Thank you for your patience—I know I am not the best at updating speedily—and thank you for your continued support. If you have requests for certain scenes or characters, please leave it in a review or a PM. Cheers!
The only time London was sufferable was during the summer. Though brief—blink and you'll miss it—London summers were what made the city charming. All the gardens and parks grew people as much as they did plants during these short weeks. Everyone poured out of their grumpy corners of the city, desperate to soak up the good weather while it lasted. This jovial weather was perhaps the main reason why summertime was equated with romance and other such frolicky attitudes.
Yet, the issue Helen had with London in the summer was the crush of people that crowded the subways, markets, sidewalks, theaters, night clubs, and anywhere you might like to venture while on a brief visit. The annual medical seminar had lasted two weeks, beginning on the tail end of the spring rains and bridging into the early sunshine of summer. By the end of the seminar, right when Helen was ready to take a few relaxing days to herself before heading back to her practice in Cardiff, the weather had shifted so dramatically that it seemed the city became overpopulated overnight.
Helen so rarely came to London that she didn't have an insider's perspective on where to go to avoid the crowds and so had resorted to logic. If the more "civilized" areas of the city were crowded with all the dolled-up men and women looking for a summer fling, then the "less civilized" areas would be more amiable to someone like herself.
Helen had never been keen on large crowds. In the five years since the war, she had grown to loathe small spaces and loud, sudden noises. The attempts she'd made at finding a place to take her meals near her hotel once she'd grown tired of their fare had resulted in her fasting for fear of having a panic attack. They didn't happen often, but whenever they did happen, they were untimely and awkward. Helen dealt with sleeplessness or nightmares, but it seemed the horrors she'd experienced in the war came back to haunt in the daylight hours more readily if she placed herself in too great a crowd for too small space.
The streets in this district were decidedly less clean, the people assuredly less friendly, and Helen relished it. She did draw a few looks from some would-be mashers as she walked briskly along towards her destination. She was wearing a more fashionable outfit than most of the other women she'd seen in this district. The other women either dressed as aged prostitutes, which they might very well have been, rough-hewn day workers, or shabbily garbed old women. Helen hadn't realized she would make such a potential target of herself dressed in her loose-fitted tailored silk-blend crepe dress of mauve and taupe. It was scoop-necked, with three-quarter length sleeves, and the hem was the most modest she'd seen since coming into this district, stopping at just below the knee. Helen wore practical t-strap shoes, no-heel as she would like to maintain her back into old age, and finished the outfit with a pistachio-colored cloche hat.
Unlike most women of this age, Helen still employed the use of a hairpin. She found it useful for keeping her long hair coiled at the base of her neck and out-of-the-way when wearing a hat—a must when going out and about fashionable London. She also preferred to keep it nearby when in the cities. A hatpin came in very handy as a self-defense weapon against mashers or thieves. Helen also walked confidently in this district as she not only always carried a Remington M95 derringer in her purse, but she was also the first female instructor of jiu-jitsu in Cardiff. So long as they didn't get the drop on her, Helen felt secure enough in her training to feel assured in her ability to hold her own.
Despite this knowledge, Helen did breathe a sigh of relief when she found the recommended pub without any sort of unwelcome encounter. She hadn't bothered asking the concierge at the hotel for recommendations; his advice had been what'd led her to fast in the first place. No, she'd pulled aside one of the chambermaids she'd had a few passing conversations with over the time she'd been at the hotel. The maid had at first looked uncomfortable offering up any suggestions that were in less posh neighborhoods, but after a tip and insistence, she'd recommended this pub, which just so happened to be run by a distant cousin.
Helen was under the impression that the beef stew and fresh bread were some of the best in town. The maid also told her that her cousin tended to have some of the oddest and most potent selections of spirits and ales from around the world. Food and drink combined, located in a less crowded area of the city, and Helen was won over. The maid instructed Helen to tell the pub keeper that "Daisy" had recommended the place, and Helen hoped that that was a good thing. If Daisy was on the outs with her cousin, then she may end up with bits of hair or a fingernail in her fare.
The inside of the pub was much like any other: bar area, booth area, table area, with a small stage in the corner where players could entertain folks in the evenings. At this hour, there were only the day workers and a few barflies about, and it was easy enough for Helen to get a seat at the far end of the bar. She again drew some curious looks as she moved to sit by herself, and she felt a bit out of place but did her best not to show it. She had a wall to her back and a clear view of the entrance. The door leading out to the lavatory was to her right, and another wall was to her left. Once Helen mentioned Daisy's name to the inquisitive pub keeper, the bright smile she was given, and the assurances that she'd get the best they had to offer, with one pint of her choice on the house, she felt that this hadn't been a bad idea after all.
Between delivering her ale and her food, Helen and the pub keeper discovered they were both veterans of the war. The pub keeper was missing a few toes on his left foot but was otherwise unharmed physically. Neither of them had to say it to recognize the mental and emotional scars that were much harder to heal. Their mutual survival of the war earner her another pint on the house and a new friend in the form of the burly man.
After she finished her food, including the fresh bread pudding made by the pub keeper's wife, and ordered another pint as well as a shot of whiskey, Helen settled in to read through her seminar notes. There quite a lot going on in the medical field in America and even more so going on in Austria and Germany. It felt, to Helen, like they were always playing catch-up in England. Well, at least in Wales. She was like many other veterans of the war and had to fight against anger and frustration at just how many MORE lives they could've saved if some of this new technology had been available, or if more of these medical journals had been published and also available to study.
Helen took her shot of whiskey and savored the burning and palate-cleansing feel of it washing through her mouth and down her throat. Her aunt's church had helped her through a type of rehabilitation after the war, and Helen, though not exactly religious herself, was grateful for it. Those first few months back home had been hell, and she still didn't know exactly how much she drank. Her father had never had the nerve to tell her. She still felt the itch for it when the nightmares got bad, or a panic attack started knocking at her heart's door, but for the most part, she had it under control and only indulged on special occasions. Good food and a quiet pub were a good enough occasion in her mind.
It was as she was setting her shot glass back down, tempted to order another, that the door to the lavatory opened and a man dressed in a three-piece gray suit with an equally grey homburg hat on his head stepped out. While it would not normally be strange for such a well-dressed man to come out of the lavatory, what made it strange was that Helen knew for certain he hadn't before been in the pub. He must've decided, for whatever reason, to enter the pub from the backside. Perhaps, wondered Helen as she continued to observe him quietly shut the door, he was trying to be covert in his comings and goings because he was meeting someone on the sly.
When he turned in his quick study of the room, Helen felt her stomach flip, and her mouth drop open in surprise. It was Theseus Scamander. He looked more mature and, from what she'd seen so far, carried himself in an equally more mature manner. She hadn't seen him since the war. While they'd exchanged a few letters in the five years since, for the most part, life had gotten in the way for them both and neither had made much of an effort to rectify that.
His eyes landed on Helen only seconds after she first recognized him. A smile tugged at her lips and a matching look of delight and confusion modeled Theseus' features. The moment was broken when, over the casual din of nearby conversation and pub goings-on, they both heard a few heavy thuds in the room which led out to the lavatory. Helen looked from the door to Theseus. He broke eye contact just long enough to study the room once more. With an aggravated sounding sigh, he ripped his hat from his head and was on Helen within two strides.
She opened her mouth to ask what the matter was, but her question was muffled and lost by the press of his lips to her. His movements had moved her on the barstool, and she was maneuvered to face him, her chest pressed to his, her legs splayed awkwardly on either side of his as he stood between them. Helen's arms came up automatically and after a brief waving in the air from her surprise, she placed them both on Theseus' chest and gave a push. One of his hands cupped the back of her neck while the other snaked around her body and held her torso tight against him.
While Helen would never have thought she'd mind him kissing her again, the near-violent and desperate way he now kissed her, and without so much as a hello, had her growing both frustrated as well as a bit worried. Had he had a breakdown since the war? Did he think she was someone else? Helen moved her fingers to pinch a sensitive nerve in Theseus' neck, effectively ending the kiss.
"What the hell, Theseus!" She whispered as she gasped in air.
He didn't let go of her, and Helen wasn't sure why she hadn't pushed him away either. The sudden appearance of three goon looking men through the door Theseus had come through answered Helen's unasked question better than Theseus' desperate albeit apologetic look. She felt Theseus' whole body stiffen under her hands and against the sensitive flesh of her thighs as the men moved further into the pub, not having taken notice of either of them just yet. Whoever these men were they meant harm to Theseus and from the looks of it, they would do that harm indiscriminately, no matter who else got in the way. Helen understood then what it was Theseus had been trying to do when he'd kissed her without permission.
It was in their favor that this pub had fewer windows than the ones in the posher areas, and so despite the luncheon hour, it was still murky and dark. It was also in their favor that in the time frame Helen had been there, more patrons had come in, including a rowdier group of wharf workers taking a more extended lunch than average. Everyone was far more occupied with their mates than they had been when Helen had come in, and there were even a few couples lurking on the edges of the pub either already kissing or looking near enough to it.
Helen made quick work of Theseus' jacket and hat, basically tossing both onto the bar beside her purse. She tugged part of his shirt askew and unbuttoned his top few buttons to ruffle the look further. Their movements alerted one of the goons and before Theseus could protest, not that Helen thought he would, Helen wrapped her arms around him and hooked her ankles around the back of his knees, hugging him tight against her. She wrapped one arm under his and took to rubbing it up and down his back while the other one tangled up in his hair and further fluffed it, helping to cover his profile from view. Theseus' head was also angled into their kiss in such a way that it would take one of the goons actively ripping him out of her arms to identify him.
Helen kept her eyes lidded but open as Theseus kissed her. In the back of her mind, Helen recognized that he'd grown in his skill for kissing and that, given another time and place, this would feel damn good. But the goon continued to lurk closer. Helen broke the kiss so Theseus could kiss down her neck. She managed to make eye contact with the pub keeper. He had also taken notice of Theseus and had been crossing the room when the other men arrived. The shadowed look on his face gave Helen hope. It seemed that he didn't like their presence any more than Theseus or Helen did. Without sparing Helen and Theseus another look, the pub keeper leaned heavily against the bar and called out to the goon approaching them.
Helen rubbed her feet up and down the back of Theseus' legs at the same time that she moved her arms to cup his face and shift on the barstool to keep his face even more shadowed. This afforded her a greater view of each one of the goons. As they pressed their lips together again and Theseus' hands began to stroke up and down her sides, Helen watched the other two goons circle the pub in obvious search of someone. The other goon asked the pub keeper a question, probably if he'd seen Theseus. The pub keeper pointed toward the front door, then looked at his watch and nodded as he pointed again at the front door. The goon looked like he wasn't quite convinced, and Helen felt more than saw his attention move back towards the two of them.
"Daisy," the pub keeper called to her and Helen pulled away from Theseus to stare at him. She pressed Theseus' head against her neck, as if she relished his kisses, "how many times do I have to tell you. Don't solicit customers in my joint at this hour. What if these guys had been coppers? I'd be out of business, and you'd be in the clink."
"Sorry, Bear," the pub keeper had told her earlier that his comrades and mates had given him the nickname on account of his size, "got carried away and forgot to ask if I could have the usual room, for our usual agreement fee?"
The pub keeper grunted as he pulled out a set of keys from his pocket. He carefully selected one and tossed it to her. He indicated with his eyes the door just behind her. Where she'd at first thought it to be a solid wall, she now understood it to be the door to the private quarters upstairs, cleverly designed to look like an ordinary wall except for the latch. She pushed Theseus away just enough to gather her things and shove his at him, before she winked at Bear, licked her lips as she looked at the goon, then turned and unlocked the door. They were through it, with it locked again, within seconds.
Neither of them spoke as they continued on up the ladder-like stairs immediately on the other side. In fact, neither of them spoke until they were up the stairs, down the hall, and in a small bedroom that overlooked another side street. Helen sat on the bed and waited while Theseus shut and locked the door and checked the view from each of the small windows. As Helen watched him, taking in the disheveled look and finding it an improvement to his previous immaculate one, she theorized what sort of job Theseus might have to allow him to dress so nicely and yet, at the same time, be hiding from goons like the men below. Once Theseus was satisfied with whatever it was he'd been trying to figure out, he turned to look at Helen, his face masked of whatever it was he was feeling.
"So," Helen broke the silence when it seemed Theseus would rather just stare at her to pass the time, "are you going to tell me why I served as disguise and decoy downstairs, or am I going to have to guess?" Theseus sat on the chair by the wall near the end of the bed. "I have an excellent imagination and could come up with all sorts of nefarious scenarios, but I would much rather just have the truth. If you, please."
Theseus ran both hands through his hair, further fluffing its curls, and heaved a great sigh. He looked around the room as if something in there with them would offer him advice on what to say. Helen left him his silence to figure himself out and took the time to smooth out her dress. Her hair was already falling down, her hatpin dangling uselessly from one of her tresses, and her hat was cockeyed. To further allow him time and privacy to figure things out, Helen pulled her hat off, hatpin with it, and shook out her hair. She'd worry about putting it back up when it was time to leave.
"It is good to see you, Helen," Theseus spoke finally, and Helen was surprised at the effect his voice had on her nerves. Probably because her body still burned in the areas where he'd touched her and now that it seemed danger was over her brain was reminding her body of all that had happened to it just moments ago. "Truly, it is. You don't look a day older than when we last saw each other."
"Flattery will not distract my brain from the fact that just a few moments ago, your tongue was in my mouth, and my hand was on your arse." Helen leaned back on the bed, crossing her ankles and eyeing Theseus with a look that dared him to deny what she'd said. "But, for old time's sake, it is good to see you too, Theseus. Though I'd never imagined our reunion would go quite like that," Helen chuckled, "can't say that I mind much. Haven't had a good snog in ages."
The blush she remembered him often getting because of things she said or did came back in full force and Helen smiled all the more. Theseus gave another sigh and stood up, pacing the length of the room as he checked the windows and door again. When he looked back to her, Helen could see that the mirth they'd had for a moment was gone, and whatever it was he'd been running from had come back to mind.
"Are you in danger?" Helen asked, sitting up again.
Theseus scoffed, "I'd think you'd be asking yourself that question. You're the one I accosted without explanation."
"I'm also the one who saved your arse. Well, me and Bear." At Theseus look, Helen shrugged, "Met him only a few hours ago. I came here for some food and privacy. I've been staying downtown for a series of medical seminars past few weeks and felt the need to get out of the hustle and bustle of the other districts." She crossed her arms over her chest and glared, "See? That's how easy it is to explain why you're in a place and how you came to be there. Why don't you try it for a change?"
"There are things that I cannot tell you," Theseus came to crouch down to eye level, "for fear of putting you into even greater danger. But what I can tell you is that I'm not on the run from the law, I work for it, and those men were and are dangerous and they are on the other side of the law. That's all I can tell you. You have no need for more information about my vocation or what I was doing down here, or even why they were after me. All that would jeopardize your safety, and I won't have that."
Helen leaned forward and kissed his cheek. She pulled back and smiled at his confusion, "See how easy that was?" Theseus blinked at her a moment more before he chuckled and stood up again. He circled the room, pausing longer at each of the windows. "When do you think it'll be safe to leave?"
"You should probably leave first. Don't head immediately back to your hotel. Maybe go for a walk in a park or head to the market for a few more hours. You saw the men long enough to be able to recognize them?" Helen nodded. "Good, then you should be able to tell if any of them are tailing you. What hotel are you staying at?" She told him and after a moment he spoke again, "How much longer are you staying in London?"
"I was planning on leaving tomorrow after breakfast. I've already been gone from my practice over two weeks. I'm afraid my uncle will have my hide if I make him work much longer out of retirement." Helen stood up and moved to the mirror. She took the time to right her looks as she spoke to Theseus over her shoulder, aware of him watching her movements through the mirror. "How can I reach you?" She saw him raise an eyebrow and added, "To let you know that I'm safe."
Theseus nodded and after another silent moment of contemplation, "Remember that owl?" It took Helen a moment before she recalled what he was talking about. At her smile and nod, Theseus explained, "There will be an owl at your window tonight around 8 o'clock. Give it a note of your safety or danger, and I'll get it."
"You're not even going to explain why an owl are you?" Theseus shook his head, and Helen shrugged. "Well, everyone is allowed their secrets, I suppose." Finished with her hair, she grabbed her hat and pinned it in place. Then she turned to Theseus. "I think you should let me help you not look so ravished."
"What do you mean?" He looked down and seemed only then to notice that he was still missing his coat, his vest was unbuttoned completely, and his first few shirt buttons were undone. Not only that, but his shirt was untucked, his hair a mess, and there were lipstick stains on his collar. After he moved to stand beside Helen and took sight of himself in the mirror, he laughed. "Yes, I suppose you should."
Helen pulled out the chair and had him sit down. She grabbed her comb from her purse again and set about wrangling his hair back into submission. It was soft, thick, and felt wonderful to run her fingers through. She tried not to get too distracted by it and to do so she struck up another conversation.
"I took over my uncle's practice in Cardiff. He's older than my father and was keener on retirement than my father. Cardiff seemed to be more suitable for me anyway. I don't foresee the Irish beating down a female doctor's door any time soon." She finished with his hair and so leaned down to dab away the lipstick streaks on his cheeks, around his lips, and on his neck. She really had done a number on him. "Don't know about you, but I have to admit the first bit after the war was the hardest and I damn near killed myself with drink."
Theseus reached out and stilled her hands with his own covering her wrists. He used his hold on her to tug her down, closer, and he placed a soft kiss on both her cheeks. They stared at each other for a heartbeat before he let go and she resumed her task.
"I was able to take up my job again, the one I had before the war, and I've made some advancements since. Seems that getting shot at in the war helps to endear you to certain people in the government." He spoke the last part more with cynicism than delight, and it was Helen's turn to stop her movements and kiss his forehead. He smiled in response. "It IS good to see you, Helen. I am sorry I didn't make more effort to keep in contact or try to see you. I'm afraid I let-"
Helen straightened and motioned for him to stand as well. She waited until he tucked in his shirt before she set about righting his shirt buttons and vest.
As she worked, Helen spoke, not looking at Theseus' face, "We both let life get in the way, Theseus. Out of sight, out of mind, rings about true here. I know it wasn't deliberately done, you're too good a man for that, and I've never faulted you for it. I've been busy enough myself that I hope you haven't been over here pining for me either." At his chuckle, Helen pulled away and narrowed her eyes, "Did I kiss a married man down there?"
"No," Theseus leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the lips, "I am single."
"For now," Helen chuckled. She grabbed his coat and helped him into it then handed his hat to him. He still looked a bit more wrinkled than he had when she'd first glimpsed him, but Helen found she preferred the more wrinkled look on him. "Well," she took up her purse and fished out her card, "if you're ever in Cardiff, feel free to stop by."
Theseus immediately put her card in his wallet and put it back in his coat pocket after he pulled out a card of his own. It was his name, a number, and address only, no notation of his vocation. At her look, Theseus grinned, and she sighed. Him and his secrets. Helen placed his card safely in her purse then took a look around the room to ensure she wasn't leaving anything behind. She didn't really want to leave, they'd only just begun getting reacquainted, but she knew he most likely had other more important things to do than hover awkwardly around a stranger's room.
"I'll take the key back to Bear's wife. I saw another set of stairs on our way here that I'm sure leads to the kitchens. I'll go out the back way, with her escorting me a fair bit, after giving her the key." Theseus nodded at her plan and then he too looked a bit awkward about leaving. "Are you free tomorrow morning for breakfast before I head back to Wales?"
Theseus genuinely contemplated the offer for a time before he sighed, "I honestly don't know. It all depends on how events happen this evening. How about this, if I'm free, I'll meet you at-" he paused long enough for Helen to suggest eight in the morning, "in the dining room of your hotel. If I don't show up by nine, then you'll know that things didn't go splendidly."
"How will I know if YOU'RE okay? The goons were after you."
"Even if I can't come to join you for breakfast," Theseus reached out and helped to tuck a strand of hair behind Helen's ear, "I'll send a note letting you know I'm safe."
Helen grinned, "Do I get another owl note in the morning then?"
Theseus laughed and shook his head. They stared at one another, noticing then that they stood closer than mere friends, and it was Theseus who initiated a soft and unhurried kiss. Helen leaned into the kiss but made no move to deepen it. They parted after some time and shared a smile. Helen gave his hand a squeeze, his arm a pat, then left without looking back.
She didn't have a name for what it was she felt for Theseus. They barely knew each other, and yet they seemed to destined to continue to meet in awkward and absurd ways. They were friends, of that she was certain, and they could perhaps develop into something more, given the proper time and effort. But she wasn't worried about it either way.
It was not difficult to find her way to the kitchen, and Bear's wife, while surprised to see her holding the key and in the kitchens, was amiable and game for escorting Helen to the nearest tube station, walking together and chatting as if old friends. Helen did give Bear's wife her card and invited them both to Cardiff for treats in repayment for their help before moving into the tube station.
The rest of the day was also simple enough. She reviewed her notes, did some comparative research, ate a dinner of fruit bought at the market, and took a much desired hot bath. When she came back into the central area of her hotel room after her bath, she heard a scratching at her window. Her curiosity and expectations were neither disappointed when she opened the window, and an owl flew in, dropping a piece of parchment paper into her hand. The owl was mostly black but had flecks of white across its chest. He was adorable, and Helen wanted to pet him, but she didn't know if he was a delivery owl only or if he was inclined towards pats.
"I have to admit," she spoke to the owl as she unfolded the parchment, "that this has got to be the oddest way of communicating." There was a pen tucked into the folds of the parchment, and it wouldn't have surprised Helen if this pen was special and wrote in invisible ink or some other strange feat.
She saw that Theseus had written a quick note introducing the owl, Gertrude, to her and informed her that yes, indeed, the ink would be invisible even to her own eyes but that she should write as much or as little as she liked.
Helen rolled her eyes and took up the pen. "Gertrude, eh?" She glanced over at the owl and saw the bird give a bit of a head bob in response. "You're pretty. And effective. Though, still odd."
Helen was annoyed that she couldn't see what she wrote, but she wrote as best she could despite that and hoped it was still legible, Gertrude is sweet and fluffy. Did you name her after an old flame? I'm safe. I enjoyed seeing you and kissing you, and I look forward to more of either when you've the time. Cheers, Helen.
Rolling up the parchment, she held it and the pen out to Gertrude and laughed when the owl gracefully swooped by, taking both from her hand. It moved through the open window in a matter of seconds. Life associated with Theseus Scamander was decidedly different, and Helen didn't mind at all. She was intrigued and hoped that one day he would feel more comfortable with sharing the details, but she wasn't in the position to pry, and neither did she want to. Helen appreciated that Theseus hadn't pried into her past and the reasons why she had the quirks she did, including a penchant for drink. As she thought about it more, Helen found that she wouldn't mind sharing that part of her life with him.
She dreamt of Theseus that night, as Helen knew she would, and woke up looking at the empty side of her bed with a lingering desire for it to be filled with a certain enigmatic man. She was all packed and left her luggage with the bellhop at the door by eight and was settled at a highly visible table in the dining room by five minutes past. Helen didn't wait to serve herself food. It was tolerable, but she wouldn't miss it. Nine came, and Helen dallied until ten past before she gathered her purse and hat and made for the door.
"Ms. O'Reilly?" a concierge approached her just as she was about to go through. At her responding nod, he handed her a note, "Apologies for the late delivery. This came for you while you were taking breakfast."
Helen opened the note. Helen, my sincere apologies for missing breakfast. I am safe, although I am most likely now in a meeting with my superiors. You can decide for yourself if dissatisfied superiors merits complete safety for my person. I agree with the sentiments you wrote in your note, and I, too, look forward to when we can do either again as well. Until such time, I wish you health, safety, and joy. I certainly hope it won't be another five years before we see each other again. Affectionately, Theseus
Helen smiled, thanked the concierge, and continued her way through the door to the waiting taxi. She somehow knew that it wouldn't be another five years. But Helen also knew that WHEN they saw each other again it would most assuredly be in as strange and surprising a way as was their usual. That seemed to be the trend with Theseus and Helen liked it that way.