Dear Readers,

Thank you SOOOO much for all your lovely reviews!! They really make me happy, I don't know what else to say. I'm so glad you are all enjoying this little collection of stories...and I hope you enjoy this next installment. It does make a reference to the first two oneshots--as I said, they ARE supposed to progress in chronological order, although they are not necessarily directly related. This one is a bit more angsty than the first two; I wasn't intending that, but for some reason my brain tends to gear towards the angsty side of things when I don't have an exact plan of what I'm going to write :p Anyway, again, I hope you enjoy, and thanks once more for the reviews!

Best regards from a Bookworm (and hopelessly devoted Tesla fan),

Miss Pookamonga ;-P

PS: YES, the title of this one is taken from traditional wedding vows. TEEHEE ;)


III. To Have and to Hold

Weeks have passed since that night they spent drinking wine and conversing in her office (and later, falling asleep on each other). But since then, she hasn't seen much of him. Oh, there's the occasional lunch or tea date of course, but other than that, Nikola Tesla has practically been nonexistent. Helen knows that he finds comfort in locking himself away in the lab she has lent him, in slaving over some unknown project of his. Like she herself, he cannot bear to be left idle, with only thoughts of a convoluted past to mull over in the haunting silence of the present. But despite the fact that she knows that his lab is his safe haven—his own little sanctuary within hers—his distinct lack of presence has begun to trouble her.

It is this mounting concern that finally drives her to check up on him. Normally, she keeps out of the way of his work, since Nikola's perfectionism cannot afford any distractions, but her instincts are insisting that something is amiss, and that she needs to fix the problem. So she makes her way to the lab, striding quickly down the hallway as the steady click-clacking of her boots echoes against the walls of the corridor.

She's not surprised to find the door of the lab bolted shut—he has always felt most comfortable isolated from other people—but it worries her nonetheless. Part of her fears that he won't answer her firm knocking at all…but much to her relief, a voice replies a few seconds later. It's gruff, and clearly distracted, but it's his voice, and she is intensely glad to hear that he at least hasn't passed out from exhaustion.

"Not now—I am working on something very important," he half-growls from the other side of the door.

"Nikola," she answers, raising her voice a notch. "It's me, Helen."

A sudden silence settles over the separated pair as the last syllable of her name rolls off Helen's tongue. For a few agonizing moments she is completely terrified of what has happened to him, or of the possibility that he has chosen to ignore her entirely. But fortunately, she soon hears the muffled clicking noises of the bolts being undone, and then the door swings open to reveal a very haggard and unusually disheveled Nikola standing there with one hand fisted nervously in his unruly hair.

"Nikola!" she gasps in shock before she can stop herself. Oh, god, it's like New York all over again—

"I know, I know—I'm a wreck," he interjects loudly, backing into the room with his hands raised in defense, as Helen follows. "But mastering magnetic abilities is not as easy as it may seem, especially when every single metallic item in sight decides it wants to attach itself to you."

So that's what he's been up to.

But it still doesn't explain the massive assortment of wires and other instruments strewn about his table.

"And that—" he continues, waving a pale, gaunt arm at the table as if he has just read her mind, "that is going to be the bane of my existence."

Part of her wants to ask about just what exactly is going to be the bane of his existence, but her concern for his present condition outweighs her curiosity. His skin is so white that it appears almost translucent; his normally vibrant eyes are sunken into his skull, clouded by dark grey circles; his forehead and neck are glistening with hundreds of tiny beads of sweat; his cheeks are hollowed and his lips are chapped and tinged with blue; his now scrawny arms are trembling just the slightest bit, due to his frayed nerves—he is clearly not well, and Helen has to muster up all the strength she has within her to restrain herself from grabbing a hold of him and dragging him out of the lab. "Nikola, have you been out of this room once today?" she asks, unable to mask the anxiety quavering in her voice.

"There have been plenty of days that I've spent entirely in my lab. Especially back in—"

"Nikola," she interrupts sternly, effectively cutting him off, "You know this isn't good for you."

He groans in exasperation and strides away from her to the opposite end of the table, where he picks up a handful of wires from its surface and begins toying with them. "Helen, you know that being idle is worse for me than anything else," he mutters, heaving out a heavy sigh. To her dismay, Helen notices how labored his breathing is as he just barely manages to utter his words without pausing for air.

"Nikola, you being on the verge of another nervous breakdown is worse than anything else, and you know it—"

"Dammit, Helen!" he suddenly bursts out, slamming a fist onto the table and causing Helen to jump backward, startled. "You don't understand—I need to finish…I can't…I can't…" His voice trails off as his upper body slumps over the table, heaving back suppressed sobs of desperation. Helen's heart plummets as she glimpses the tears shimmering in the corners of his eyes and spots the slight quivering of his bottom lip. In her mind's eye she sees the flashback of that fateful moment in the apartment all those weeks ago—the way his entire body quaked in terror, the way he could barely choke the words out of his mouth, the way she could hear the tears trembling in his voice although he didn't let them fall from his eyes…

She gulps as the memory fades away. She hates seeing him like this—so broken, so irrationally terrified of something that shouldn't have to be feared.

"Nikola," she whispers softly, making her way to his side and laying a hand upon his shuddering arm. It's all she can do to keep herself from throwing her own arms around him and pulling him close to her. "It's all right. Just…" She doesn't know what to say to comfort him, to convince him that he doesn't have to feel trapped by whatever anxiety has consumed him this time.

In her frustrated silence she moves her hand to rest atop his, and gently caresses his cold skin with her fingers, as if this is the only thing she can think to do for him. The unexpected gesture surprises him, and his head turns suddenly to stare at the sight of Helen's hand covering his. Noticing his sudden movement, Helen lifts her eyes to his and catches his desperate gaze, silently pleading him to let go just this once.

A moment of unspoken communication passes between them, as the loving care in her eyes envelops the anxious confusion in his. And then, as if acquiescing to Helen's quiet plea, he pushes himself away from the table and stands upright, taking her hand with him and pulling her just a tiny bit closer.

He is still staring into her eyes.

Helen's breath hitches in her throat and all she can do is stare back, utterly entranced by the broken beauty of those steel blue eyes…until she suddenly comes to her senses and quickly redirects her gaze to their joined hands. She can feel Nikola's hand trembling beneath her fingers, so she gives it a tight squeeze of reassurance before looking back up at his face again and offering him a small smile.

"Come, let's go to my office," she nearly whispers. "I'll have the Big Guy bring up some dinner for us."

He nods meekly like a little child, allowing her to lead him for once. Helen squeezes his hand again and heads to the door, gently pulling him along behind her. He's hesitant at first, but once they clear the doorway, she feels his hand relax in hers. Her smile broadens and she moves to thread her fingers through his.

It's a small step in the right direction, but a step nonetheless. And for the moment, Helen finds herself feeling completely content.