It's been a spell, pun intended. Hope you enjoy; cheers!

Helen understood more than most of those in the corridor the fluidic nature of his injury. She knew there was just as much to hope for as there was to despair, at least without the use of magical aid in recovery. Magical aid which, so long as she was around, could not be rendered.

"Why did he ask for Leta?" One of the young wizards Helen and her "team" had rescued the day before whispered not so quietly to a peer, the two leaning against the hospital wall looking just as uncomfortable as they likely felt. According to Newt, they were pure-bloods who had never spent time in the Muggle world, or at least had never been so surrounded by Muggles and Muggle conventions as they had been since their rescue. "Doesn't he remember that she died?"

Helen didn't know how much of Theseus' condition Newt wanted public and kept her mouth shut, her lips drawn in a thin line. The steam over her coffee had long since disappeared, the contents now nearly as cold as the air around her. Gruffyd and Lowri were down in the village, haggling with some locals to secure tickets for their wizard friends on the next available train headed back towards France. At the same time, Afan remained with Derwyn in another hospital wing. The foul-mouthed affable lug Derwyn dislocated his shoulder after trying some heroic maneuver to impress one of the young female wizards. Now he had both Afan and said female wizard looking out for him until he was deemed fit for discharge. Helen supposed that would be later on that very day.

A few of the wizards had sustained minor injuries in their flight from the fortress, but by and large, the worst had been Theseus, taking a limb to the back of the head when he'd pushed Helen out of its path. With both Muggles and wizards injured, they'd had no choice but to make it to the nearest hospital, where they'd remained ever since. Helen's suspicions about the nature of Theseus' injury had been confirmed only a few moments ago when Newt shared the doctor's prognosis. While she'd been able to stave off the worst of the bleeding from his head wound, its location and his being unconscious all the way to the hospital and up until that morning had lent themselves to her own prognosis: traumatic brain injury. And now, given the first words out of his mouth when he'd awakened that morning, it seemed post-traumatic amnesia could be added to the list.

Hearing a clicking noise from further down the corridor, Helen emerged from her thoughts to see Newt gesturing her to approach. Setting down her unwanted coffee, Helen hurried to meet him, shifting close to his side so he could speak plainly though in whispers.

"They don't know how long it'll last, but from what I can tell, Theseus remembers up until we went to Paris and first confronted Grindelwald." Newt nervously scratched at the back of his head, furtively avoiding eye contact with Helen as he continued. "He doesn't have any memory of meeting you since some evening party where he said you and he danced, and he introduced you to Leta."

Helen inwardly cursed. That had been a fecking terrible night. Seeing Theseus again after four years, she thought herself lucky to snag not only a surprise kiss but also a surprise dance from him, only to be introduced to his gorgeous fiance moments later. Sensing Newt's continued discomfort, Helen patted his shoulder reassuringly. Though what she was reassuring him of, or more accurately, who she was reassuring, was cloudy at best.

"Are you going to tell him about my…abilities right away, or are you going to wait until we leave, and you can all do your little disappearing act back to the other side?" Before Newt could answer, Helen tugged on his sleeve and asked another question, "Can magic fix everything?"

Newt shook his head, "Healers in our world are often just as restricted as doctors here. I'll take him to the hospital once we're back to see if they can do anything, but it could just be time, as the doctor here said. As for telling him about you and everything that's happened since then," Newt blew his cheeks out, pursing his lips on a silent whistle, "I'll get to that eventually. But uh," he pointed to the door behind him, "do you want to see him?"

"Does he know Leta is dead?" Helen needed to know what she was walking into.

Newt nodded. "I told him that much at least, along with how much time had passed since his last memory. The doctors reassured him the memories may come back with time but, as you know, how long it takes, or if they come back, well," Newt shrugged, and Helen again patted his arm. She knew quite well, having dealt with these types of injuries before, though they were not her specialty.

Newt knocked on the door for Helen, holding it open once he heard Theseus respond, and then closed it behind her, leaving them in privacy. Theseus' head was heavily bandaged, and though the wound had been to the back of the head, his face was swollen and reddish in nature. One of his hands had also been injured, crushed under the limb, and lay near useless and bandaged across his torso. At Helen's approach, Theseus' expression morphed from surprise to wary curiosity. Newt hadn't known all the details of what had transpired between them on their "kidnapping" road trip, and neither had he known about the kiss she'd given Thesus at that damned party or his own diversion tactics played out with her years before that.

"Thirsty?" Helen reached for the glass of water on his bedside and held it up to his lips before he could indicate an affirmative or negative. As if sensing the need for something normal between them, Theseus obligingly sipped at the water before subtly twisting his head to the side, indicating he'd had enough. "How are the medications they've been giving you?"

Theseus chuckled, "Not as strong as some of the ones you gave us back in the War, but they're taking the edge off." He studied her movements quietly as she sat on the edge of the seat beside his bed. A moment passed before he sighed and said, "I don't know why, but I feel I should apologize."

"What for?" Helen asked, almost immediately feeling like an idiot, considering he'd just said he didn't know why.

"Well," Theseus' bandaged hand on his abdomen jerked as if he'd wanted to use it to point or wave about as he often did when speaking, "while I know a lot of time has passed since that night, as Newt's explained, for me, the last time I saw you I was an ass about introducing you to Leta, and I feel like I disrespected you both in that moment. I'm sorry for that. I was an idiot."

"No apology necessary, Theseus, and not only because your idiotic nature is a fairly common feature I've known about for years." Her attempt at levity earned another chuckle and half-smirk from the wizard. "I wasn't at my best self that night either, even before I threw myself into your arms and made things awkward with Leta."

"Why is that?"

With his question, Helen realized that for all their years of falling into each other's lives, they'd never truly known each other. The ups and downs of each other's lives, the successes and failures. Granted, they'd never really been given that opportunity either. However, still, it was objectively fascinating that she could feel such a strong affinity for a man who, for all intents and purposes, knew next to knowing about the scars that both marred her heart and gave her motivation to keep on living. Subjectively, it was ludicrous.

Clearing her throat of its sudden lump, Helen answered, "My…well, for lack of a better term, my lover ended our relationship of two years earlier that day. He deemed further dalliance with a female doctor from Wales as lacking to his 'loftier' personal and professional goals." Theseus looked more than a little shocked. "It probably wouldn't have hurt as much as it did if he hadn't spent so many holidays with my father and I and if I hadn't, more than once, imagined myself in a white dress coming down the aisle toward him."

"Helen, I…I never knew. I'm so sorry."

Helen shrugged, shaking her head, "It isn't like we kept up a habit of baring our loves and woes to one another, Theseus; you couldn't have known. Just like I couldn't have known you were engaged until you told me. And, speaking of which, I hope Leta wasn't too surly with you once I left."

"She was understanding." Theseus' eyes grew shadowed; his grief renewed to a fresh wound thanks to the head injury. "Newt told me about –" his voice broke, eyes closing when the words became too difficult to utter.

Helen squeezed his uninjured hand between hers, willing him to draw some comfort from the contact. When he opened his eyes again, she gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"I'm so sorry, Theseus. Losing someone once is always tragic, but you are losing her a second time, and no one can truly understand your pain." Before she could think better of it, Helen bent over his hand and pressed a quick kiss to the back of his hand. "You aren't alone, though. Newt is here for you and was there for you then, too. He'll help you get through this."

Theseus looked at where their hands were clasped together, then brought his probing gaze to her face, "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"I don't know why you're here or why I'm here or what exactly happened, but I guess I'm asking, are you going to be around too? As I go through…this?" His injured hand swiveled in the air around his head before moving to lay back against his stomach.

Helen relinquished her hold on his hand and sat up straight. After a moment, she shook her head, "Newt will likely explain why later, but for now, you'll be better off without me nearby."

"Where are you going then?" Theseus was frowning but didn't seem to be of a mind to fight against her words, likely feeling he didn't have the grounds to.

"I have a few friends with me here. Once we get things settled here at the hospital, we'll likely head back to Wales. Newt has my address if, once you're feeling better, you've a mind to come out and visit." Helen choked back any semblance of affection in her voice, not wanting to confuse the man further. Especially not while the loss of Leta was still so fresh in his wounded mind. "You're both always welcome. As long as you don't try to –" Helen stopped herself from sharing more, uncertain how throwing a spirited accusation of playing with memories would influence the moment. Clearing her throat, Helen continued, "As long as you don't try to steal a dance. My feet still hurt from the last time we took to the dance floor."

Theseus didn't seem convinced this was precisely what she'd wanted to say but, again, didn't try to fight. A knock sounded at the door, and a moment later, Newt popped his head in, accompanied by Afan. They both glanced between Theseus and Helen, but Afan was the one to speak first, directing his comments to Helen.

"Gruffyd's back. We've got tickets on an evening train heading back to France. We can catch a ship that'll take us round to Wales from there." Helen nodded. Afan looked past Helen to Theseus, giving the man a respectable nod, "Hope you get well soon, Mister Scamander. And next time you come round our parts, you can buy us all a round as thanks for what we did for you here."

Still unaware of all the details surrounding his hospitalization or why Helen and this strange Welshman were in his hospital room, Theseus was wise enough to mutely nod in reply. Afan left first, and in the corridor, Helen could hear Derwyn still trying to impress that young female wizard with tales from the War. Helen stood up, hesitating a moment, before she settled on once more taking Theseus' hand and giving it a semi-formal shake.

"You take care of yourself, Mister Scamander," Helen's voice was tinged with sarcasm as she turned to Newt to add, "Do try and keep him out of trouble. It so often finds him, you know?"

Newt smiled, "Will do."

"I'll see you again, Helen." Theseus' words drew her attention back to his swollen face. They silently studied each other a moment longer before she nodded and let go of his hand.

She didn't look back as she left the room, quickly moving past Afan and Derwyn. Helen paused long enough to bid the wizards pleasant travels but didn't have it in her to do much more than that. Though she heard Derwyn cursing her pace as he walked behind her, neither he nor Afan bothered to ask her about the tears streaming down her face. They knew better than to pry into the reasons for a woman's tears.