As Christmas is fast approaching, and a new trailer came out for the upcoming film that I may or may not follow in this story, I felt inspired to update. Certain encounters in this chapter are inspired by scenes from Cold Mountain and Under the Greenwood Tree. Cheers!
A sob caught in his throat, robbing him of breath, was what tore him from the nightmare at last. Theseus' eyes snapped open with predator-like reflexes, his hand already on his wand in preparation for the fight he knew was inevitable. Only there was nothing there, at least not yet. Not here.
A screaming cry of an overhead gull had Theseus leaning forward on the bench seat to look up into the sky hanging overcast above the parked car. Even without the dawn's light yet fighting its way through the thick, low-hanging clouds, Theseus could spy the shapes of a dozen gulls as they soared over the cliff side on thermals, as eager for breakfast as Theseus was for a decent night's sleep. After so many days of constant travel, and the first bit of them filled with the added troubles of keeping Helen safe from herself, he could do with a full night's uninterrupted sleep.
Helen's soft snoring drew Theseus' attention to the car's interior. His gaze softened when he turned to take in her still slumbering form curled on the bench seat beside him. Her hair pooled about her head as a silken halo begging for her attention. Nearly as tempting as the soft skin of her neck, exposed to his view as she turned on her side and curled ever more inwardly into a near ball. She was beautiful. This woman of his past who had become so integral to his future. To her own as well.
Throwing caution upwards to ride the thermals with the gulls, Theseus reached out and lightly traced his fingers along the hairline of her forehead, his fingers dipping down over the curve of her ear and on back to the nape of her neck. Vague memories of kisses traded in the wintry dark or as a ruse in a London pub haunted him as Theseus watched the pulse point in her neck beat a steady rhythm of deep sleep. Helen was no damsel in distress, and he assuredly was no knight, and yet the fates had seen fit to throw them together over and over again through the years, and it was enough to make a man, even as jaded as Theseus, wonder why? What was it about Helen that drew him to her as the waves always returned to the shore?
Parked at the end of a lonely dirt road that overlooked the port town of Strathcanaird, Theseus well knew that this would be the last morning he would share with Helen. Perhaps the last time he saw her. It was possible that either of them would die in the comings days. And death would be a blessing in comparison to what he knew Grindelwald was capable of. Thoughts such as these were what spurred his movements as Theseus leaned closer, placing his hands on either side of her head to brace himself on the seat. With slow movements, lest he wake her, Theseus pressed a kiss against her temple, lingering close for a moment longer as he breathed in her scent and relished the warmth such closeness brought him.
Theseus didn't know what the fates had in store for either of them, be it death or life. If it was death, Theseus hoped they both died well when their time arrived. But if it was life…Theseus placed another kiss against the softness of her skin before sitting back to take in the entirety of her sleeping form. He knew Leta would not want him to pine away for lost chances the rest of his days. Her death would be for naught if he stopped living because of his inability to grieve and move on. While Theseus had no intention of jumping into any other sort of romantic entanglement anytime soon, and not just for losing Leta, there was something about Helen that seemed to defy logic. That ever brought him back to wondering "what if" and "when" as he studied her form and allowed himself to relive the memories of all their shared days.
With a sighing frown, Theseus double-checked his coat pockets for all the paraphernalia they'd gathered from the dead wizard that could yet prove useful. He would find no answers sitting here mulling over possibilities like a schoolgirl. There was a war brewing and, even if it took his life, Theseus intended upon sparing this woman further pain.
He was quiet about opening the door and closing it. Best to part ways now. Here. In the quietness of pre-dawn light. And even better for her not seeing him leave. Besides, allowing him to walk away with his wand ready to apparate would give him confirmation of how far away one needed to be to work a spell when she was a factor. Drawing his coat tighter against the buffeting wind, Theseus moved off the road and into the knee-high grass that danced against his pant legs with each step he took away from the car. And Helen.
When he felt perhaps he was far enough to try, Theseus pulled out his wand and began his first attempt. Nothing. With a frown, Theseus moved further across the field and tried again, and again, nothing. Just how powerful was she as a negator? Theseus moved forward again, quick jolting steps, and tried once more. Once more, nothing.
"Just what in the hell do you think you're doing, Theseus Scamander?"
Straightening as if ice had been thrown on his nerves, Theseus pivoted on his heel to find the reason his apparition had failed: Helen had been following him. Her features were twisted into a scowl, and though he'd stopped his retreat, she'd not stopped her advance.
He spoke in the brief seconds he had left before she was upon him. "I thought it best to leave quietly. While you were sleeping. I thought-"
She was to him and on him without warning, her arms flung about his shoulders with the same speed that her lips met his, cutting off whatever else nonsense he'd been about to utter. Her eyes were closed, and so Helen could not see the brief slivers of morning sky break through the clouds behind her. It took him but a jarring second of confusion before his body caught up with his mind, and with a moan of relief, Theseus returned both the embrace and the kiss.
It was not sloppy, like the one they'd shared in France, nor was it of the unstable frantic quality they'd traded in London. Her hands were cold as they wove into his hair, her body warm yet shaking in his arms. Theseus wrapped one arm about her waist, and with the other tucked closely about her shoulders, his hand cradling the back of her head, he held her close. He tasted her fears, his own as well. But holding fast to one another, the breath of the Earth weaving its way in the grass around them, Theseus also tasted her hopes.
Sinking as one to their knees, Theseus refused to relinquish his hold on her, and neither she him. He felt her hands move through his hair, over his neck, tracing against the stubble on his chin, her touch fluttering as if she couldn't quite figure out what she would rather touch and linger on. For himself, Theseus' arm moved from her waist to her lower back, his hand splayed open as if in one touch he desired to feel all of her tucked against him.
Helen's lips were warm, soft, as they moved against his. Her tongue shifting forward to taste him, drawing him to reciprocate in kind in a slow dance of the senses. As the kiss continued, the entirety of his reality centered on this woman and their embrace, Theseus felt a part of his soul reborn. He groaned at the loss when she pulled away and tucked her head into the crook of his neck, her warm panting breaths evidence she was as shaken by the shared intimacy as he. Neither of them pulled away. Nor did they attempt to rise from their knees in the dew-dampened field. They held and were held, breathing as one.
"Never leave me without saying goodbye, you idiot." Helen finally whispered against his neck sometime later.
His fingers sliding through her hair in a half-hearted attempt to assist her in smoothing it back in order, Theseus smiled. "Yes, ma'am."
They were silent again. Time did not wait for them to gather their thoughts, though, the sun peeking once more through the clouds higher up on the horizon, reminding them that the world still held much against them and this happy moment.
"No promises." Helen placed a quick kiss to his neck before pulling away enough to look at him directly. "Except that of more of this next we see each other."
Theseus recognized Helen was saying far more in that one sentence than either of them had the time to digest. He also recognized his own desires and hopes in the bright eyes staring at him from the kiss-flushed face framed in his hands. Nodding, Theseus bent to kiss her forehead before reluctantly coming to his feet and helping her up alongside him.
"We'll meet again." His words were dangerously close to a promise neither of them had the power to ensure, but neither of them chose to argue against it. "And when we do," Theseus leaned down and placed a last lingering kiss on her lips, relishing the sound his affection elicited from her. "We shall indeed have more of this."
Neither of them cried when it came at last time for parting. Another kiss, a brief hand squeeze, and she was off, walking back to the car as Theseus was left in the crushed grass of the field. He waited until she was next to the car, an almost easy smile on her face as she stared back across the field to him. Then, with the morning sun at his back, Theseus disappeared.