Chapter 58 – Forever and Always (Part 2)

~~~~New York, 1943~~~~

Nikola Tesla was dead!

The news ran through the hotel like wildfire. He had apparently died during the night of a heart attack, and the lobby was filled with journalists, cops, and interested bystanders.

Helen walked by all of them behind a short old man with glasses. He was the county coroner, and an old friend. They had spent all night faking evidence for this very case. The timeline had moved a bit sooner with the maid finding Nikola early this morning and screaming the entire building awake.

Helen barely had two hours of sleep, and she rubbed her eyes as they entered the elevator.

"Why couldn't she have waited until noon to have found him?" muttered Helen to her accomplice.

The old man snickered.

"Death waits for no one," he joked.

"What? It was 5 am, six? What was the maid doing?" Helen yawned.

"From what I hear she was doing a routine floor check up when she heard something coming from Tesla's room. She surpassed the do not disturb sign and went in to see if he was all right…that's when she found him," he sighed.

"I swear it would've been easier just to toss him off the roof," sighed Helen.

He chuckled at that.

"What was it you said? Let him die with grace?" teased her friend.

"He didn't want to ruin any of his suits," sighed Helen.

The elevator dinged and they disembarked, dragging the gurney behind them.

"I will say you could've chosen an easier location," he chuckled again.

"Ah you're here!" the hotel manager ran up to them. "We were starting to get worried."

"Why, he's already dead?" mumbled her companion.

"Yes, but…I don't know…no one's ever died in this hotel before," the manager said nervously.

"It won't be the last time I assure you," chuckled the old man.

A woman was down the hall crying, with two maids around her comforting her.

"Was she the one that found the body?" asked Helen.

"Yes, who are you?" asked the manager.

"She's my assistant," said the coroner.

"Well, the body's right in there, nobody's touched it," the manager sighed.

"Thank you, if you'll just wait out here," he muttered as he and Helen entered into Nikola's hotel room and closed the door behind him.

"You sure no one can see him?" asked Helen.

"They'll see what I want them to see. They want Tesla to be an 84 year old man that is what I've given them and in there minds if they did seem him they won't logically be able to justify it. Humans cling to logic like they do their mothers," muttered H.W. Wembly as he walked into the bedroom.

Helen froze.

"He really looks…"

"He's alive, but only just…it would take a highly trained medical practitioner to notice it. The pulse it so weak it may as well be non-existent but the blood is still flowing to all the essential parts," Wembly rested a hand on Nikola's forehead. "Damn he's cold. Remind me to tell him when he wakes up. His internal thermostat will be off for several days, I have something for him that will help counteract that."

Helen went over to Nikola and rested a hand on his cheek. The sight of him was rather frightening but she fought through it.

"How much longer will he be out?" she asked.

"A day, maybe two," Wembly reached into Nikola's pocket and pulled out the pill bottle. "Not a one left."

"I'll have to ask him what it's like?" Helen joked slightly.

"Probably like the worst fever you'll ever experience," Wembly brought over the gurney. "I'll need your help transferring him over."

Helen nodded and maneuvered around the bed to grab Nikola's feet.

"How does such a skinny man manage to be so heavy?" she grumbled as the hauled his limp body up and onto the gurney.

"Bone density and muscle weight," shrugged Wembly. "Any person is heavy when they're just dead weight…no pun intended," he grinned sheepishly and began strapping Nikola's body down.

"Cover him up, will you please, I can't stand to look at him like this," Helen sighed.

Wembly chuckled and grabbed a sheet off the bed.

"Is there anything he wished us to smuggle out for him?" chuckled the elderly man.

"I think so…" Helen began to scan the room. It wasn't like Nikola not to have planned beforehand.

"How about this?" asked Wembly. "It's addressed to you."

Helen took the small box from the coroner's hands.

"That's more like him, probably just some trinkets he'd rather have in my custody than the FBI's," she chuckled and placed the box in between Nikola's legs underneath the sheet.

"Now the hard part," sighed Wembly. "Getting him out of here without the press catching a glimpse, you'll have to hold down that end of the sheet while I hold this end. Reporters are sneaky bastards and they aren't above lifting up the sheet to snag a picture of the dead guy. They can't photograph him, my powers don't work like that," sighed Wembly.

"Understood," Helen nodded, gripping the end of the gurney in her hands.

"I've already made the fake photos with the cadaver, so that won't be a problem, we just have to make sure these are the only photo's they see," Wembly continued.

Helen exhaled a long breath and nodded.

"Off to the wolves," he muttered.

They wheeled the gurney out into the hallway. It was relatively in the same state it was when they had arrived. The small group of people stepped back as they pulled out of the room and maneuvered around so they could easily load on to the lift.

A cry nearly made Helen jump as the maid tore past the cluster of bodies clogging up the hall and flung herself on to Nikola's form. She sobbed clutching him. Who was the woman?

Helen stepped back and wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulders.

"Excuse me, did you know this man?" Helen asked softly.

"Yes," the woman looked up with tear-stained eyes. "I loved him."

"You and Mr. Tesla were-"

"This is not Mr. Tesla, it's…him," his name choked up in her throat and a new flow of tears ran down her cheeks.

Wembly put a comforting hand on her shoulder and softly cooed.

"I'm sorry Madam, but whoever he is…this is not him," he gently lifted the sheet for her to see his head.

Her mouth gaped open and her brow scrunched together.

"But I…"

"It was late, it was dark, are you one hundred percent sure this wasn't the man you saw?" Wembly looked deep into her eyes as he spoke.

She blinked slightly then slumped.

"I-I don't know," she muttered.

"You've experience a great fright, I suggest you take the day off, go home, get some rest, drink a glass of brandy and right your thoughts," Wembly smiled and patted her shoulder.

"He was an old man, it was his time," Helen added.

The woman looked over at Helen with a look Helen couldn't place.

"I'm sorry," the maid shook her head. "For a moment there you reminded me of…someone…I can't place it."

Helen stepped back.

"I just have one of those faces I guess," she shrugged.

"It wasn't your face…it was…" she gasped. "You!"

Helen gave a confused face.

"I think you have me confused with someone else, Manager!" Helen called. "Please take her home, get her some brandy."

The Manager nodded.

"Come on Mrs. Monaghan, let these good people do their jobs," the Manager took her by the arms and began pulling her away.

"You! You ruined my life!" she screamed. "What have you done with him? You murderer!"

"She's delirious!" cried one of the maids.

"She's grief-struck! Get her down to the break room and get her some water, all this crying has probably made her dehydrated!"

"Mrs. Monaghan, please!"

"You witch! Bring him back!" sobbed the woman.

Helen and Wembly quickly darted to the lift with Nikola in tow, closing the doors and silencing the screams.

Helen let out a long breath.

"Well, that was interesting…what was that anyways?" asked Wembly.

"You're telling me," Helen sighed. "I do remember…it's nothing," she shook her head and looked down at the sheet-covered form lying dead still. She rested her hand on his arm. "Oh Nikola, what were you up to?"

~~~~Portsmouth, Post D-Day~~~~

Nikola poured out two glasses of wine and cradled one of them in his left hand as he leisurely leant back in his chair, crossing his long legs.

War was exhausting.

He took a generous sip and sighed. He checked his watch. She should be back any moment now.

It had been a long day, simultaneously saving the war, surviving off of chamomile tea, catching a traitor, coming up with an interesting formula for improving fuel efficiency in planes, and only on a half bottle of wine, he was genuinely impressed with himself.

Of course, finding out his assistant was also a Nazi sympathizer had put a slight damper on his day; he was sure to bring that up with Helen when she arrived. She almost cost them the whole war by getting rid of his gorgeous secretary and replacing it with that American louse.

He growled slightly. He had really started the like that kid, how dare he be charming!

Nikola took another sip of wine.

He looked up at the peaceful skies overhead through the large window. Any moment now…

~~~~Somewhere over Europe~~~~

Helen looked out of the small plane window to the sleepy countryside below. There was something in the air, something that told her the worst of this war was behind them. With the landing at Normany proving to be successful and the weather machine back in their care Helen knew Hitler was reaching his last legs before he would cripple, and boy did it ever feel good.

James sat beside her fiddling with his chest machine. He grumbled to himself as he carefully calibrated each dial and knob to it's specified setting.

Helen watched him for a moment.

"John really did a number on you, didn't he?" she sighed.

"He had to make it look convincing…or at least that was the excuse he gave," James muttered as he carefully tuned a dial into place. "But mark me if he didn't enjoy it just a tad."

"Fifty years doesn't change much in a man," she sighed.

"So it would seem," he hissed. His anger towards John was still seething just below the surface. Helen knew that it was not just because of her, he had seen John's betrayal as a slight on all of them, even Tesla. What John had done and what he continues to do, was let his selfish feelings take over his humanity. In ther process he had hurt the woman he claimed to love, his best friend, his goof companion and his greatest rival. James sighed, lord knows Tesla may have been justified, but for John to be so thoughtless to the people he had once addressed as friends. It burned a little.

Helen patted his arm comfortingly as he sat back letting his machine readjust itself to it's proper functioning order.

"It's funny," James scoffed. "John thought you and I were…"

"Together?" Helen filled in. "Really?"

"The man sees any sort of attraction as some kind of passion," James sighed. "I love you my dear, but as a companion."

Helen laughed.

"Isn't that how all this trouble started? Him mistaking friendliness for fornication," she rolled her eyes. "All this jealousy from him I really should be flattered."

"But he is right, you know, you seem different. He just made the mistake of thinking it was because of me," James looked at her with deep probing eyes.

"What are you insinuating, James?" Helen huffed.

"Don't treat me like a fool. I have always known who it was that came between you and John all those years ago, who continues to come between you and everyone else," James grasped her hand tightly. "I don't pretend to understand the depth of your relationship, I just happen to notice how your mood changes when he's around."

"Like what?" she growled.

"Irritability, for one," he teased. "Tesla gets under everyone's skin but especially yours," James grinned. "Like that stunt you pulled before we left, with the secretaries."

Helen laughed.

"That was good wasn't it," she smiled proudly to herself.

"And I haven't mentioned it but I did happen to notice your new accessory," he lifted up her wrist, revealing the bracelet. "Looks like a Tesla original."

"We're not sleeping together again, I swear," Helen confessed. "Nikola has just made a point of being my safety net in case this mission didn't go well."

"Could you imagine how things would've gone down if he'd come along with us?" laughed James. "John would've blown a gasket."

"Lets hope he believes Nikola is dead just like the rest of the world," sighed Helen.

"Yes, and while we're at it, let's make sure that Nikola actually knows where he stands before…"

"Yes," Helen looked at him stiffly.

"Before there are any rings involved," James said carefully.

"That was a long time ago," Helen sighed. "And it was mutual, both the beginning and the end."

James sighed.

"Just make sure," he said firmly.

Helen bit her bottom lip to prevent herself from saying anything offensive to her old friend. She nodded and looked outside the window once again.

She did not need any reminder of her and Nikola's sordid past together, she was full aware of the mistakes and bad situations that it had led to. Honestly this time she felt they had moved past it, what with her practically jumping him and he outright declining it. He had moved on from her, and she had definitely moved on from him.

He eyes darted down to the bracelet around her wrist. Something in her twinged a bit looking at it.

"Helen," James warned. "No rings."

Helen gave him a look, more like a scowl.

"Yes, no rings."

~~~~New York, 1943~~~~

The first gasp of air was painful, like he hadn't used his lungs in years and there were cobwebs lining the inside of his trachea. The light was blinding, almost sheer white; he could only make out a few faint figures. The sound; it was like a radio that had been turned off for too long and the first click of the on switch was just loud high-pitched ringing.

The second breath was easier and his vision began to steady out though the sound was still foggy.

Damn, he was freezing. He could feel the tremors in his arms and legs, wriggling up his torso and chattering his teeth.

Then she was there, focusing into his sights, as beautiful as ever.

"H-He-" his throat was not working to make more than that.

Her hand wrapped around his and in a single moment everything righted itself; her voice breaking through in crystal clear clarity.

"It's okay, I've got you."

He took in another deep breath, his body still shaking from the cold.

"I-I'm so…so c-cold," he choked out.

"I know, it's ok," her hand felt so warm in his hand that he brought it up to his face.

"Wh-where?"

"County coroner, to be autopsied," Helen smiled at him.

"Am I?"

"Dead? Yes, well, technically," Helen smirked. She reached over and pulled a thick wool blanket over his form. He was almost naked aside from a pair of white, rather crisp feeling shorts.

With a bit of effort she managed to sit him up and hold him steady as he regained equilibrium.

"How do you feel?" she asked, flashing a light into his eyes.

He groaned and pushed the light away.

"Blinded, thank you," he blinked several times to adjust his vision again. He shivered. "Why is it so cold?"

"Your body is going to need some time to heat up, your internal furnace is shot," she held up a glass with a strange liquid inside. "Drink this."

Nikola looked at it skeptically.

"What is it?" he sniffed it and scrunched his face up at the pungent odor.

"It'll help, drink it," she ordered.

"No," he said stubbornly.

She pinched his arm tightly and he yelped.

"Drink it," she snarled.

"Ok fine," he whined and shot back the entire glass in one go, swallowing it quickly.

He choked it down and stuck his tongue out in disgust. He pulled the blanket around him tighter.

"How'd it go?" he asked after a moment.

"Good, not too many issues, you were discovered earlier than we'd have liked, apparently one of the maid's heard you gasp your dying breath and came into check on you," Helen shrugged. "But we were ready so it was no problem. Fake photos were released just this morning about your deathbed. You look positively grave and senile."

Nikola chuckled.

"Did you get my package?" he asked.

"What package?"

Nikola's face dropped. Helen laughed.

"Of course I did," she went over to the desk and picked it up. "You did kind of leave it out for me to find."

Nikola frowned at her.

"Give it here, have to make sure it's all there and accounted for," he sighed pulling the bow off the top off the lid and throwing the lid carelessly to the side.

His eyes widened as the contents of the box were revealed to him and he began fishing through the few trinkets and papers that were inside.

"No, no, where is it?" he muttered. "Where is it?"

He took the box from Helen and searched through it even more frantically.

"It can't be…I put it in…I know I did…it was…" he put it down, his breath quickening with panic.

"Nikola what is it? What's missing?" she asked.

"It's got to be…it was in here, I know it was!" he barked.

Helen put a hand on his shoulder.

"Nikola, what was it?" she asked and he looked up at her with something in his eyes she couldn't quite place.

"It was," his eyes darted down to her hands then back up again as he choked back a ragged swallow. "It's nothing…it's gone. Must've fallen out or something."

He sighed, looking away almost a little heartbroken.

"Nikola, is it something we can replace?" she asked softly.

"No, no it was…it was priceless one of a kind, very sentimental," he shook his head. "I…I'll live," he waved it off but she knew it was more than that, made her all the more curious to know what it was.

"I could go to the hotel and look for it," she suggested.

"Forget about it," he sighed. "It was just a trinket, it's probably in the hands of the FBI now, or some greedy maid."

Helen bit her lip at the thought, remembering the clearly distraught maid in the hallway.

Nikola tugged the blanket around him again.

"Is it possible to get some tea?" he asked, shivering.

"I'll go make you some," Helen patted his shoulder and turned to leave.

"And Helen…"

"Yes, Nikola?"

"Thanks for killing me, I…uh, really appreciate it," he tried his best to hide the small hint of a smirk from his face.

"Any time," she teased with a grin heading out of the chilly autopsy room.

It was at that moment Nikola realized he had been sitting on a tray for the cooler that held probably more than a few actually dead people in it. It was enough motivation for him to stand on shaky legs and move away from it. His eyes fell back on the box where he had set it down.

He sighed sadly as he fiddled with the few articles inside.

Where was it? Where was it?

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

Counting down the chapters. 58 down, 2 to go. I'll be ending it at sixty, a good round number.

I hope you'll enjoy what i've gotten written for the final arc of this story. Almost done. Nearly two years in the making, can you believe it's been that long. Phew. Tel me what you think, and hey for fun, what would you like to see in the final chapter of the Troublemakers? Give me your requests and I'll see what I can do.