed himself, and turned to Helen with a smile.
"So, did you really mean everything you said about clean breaks and fresh starts?" There was just a hint of venom in his voice.
"Yes, of course. Nikola, for God's sake, what is in that box?" He tossed it at her, and she looked inside with dismay.
The bottom of the box was lined with a dress that was once white but had long since yellowed with age. It was a simple, delicate lace. On top of it was a first edition of Persuasion, a long-dried rose, and, finally, a diamond ring. Helen closed her eyes tightly, like a small child who hopes that when she opens them again the monster will be gone.
"So I'm assuming this box stays?" Nikola asked lightly.
"Oh, darling…" she began. "I—I had forgotten this was even down here."
"You're Helen Magnus. You don't forget anything." He spat.
"Really? We're going to have this fight? Yes, I still have the wedding dress I never wore and my old engagement ring. Tell me, Nikola, how much dust was on that box? How long has it been since I came down here to visit it and reminisce about the happy days with my ex-fiance, the world renowned serial killer? Is that really what you think? After all we've been through, you still think I'm stuck on John Druitt? And I thought you were a genius." Before he had a chance to respond, she stormed away.
"Well, that went well." He muttered, getting up to follow.
He looked in all the places Helen usually went when she was angry. She wasn't in the kitchen getting tea, or in her office buried in paperwork, or on the north tower. He finally found her in her (their?) bedroom. Nikola didn't keep many of his things in the room, though he had spent most nights there the last few months. She was sitting on the edge of the bed with her nightstand drawer open, looking at a piece of paper, but glanced up when she heard him come in. Nikola fully expected her eyes to be filled with the wrath of a thousand fiery suns, but instead she looked like she might have been crying. Hesitantly, Nikola sat down next to her on the bed. She didn't protest when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders protectively.
"You did tell me once that I was an insufferable ass," he said, his way of apologizing.
Helen smiled. "Only once?" She countered.
"Ouch." He grinned. "So, what is that?" He gestured to the small piece of paper she had folded up when he had come in.
Helen looked embarrassed, but handed the note over to Nikola. He glanced at it, then looked at her with a mixture of wonder and that insufferable arrogance of his. "Kiss me and I'll save your life," he quipped in the same tone as the first time he had used the line—right after writing her the note that Helen had just handed him. "I can't believe you kept this!" Helen gestured toward the open drawer. It held a sizable stack full of letters from Nikola to Helen, most from the time between when he left for New York and his 'death.' "You…you kept all of them."
"Every one. Any time I start to feel isolated, they bring me back home." He pulled her into his arms, content to just hold her and marvel at the fact that after two lifetimes of chasing, she was actually his. After a few minutes with her head buried in his shoulder, Helen looked up and softly kissed him.
"Soo…" Nikola began, like he was solving a complex puzzle. "You keep all the letters I've ever written you in your nightstand—which, by the way, opens the door to any number of comments about bedside drawers" he raised one eyebrow suggestively, then quickly continued when she shot him a Look "But your keepsakes from old Johnny were nailed away in a crate in the basement. I may perhaps have been a bit of a fool," he finished, reluctant to admit the truth.
"I believe 'insufferable ass' was the term you mentioned earlier?" Helen asked dryly. "And Nikola, I will give you one better than the location of your letters. Something I would think you would have picked up on by now, since it is rather obvious."
"Do tell?"
"Where will you be sleeping tonight?" Helen asked, pointedly.
"Well…I guess that depends on how angry you are," he admitted. Helen Magnus actually giggled at that.
"True. But in theory, if the past trend continues, you will be sleeping with me. Which is something that John Druitt has not been able to claim since Victoria was on the throne."
"I had actually noticed that difference, but I didn't quite draw all the appropriate conclusions."
"Well, since you seem to be so bloody dense, allow me to spell it out for you, darling," Helen said with just a hint of sarcastic sweetness. "I love you. I have for as long as I can remember; it just took me an unreasonable amount of time to act on it, and even longer to admit it out loud. Is that clear enough for you?"
Nikola would have answered, but he was too busy frantically crashing his lips against Helen's. All talking ceased at that point and was replaced with kissing and touching and moaning. All their clothes were flying for the second time that evening. Their struggle for dominance mirrored their earlier argument except that Nikola won this battle, hovering over his love as he kissed her, teased the mark on her neck, then moved further south to her always sensitive breasts. Despite his body's sense of urgency, he took his time in worshipping her body. Eventually she politely suggested that he might speed things up a bit, and he sank into her with a moan that was quickly silenced by more kisses, then breathless moans as they picked up a desperate rhythm. Helen came quickly and took Nikola with her. When they had come back down to earth, they fell back, breathless, onto their bed. She curled up against him to drift off to sleep, and he kissed her lightly before whispering, "I love you, too."