Disclaimer: If I owned anything of these two brilliant shows I would be rich on an island somewhere, not having to deal with the stupid stress of school. But I clearly don't.
Author's Note: I'm so sorry that I've took so long to finish this fanfic. Truly sorry. It's just that I've had a lot on my plate (like the aforementioned school), but the important thing is that it's done now. Better late than never, right? Especially when there are so many fanfics out there that never get finished. So here you go: the conclusion. And again, sorry for the hold up.
Magnus turned to look at Smith. He had his strange grin on again and he was reading another Sherlock Holmes story. The words The Hound of Baskervilles and a baying wolf were engraved in gold on the front of the burnt orange cover. At the sight of the hue, something in the back of her mind surfaced. With the pain defused she now was fully able to see what was pushing to the surface of her thoughts without stopping in agony. It was the memory of what she saw when the Cerebrivore finally left her mind, of those brief yet vivid images of impossible creatures, people, and places. One place in particular had a gorgeous burnt orange sky.
"What kind of place has a burnt orange sky?" questioned Magnus, trying to sound nonchalant.
Simple logic told her that those images must've been some afterimage or a peak into the window of Smith's mind. He had to enter psychically to help her after all, and there was nowhere else that those images could've come from.
"What?" responded Smith, the book nearly falling out of hands.
"When you entered my mind to help, I saw a glimpse of a burnt orange sky among other things," explained Magnus.
What intrigued her the most was the sheer impossibility of most of the images. All of the creatures where not any abnormal she recognized. And then there were the places. They all seemed so different, so unearthly, so…alien…
But no. They couldn't be.
"What were they?" she added.
"I should've thought you would do something like that, however unconscious," replied Smith, scratching his head and deliberately looking way. "Brilliant women…always get the best of me…" He stood up, placed his hands in his pockets and began to pace. "I've tried not to talk about this sort of stuff…unpredictable, different universe timelines and all that…I try to stay out of trouble. In fact, it's my new year's resolution…but…who am I kidding I can never keep that. Trouble has a way of always sneaking in, and to tell you the truth I'm not complaining. Makes life interesting…
He stopped and faced Magnus. "You're a clever woman, doctor. What do you think those images from my mind were of?"
Magnus knew what her logic said. It told her that those images were a combination of new unknown abnormals her organization hasn't discovered yet, and Smith's dreams or possibly delusions which helped to build a psychological condition that Will could write papers and papers on. But her instincts told her something completely different.
She knew that Smith was out of the ordinary from the moment she took him into the Sanctuary and hooked him up to the machines. As she learned more and more about the depth of the mystery that surrounded him, something in the back of her head refused to accept any rational answers she or her employees could come up with.
Except…Henry. He said that Smith could be from another planet, an alien. At the time she thought that idea was completely ridiculous, but now with her instincts yelling at her…no, it's silly; it's impossible. Isn't it? She said herself that the likelihood that Earth was the only life giving planet with sentient beings was tremendously slim. And that explanation did answer a lot of perplexing questions…
She looked at Smith, the man that couldn't possibly be a man in the normal sense. It was impossible to tell anything from his appearance. Despite the eccentric clothing he was wearing when they brought him in, everything about him on the surface seemed completely normal. But she should know of all people that looks can be deceiving.
His eyes were staring right at her, challenging her to conclude something that she would've never thought she would earlier.
But right then before she could utter anything, Bigfoot came in carrying tray of tea. They both turned to look at him.
"I thought you would like some tea," said Bigfoot. He stopped when he noticed the situation. "If it is inconvenient I could come back another time."
"No. Its fine," replied Magnus coolly, quick to hide her irritation at being interrupted.
He nodded as he set the tray down on the nearby counter. Smith had turned away from Magnus and was now back concentrating on The Hound of Baskervilles. It would be a lie to not admit that she was frustrated that Bigfoot had come in at that exact moment. Hadn't she said she'd radio if she needed anything? Well, she guessed she couldn't really blame them for worrying about her. According to them, the attack had shaken all of them. Still, she couldn't help but wish that she'd had a little longer to tie up her train of thought.
"Sally has recovered smoothly. She is still weak, but will be better by tomorrow," informed Bigfoot as he handed her a full tea cup.
"Thank you, old friend," Magnus responded, sitting up a little and taking the steaming cup.
"Would you like any tea, Mr. Smith?" asked Bigfoot.
"No, thank you," replied Smith, seemingly engrossed in his book.
"Is there anything you need?" said Bigfoot turned back to Magnus.
"No. Thank you again for the tea. I'll radio if I need anything else."
He nodded and walked out, leaving the tea tray on the counter in case she wanted anymore. When Bigfoot left, Smith snapped the book shut and stood up again.
"Brilliant man, Arthur Conan Doyle. Well, not as brilliant as his character Sherlock Holmes, but that's the thing. He's able to create someone so different than himself, able dare to imagine and go outside his comfort zone all in the name of the progress of his genre. Well…he didn't know at the time he was progressing literature, but he did nonetheless," babbled Smith, heading towards the tea tray. When he was finished postulating, he picked up a cookie apparently placed on the tray to go with the tea.
Magnus knew he was indirectly talking about her and about how she should take that important leap in thought. Funny, that he should use an Arthur Conan Doyle analogy when she was best friends with the man whom inspired him. She had a feeling what her dear friend James Watson would say about this man calling himself Smith, and she would like to think that she was thinking the same. In more ways than one she was. It wasn't something normally thought of in her long life, but when had anything been normal with her. In truth she didn't need more time to make the conclusion about Smith. She had already done so long before. Her gut was most of the time more decisive than her mind. It was the reason why she was still alive. So really there was no reason to debate the subject of what this man was, because she already knew even though she would be hard pressed to say so.
"Did someone on your staff make these biscuits?" asked Smith, beginning on a second cookie. "Their fantastic!"
Magnus smiled and settled into a comfortable position, readying herself for a long and pleasantly meaningless conversation. She had decided to give up searching into the mystery of Smith. She had no doubt that he will plague her ponderings in the future, but now that she had some idea of who or what he was, she had a feeling that it would take more time than she had to unravel the complete enigma that is this strange man. She knew he wasn't sticking around, so she might as well just let the matter rest if she knew she was going to get nowhere with him.
So as the tea cooled in her hand and the man calling himself John Smith began to babble about the wonders of a good desert, Dr. Helen Magnus let herself relax knowing that at least some of the mystery was solved and the Sanctuary was safe. For the moment at least.