April, 1880:

One by one they made their way across the stage. Helen smiled and clapped like the rest of the audience, truly pleased for her friends.

It wasn't their fault she couldn't join them. James and Nigel looked so resplendent in their robes. John did too to an extent however his six foot plus frame was not adequately covered by the black fabric, leaving a few too many inches of leg and wrist showing. Helen had given him a good ribbing about it,

They had, in an attempt to lift her spirits, stolen a gown and cap for her, presenting them to her with a large, garish bunch of flowers.

It was a sweet gesture and she thanked them wholeheartedly for it but it did nothing but fuel the pit of resentment inside of her.

She had worked as hard as any of them, more so than Nigel probably yet she was forced to sit in the audience as qualifications were handed out. Her marks surpassed the majority of their class, even beating James from time to time but not one of her teachers had recognised that fact. One or two of them had politely asked if she'd be returning to audit the same classes next year considering her friends would no longer be at the university. She'd curtly informed them that she would once again apply to take the subjects as a student, rather than an auditor.

She did not have high hopes for her chances though. These past few years she'd been something of a menace, uncaring what the university thought of her and her ways. It was highly unlikely they'd grant her a place as a student.

Her father, on the rare occasions he was home, was urging her to pick another university, somewhere less prestigious so that they would be less daunted by taking on a female student but Helen would have none of it. Her father had gone to Oxford and she intended, one day, to walk out of those grand doors in the robes of a scholar.

But not today. Today she would watch her three closest friends graduate.

She sighed, fanning herself absently before readjusting her skirts.

For all the achievements she'd made on these grounds, for all the barriers she'd crossed, today was not her day of celebration.

A man on stage in a stately gown was still droning at them, something about prestige and following in footsteps but Helen was barely listening. She was bored. Bored and angry.

Biting her lip, she looked towards the doors open to her left. It was a terribly hot day and they'd left them open in the hopes of inviting a breeze through.

"Bored yet?" a familiar voice breathed against her ear.

Helen only just controlled her yelp.

A hand drifted to her waist, holding her in place as whoever held her chuckled softly.

Somehow, Helen kept herself from turning in her seat. She knew that voice anywhere. Just as she knew those hands against her corseted waist. Only one man drew lines up and down her sides like that.

Suddenly she felt faint, like she could very well fall back through the chair and into his arms without a care.

"Nikola Tesla," she breathed. It had been over six months since she'd seen her best friend after he'd snuck away the day after Christmas. She'd written him angry letters, most of which had gone unanswered. Last she knew, he had been in Prague, trying his hand at yet another university. His most recent letter had given her the impression that he was fitting in just about as well as he had at Oxford.

"Miss me?" he whispered, lips brushing against her earlobe.

"What are you doing? Anyone could see?" she hissed back, trying not to draw attention to them. She'd chosen a seat way up the back which gave her a modicum of privacy but there was still the worry that someone would turn and see them.

"You looked bored," he whispered. "I thought I'd spice up your day."

Helen bit back a groan before carefully bringing her hand to rest on his. He threaded his fingers through hers and Helen smiled for a moment before pushing him off.

"Get away from me," she hissed, straightening her back.

"Come with me," he asked softly. "It's too hot in here anyway. You must be just about dying under all those layers."

Helen pursed her lips but said nothing.

"Oh come now, Helen," he tried again. "The boys won't hold it against you if you slip out now. They've all got brothers and mothers and the like to deal with after this."

"No, leave me be, Nikola," she muttered, trying to pay some attention to the stage.

"I missed you," he tried, pleading with her as his hands went back to her waist. "Please. We'll be back by the time it's all over."

He lay his head on her shoulder, his hands wresting benignly around her middle and Helen felt herself cave. Nikola was always her partner in crime. And he wasn't graduating either. Perhaps it was right to spend today with him once more...

Well, after she beat him soundly for running away in the first place.

Taking a quick look around, Helen steeled herself, taking a deep breath before standing up and, as quietly as her skirts would allow, walking towards the door. If anyone asked, she'd simply blame the heat.

She didn't hear Nikola's footsteps behind her but she wasn't naive enough to think that meant he wasn't following. She kept walking away from the main building until she was certain they'd not be disturbed. Helen paused by an arch way, turning with a scowl for Nikola.

He grinned broadly at her, arms open in greeting as he waltzed towards her.

Helen brought her hand up and slapped his cheek with all she had.

"Ow!" he cried, eyeing her angrily. "What was that for?"

"For leaving," she said frostily. "Without a proper goodbye. And for not writing often enough. And for leaving me all alone here."

"You aren't alone!" he exclaimed, holding his cheek. He scowled. "I think this is going to bruise."

"Oh you'll heal," she said, rolling her eyes. "Vampire, remember?"

"It still hurts," he grumbled. "If you cut me, do I not bleed?"

"Don't you sully Shakespeare with your... your... your..."

"My what?" he teased, stepping closer to her.

"Don't give me that look, Tesla. You're in big trouble."

Nikola chuckled, closing in on her. He took her waist in his hands, tugging her forward until she fell against his chest.

Helen opened her mouth to protest once more but Nikola swallowed her words with a bruising kiss.

She was so surprised she forgot to fight him off, her body bending beneath his as she kissed him back. Nikola took full advantage, holding her tightly as his mouth moved hungrily against hers. He was getting greedier and greedier as the seconds passed and Helen let him. He tasted the same as always, his body felt the same as always and Helen remembered easily why she used to let him do this to her whenever he pleased. He was truly an exceptional kisser.

It wasn't until she was pink cheeked from the lack of oxygen that Helen even thought to pull back. Not that she wanted to, it was Nikola who reminded her of the need to breathe, pulling back with a gasp.

Helen swayed in his arms, her vision blurring but Nikola held her steady.

"Oh, you missed me," he said smugly, squeezing her waist. "You so missed me."

Helen gasped down some air before she pushed away from him.

"I hate you," she breathed with a scowl, bringing her hand up and slapping his cheek again.

"Stop hitting me!"


"If this is our graduation present, I think you can keep it," James said as he, John and Nigel strolled up to where Nikola and Helen were lounging on a picnic blanket, a basket filled with fresh pastries between them.

"Tesla!" Nigel enthused, holding out his hand and pulling the other man to his feet. They embraced quickly before breaking apart with matching grins. "Good to see you, mate," Nigel continued.

"When did you get back?" John asked, eyes narrowing.

"Earlier this morning," Nikola replied breezily. "I stole Helen away from that droll old ceremony."

"Good to see you, Tesla," James drawled, narrowing his eyes.

"Say it like you mean it, James," Helen teased. "Now come sit, all of you. I have your gifts right here."

The four men sank to the ground obligingly, arranging themselves around Helen.

"Queen Helena and her court," Nikola teased as he slipped in beside her, closer than strictly appropriate.

"Stop talking," Helen said tartly, shoving a pastry in his mouth. "You're much more pleasant when your mouth is occupied."

Nikola chuckled through the pastry, eyes sparkling at Helen in that mischievous way that meant she simply had to slap his chest.

"Don't be crude," she said sharply, hoping her cheeks didn't flush with colour.

"Just like old times," James said, shaking his head in disapproval but the others laughed.

And then Helen really did blush.