All ratings, categories, etc., apply to the series as a whole, rather than individual parts, and I reserve the right to revise these as the series develops.
DISCLAIMER: All belongs to Damien Kindler and Stage 3 Media and Ms. Tapping and all the usual suspects who aren't me. Just borrowing these beautiful people. Thanks for the favor)
CATEGORIES: Hurt/comfort, angst, adventure, Helen/John, Helen/Will (friendship now, telling you whether there's more would be a spoiler)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a series. Though there is an overall unifying storyarc, each of the chapters will somewhat stand alone as well, though they really should be read in order, and I do believe it's necessary to read the first chapter in order to establish the basic scenario. But this is not, I believe, a dangerous sort of WIP to begin reading, as it doesn't exactly leave you "hanging" in the sense of a more traditional story. And the final chapter is, in fact, largely written and can be applied by me at any time, once enough of the stories have been told)
Jumps from present day to flashbacks will be denoted by "---". Traditional section breaks will use "*****".
Many thanks to Teddy E and Annie for the wonderful betas and for committing to a long term project!
INTERVIEW WITH THE PROTEGE
by
Rowan Darkstar
Copyright (c) 2010
Chapter 4:
The warmth of his rooms is most welcome after the chill autumn wind. Will takes up his favorite place by the fire and allows Orman to be the one to take a log from the hearth and set the flame to life. They have stopped in the kitchenette for mugs of tea, and Will lifts his mug to warm his fingers against the ceramic heat.
"Can I get you anything?" Orman asks, no condescension in his tone, and so Will allows the offer.
"I'm fine," he says simply. He hates being waited upon, doted on. It makes his teeth itch.
The fire is slowly blossoming and he feels proper sensation returning to his fingers and toes.
Orman's notebook has reappeared, now resting on the small tea table beside their chairs. It is time for serious talk and darker tales. The sun is behind the clouds, and the afternoon feels more like evening.
Orman is twirling his pen in his fingers and looking at the scribbles in his steno pad, and for a fleeting moment Will remembers elegant fingers and polished nails twirling a pen round and round and round. He remembers cataloging in his profiler's mind that this was one of the few small tells when Helen Magnus was really upset, holding and drawing on the information for years to come. "You said your mermaid and Dr. Magnus were close," Orman says softly. "It must have been rather brutal for her, discovering what happened to Sally's people."
Will settles deeper into his chair, and takes a moment for a careful sip of the warm liquid in his mug. "When we came home from the trip to the Bermuda Triangle...I was so wrapped up in my own experience, in the idea we almost lost Magnus, that I was almost responsible for the loss of Magnus...In my desperation to get to the surface with both of us alive and well, and then simply the hassle and routine of the ride home...I forgot until right as we were stepping through the Sanctuary doors...forgot that we would have to tell Sally what happened. We would have to tell our friend, who had sent us to her home colony because she was so worried for her family and friends...that they were all gone. That they had died horribly and cruelly."
Orman shakes his head and lowers his mug to the table. "The remains of the massacre, that must have been a horrendous thing for you to witness. Especially for Dr. Magnus, as a personal friend, acquaintance of some of these creatures; even after all the atrocities she has seen..."
"It was. It was horrible. But you would never know it in the moment, not from her. Magnus never skirted anything, never used euphemisms where facts should be spoken. She always appreciated frankness and honesty. But there was never melodrama or escalation. I think it's the only way she can live the life she's been given to live. She has to face the harsh realities head on and deal from there. You can only lie to yourself for so long. And she goes on too long to sustain the illusions."
"I heard it quoted once that the greatest gift to mortals is the illusion that love lasts forever."
Will raises a sardonic eyebrow and lets a dark chuckle escape his lips.
"What do you think of that assertion, Dr. Zimmerman? What did Dr. Magnus think? Is there a statute of limitations on love? Does it exceed the mortal lifetime?"
For a moment Will turns and gazes out the window, across the elegant grounds and watches the gathering birds alighting in the distant trees. Breath on his ear and strong arms dragging her away. "I don't know if love is eternal. I don't think Helen knows. But it does far outlast the typical human lifetime. That it does."
"Dr. Magnus and John Druitt...did they...do you believe..."
"That...is not a question for me to answer."
Orman nods and Will sees the man's understanding; he has crossed his bounds. He has been indulged to the extreme already. They are quiet for a long time.
"You have to understand...," Will continues, leading the way, "as I said before, at her very core Helen Magnus is a caretaker. And once she takes responsibility for someone, takes him or her or it under her wing, she feels every hurt, every loss to that person or creature almost as if it were happening to her. Everyone she's lost...there is a part of her that feels it's her fault."
"Such a list seems too much to undertake, too much for one woman to carry."
"That it does, my friend. That it does." There is silence and crackling fire. Then, "I followed her down to the habitats. To talk to Sally."
---
The echo of steps on the lower floors of the Sanctuary still had the power to drown Will in memories of his first walk through Wonderland. His senses had been on high alert those first days, the impressions burning deep and lasting. He recalled in painstaking brilliance the smallest sounds, the smells, the colors.
Of the days in which everything changed.
Following his mentor into the inner sanctums once again, Will realized these next moments -- the sounds, the words, the quirk of an eyebrow or the color of Magnus's blouse, the movement of her earrings -- these things would be forever burned in Sally's mind. Not for the world having opened up to her. But for her world having shattered in a heartbeat.
Magnus walked at Will's side, but she might just as well have been several paces ahead. She was out of his reach, every nerve and thought centered on her unfathomable task. They had ridden the elevator side by side in silence. But Will had learned quickly that silence was all right with Magnus, even welcome. She could appreciate a friend's presence without a word spoken, desire companionship without need for conversation. They had become comfortable in the past weeks in being together with and without words, and Will felt no less welcome for the silence tonight.
Magnus's steps slowed almost imperceptibly as they entered the habitat rotunda. The tails of her draping cardigan swung against Will's hip as he instinctively adjusted his steps to her pace. For the first time in hours, Magnus turned and locked gazes with his, still not speaking a word. But the openness in her expression stole his breath. He felt certain she was asking for some kind of strength, a single moment of solidarity to carry her through the journey. But before he could find the ground beneath his feet to steady hers, Magnus turned away and crossed the open floor to the water habitat.
Will remained glued to the floor just inside the entrance.
Sally swam up to greet Helen. Their fingertips connected on the glass, Sally's hair swirling around her sculptured face like a wave of dark grasses in the wind. Magnus's free hand gripped tightly to the clipboard she held beside her thigh.
She whispered Sally's true name.
To Will's utter surprise, Sally's voice rang in his head. He knew she could choose which minds heard her words. She could have opened her voice only to Helen, but she was quietly acknowledging his presence.
Helen. What is it?
"We went to your home."
And?
"We did reach your colony." Magnus's voice was soft, unnervingly even, but the gentle quiver in the undertones made Will's chest sting. He slipped his useless hands into his pockets and stared at the floor.
"You were right," Magnus continued. "They were in danger. They were in need. But we..."
Tell me, Helen. Just tell me.
Magnus shook her head, hair shifting softly across her back. "We were too late. There was a new species...a parasite. Tiny, unintelligent little parasite that makes its home in the pyramidal tract of the brain stem. It transfers hosts by exchange of bodily fluids, so in humans the infection is reasonably containable, but with a species in the water, breathing the water.... I was infected myself for a while, but... The parasite affects the limbic system. The center for emotion, aggression, fear, paranoia--"
Stop it. The words stung behind Will's eyes, prickled his scalp. Tell me.
The delay was only a beat, a small tilt of Magnus's head, then, "Under the influence of the parasite, your colony tore each other apart. All of them."
Silence. Then, Show me.
"NO." Magnus's word was a sharp command in the echoing hall. "You don't want to see--"
The next thing Will knew a sickening barrage of gruesome images blasted through his head like a film on fast forward. He lifted a hand to his head, grabbed at the wall to steady himself against the onslaught, and Magnus smacked her hand hard against the thick glass. Her voice rang urgent and broken as she shouted, "Stop it. Stop it, please don't look. Don't look!" And Will realized the images in his head were snapshots Sally was pulling without permission from Magnus's mind and hurling back at her, letting her see what she had taken.
"I'm sorry," Magnus whispered, choosing softness in the face of Sally's violence, "I'm so sorry...we couldn't stop it, we...they were all gone by the time we arrived and I don't..."
Will heard the almost deafening scream in his head and with pointless hands covering his ears, he caught the splash and whirl as Sally shoved away from the glass and dove wildly into the recesses of her home.
"No...God, no..."
Will had never heard Helen Magnus's voice bleeding such pain.
Her clipboard hit the ground with an echoing snap and Magnus was moving, moving toward the passage to the tank entrance bay. Even with her first steps, she shed her cardigan onto the floor, then pulled her knit blouse over her head.
Magnus never glanced his way, but Will returned her act of trust and backed out of the room. From his post outside of view, he heard the bay doors opening and the splash as Magnus dropped into the water. The dive was so fast, she was either free diving or had snatched up a snorkel. Not enough time for scuba gear. Not enough time for a suit.
Will walked away. The pain of the night shimmered in the air.
*****
He left his friends their privacy, but his feet would not carry him far. Will could still see the glimmer of a question...no, a request...in Magnus's eyes as they had stood on the threshold. He couldn't leave her for the night.
Will found himself on a Queen Anne bench in the hallway leading back to the elevators. He stared at the patterned stone between his shoes and interlaced his long fingers.
He was both touched and a little taken off guard by the trust both women had placed in him. Moments of inclusion left him on uncertain ground. He hadn't learned how to be part of a family. He hadn't expected such a thing to fall into his life again, and as much as he welcomed the experience, there were deeper places in him that clung to his autonomy like a comforting blanket.
On dark nights he thought this was something else Magnus understood. Something else they might share.
His thoughts swirled through histories with presidents and parasites and antibiotic cocktails and the meaning of belonging. He didn't know how much time passed in that hallway. Hours, perhaps. He knew he was thirsty. And sore, and tired. But he could only imagine whatever minor aches he felt tripled in Magnus and magnified exponentially in the solitary mermaid beside her.
So he waited. And at last Magnus emerged from the rear hallway, clothing neatly in place and clipboard back in her hand. Her hair hung in barely toweled ringlets, darkening her sweater in damp blotches. Her make-up was near gone and she appeared painfully tired. Again.
Magnus noted his presence with no surprise. Her footsteps brought her to a halt beside him and she drew a slow breath, offering not a word.
Will said simply, "I want to ask if she's okay, but...she can't be."
"No. She can't."
He sighed softly, let his gaze slide over Helen's countenance. "How about you? You still need rest yourself, after..."
"I'm all right. I'm... I'm just cold. The water was cold."
"I know," he softened his tone, wishing he had the right to give more. To wrap her in something warm (again), dry her hair, hold her hand. "I don't think you were warm yet from the sub."
She nodded, appearing too weary to argue. "Perhaps not. Will, probably her entire species...how do you..."
Will dipped his head, worked to secure Magnus's elusive gaze before he spoke. "You hold onto your friends," he said steadily. "Friends like you."
She let go an embittered laugh. "I can't even breathe under water."
"Do you feel like she loves you? Like she's there for you? Even if she can't breathe air?"
Magnus flinched, gave a reluctant nod. "Yes," she whispered.
Will didn't bother to voice the obvious next step to the thought, just gave her a sympathetic and sad smile. "You should dry your hair."
She nodded. "I think I'm just going to head up to bed. I'm quite tired."
"All right."
"You should do the same." She rallied what little energy she retained and offered him a moment of kindness with her eyes.
"I will."
Magnus nodded once more, then gave his shoulder a tender squeeze as she moved to go. Will's own hand moved to cover hers, but he was a breath late and just missed contact with her fingers as she slid away and strode off down the hall. His own hand lingered awkwardly at his chest as he listened to the sound of the elevator doors.
---
"Dear God. That is one night I do not envy you," Orman says into the quiet of the darkening afternoon. The fire brings necessary light as the sun fades to grey at the windows.
"I wouldn't care to repeat it," Will says softly.
Orman clears his throat, shifts his weight and props his foot on the opposite knee. His dark fingers rest across his bare ankle and Will notices the width and brushed texture of Orman's wedding ring. "I imagine, looking back, that a part of you wishes...you and Dr. Magnus had known one another longer before that night. That you could have...done more for her, that your relationship had been such that you could have handled things differently."
"Will...where..."
"Helen? Whoa, I'm here. I'm right here. Sssshhh...come here. Come here." Silk, hair, velvet skin.
"I'm sorry...I'm sorry, I...."
"Hush...I'm right here." Lips against sleep-warm skin, fingernails in his shoulder.
"Yes," Will says, gaze never leaving the fire. "Yes. Things would have been different. Later."
Words in the room remain unspoken, dancing about their heads on wisps of smoke from the flames.
"Was Sally all right?" Orman asks through the clouds. "Eventually, I mean."
Will sniffs, fishes a cloth handkerchief from his pocket and swipes at his nose. The warm drink after the cold air is opening his sensitive sinuses. "She survived," he says plainly. "She was a very strong spirit. A lot like Magnus, in her own way. It took time, but she found her way to go forward. We all spent as much time with her as we could, for what it was worth. She remained with us for many more years."
The formality in Orman's posture has slipped a bit. They've been talking for days, and the comfort levels have shifted. Orman's spine is allowed to slump, his clothing allowed to rumple. "I see what you mean," he says, gaze upon the scribblings in his notebook, mind in a world far away, "about Magnus being a caretaker. She was a sort of... house mother, wasn't she? To all those needing Sanctuary."
"Yes. Exactly. We even spoke of it one night, in a way," Will says, and he's falling into the next story before he decides if the subject is one to be shared. His voice is thready for overuse and his throat is sore, but the words have been freed, and he is powerless to stop the rush.
"It was the second year we worked together. Magnus and I had been up half the night, coordinating a search and rescue overseas, creature escaped from the French Sanctuary. We were trying to do what we could from our home ground, keep the gears greased. Nothing too life threatening, but just...daily fare in the Sanctuary network. Always a fire to be put out, feathers to be unruffled. And generally in the middle of the night. Anyhow, Magnus could go days without sleep, but as much as I might have hoped that part of her gifts would rub off with time, I was pretty damned useless without my eight hours, even in my prime. I'd fallen asleep on the couch of her office while she was slaving away at her desk. And I guess...well, I was having a nightmare. I've lost the details with the years, it doesn t matter. But the first thing I remember was...
---
Will jerked awake with a startled cry, eyes wide and a bit wild as he struggled to place his surroundings and pin himself in time. Soft, golden lights, a fire burning. Office. Magnus's office. And Magnus herself, seated beside him where he lay on her narrow settee, her hip pressed against his, and her files discarded on the coffee table. Her blazer was gone, blouse unbuttoned a few notches. And the look of tender concern on her face left him unable to look away.
"Will. It's all right." Gentle fingers settled on his upper arm. She rested her other hand on the back of the settee, shifting and balancing to face him directly. Her crossed legs were close at his side. "You're safe," she said softly.
Will's breath came hard and fast, chest rising and falling in unsteady rhythm. A thin sheen of perspiration pulled his t-shirt in uncomfortable lines across his torso. His nightmare continued rushing remnant images past his eyes with accompanying surges of sick adrenaline.
The golden light of the fire brought equal warmth to Magnus's gaze. She smoothed her hand soothingly up and down his arm. "Easy," she whispered. "Are you all right?"
Will fought hard for control. He was more than a little chagrined at being caught in such a vulnerable moment, especially in the context of work, utterly without armor under Magnus's painfully perceptive gaze. He cleared his throat, swiped a shaky hand down his face, and bumped into his glasses. Pulling off the offending object, he made a half-assed effort toward aiming them at the table, but Magnus's graceful hands caught hold of the delicate frames and slipped them from his fingers, placing them safely on the glass surface.
Will forced a deep, even breath and nodded. "Yeah...yeah, I'm fine. I just dozed off while you were on the phone. I'm sorry."
She ignored the apology. "Are you certain? Looked rather nasty."
Aw, crap. "Naw, it's just...I'm fine."
The quiet sigh that crossed Magnus's lips and the almost imperceptible sag to her shoulders told Will his fa ade had been pointless; that he appeared something far less than fine to her eyes.
Magnus gazed at him for a long moment with tucked brow and churning thoughts, then she said slowly, "You know, Will...you can tell me. If you want. I mean, I know...I know, sometimes it must seem like everything around here...is all about me. About what I want, what I will and won't allow, what...what I'm dealing with. Especially these past few months. And truthfully, I haven't done a good job of being here for any of the people I love this year. One of the things I most pride myself on is my role as friend, being a friend to those I care about without fail. And I'm not very fond of the person I've been lately. Born of necessity, perhaps, but nonetheless...I don't like the end result." Will was soaking in every word and struggling to clear his sleep fogged thoughts and not miss a single inflection or detail. Magnus no doubt took his expression for confusion, and she tried to pull together her words with a bottom line. "I'm just saying...I want you to know...if you ever want to talk...about anything...I am here."
The burn in Will's stomach was a mixture of fear and a delicious ache that spread through his limbs like hot chocolate in the blood. He held Magnus's too blue gaze for at least three breaths before he pushed his reply across his lips. The sincerity of his own confession was disturbingly foreign. "You know, the truth is...that's a really new thing for me. I mean, I've never...I'm used to having to deal with everything on my own. And my first instincts are to default to self-reliance. To shut people out."
Magnus cocked her head, a hint of an almost playful smile glimmering at the corner of her eye. "Yet you make your career out of coaxing others to open up to you."
"Are you trying to say 'physician heal thyself'?"
Magnus smiled, and the room felt warmer. "Perhaps." Then after a beat, "I know what it is to think you have to handle everything alone. My childhood, thankfully, was far more sheltered than yours. I had a very secure and loving start to my life. Parents I trusted, who were always there for me. It's in the years since I've learned not to expect to have anyone to rely upon. But I can tell you...even when you know you'll outlast everyone else...closing yourself off completely just...well, it isn't a workable option."
Will listened, really listened, in the way he knew was unique to his physiology, part of what allowed his deeper understanding of people, his facility in earning their trust. But Magnus's words cut too deep. Her message spoke too close to his soul. He couldn't be the clinical observer, keeping the focus on the weaknesses in others. There was much he should have said. But in the end he said only, "It doesn't seem like it's all about you."
Magnus was not so easily pacified. "Mmmm, that's not what you said in the ocean off New Orleans," she offered with a hint of a wry smile. But there was too much truth in her words, and he knew she had cried herself to sleep in the hotel room in New Orleans. The walls had been thin, they'd been headboard to headboard. And Tuesday had been Ashley's birthday.
"Hey, that was...we talked that through, right?"
She nodded, but she was no longer looking at him.
Will pushed himself a little closer to upright, thigh pulling against her hip as he moved. He propped the small of his back against the arm of the settee. "Magnus, what you do here...the very essence of the Sanctuary, how you define your profession...it's all about protecting others. Taking care of others. It's not about you."
Her features softened, but she couldn't quite pull off a smile. "Thank you, Will. But I think sometimes...I'm better at taking care of strangers...than I am my own family."
"I don't think that's true." He paused. Then, "I was dreaming about Clara."
Magnus's gaze snapped to his, all self-consciousness suppressed or forgotten. "Oh, Will. I'm so sorry."
He shook his head. Psychology, dreams, grief patterns -- these were things he understood, ground where he could find purchase. "It's all right. Just...my mind's way of dealing. I still dream she's around. That she just...walks back in one day. Like nothing ever happened. With some wild story about her escape... Then other times, people keep telling me she's there, just in the next room, just around the corner. But I just keep missing her, she's always out of reach. And part of me knows it's wrong, even while it's happening...that it's too good be true, that it's just...what I want."
"I know. I still do that. With several people. It's a natural part of the process."
Will watched her in silence, processing all the implications of her revelation, then he nodded.
"But it hurts," Magnus said, and the sincerity and simplicity in her statement made her seem so much younger than her 158 years. Miss Helen Magnus in a carriage in Piccadilly Square.
"Yeah." Will's word traveled on a thin breath, and he was almost painfully conscious this was one of those moments. Those real and genuine inexplicable moments he kept in neat compartments and preservation jars in his head. Stories to hold onto. Stories to tell. Some day. "Yeah, it does hurt," he agreed. "How do you...how do you keep doin' it?"
Magnus shrugged easily, then gave his words back to him with the confidence of a long-lived truth, "You hold onto your friends."
---
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