"Stop lying to me!" Helen roared, throwing the remains of her lunch across the room at Nikola.

He ducked out of the way just in time for her jello to hit the wall where his head had been moments ago.

"She's not a lie, Helen," he said, taking a cautious step towards her.

"Magnus," Will tried, reaching for her but she recoiled. Nikola was the only one she could trust to be real because nothing could mimic his DNA. She'd made him run it three times, each under her supervision before she'd decided to trust him.

"Helen," Nikola tried again, coming up behind her. All of a sudden she felt trapped, Will approaching on one side and Nikola on the other. Taking a deep breath, Helen's legs started to twitch with the desperate to be free but a strong set of arms wrapped around her midriff, pulling her back against a hard body.

"No," she sobbed, kicking back at Nikola. "No, let me go." No matter how many times her elbow landed in his ribs, his did not falter.

"I can't, Helen," he whispered in her ear, voice strained as he held her close. "Remember what we said? Remember you can trust me?"

"No," she cried again though defeat made her slump slightly in his arms. He cradled her gently, carrying her over to where a small sofa sat against one wall. Together they sat, Nikola's arms holding Helen on his lap and she let her head fall to his shoulder. Her entire body was shaking and though she could feel the others watching her, she couldn't bring herself to care. In fact, as her gaze darted back to the plexiglass window, she couldn't bring herself to care about much more than what shreds of her sanity were now slipping away.

Nikola stroked her hair softly, pressing an absent kiss to her forehead before he settled back in the seat.

"It's going to be all right," he murmured.

"No," Helen breathed, clinging to his shirt front. This wasn't all right. It wasn't right. Nothing about it even came close to right.

"I promise," he continued. "You are going to be all right and Ashley is going to be all right."

Helen couldn't respond, simply gazing at the bruised and battered body of the daughter she had lost.


Meep. I am terrible. Sorry. Thank Tumblr anon for reminding me that I've been shit.

Also, Helen is scatty because, well, my story. And drugs. And it's more fun this way. My sense of fun is twisted, isn't it?

xx