Chapter 30 – A Good Friend, Nothing More
~~~~November, 1888~~~~
Nikola heard the shot from down the street and came running as fast as he could, pistol in one hand, and claws in the other.
His heart beat loudly in his chest as his mind could only assume the worst as he rounded the corner. He instantly stopped his pursuit when he saw Helen standing over the body of a dead woman.
Nikola snarled slightly.
"Helen," he said, a little breathy.
"We're too late, Nikola," she said heavily. Nikola could smell the blood from there.
"John?" he asked carefully.
"He's gone," she shuddered slightly.
Nikola took a hesitant step towards her.
"Gone? As in…"
"Gone, Nikola. He teleported away just as I got a shot off, I don't know if it him him…I think it did," she clutched her bloodstained hands together.
Nikola put a hand gently on her shoulder.
"He can't hurt anyone anymore, Helen, isn't that good?" he lowered himself to a crouch beside her.
It had been two months of hunting the ripper, and it had been a tense time; Nikola was staying in England long enough to see John either put behind bars or put inside a wood coffin.
Nikola had forgiven his friends and accepted their apologies; it had been John that had twisted their opinion of him, and he understood that, but he still stayed at a small inn away from the Sanctuary, not quite comfortable in the halls of the old place anymore, or, at least, that's how he put it.
In truth, he was more scared of Helen than he was of the memories. He had spent the last few months in a state of restlessness, not just because he was a hair's breadth from death, not even because it was his own friends who had put him there, but because, despite all of this, he was still madly in love with her.
Helen had been growing more and more emotionally unstable since that night John had been discovered. She doubted every move she made, doubted every friendship, every feeling she had ever felt for anyone. She had packed up everything belonging to John and sobbed endlessly the first week, the next week she snapped at everyone, including Nikola. After that she had mood swings between anger and remorse, and then deep heartbroken sadness, mixed in with feelings of self-doubt.
All Nikola wanted to do was kiss her and tell her to forget about John, and that he would always be here for her, but these type of confessions were not what she needed. As she stated many times in anger, she didn't need a pity party, and she certainly didn't need a new lover.
Nikola felt her bury her head in his shoulder and cry lightly, he just held her.
"It's alright," he said softly.
Her fingers fisted his shirt as she continued to sob.
"Let's get you home, Helen," he said, helping her to her feet.
It broke his heart to see her like this, and it made him angry. How could John be so heartless towards this beautiful woman? Not only attempting to take her life and the life of many others, but also shattering her dreams and her confidence in the process, Nikola wanted to punch his face in. Nikola wanted to pick up the pieces of Helen's heart and put them back together and make them stronger.
Recently, he had been spending his time in between hunting John and creating a protection for Helen and her Sanctuary. A shield of sorts, he called it the EM Shield, it surrounded the entire Sanctuary; this would keep Druitt out of her life and away from her heart for good.
Nikola got her back to the Sanctuary. James was at Scotland Yard, keeping the case under wraps while Nigel was busy with the Abnormals residing in the Sanctuary.
Nikola surpassed all pleasantries and took her up to her room.
He sat her on the edge of her bed.
She had stopped crying and just sat there quietly.
"It's over, Helen," Nikola said softly.
She nodded her head.
"I know," she murmured. "He's gone, I just can't believe it."
Nikola took her hand and kissed the top of it lightly.
"It will get easier," he said, trying to be comforting.
"I can't believe you sometimes either," she looked at him. "After what he did to you, what we did to you, I would think you would be the happiest to see him dead. How can you be so forgiving Nikola? How can you look at me and not hate me?"
The tears began to flow down her cheeks again.
Nikola swallowed slightly. This is what he was afraid of. What was he to do, lie to her? Of course not! Not now, not when her trust was so thin.
"I…I could never hate you, Helen, John yes, but not you," he kneeled down in front of her. "Never you."
Helen looked at him with glossy eyes.
"You are truly a remarkable man," she raised a hand up to his cheek, stroking it lightly.
Nikola leaned slightly against the palm of her hand, before taking it in his hand and resting it back down on her lap.
"You should get some rest, Helen, it's been a long night," he stood up and leaned over and pecked her cheek, trying not to notice how wonderful she smelt. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Can't you stay?" she looked up at him.
Nikola tried not to shudder.
"Not yet," he muttered. "As much as I'd like to."
Helen looked at him carefully.
"Please stay," she pleaded. "I don't want to be alone, not right now, not when I feel so alone already."
Nikola sighed, long and heavy.
"I can't, I really should be going now," he moved to the door and quickly left. It was harder than he'd like to admit to leave her in that state. But he couldn't trust himself with her, not when she was like this. He wanted to confess everything, tell her everything; everything he had ever wanted, everything that he dreamed of, anything to make her smile again, and he couldn't do that. It was too dangerous because she'd surely kill him with one hint of rejection.
He got to the Inn he'd been staying at and to his room, shutting the door tightly behind him.
He let out a long sigh when he was back in the safety of his sanctum. Papers laid strewn all about, ideas he came up with in his terror. The lamps had ceased to have gas in them weeks ago, he'd lit the room up with a light bulb attached some copper wire attached to a small battery he had designed one night when he couldn't rest.
It cast a warm pale light through the room.
He sat on the edge of the bed and scrubbed a hand over his face and through his hair dislodging it from its slick form.
He rarely slept since he had been turned into a vampire, but he always tried a few moments now and then. He kicked off his shoes and removed the cravat around his neck. He unbuttoned his vest and shirt before resting back against the pillows and shutting his eyes.
He had no idea how long he had actually slept for; he was torn from his slumber by a loud knock on his door. He got up groggily, and moved to answer the consistent rapping.
He opened it while still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Helen?" he blinked suddenly. "What's wrong?"
She was in a slightly disheveled state; her hair in a ragged mess, and she wore nothing but a man's shirt, waistcoat, trousers and boots; highly inappropriate for a woman to be wearing.
She was not sad, as she had been when he left her; in fact she seemed…inebriated.
She reached over and pulled herself into his arms and kissing him before his mind could comprehend anything.
Her hand reached behind her and shut the door as she pushed him further into the room.
He stumbled on to the bed, she falling on top of him.
Nikola gasped for breath, pulling away from her greedy lips, he could taste the alcohol on her tongue.
"Helen!" he sputtered. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" she drawled, pushing his already undone shirt off his shoulder and shoving the thin white undershirt up to expose his abdomen and stomach. Her teasing fingers ran over the sensitive skin, and he stifled a groan.
"No, I mean why?" he grunted, trying to grasp her hands long enough so he could understand.
"Isn't it obvious?" she smirked seductively before slowly lowering her head to his and kissing him almost painfully. "I want you."
Nikola sputtered again, a little shell-shocked by her declaration.
"Don't you want me?" she leaned back on to his lap, earning a grunt from him.
"I do, I mean I don't, not when you're like this," he muttered putting his hands on her shoulders in a vain attempt to move her off him, but she was stronger.
She ignored him and ran her hands through his hair, crushing her lips to his in another painfully arousing kiss.
It was all Nikola could do to resist her.
Helen wrapped her arms around Nikola's neck, pressing the rest of her body against him.
With so few layers between the both of them, Nikola nearly lost himself. He could nearly smell the blood in her veins as well as the alcohol on her breath, and the way she ran her nails down his chest, leaving a slight sting in their wake. It took all his willpower to break the kiss again.
"Helen, no, this isn't right," his voice sounded strained even when coated with his Serbian accent. "This isn't what you want right now, let me take you home, Helen."
She purred slightly, taking his ear in her teeth and nipping lightly.
"Then take me," she whispered seductively, he shuddered at the intonation.
"That's not what I meant, Helen," he put a hand on her hip to still it's slow grinding motions on his own. "Please," he groaned slightly. "I don't think I'm strong enough for this."
Helen smirked.
"You're a vampire, I've seen your strength," she ran a hand up his bare arm. "I want to see it in action."
Nikola sighed, shaking his head.
"No, Helen," he moved her off his lap. The sensation temporarily distracted him and he closed his eyes to regain his already feeble control. Everything she was doing he was reacting to in a very instinctual manner, his hands trembled slightly as he fought to keep his vampire nature in check and away from the very creature it wanted most.
He opened his eyes and she was not there. He wondered if it had all been a terribly realistic dream. Then he felt a hand on his neck, and the warmth of her body crawling up his spine, she was behind him.
She pulled off his shirt and wrapped her arms around his lithe torso, her lips just lightly brushing the skin of his shoulder.
For a moment his brain was frozen with ecstasy, he had no control over his body or his emotions. She kissed a line from the peak of his shoulder to the base of his neck, biting occasionally.
"I don't remember you ever being this randy when drunk," he said lamely, but it was a lie, his mind shot back to their first drinking escapade. They woke up in each other's arms in his dorm room, clothes on, but he could imagine there was some steps that led from them dancing to winding up on the bed. Then there was the night of her birthday that they spent in the moonlit garden; she had peeled off all her layers save for her under garments and they had kissed.
He wondered if that was the reason her drunken mind had chosen him, because he was the go to guy when there were no inhibitions.
Helen's hand crept lower down his flat stomach, and the feeling brought him out of his brain freeze. She was ravenous at this point, growing bolder and bolder with her lack of forethought. She pressed herself against his back and he could tell she had stripped off the man's shirt she had been wearing, leaving her completely bare.
Her lips found his and he kissed her back out of pure instinct, it was the most fiery of kisses ever shared between the two.
His mind trailed back to New York, when they had almost slept together out of sheer desperation. She, because she was desperate to show him how much she wanted him to come home, and him, because he was desperate to show how much he loved her.
It had ended sourly, as would this.
This passion was not because she loved him and wanted him, it was because she was desperate, desperate to forget. John was still the man she loved and no amount of affection from Nikola was going to change that.
Nikola felt her hand slide over his abdomen and under the line of his trousers and he broke away, grabbing her wrist tightly and holding it away.
"No," he said firmly, moving away from her, keeping his eyes downcast so he wouldn't hurt her dignity. "I won't do it Helen!"
She spat and she heard the anger.
"Am I that repulsive to you, Nikola?" she said angrily. "Have I been tainted in your oh-so-high sights that you can't even bear to look at me, let alone sleep with me?"
"No, Helen, I…"
"Look at me, dammit!" she cried and he obliged her, looking straight into her eyes and nowhere else. "Am I so ugly, Nikola?"
"No, you're not, you're the most beautiful woman I have ever known, I can't sleep with you because this isn't real, what you're feeling right now is the after effects of a whole bottle of gin," he stepped towards her. "But you are not ugly, you have no blemish, no black mark, not one single hair out of place, or bone in your body that even constitutes the meaning of ugliness…and I am not John."
At his words she broke, her tears coming faster than he could dab them away and he pulled her to him in a comforting embrace, letting her use his shoulder to cry on.
He moved her to sit on the edge of the bed and continued to hold her, lightly stroking her hair until she ran out of tears.
They stayed like that for a while until he had realized she was done crying. She just rested against him as he cradled her.
"Nikola," she croaked.
He looked down at her and smiled softly.
"Yes."
"I'm tired," she didn't move away from him as she spoke.
"You can stay here tonight," he said softly. He untangled her from around him and stood up in front of her. "Let me get you something clean to wear."
He moved over to the armoire and pulled out a clean shirt and some trousers. They weren't exactly proper for a woman to wear but they were better than the alcohol stained clothes she came in.
He walked back to her and slipped the white shirt over her arms and across her chest to cover her modesty.
He handed her the pants.
"Put these on," he instructed softly. "I'll make you some tea, it will help."
Helen nodded and headed over to the bathroom silently. He moved over to the fireplace and put a small teapot over it.
She came out a few moments later, staggering slightly.
Nikola came over and helped her to the chair.
"Here," he handed her a small cup. She sipped it and gagged. "Swallow it, it will help lessen the nausea."
She choked down the strong liquid, sputtering when it was gone.
"What was that?" she muttered.
"Mother's own recipe, it also works on fevers and morning sickness, what can I say, my genius came from somewhere," he smirked.
"You can cook?" she looked at him with a dazed expression.
"I am a man of many talents," he joked.
"Mmmm," she nodded her head.
"You should get some rest," he patted her shoulder gently.
"How are you so patient with me, Nikola?" she looked up at him; her pupils were dilated.
"You've caught me on a good day," he shrugged.
"That's not what I mean," she sat up, still looking up at him. "How can you be so patient, when I have been nothing but cruel to you?" another tear brimmed her eye.
"Cruel?" he looked at her a little confused.
Her hands reached up and caressed his cheek. She stroked the mustache on his lip.
"How is it you are so forgiving Nikola?" she smiled weakly.
"Because…I," he had no answer to her question.
She leaned back in the chair, exhausted and spent, her hands leaving his face.
He sighed and scooped her up into his arms.
"Come on, let's get you to bed," he muttered to her, she was limp in his arms but he managed to get her to the bed and under it's ruffled covers. "There, just call me if you need anything."
He turned to leave but her hand shot out and grabbed his arm.
"Nikola!" she called.
He turned back to her.
"Yes."
"Stay with me, please," she asked through droopy eyelids.
He sighed and moved around to the other side of the bed, grabbing his shirt on the way and covering himself.
He stayed above the covers and leant against the headboard.
"I'll stay, until you go to sleep," he smiled at her and she smiled back, she took his hand gently and squeezed just before her eyes drooped shut and she fell asleep.
He watched her sleep, looking at their still entwined fingers.
"It's because I love you," he whispered, taking her hand and kissing the top of it. He hated how he couldn't have told her that when she had asked.
He may be forgiving, but he was also a coward, a coward because he couldn't tell her how he felt, and chances are, he never would.
But he would wait an eternity; forgive her for an eternity, until she was ready to love him too.
He nestled down further to lie next to her, keeping their hands together. He could pretend for a few hours, pretend he was lying next to his lover. He imagined what it would be like to wake up next to her; the way her golden hair would shine in the sun, and her blues eyes would sparkle as they fluttered to life to rest on him. She'd roll over in his arms and smile that bright, brilliant smile, then kiss him, a wake up call to heaven, and the first thing he'd see would be an angel.
It did not happen the way he imagined it.
He awoke in the early morning before her and reality hit him like a splash of cold water.
She was still Helen Magnus, scarred for love by John Druitt, and he was still Nikola Tesla, helpless to change that.
He released her hand and moved off the bed.
Scrubbing a hand over his face. He hated sleeping, he hated his dreams; he spent most nights pacing back and forth just trying to keep his mind occupied other than focusing on the things that could never be true.
He picked up a bottle of wine off his desk and took a swig from it, plugging it with the cork and putting back in its original spot.
It was in these times he wished alcohol could effect him.
By the time he had changed and made breakfast Helen began to stir, groaning and holding her head.
"Uggh, what happened?" she muttered.
Nikola came over again with the tea his mother had created.
"Good morning," he said, faking a grin as he brought her over the cup. "Drink this."
"Gah, Nikola, what are you doing in my room?" she rubbed her temples, holding the blankets higher up.
"Look again," he chuckled.
She opened her eyes a bit more and looked around.
"Alright, what am I doing in your room?" she looked at him and he grinned smugly. "Did we?"
He shook his head.
"Of course not, though your alcohol riddled mind probably would've preferred it that way, oh Helen, the things you say when you're drunk," he shoved the cup in her hands.
"Are you serious?" she looked at him, mortified.
"No," he looked down briefly. "Except for the drunk thing, here, this will help with the headache."
Helen nodded and drank from the cup, missing the flash of sadness in Nikola's eyes.
"Uggh, what is that?" she looked disgusted at the liquid.
"You don't want to know, it's supposed to help with the nausea not cause it," he joked.
He brought over a basin and pulled out a rag. He sat on the edge of the bed and began to dab her heated face with it.
"Since when did you become the caregiver?" she teased.
"Since an old friend stumbled through my door in the ungodly hours of the night drunk out of her mind, now drink up! I'm going to take you home before James and Nigel start to call up a search party."
"Why'd I come to you?" she muttered.
"I…I don't know, you passed out before I had time to ask you any questions," this time she saw something indescribable flash through his eyes.
"Well, thank you," she grabbed his hand and squeezed. "You're a good friend."
She sat up and winced expecting pain to come full force, but opened her eyes.
"Wow, your tea actually works," she looked at him incredulously, happily surprised to feel the hangover pain dissipate.
"My mother does have some tricks up her sleeves," he grinned weakly.
"I bet she does. Now, just give me my clothes and we can be on our way," she pushed away the covers, noticing she was wearing his clothes instead of her own.
"Oh that, well, you weren't wearing much to begin with, if anything you're better off with that," he smirked cheekily.
"Can I borrow a jacket at least, so I don't feel so exposed?" she asked.
"Of course, as long as you explain to the wonder brothers that your change of attire had nothing to do with me," he said and she laughed. "I've had enough near death experiences to last me for a long time."
Her smile faded, her memory flashing back to that awful night, his cry of terror ringing through her ears. Even though he meant it as a joke it still hurt to think about it.
"Alright then, I'll just use your facilities while you call a cab," she stood up and looked back down at him.
"Thank you again," she leaned down and pecked his cheek. "You really are a good friend."
He smiled weakly.
"I know," he gave her a smug smile and she shook her head, amused by his antics.
She tapped his cheek with a smirk then headed to the washroom, closing the door behind her.
The smile faded along with her foots steps, and he looked down at the hand she had held all through the night, while the other came up to gently graze the spot her lips had touched.
"A good friend, nothing more," he sighed sadly.
The door opened again and Helen peeked her head through.
"Did you say something?" she asked.
"Nothing," he looked up at her. "Just thinking. Hurry up or I'll come in there and help you."
"Not if I lock the door," she smirked teasingly and shut the door again,
He sighed and stood up, straightening his clothes before heading downstairs to the Inn's lobby to call a cab for his and Helen's trip back to the Sanctuary.
~~~~Author's Notes~~~~
I know some have been waiting awhile, i've been busy, but i think you'll like this.
For those who read and like the Life-Long series, this moment is what i imagine is the turning point moment from that reality, in that universe Nikola did not resist Helen's drunken advances towards him, and yadda yadda yadda. It's not an arc like the other recent stories have been, it just a one chapter moment, because i like to change it up. :) I wrote a scene similar to this in OTBOP so i reused it and made it a bit better, for your enjoyment, I hope it's not too sad :(
Any ways, read and review :)