I feel I should point out that I actually did google and put everything into a timeline to the point where I know that the 25th of November, 1888 was in fact a Sunday. Yes, I'm a little obsessive. Yes I am proud of my googling :P

And yes, this does come from a previous story, just in case it seemed familiar :)


Sunday, 25th November, 1888:

The wind was cold through her skirts, plastering them to her shaking frame as she made her way through the rain soaked streets of London. She was terrified, completely lost and scared for her life. A new sensation, granted but certainly not an unfounded one considering why she was out in the middle of a storm late at night in one of the less pleasant parts of the city she called home.

All she had to do was get back to the house, get away from him and it would all be fine.

Of course the rain had only started after she'd confronted him, even the elements seemed to be conspiring against her tonight. She was walking as fast as she could and even still, she knew it wouldn't be enough. He was going to be mad. More than mad, he'd be… she searched for the right word… murderous… she almost chuckled at her own twisted joke. Almost because he really was murderous. She'd shot him and that wasn't something to be taken lightly, regardless of whether or not she was his ex-fiancé.

She was only a few streets away now and the rain was starting to pick up. It was at this point that she started to regret wearing her overly elaborate outfit. Not that anything she owned was terribly simple but her reasons in choosing this particular ensemble now seemed ridiculous considering she was traipsing through the cold streets of London in it. Who cared if it was his favourite? It hadn't made any difference.

Bingo! She could see her town house and picked up the pace. By the time she managed to get the heavy front door open, the shock of it all set in and her body started to feel heavy. Her hands were shaking as she stood in the warm foyer.

"Helen!" James almost yelled from the top of the stairs. She looked up at him with dead eyes. He sprinted down the stairs, coming to a stop only when he could crush her into a hug.

"I tried," she whispered against his jacket. He shushed her before peeling off her drenched hat and coat, tossing them on a chair. Her heart felt like lead. She couldn't even feel the cold.

"Helen," another voice said. Nikola came dashing to her side, his hand pushing her hair from her face. She was still trembling as the two men helped her over to the sofa. She couldn't focus on any of them, her eyes unable to take in anything accept the memory of that girls blood pulsing from her neck.

"Nigel, get us some whiskey!" James yelled over his shoulder. Nikola sank down on his knees in front of her, one hand cupping her face tenderly. James threw several blankets around her, tucking her up as tightly as possible before sinking down next to her. Her mouth hung open as she tried to breath, her painfully tight dress limiting her ability to do so.

Nigel arrived promptly, four glasses in hand. He took one look at the group huddled by the couch and Helen's shivering features and poured her a generous serve. Suddenly her eyes found Nikola and she clung on to the one piece of reality she was sure of.

"What happened?" James asked but got no reply. Helen's eyes were fixed on Nikola's. His face carried a kind of tortured apology as he held her gaze, trying desperately to reassure her.

"Helen," James called again, this time a little louder as he wound an arm around her shoulders.

"It's alright," Nikola said soothingly and there was a flicker of a smile on Helen's face.

"No it's not," she answered. "You were right."

"I'm sorry."

They all sat in silence for a moment.

"We need to get her changed," Nigel said after a moment. James looked up at him, startled by the sudden words but he nodded in assent. "I'll go get her maid," James said, trying to stand up.

"No," Helen whispered. "No one can…" she trailed off brokenly, a soft sob erupting from her throat.

"You need to get out of these wet clothes," James coaxed.

"In a minute."

They sat silently again before Helen let out an almighty sigh.

Wordlessly, Nikola stood up. Helen's eyes followed him before she too struggled to stand up, discarding the wet blankets as she went. The four of them slowly made their way upstairs, James and Nigel had their arms around her while Nikola held her hand. Thankfully the fire in her room was roaring. Slowly, they lowered her to the bed and stood back, uncertain as to how they should proceed.

"I can manage," Helen said in a small voice, waving her hand dismissively as she tried to smile at them. Somehow that cold detachment she'd perfected for their confrontation had abandoned her when she needed it most. She knew that she didn't need to be strong in front of these men but after all this time, it was her default setting. Letting them see her this broken was not an option. The tears were threatening to overflow as she looked up into the concerned faces before her.

With a lot of effort, Helen pushed herself off the bed to stand in front of them. Silently, she praised her self control for keeping her knees steady.

"We'll be back in the morning," James said with a kiss to her forehead. They all turned to leave, Nikola being the last. Once she was certain that the other two were out of the room, she reached out to Nikola, her knees finally giving out as she collapsed on the floor. He turned from his position in the doorway, startled to see her crumpled on the floor. He dashed back to her side and she looked up at with stricken eyes.

"Stay," she whispered, clutching his jacket to keep him close. Using all his strength, he cradled her against his body before lifting her up. As they sank onto the bed, she let out a little sigh.

"You have to change," he whispered into her hair before rolling away from her. She whimpered at the loss of contact. "I'm not leaving," he soothed.

Quickly he set about gathering up her clothes. In a matter of minutes he was back on the bed, helping her to kneel in front of him. After a few more minutes of awkwardly pulling and pushing at her wet dress, they managed to get her into a cotton nightgown. Her hair was still wet so Nikola grabbed a towel and started to massage her head. Her eyes slid shut and Nikola took in her exhausted appearance. As much as she hated the fact, she still needed far more sleep than either he or James.

Releasing her head, Nikola slid off the bed. Her eyes popped open at his departure and she opened her mouth to speak but he held up a hand.

Quickly he kicked off his shoes, following with his coat and waistcoat. He loosened his cravat before reaching over and pulling back the covers. She slid under the covers and he followed her. They both knew it was ridiculously improper but neither cared. They'd slept like this before though not for a very long time.

"I didn't want to be right," he whispered as he curled up closer to her.

"I didn't want you to be right," she replied quietly.

"You shouldn't have to hurt like this," he said, his voice breaking. She said nothing, simply moving deeper into his embrace.

After a few minutes, her shoulders started to shake and he pulled her tighter. "You're safe," he whispered urgently. "Nothing bad will happen now, we're all safe."

"If only," she replied with a sigh. It was only a matter of minutes before she fell asleep in his arms.