28th Novemeber, 1888:
Helen sat on the edge of her bed, counting in her head. The dates were betraying her and it didn't matter how many times she did it, she came to no other conclusion. Three days ago she'd watched him kill a woman, four days before that Nikola and James had sat her down to explain it to her and three days before that Nigel had come stumbling into the parlour with a bloody gash on his arm. That had been the start of it, she supposed with a sigh.
Nigel had been out at James' request to follow up a hunch the detective had had. Sunday night. Following the pattern, it should have been around then considering no bodies had been discovered on Friday or Saturday. It had become their habit to send one of their number out each weekend in the hopes of catching their mystery killer. Helen had held strongly to the belief that they must have been an abnormal and had decided it was their responsibility.
John had been sent out the weekend prior. The thought made her blood run cold yet again. He had come home, heartbroken at not catching the man before he took poor Mary Jane's life. Helen had comforted him as best she knew how. Now she hated herself for such actions.
But even if she hadn't been with him that night she knew she'd not have been able to prevent what had now happened. Eight weeks, she guessed. She knew her body well enough to recognise the signs and she hated that she hadn't realised sooner. Eight weeks.
A sob slipped through her lips and she closed her eyes, praying that none of the beings with super human hearing in the house picked up on the sound. She wanted to be alone to process this.
She'd been drifting off to sleep finally, after several long days of being unable to reach such a state when the thought had come to her. Her head had started racing after that and, well, even after checking the maths three times she couldn't force herself to accept what was undoubtedly fact.
Worse than that, she couldn't figure out what she was supposed to do now.
Another sob slipped through her lips and this time she couldn't even attempt to stifle it. Wrapping her arms around her body she tried not to think about the fact that her life as she knew it was over. No more science, no more becoming a doctor, no more being even tenuously accepted amongst academic circles. No more abnormals.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door.
"Helen?"
"Go away Nikola," she called back, working to keep her voice steady.
"Helen? What's the matter?"
"Nothing, please, just leave."
"I'm coming in now, all right?"
"No, of course it's not all right! This is my bed chamber and I am hardly dressed for receiving visitors..."
The last word trailed off as Nikola slipped into the room regardless. He held a candlestick in one hand, the small flame casting strange shadows across his face. The light wasn't enough for her to properly make out the look on his face but she could tell his eyes were dark with concern. He moved towards her cautiously, as if frightened she might chastise him for disobeying her request that he leave.
When he finally made it to her side, his small candle resting on the bedside table, she was barely able to keep from shaking once more. He sat too close to her, one arm working its way around her shoulders as the other took one of her hands in his.
"Helen," he started quietly, his voice laced with pity and sadness. Normally she would push away such things and demand that he treat her not as someone fragile and broken but, in that very second, Helen knew she was broken.
Instead she turned and collapsed against him, one hand flying around his waist as the other fisted in his shirt. He was still dressed in his customary suit, vest unbuttoned so that when she buried her face in his chest, the heat of his skin seeped through and warmed her cheek. The cool night air seeping through the floor boards made her huddle even closer, tucking her legs up so that her knees rested against his legs.
He tightened his grip on her almost instantly, holding her firmly as she shook ever so slightly. No tears came but instead she felt herself shivering uncontrollably.
Nikola didn't speak, just rocking her back and forwards ever so gently as she clung to him.
One hand smoothed down her flyaway curls with such tenderness and care that Helen wanted to cry. Only she couldn't, her body wouldn't allow such a traitorous action. Something inside her stopped the tears, seeing them as too weak despite that fact that she was here, in nothing more than a nightgown, clinging to Nikola as he cradled her like a child.
Like a child.
Like a child.
She sobbed softly once more and Nikola tightened his grip even further.
"Whatever is the matter, Helen?" he asked kindly, his voice a low whisper. She sniffed and held him tighter.
"I... I'm with..." she whispered, biting her lip as a single tear slipped from her eye.
"You can tell me," he encouraged, his voice rumbling through his chest and into her in a most pleasant and comforting way. She wanted to tell him, she really did but she didn't want to either. While he would understand it would mean he would see her as dirty and damaged and probably push her away. He was so warm and smelt so lovely that she couldn't bring herself to do it.
"I know I can," she replied softly, stealing closer once again.
"Then please tell me," he said urgently. "Let me help."
She sniffled again and shook her head.
"You cannot help with this, Nikola. This is a problem of my own making."
"Let me try," he urged. "I can't bear to see you like this."
She pressed to his chest once more, inhaling the warm, spicy scent of him before preparing for him to toss her across the room.
"I'm with child."
He stiffened almost instantaneously but she didn't let go of him, trying to take as much strength as she could from his firmly muscled chest.
After a few minutes she began to pull back and, much to her disappointment, he let her go. Straightening out beside him, she prepared herself to ask him to leave but he cut her off, taking her hand before turning to face her properly. She looked up into his dark grey eyes, praying that he would not think less of her for such an action but it hardly seemed fair to ask such a thing of him when she'd been nothing short of monstrous at times.
Then, out of the blue his free hand grabbed her chin tightly, holding her steady and he leaned in and crushed their lips together. Helen blinked in surprise but couldn't remember to fight such actions until he pulled away, eyes unreadable.
Then he slid from the bed to kneel before her, still holding her hand tightly.
"Helen," he began as he settled himself on one knee before her. "I know I would not be your first choice and nor is this the perfect beginning to a relationship but... But I care for you more than I could ever possibly express. I love you. I love you, Helen Magnus and I would be honoured if you would agree to become my wife."
She gaped at him, eyes wide. He was... Marriage? Of all the reactions she had anticipated, this was not one.
"Let me care for you, Helen," he continued fervently. "I will give you everything your heart desires, I will never even think to stop you from becoming the illustrious doctor we both know you shall one day become and I will do my best to be worthy of you, to be worthy of being your husband. Let me raise your child as... as... as our child. Let me give you all the things in the world that you desire, let me care for you and love you and stay by your side for the rest of our long lives."
His hand squeezed hers gently and he smiled warmly up at her.
"So, how 'bout it? Will you take me as your husband?"
The only thing I dislike about this chapter is that cannon dictates her answer :(
xx
