A/N Firstly, thanks so much for the reviews! I find it very touching and glad to know people are enjoying this.
On a housekeeping note - this story doesn't seem to bode very well with many interruptions to the flow of things, so it will be updated until it is completed all today in order to stand more as a whole piece. I hope you enjoy. Cheers!
FIVE
Helen was in a vineyard.
The sun shone through a curtain of waxy grape leaves, and she could smell the sweetness of the fruit in the air. Enchanted, she picked a meandering path through the vines, laughing sweetly as they brushed against her face in greeting.
She saw a movement by her feet, and stopped where she stood. A small bright orange frog hopped across the ground and seemed to stop in unison with her. It pointed its tiny arrow-shaped head up in her direction and croaked. "Lubjav."
Helen cocked her head curiously at the frog. What an odd thing to say.
It croaked again, "Lubjav", before hopping out of view.
Helen tried to follow where the frog had disappeared to, sometimes hearing its faint croak amongst the vines. She pushed aside a thick bunch of leaves and branches, grapes falling to her feet, and saw a man standing amongst the fruit.
He turned around slightly so she could see his face. "Why are you dreaming of me?" He asked.
In a small voice she said, "I don't think I was meant to."
Nikola held out his hand to her, and pulled her into the small clearing where he was standing. He smelt of red wine and dust, and she found it comforting. His fingers brushed delicately against the marks on her neck with a touch of regret.
"Eighteen. Fifty. Six."
She looked at him, puzzled.
He smiled softly at her and whispered, "Vilmot te."
When Helen woke she smelt crushed grapes on her fingers, and closed her eyes so she could pretend she was still in the vineyard. It was the only sweet moment in her day.
The instant she walked into the lab she saw Will and Henry hunched over his computer screen heatedly discussing something in hushed tones. When they noticed her the conversation stopped immediately and Henry, poor sweet boy, looked properly embarrassed and avoided her eyes.
She forced a smile. "Morning, gentlemen."
"Hey, doc," Henry muttered into his collar. Will straightened up and walked over to her. He spoke lowly. "Can we talk?"
"I don't see what there is to discuss, Will."
He gave her a pointed look, but left without another word. Henry was still resolutely staring at his screen, trying his best to ignore the awkward silence.
"How's our mouse doing?"
The corners of Henry's mouth drooped a little. "Algie died."
"I'm … I'm sorry to hear that, Henry."
"Yeah, I just put him in a little box." Helen saw the small cardboard box he was speaking of on the corner of his desk. She picked it up, opening the lid and saw the still body of the small mouse inside. She tried to give him a soothing smile, but found it awkward and plastic on her lips.
"I'm worried, that's all. I don't think it would be a bad idea to get back onto sedatives. A mild one."
Helen sighed, feeling irritable. "I don't think drugging me into oblivion will solve your problems, Will."
His face stiffened, and he said quietly, "That was unnecessary."
It was, but at this point she didn't care. She perused the book in her hands, a text on the science of sleep phenomena and dreaming. She wanted to know what was possible to occur in dreams and what was not. Will sat down beside her, refusing to be ignored.
"Magnus … this is a difficult time for you. It's perfectly normal for you to try and rationalize what's happening, but it isn't healthy to create fantasies and ignore the truth."
She snapped her book shut, unable to keep a steely edge from her voice. "Alright then, Doctor Zimmerman, what's your diagnosis? What sort of mental delusion am I under, and what would you prescribe for such an unbalanced mind?"
He reeled from the unexpected attack, and looked even more concerned. Helen knew her petulant manner wasn't winning her any points at the moment, but she was so tired of being coddled. Of not being believed.
"Just …" He sighed deeply, getting up from his seat, "Just get some sleep."
One for waking, two for sleep…
Helen set down her glass, her tongue searching for the elusive taste of the Shepherd's serum, still unable to find any tangible trace, as she sank into her pillow and welcomed night.
When her eyes opened again she found herself in a torn, snow-covered landscape. Her breath streamed from her nose and mouth in smoky plumes, and her body was seized by an uncontrollable shiver.
The snow that blanketed the landscape seemed to muffle all noise. She heard the mournful calling of a crow, her own heart beating in her ears, and a faint rhythmic "thud!" somewhere in the distance. She saw a small cottage buried in the wintry blanket and a shadowed figure labouring away outside.
Helen made her way over to the only sign of life, rubbing at her arms and trying to fight off the oppressing chill in the air.
As she came closer she realized it was a man chopping firewood outside the small, wooden house. He paused in his work, a fur coat bundled tightly about him, and wiped the sweat from his brow with a worn handkerchief. He noticed her approaching, and in a clipped accent suddenly called out, "Helen?"
Helen gratefully stumbled over to him, and Nikola undid his coat, placing it around her shoulders. Her teeth chattered, and he placed a finger underneath her chin and examined her in concern.
"What are you doing out in the cold?"
She looked about the bleak, lonely surroundings. "Where are we?"
His lips quirked in a small smile. "Smiljan."
Helen grasped onto his arm tightly, staring about her surroundings with newfound wonder. Smiljan … in all the years she had known Nikola he had never spoken much of where he had come from or his life before Oxford. Here she was standing now in the place he was born.
Nikola observed her shivering shoulders, her lightly tinged blue lips and said, "Helen, this is no place for you."
"This place has a certain beauty about it."
He rubbed her arms through the sleeves of the heavy coat, unconcerned for his own person now only clothed in a thin shirt and work slacks. "It is too cold, too harsh and too unforgiving for you."
Helen turned to him. "And for you?"
He smiled sadly at her. "Leave me to my doom."
She placed her hands around his face, her head shaking "no". If she wept, she did not notice, for any tears would have frozen instantly in the chilly climes. Nikola picked up his hatchet once more and began to chop more wood. "I will build up a fire for you."
Helen laid the coat by her in the snow so she could sit, wrapping the sleeves around her for warmth. She felt herself drifting, watching the cold, gray sky above her. Her body sank against the fur, fingers falling onto the icy ground.
Nikola suddenly stepped over her, grasping her hand and placing it to his mouth. His moustache tickled against her skin gently, and then she felt a sharp pain in her finger as he bit it. He looked at her sternly as she cried out. "Lubjav, do not sleep here."
Bright red drops fell from her fingers, eaten up greedily by the pristine snow.
Helen's fingers trembled as she flipped through the pages of the book. It had finally come in for her, on loan from the Moscow Sanctuary. It was a picture Almanac of the major regions of Eastern Europe. Photograph after photograph of bleak landscapes, mountains, farmland and snow.
Will stepped in to the library, and walked over curiously to where Helen was seated. "Good book?" He craned his neck so he could read the title on the cover page.
"I just want you to know one thing, Will…" Helen said, her hands shaking slightly. "I have never been to or ever seen a photograph of Smiljan before…"