Chapter 11

Neil held a bag of ice on his head. He paced angrily.

Warnsworth stood in the corner looking down sheepishly as Dr. Parsons paced in his line in the middle of the room. The other goons stood similarly, at least those who hadn't been quarantined because of the gas.

Neil growled loudly.

"How could this happen!" he barked. "How could I let this happen?"

His resolve was cracking and his power was leaking and he knew it. He let himself get personally involved, a rookie mistake, ad one that just might get him killed or worse if not corrected immediately.

"How could you let them escape?" he barked to one of his goons.

"He...he tore open the tank and blasted us with the gas," answered the goon.

"How?" snapped Neil.

"We don't know exactly, but we saw the tank, there were...claw marks on the side of the tank," said the goon.

"What?" Neil calmed down slightly. "You mean...bring it here, I want to see it!"

"Yes sir," the goon left the room to fetch the tank.

"Warnsworth, come here," Neil directed his attention to the young man.

"Yes, doctor," Warnsworth stepped up to him.

"Did they return to the house?" Neil asked.

"No, I waited all night, scoured the entire property, and even went inside to check. The door was unlocked and there was no sign of them inside."

"The house must've been a decoy!" Neil growled. "How could she side with him, this entire time, how is it possible?"

"Maybe he caused her to change her mind...when they were together, we never did hear what was said," suggested Warnsworth.

"Which was a mistake, I realize, because that's when they decided their escape route," he muttered bitterly.

"If it means anything sir, I do believe truly meant to go away with you, but he...he spoke very passionately to her at the festival. I think she's a little confused herself right now. She's being told two different things, and she doesn't know who to trust, she just wants to be loved, and protected, and by someone who won't hurt her again," said Warnsworth.

"So, you think he coerced her? Then why did she ask to disable the cameras?" Neil asked pointedly.

"Because she didn't want you to know she didn't trust you completely," shrugged Warnsworth.

Neil nodded.

"Thank you Warnsworth, you can return to your work now," Neil said dismissively.

Warnsworth nodded and left the room.

Parsons took the ice bag off his head and placed it on a table.

He hoped for Helena's sake that Warnsworth was right. He cocked his gun and shot the bag. The ice spilt all over the floor.

~~~~Elsewhere~~~~

Helen and Nikola stood back-to-back in the shower as the water descended over the two of them.

Helen ran shampoo through her hair as Nikola used a bar of soap and ran it over his sticky skin.

Both of them bathed in silence. Awkwardly trying to clean themselves without having to look at each other. Nikola had opted to shower in his briefs just to make it that less of an issue.

He didn't quite understand why they weren't taking turns; it had something to with saving time, Helen more or less dragged him here and forced him under the water, ordering him to keep his back turned.

The only time they had acknowledged each others existence in the cramped space was to hand each other soap and stuff. Nikola thought about shaving as his kit rested only a bit a ways from him but then his mid flashed to the razor in the other bathroom and he decided against it.

"Do you have any cuts on you?" he finally asked.

"No, why?" asked Helen.

"No reason," Nikola went back to awkwardly scrubbing himself with the bar of soap.

Helen washed the soap out of her hair. Nikola felt her whip it back and it slapped his shoulder, he didn't say anything.

"Why are we doing this?" he asked finally.

"It's called hygiene," Helen said tersely. "Shift positions so you can wash off."

Nikola nodded and they awkwardly shuffled so he was under the direct spray of the water. Helen stole the bar of soap from him and handed him the bottle of shampoo.

Nikola took it silently and squeezed a small amount on to his hand.

Helen accidentally elbowed him in the back.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

Nikola groaned. He turned around to face her.

"Helen, this is ridiculous, we're adults we can-"

He was cut off by Helen slapping him.

"I warned you," she threatened.

He rubbed his cheek and turned back around, then turned back.

"You know what, no! Helen, we've had sex many times before this, you know I've seen you naked before in several positions. Why are we acting like juveniles? We're in a shower together after having, apparently, very rampant, wild sex, which we can hardly remember, so what's the point? Who cares? It happened, it's not the first time; it's definitely been one of the stranger sexual encounters I've ever had, definitely the trippiest. But we've known each other 80+, are we going to get awkward every time we get drugged out of our minds and snog each other, or will we move on, accept that we were both not in control of our faculties, and then move on."

Helen sighed.

"Are you done?" she asked with a huff.

"Yes," he sighed.

"Then turn around and let me do your back," she ordered.

"Only if you let me do yours," he teased.

Helen sighed.

"Fine, but only my back," she threatened him with her pointer finger.

"Helen, believe it or not, I'm not in the mood," he raised his hands defensively and turned his back to her.

She lathered the soap in her hands and began spreading it onto the skin of his back.

"I don't like the thought of not being in control of my body," she sighed.

"And you think I do, I've had first hand experience of what it's like. That blood bath over there...that could've been you, do you think I'm okay with that?

"I thought it was me to begin with," Helen sighed. "But I have no mark, not even the puncture wounds on my neck."

"They heal remarkable fast, I must not have bitten you very deep or for very long," Nikola offered.

"Then where'd all that blood come from?" Helen asked.

"I found a razor at the bottom of the tub, my thought is that you...had other ideas than just me drinking from you," Nikola offered lamely.

Helen's mind immediately flashed.

Nikola bit into her neck as she straddled his lap, and she cried out inarticulately, and a hand shot out from where she had it in his hair to the tile, the feeling overwhelming. The water still poured down on them. Helen's eyes caught a glint of metal. A razor, resting on the edge of the tub, must be belonging to the owners of the house. She took it in her hand and ran it across Nikola's shoulder. He growled and released her neck but she was fascinated with the morphing and changing colors leaking out from his skin and washing away. It was beautiful, but the wound healed too quickly, so she sliced again, the flowing color returning, she placed her hand in it, collecting as much of it on her palm as she could manage, she watched it swirl for a moment before she saw the curtain, a magical shape of its own. She smeared the blood down the curtain, her drugged senses bulging at the sight and the smell, she turned back to Nikola, his eyes swirling as well and she kissed him. He tasted like nothing she could describe, and felt like nothing she could comprehend, and his blood was a festival of colors and she wanted more of it. She took the razor down his chest in a long deep line, he groan mixed between pleasure and pain and her hands were in the paint, watching the way it slid and mixed with the water. The water beat around them like a drum, adding into the sensory overload of it all. Nikola gripped her arm as she made more cuts on him and began smearing the blood in all kinds of places as his arms slid around her to rip the thin cotton from her chest and his lips reached for her clavicle, nibbling the skin there. Helen's eyes kept wide, as everything kept morphing and shifting before her eyes. She didn't know what was happening to her, but it was beautiful. Nikola's colorful blood now smeared across her chest was soon being washed away, it collected at the bottom of the tub and she held the razor in her hand tightly as he scooped her up to her feet and pressed her against the tiled wall of the shower; the heat of his body mixing with the cool of the water, an experience all on its own. His back was left free for her fascination as he did his own exploration of her. She brought the razor down in three sharp stabs, and he pressed into her more with each plunge. She gathered the blood and smeared it on the curtain again.

It was like artwork and she let herself become distracted by it. Nikola pulled back and reached behind him, feeling the wound on his back, his hand returning with the colorful smears, their eyes met and he pulled the curtain back, shutting the water off and scooping her out of the tub, his bloody footprints leaving trails as he tugged her to the sink and roughly plopped her onto its surface, with such force her head bumped into the medicine cabinet, the cheap glass breaking. His bloody hand rested on the edge as he stepped in between her legs and continued to ravage her with kisses.

Helen's mind shot back to reality. Reaching back she touched her head, there was definitely a bump there where her head had met the glass but there was no wound.

"You okay?" Nikola asked.

"I think so," Helen sighed. "We were out of control."

Nikola chuckled.

"Remembering some bits and pieces?" he nodded knowingly.

"I stabbed you with a razor," Helen watched the soap run down his back. "I liked the way your blood looked."

She was a bit disgusted with herself.

There were no scars on his back, no evidence of it at all, but it didn't help her feel less sick to her stomach.

"Helen, I'm immortal and you know that, you wouldn't have done it if I couldn't have healed, at the time I probably enjoyed it," he tried to be consoling.

"That doesn't make me feel any better," she muttered.

"Fine, turn around, I'll do our back now," he sighed and stole the bar of soap lathering it up. He was about to put it on her back when he noticed the large sickening bruise that went from her lower back to right below her shoulder blades.

His mind suddenly flashed.

Helen wrapped her legs around him and he lifted her off the sink and to staggering legs, taking her out of the bathroom. He missed the bed completely and in a desperate attempt to keep upright slammed her against the old oak door. Her cry was almost a song, the friction like a small explosion emanating from where their hips were connected to his brain. His lips stayed connected to hers as her legs lowered to the ground and she grabbed his hips in her hands and forcefully slammed him into her. Another explosion of sensation. He followed her again, bringing his hips back then forward again, the door making sounds like a gong, spurning him further. They weren't even completely undressed, he couldn't even bring himself to remember how to pronounce her name, and even so it would sound foreign to his ears. He kept jarring her body into the wood of the door. The metal hinges like cymbals clanging in triumph, and every explosion he felt made his eyes explode with a different color. He picked her up again, deciding to increase the sensation for the both of them, picking her up and slamming the two of them both into the door. It was jarring, and she grasped his head, pulling his hair, biting his lip. He brought them back again and back again until the hinges of the door broke and splintered. They almost fell but Helen brought a leg down to steady the two of them before they fell through.

Nikola gingerly touched the yellowing bruise on her back.

"I did that," he muttered quietly.

"What?" Helen asked.

"The door...it was my fault," he sighed.

"Oh," Helen sighed. "Well, I feel like a did it."

She meant it jokingly but it stung a little.

He gently slid his hands down her back and Helen moaned slightly.

"That feels nice," she sighed.

Nikola hesitated slightly before continuing.

As gently as he could he washed her back, making sure not to hurt her anymore than he'd already had. A part of him wished the yellow-black mark would wash away, but it didn't. He brought his hands up to her shoulders and scrubbed the soap over her the blades and the peaks, then up to her neck, kneading it gently. When he was done his hands fell away.

Helen turned and smiled at him gratefully.

"Thank you for that," she patted his hand.

He held her hand and stepped closely to her, and without a word pressed his lips to hers in a tender but meaningful kiss.

Helen was taken by surprise, and felt breathless when he pulled away.

"I thought you said you weren't in the mood," she said cheekily and he chuckled.

"Call me curious," he shrugged. "I've spent the last few hours doing nothing but roughhouse with you and I can't remember one single gentle kiss."

"Do you want to?" Helen looked at him humorously.

"For comparison," he nodded and Helen laughed.

"Get out...and hand me my towel would you?" she shoved him out of the shower and he chuckled.

"Fine, I'll grab you one," he sighed.

Helen ran once more under the water then shut it off, just in time for Nikola to thrust a tower into her arms.

"Thank you darling," she said out of instinct.

"You're welcome snookums," Nikola responded, mimicking her accent.

Helen rolled her eyes.

"Get out," she barked.

"Hey, this is my bathroom, use your own!"

"Well, your blood ruined mine, plus my mirror is broken," she said defiantly.

"I have to shave," he said just as defiant.

"I have more hair than you, go get dressed and make breakfast, by the time you're done the bathroom will be free," she stepped out of the shower.

"Can't we just use it together," he came up close wrapped his arms around her.

"No, you're a mirror hog, ladies first, now shoo!" she pushed him out of the bathroom and closed he door behind him.

"This isn't fair!" he whined but then huffed and went to his suitcase, pulling out some fresh clothes, using the small vanity to fix his unruly hair.

Once he was dressed and acceptable he left the bedroom and descended the stairs. The downstairs living room, dining room and kitchen were in more of a shambles than the upstairs. He found an article of Helen's clothing, he presumed used to be her skirt, draped haphazardly over the seat, a lamp was leaning precariously, ready to topple. Nikola quickly set it upright. He went to examine the coffee table, it's legs we're snapped off and splintered, but easily fixable. It's surface, and the surrounding rug were left with the sticky remnants of wine. A good merlot if he was not mistaken. The carpet had a deep red stain, and the table was sticky to the touch.

The liquor cabinet was torn open and half its contents lay on the floor, a broken whiskey bottle, a bottle of brandy, some other choice poisons to choose from. Either over turned or broken, the liquid spilt on to the floor or down the side.

He'd have to go in the kitchen and grab some towels and rags to mop it all up.

He reached the dining room and paused, the chairs were overturned, and the picture frames and small figurines that lined the little shelves from the living room to the dining area were either knocked over or to the floor. He stared at the table, feeling hauntingly familiar with its presence.

Nikola grabbed Helen's hand and tugged her from the living room to the dining room, or at least tried to. Helen took over and slammed him into the wall, bumping the shelves there, small crashes resounding by him but they sounded like fireworks, or like music, a bit of both in his ears. There was pain but it felt too foreign, too fascinating to be pain. Helen pulled his shirt out of his pants and used it to tug him further; he went willingly, before gaining the upper hand and knocking her into another set of shelves, more musical fireworks. He quickly grabbed her hips and led her to the table, lifting her up on to it and leaning into her heavily, almost toppling on top of her. He shot out a hand to catch himself and the wet red liquid dripped from his fingers on to the old wood surface, he used his foot to kick the chairs out of he way so he could be closer to her and Helen dragged him as close as she could, nearly pulling him onto the table with her. In a moment of inspiration he climbed up, knocking more chairs over and scrambled to straddle her hips still trying to keep his lips connected to hers. She ripped his shirt open, one button hitting him in the cheek right below his eye. The shirt was quickly discarded, while the undershirt was torn in two, she pushed the material out of her way as she sat up to kiss his chest. She felt his heart beating beneath his skin. Using the torn undershirt she tugged him down with her so her back was flat on the table surface and he was lying half on top of her. He pulled back, looking down at her and her swollen lips, she was breathing heavily just as he was and they looked at each other for a second. "What is this?" he gasped. "I don't know," Helen said back, their lack of breath making it hard for them to speak. "I feel funny," he rested his head on her chest where her torn undergarments were barely concealing the remnants of the drying sticky wine. Her hands were in his hair holding him gently. "Me too," she sighed. She then yanked his hair, pulling his head off of her chest and towards her face so he was just millimeters above her. They kissed again and rolled off the table, his back hitting the ground with a breath-taking thud.

Nikola came around the table, noticing all the small button scattered across the floor. His shirt lied in a heap on the floor, where they'd left it.

"I liked that shirt," he mumbled.

Where we're his shoes? Helen's heels were abandoned in the front room, his jacket and vest lying near them where he must've thrown them off. His shirt was here, his briefs and pants were upstairs, but his shoes, what could he have possibly done with his shoes?

He heard Helen descending the stairs, her hair all done up to the best of her abilities, wearing yet another tasteful skirt and blouse.

"Oh my," she muttered.

They looked at each other through the open archway separating the dining room from the living room.

"What were we doing?" she asked.

"Experimenting?" Nikola suggested. "Can you look in the living room for any sign of my shoes?"

"Sure," Helen nodded proceeding to the living room. "Oh Nikola!"

"What?" he rushed to her.

"This was one of my favorite skirts," she huffed at him.

"Who says I ripped it?" he said indignantly.

"Because you have claws," she tossed the fabric away.

"Doesn't mean I used them," he countered. "You could've just as well been too impatient and tore it away yourself."

Helen rolled her eyes and kept looking for his shoes.

"I don't see your shoes," she called; he had already left for the kitchen to get the rags to clean up all the spilt alcohol.

The kitchen was an even bigger disaster, cabinet doors were open the faucet was still on; luckily it hadn't overflowed on to the floor. He shut it off and sniffed, smelling a distinct smoky smell coming from the oven. He noticed it was still on, and he jumped to turn it off quickly. The stove door window was completely blacked out.

"What the-?" he opened the door and a thick cloud of black smoke billowed out, followed by a small burst of flames. Nikola quickly grabbed a towel and opened the window simultaneously, wetting the towel under the faucet then quickly throwing it over the flaming charred mass which looked like...

"Oh no," he groaned.

"Where the bloody hell is all this smoke coming from?" Helen came in coughing.

Nikola dropped his head slightly and pointed to the oven.

"I found my shoes," he sighed.

Helen blinked and coughed.

"Oh dear," she muttered. "You baked them."

"I don't think I am entirely to blame here," he huffed, closing the oven door. "I liked those shoes."

"Well, I'm sorry, I'll reimburse you for them if that's what you want," sighed Helen. She really didn't want to know what they were up to the caused either one of them to throw Nikola's shoes in the oven and bake them overnight.

"Whoever owns this house is in for quite a shock," smirked Nikola.

"Yes, a ruined oven, a stained carpet, and pile of broken figurines, and half their wine collection missing, they're going to think some kind of debaucherous party went on in here," Helen rolled her eyes.

"We could leave a note saying "Sorry," if you want?" he shrugged.

"That won't help," she sighed and ran a hand through her damp hair. "At least we haven't been discovered."

Nikola screwed his face up in thought then moved past her and out of the kitchen. Helen followed behind him, curious to what he was on about.

He went to the closed windows and peeked out behind the drapes to the quiet street outside.

"What is it?" Helen asked.

"Seems they are on the search for us, your boyfriend must miss you," Nikola smirked.

Helen stood beside him and peeked out of the window to the house across the street.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, looking up at him. His mouth curled into a devious smile.

"This is going to be fun," he chuckled, his eyes sparking mischievously.

"That's what you said before," Helen rolled her eyes. "Somehow I highly doubt it."

Nikola smirked and walked away from the window.

"Oh no, this time is going to be fun," he took what bottle of wine was still left intact from the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass taking a generous sip of it. "We're going to mess them up badly."

Helen turned to him, her curiosity piqued.

"How so?"

"With tricks of course," he shrugged simply.

Helen smirked.

"What tricks do you have up your sleeves, Nikola?" Helen stepped up to him and he handed the glass to her.

"I'm shocked Helen," he said as she took the glass to take a tentative sip. "I thought you should know me by now."

Helen met his gaze with a small half smirk.

"What are you thinking?" she asked again.

Nikola leaned forward and took the glass from her again.

"Tricks," he reiterated with an even and chilling tone that just screamed trouble.

"You were right Nikola…this is going to be fun," she released the glass when she felt his hand encompass hers over the neck of the glass.

His touch was going to weird her out for awhile now.

~~~~Author's Notes~~~~

Exciting! Sorryif some parts of this were borderline uncomfortable but i had to make it that it just wasn't rampant lovemaking, they were drugged out of their minds, like seriously and part of the destruction came from their so-called "experimenting," with each other during their heightened states. Weird, and a little disturbing, yes, but that what I think would happen if you were drugged with a hallucinogenic narcotic and horny beyond belief at the same time. Bit more explanation on the weirdness :)

Sorry I've been slow to update, work has occupied my summer, and I also have a sun burn :( Not cool at all.

But if you're still reading i'll keep updating. I hope you guys are still there *looks out into cyber world* HEEEELLLLO!