"My deepest apologies for my manners, Helen." Nikola's smile was friendly and engaging as he returned to her, and he had his best accent on as he gave her a proper deep courtly bow this time. "My name is Nikola Tesla. I am rather an old friend of yours, we have known each other for many many years."

"I'm sorry, I wish I could remember.." Helen apologized but Nikola shushed her gently.

"No, do not concern yourself, my dear." Nikola tutted gently. "It is no fault of your own. You are unwell, that is all. Until you are restored to health, we will look after you."

He offered a hand to her and she hesitated in accepting it. She only looked at it for a moment but it was enough for him to notice and retreat a step. Did he understand that contact with a strange man didn't feel like a habit to her? Did she even understand it? But then he didn't feel strange, precisely. Lord, it was so frustrating not to know anything.

"Now." He spoke again as if the awkward moment hadn't happened. "I have heard the sustenance to be found in the infirmary is abysmal. Perhaps we could find you a cup of tea?"

This Nikola Tesla was being very considerate. Clearly he was very concerned for his friend, for her. Helen forcibly reminded herself that she wasn't the only one who was going to have a hard time with this situation. These people were not the strangers they seemed to be, they were people she worked closely with every day, people she cared about. She couldn't push them away; she had chosen to surround herself with these particular individuals and she must have had good reasons for doing so. She may not know much but she had a sort of blind faith in her own judgement.

She extended her own hand for the one he had previously offered. His manners offered it immediately and his smile seemed more easy when she allowed him to help her to her feet. And it all seemed entirely natural to slip her hand into his arm and let him guide her into the hall.

"There isn't a tea brewed on this Earth that is strong enough to help make sense of things." She mused, trying not to feel overwhelmed.

Nikola's heart beat hard for a moment. Yes, this was his Helen, there and not there at the same time. Little memory of her past yet still the yen to take a glass of wine after a trying day.

"I have an excellent vintage i found only today. Allow me to offer you some proper libations." Nikola had had amazing foresight in adding the wine cellar to his search this morning. A glass would help ease the tension, for both of them.

He'd abandoned the wine in his rush to the infirmary but it was convenient to retrieve on their way to the library. That would be the best place to sit and talk at ease. Helen's old friend kept the fire going and the tea service fresh in there and the surroundings were comfortably neutral.

Not neutral enough, it seemed. Helen's steps faltered as she entered and her head craned around to take in the walls lined with books. She crossed to one shelf, drawn by the neat row of titles, drawing a finger along the leather bindings. Most were in excellent care regardless of obvious age. The leather of one was worn and cracked though clearly well oiled and dusted. Her hand rested on it. Perhaps it was particularly well loved and often read. How many of these had she read, she wondered. No more than the smallest fraction of all the knowledge in this room, surely. But it was all gone now. Every story or fact she had read. Helen felt empty and useless and suddenly very very small. She slid the battered book from the shelf and gripped it tightly against her chest. Like a shield between her and this strange world.

Nikola was standing back, allowing Helen to look over her favorite room of the Sanctuary. Helen had always loved to learn and that made books precious to her. She had thirsted for knowledge her entire life, encouraged by her father who paid no mind to societal conventions for a girl child. It was no wonder she had grown into a rampant bluestockings with an active, agile mind and no timidity about asking questions or pointing out mistakes. She had been an outcast among her male peers at Oxford and books had supplemented her meager complement of companions. Nikola had always considered himself lucky to be one of the few in her inner circle.

He saw the moment the books ceased to bring her joy and stepped up to gently take her elbow. She allowed him to steer her to the fireplace where she sank down on the loveseat. Nikola retrieved two glasses and busied himself with uncorking the wine. He gently pried the book she was still holding from her hands so he could pass her a glass. Nikola would have tossed the book aside but the title caught his eye and he had to smile as he took a seat in the armchair across from her.

His amusement pulled Helen from her introspection. She gave him a questioning look.

"This rather unimpressive tome you picked happens to be a gift from myself." Nikola said, nodding at her surprise. "Indeed. It was at Oxford. You'd tutored me through a particularly brutal exam in Classic Greek Literature. Being a penniless student far from home, i had no way to show my thanks by taking you to dinner or the theater. I happened to find Kalamos, in the original Greek, at the bottom of a pile in a dusty little used-bookseller's hovel. It seemed meant to be."

He smiled at her, then turned his attention to the wine in his glass, twisting the stem so the liquid swirled and caught the light. He could feel Helen's eyes on him, examining him, weighing him, trying to figure him out. She had said things could feel familiar. Did the story feel familiar? Was that why she had chosen that particular book from all that sat on the shelves around them? Did some unconscious part of her remember that young Nikola's pipe had gone without tobacco for a month for the expense of that book, however small it had been? How John had made snide comments about the low value of the gift, how John had shortly thereafter begun to gift her with books himself. Rare books, expensive books, given not in true appreciation for Helen and her mind or for the words on the paper themselves, but because that was the most expedient way to win her heart. They could have easily have been flowers or sweets for all the thought John put into his purchases. So long as they got him what he wanted.

Nikola took a slow sip before meeting Helen's eyes again. He waved an arm in a gesture encompassing the library.

"There are a number of other gifts from me here. There are a lot of birthdays and holidays in our past. Also whatever I found that i thought you might appreciate. To this day, you assume any books mysteriously mailed to you without return address come from me, even if i haven't left Old City in weeks."

She smiled at that but her face soon grew serious. She sat forward to put her wine glass down on the table between them and folded her hands in her lap. Her spine was straight and posture impeccable as she took a bracing breath. Where Helen strove for composure, Nikola saw bravery.

"I have rather a lot to catch up on, don't I?" Helen asked.

He nodded. "150 years, give or take."

Helen exhaled slowly. 150 years. Will had mentioned her longevity only briefly. The woman in the mirror looked like she couldn't be above 40, but her brain didn't rebel at the idea. Frankly that fact, that part of her seemed to just... accept this, was more bizarre than the idea of seeing so many decades.

"How is that possible?" she wondered.

"Well," Nikola cleared his throat and set his own glass down. "I will explain all, my dear. Its a rather long story and, I'm afraid, not always a pleasant one. But I will tell you the truth as I know it, and try to clarify anything you have questions on."

So Nikola told her of their past. Of the Five and the Source Blood and their personal experimentation with it. The effects it had on Helen in particular. It must sound like a fairy story to her. Or perhaps science fiction. Like something Mary Shelley might have written. But she didn't contradict him on the physically impossible. Something in the truth spoke to her.

He told her of the Sanctuary and the work Helen has done. Nikola was able to speak long on Helen's dedication to peace and justice and acceptance for Abnormals. He'd had to endure no small number of passionate speeches on the subject; he could quote her favorite sentiments effortlessly from memory. It made Helen glow with a humble pride to be told what noble work she was doing. What noble work with good people, it seemed, when Nikola told her more about Will, Henry, and Kate, about the Big Guy who didn't seem to have a proper name, even some of the residents of the Sanctuary.

Nikola had given her a quick sketch of the Five but had avoided too many personal details. Now he paused, hunting for anecdotes to share that wouldn't provoke questions about the Five and what had sundered them as a group, what the fallout had been. Helen was clever and would hear what he didn't say as clearly as what he did. And he didn't relish having to explain John's betrayal or James' death to her. At all, but especially so soon. He fell silent, picking up his wine glass again. It was a dreadful balance, telling her what she needed to know without overwhelming her.

"What aren't you telling me?" Helen drilled him with that interrogative look she had so finely honed and apparently not forgotten. As if she had read his thoughts. She always did know when he was hiding something.

"My dear, you've been alive a long time." Nikola pointed out. "There is a lot of your life to catch you up on."

"There's something big, important. Something you should have told me before now. I can feel it, it feels…" she trailed off for a moment, unable to put words to it. It was so frustrating for everything to feel so achingly familiar yet strike absolutely no chords in her mind. "It feels like something is missing."

Nikola sucked in a breath, stunned, when he realized what she was searching for. It wasn't Johnny at all. He set his glass down beside hers once more. He was surprised to even think it, but this was no time for wine.

Had none of her little sycophants thought to tell her? Surely William, with all his self-proclaimed prowess with the human mind had realized this would come up. He ought to know how to handle it. Perhaps he thought it was too soon? Maybe he was trying to ease Magnus into her life and had planned to tell her in time.

But Will hadn't told her, and she was asking now. And Nikola couldn't bring himself to lie to the woman when she was not equipped to detect his duplicity. That was something he loved about Helen: her impeccable radar for his fibs. Of course it infuriated him every time she caught him out in one of his schemes, but she was always so damned impressive about it he could never hold it against her. But this empty shell with her face was wholly ignorant. And there was no fun in pulling a trick on a truly helpless soul, like a bully.

So he braced himself to tell her the truth. Best it come from him, really. None of her little proteges could weather the storm if she turned on the bearer of bad news. No lasting harm in her shooting a messenger who had been shot by her before. Nikola sat forward, elbows propped on his knees and his fingers steepled. Helen regarded him steadily, waiting for him to speak, waiting for the truth. The truth he knew would hurt her. The truth he knew she would never want to forget.

"You had a daughter." His voice was low in the firelit room, deep but gentle.

Nikola could practically see the thoughts whirling around in her head as she tried to process this information. She opened her mouth once or twice to speak but couldn't seem to decide what to say.

"Ashley." Nikola added.

Helen's eyes went wide. The name felt… important. Right, but also wrong somehow. She couldn't put her finger on it, or anything else about her life right now. Her eyes begged him to tell her more.

"Ashley worked here with you in the Sanctuary," he continued "helping you rescue vulnerable Abnormals or secure the dangerous ones. She was really a very gifted tracker. And very physical, very athletic. As brilliant in a fight as you are in a lab. She excelled at numerous martial arts and was a top marksman with every last weapon in your armory. "

Helen may not be able to consciously remember anything helpful but she hadn't lost her subconscious skills. She could still read between the lines, between his use of the past tense and his stiff body language. There was reason he chose that, of all things, to say to introduce her daughter.

"And none of that could save her." Helen didn't need to ask but she looked at Nikola for confirmation anyway. "She died because of... our work."

Nikola nodded and dropped his head, glowering at the rug beneath his feet as he listened to her take a few shaky breaths. When he marshaled his courage again and replaced his unhappy scowl with something appropriately sympathetic, he looked up to see her eyes shining in the light. Helen's beauty had shaken him from the first moment he had laid eyes on her. A response that had never dulled. Sometimes he would think he had grown accustomed to her face and, while it was very pleasing to behold, it wouldn't prompt an emotional reaction in him anymore.

But then the wind would toss her hair just so, or her voice would ring with passion for her cause, or the light would glint on her tears and suddenly he felt like a bumbling mortal youth again.

But she was still the mighty Helen Magnus. Those tears that glowed in her eyes didn't fall. Her elegant hands fisted tightly on her lap as her deep breaths became stronger. Helen blinked away the moisture and squared her shoulders, allowing herself a single undignified sniffle and a sigh. She started into the fire, gathering her composure.

Finally she turned to him, braced to hear more. Gods, Nikola thought, she looked like she was facing a firing squad. Eminently brave, but knowing no good could come of the next few minutes. And he just couldn't bear to kick her while she was down.

"Grief is a heavy burden to bear, my dear. You needn't learn all the ugly details tonight. They will only haunt your sleep. Leave them aside for now, until you are ready; i promise your daughter's memory will not suffer for it." He reached over and gently squeezed her hand, letting his fingers slip away when he sat back again. "Ashley would want you to heal before you reopen old wounds."

Helen hesitated a moment before nodding once. Her frame appeared tiny lost in the shadows cast by the fire that needed feeding after their long hours of talk. Now she seemed to shrink further as the tension left her and her shoulders sagged a bit. She had been holding herself taut since she awoke days ago, braced for the constant onslaught of new information and wary of threats she wouldn't know if they walked right up to her. Nikola had been very gentle with her, almost tender. She didn't need her memories to see the care he handled her both knew there was no gentle way to relate the horrors of her past.

Nikola leaned forward and picked up her discarded wineglass. He wasn't sure if she had managed a single sip before she'd set the glass down to wring her hands. It would help calm her now. He stood and offered it to her, keeping his palm extended for her free hand to help her from the divan.

"Come. I'll show you to your bedchamber so you can rest. There's no need for you to stay in the infirmary any longer, you'll be more comfortable in your own room. If you'd like a little light reading to help ease you into slumber, I can even tell you where you hide your diary. It should help remind you who you are." Nikola released her hand, nodding at her to take a sip from her glass before he led the way into the hall.

"You read my diary?" She asked as she followed him, shocked and offended but also unsure; she really didn't know the circumstances behind anything in their… friendship. Helen sipped the wine while she tried to decide how she felt about the idea with no context to put the invasion of privacy into.

"Much to my curiosity's torment, no; you are rather too clever for me. The system that protects your hiding spot can detect a vampire's presence and the rest of the Scooby gang has refused to assist me in retrieving it. I haven't found a way around it… yet. You'll be able to access it only after I retire from the room." He said it with a distinct lack of chagrin. He was not in the least embarrassed to admit he had tried his best to access her private journal.

She was silent a moment as she followed behind him through the halls.

"And do you spend much time snooping about my room in general?" She asked. Over 100 years later no doubt privacy norms had changed. Perhaps best friends expected to share all secrets. Perhaps Nikola and herself were just that close. That didn't seem likely but she couldn't say why her intuition told her so.

"Well, not so much as I would like, I must admit." He tossed a mischievous smirk over his shoulder. She could tell he was being cheeky and applauded her instincts. "Enough time to find the diary but quite clearly not enough time to 'get the goods', as they say."

Helen had the good sense not to give him any room for innuendo concerning exactly which "goods" he truly hoped to attain in her bedchamber.