H'ok, so I never thought I would do a Helen/Nikola fic… ever… but lo and behold the other day I was in the shower and "Boom" there it was! Then, to compound this, I went and saw Jonathon Young's "Tear the Curtain" on Saturday night, so I had JYo swimming around. He is, btw, a brilliant live actor. Add to all this some mad tweeting with NoCleverSig and SentientMist, forcing me to stay up till all hours of the night, I just had to keep going till 4am, and bam, this was done. I admit I liked it better at 3am, while writing it, but… ah well. I hope you enjoy! THANK YOU to NoCleverSig for her wonderful beta :)
Flick of the Wrist(Copyright 2010, MajorSam)
New York, 1937
Helen sighed as she forced her lethargic body to rise from the bathtub. It had been a long day. Yes, she loved New York, the hustle and bustle of the growing city, but floating around high society searching for financial backers for her new North American Sanctuary was not really her cup of tea. She was fine with dressing up to the nines, but the actual act of sifting through crowds of arrogant, pompous fools who didn't deserve their fortunes was tiresome. At this point in history, especially, it maddened her – in the middle of the greatest depression in recent history, and still these sods persisted in maintaining their air of extravagance and superiority. Ah well…at least the night hadn't been a total loss. She'd procured a picnic date for the next day with a certain prominent banker. He just so happened to be around 30 years old, remarkably unmarried, and devilishly handsome. Helen hoped his support would be easy to gain – a little feminine wiling and the grant should be hers!
The banker, a Mr. Parker, had invited Helen on a day- long excursion to Long Island, promising a beachside picnic as well as a night on the town.
Helen sighed again as she thought of the picnic. She'd have to wear a bathing suit or a sundress at least. That meant she had to shave her legs.
She mentally cursed as she went about wrapping herself in a black silk robe, a rare indulgence of hers, letting her hair, which she'd had pinned up, down, and searching for a razor. She was all for women's rights and empowerment, but the growing trend of the last 10 or 15 years tended to get annoying. The idea of shorter skirts and racier bathing suits opened up an exciting new world of wardrobe, for both her personal and professional life, but sometimes one just didn't have time to keep one's legs smooth if there was a wild Hroktar that needed capturing.
Having gathered the appropriate materials, Helen situated herself on the side of the tub, her back an inch or so away from the wall, and extended her right leg out, balancing herself with her left foot firmly on the tiled floor. The room was lit only by candles, but it was more than enough to see what she was doing.
The Doctor let her mind wander; shaving didn't require all that much brain power. How much should she try to pull out of Mr. Parker? Times were indeed extremely hard, and there was talk of war on the horizon, but she knew there were occasions when one needed to be a bit selfish, and she really did need this new Sanctuary built. She regretted that she'd left it off for so long – North America was massive, and its cities were expanding rapidly. The vast array of new abnormals she knew were out there needed to be protected and soon.
So lost in thought was Helen that she didn't hear the door to her room open. When it shut, loudly, she jumped, hands twitching out of instinct for weapons that weren't there. Well, one hand was weaponless. As her right hand moved, the razor blade flicked out and cut into her skin, opening up a small cleft right above her inner ankle. She cursed but ignored the pain as she heard footsteps rapidly traverse the length of the other room, approaching the powder room she was in. She tensed, ready to spring on her intruder.
What the hell!
"Nikola!" She exclaimed, incredulously, as the friend she hadn't seen in years burst forth. She took a quick moment to take stock of her friend. He wore a tailored suit, bow tie, shiny shoes and was removing his fedora. He'd certainly been at a function somewhere!
"Helen! Did you know I received a vote for a Nobel Prize? Not that I'll get it. I seem destined to live unappreciated! I still can't believe that brainless hack Edison stopped me from getting it back in '15. Seriously, it's not that I need a Nobel to feel validated or anything, but…"
He stopped abruptly and completely, letting out a little gasp as his eyes went wide.
"Nikola," Helen began, "What…" she trailed off as she realized he was staring. She felt a blush bloom through her cheeks before she could stop it. Her long blonde hair was hanging freely down her back and her robe was only loosely tied around her waist, so it probably gaped a bit more than appropriate in the front. Because her right leg was propped up on the bathtub, the robe had slipped completely off, leaving the entire length exposed. This was more skin than Nikola had ever been privy to, though Helen knew he'd wished for it.
She coughed quietly in embarrassment, dropping the razor into the tub and moving to pull her robe to cover herself, then gulped as she realized something. He wasn't looking at her leg, the smooth creamy skin at all.
He was staring, transfixed, at her ankle, where blood had pooled from the cut and started slowly dripping down.
Though Helen hadn't seen him in a while, she had been there when he'd first turned; watched him struggle with his new gifts, his new abilities and his new cravings. She'd been there to help him through his first accidental killing. She'd worked day and night to try and find a cure for his cravings. After giving up hope on that, she'd tried to find a substitute, anything, to keep his blood lust down. The fact that he'd gone "vegetarian" to the world wasn't entirely untrue. Compared to human blood, animal blood really was like giving up a mouthwatering T-Bone for tofu. There was also the fact that he wasn't pure vampire – he could still eat normal food, it just didn't satisfy his hunger or nutritional needs nearly as much as blood.
When Helen had moved to the United States, contact with her fellow scientist had diminished. She kept tabs on him, as she was sure he had on her, but, she realized with a trace of shame, they didn't talk face to face nearly as often as they used to. She had no idea if he'd been able to keep up with his "diet" She didn't know that, as hard as he might try, he hadn't been able to keep clean. She didn't, couldn't understand what the hunger was like. The medication she'd derived for him helped a bit, and it was true, he hadn't fed in almost a year, but a year was a blink of an eye, considering he'd been turned around 50 years ago. A year was usually as long as he could last. He'd been starving for weeks now…
"Helen…" he whispered, strain and a slight note of panic seeping through the single word.
Helen's mind raced. She knew Nikola would never intentionally hurt her, but the situation was sure to be supremely trying for him. If he slipped, for even a second, she could be put out of commission for a long while. No picnics on the beach… Her mind sprinted to assess her resources, but swiftly realized she had only her razor and her own two hands. That would not be nearly enough if he fully transformed.
"Helen," he repeated louder, more panicked. He hissed her name through his teeth, not daring to let himself open his mouth in fear it would end up attached to her slim ankle.
Helen, for reasons beyond her sat rooted, frozen to the spot. She looked up and met his eyes.
Panic, fear, confusion, desire, lust, hunger, restraint… it flashed through his bright eyes as fast as the electricity he so loved. Helen felt her own heartbeat start to race. There was no way she could defend herself, and the longer she delayed, the more the potential for danger rose. It was probably too late to simply demand he leave. He might take his hunger elsewhere, and she couldn't have an innocent's life on her hands.
There was only one solution she could see that would end with both of them unharmed. Well, for the most part.
"Nikola," she said softly. His gaze had strayed back to her crimson blood, which was about to drip off her instep onto the floor. Hearing his name, he forced himself to look back up at her. He frowned at the odd expression on her face.
"Nikola, come here," she commanded. Her voice was soft, but firm, the voice one uses when trying to calm and control a wild animal. His body moved without conscious thought, stepping towards her. She extended her right arm to touch his, lightly. She tightened her grip once she was sure he wasn't going to spring on her, and gently pulled him down to kneel beside her. His gaze was now fixed on her face, and her heart hurt at the portrait of pain and effort he presented. Helen knew he wanted her. She'd known it since Oxford, and though at times she felt guilty, she could never give him the love he craved. Her heart had been John's, and after he'd… well, she certainly hadn't been celibate, but her heart remained closed. Nikola deserved better than she could ever give. He'd always been there for her, always supported her even if he disagreed with her choices.
Right now, she could at least give him this in return.
"It's alright, Nikola," she told him. Dear God, was her voice really that breathy? She knew she had to do this but lord was she nervous…
His brain was definitely not functioning at 100%, and Nikola just frowned in confusion. Helen reached up to gently hold his head in her hands. She steered his gaze back down to her ankle. Rich, thick blood…
This word permeated the thick fog of his brain, and his sight snapped back to her face with a gasp.
"Helen," he choked, but she didn't waver. This was actually going to happen.
In an instant, his eyes turned black as night. Helen was afraid that watching him transform would break her resolve, but he somehow must have known. He kept himself in check as he dropped further down, resting his body on his ankles as he sluggishly slid down, finally appreciating her long leg, taking in the picture of her; long blonde hair, shining blue eyes, fair skin barely covered by black silk, perfect but for the small blemish he had caused her to inflict. He rested his sights on the crimson flow that threatened to drop from the inner curve of her foot at any moment. He brought his hands up to cradle her, left hand on the ball and side of her foot, the right on her lower calf, right above where the injury was. He leaned in slowly, and inhaled. Helen shuddered as she felt goosebumps travel all the way up her leg.
Dear god, what have you gotten yourself into? She thought. She briefly wondered if drinking her unique blood would have any adverse effect on him, but then his tongue thrust out to catch the drop that finally fell and all thought fled as she sat perfectly still, transfixed by the sight. She hadn't seen him morph, and from her angle she couldn't see his fanged mouth at all. Through the dim flickering of the candles she could barely even make out the darkening of his skin.
The half vampire shuddered as he tasted his first drop of blood in over a year. But it wasn't just blood – it was Helen's blood. His brain short-circuited, and he feared he might for the first time in his life pass out. Her sweetness flooded his senses, and incredible warmth filled his very being. Her blood merged with his own, lighting up his veins, setting him on fire. Now it was Helen's delicious blood that made his heart pump, his muscles work. It was unlike anything he'd ever tasted in his life, as a human or vampire. It was as if a drug had been injected, pumping adrenaline, hurtling his heart to light speeds yet at the same time calming him, giving him a peace he'd never known but always sought after.
He needed more.
His grip tightened on her, and he thrust out his tongue again, lapping up the red trail that marred her fair skin. It tickled a bit, but Helen felt her fear and apprehension slowly ebb away at his gentle, controlled actions. He licked her ankle until he was sure it was perfectly clean before he stopped, and considered.
He needed more.
His grip tightened further, and in the next instant his teeth had sunk fully into her and his mouth was awash with her essence, her life force. Helen started and gasped, grabbing the doorframe to her left side to ground herself, fear spiking once again. The pain however, did not increase. The initial sting, in fact, started to diminish as he kept the pace of his feast slow and steady. She felt her heartbeat slowing, regulating itself to the pace of his mouth. She consciously helped it along, calming herself, as her analytical brain started to emerge.
So this is what it feels like to be drained…
Helen knew, rationally, that she was most likely one of an extremely rare few who had ever experienced a controlled drain. Vampires throughout history were not known for their merciful eating habits. She had heard, however, of a few accounts when an encounter with a vampire being had been… sensual. A thrill not able to be had by any normal human, an experience unlike any other.
Nikola loosened his tight grip on her, relaxing into things as his confidence in his ability to not tear her apart grew. Without realizing, his right hand started to slowly drift up and down her calf, stroking, the tactile sensation of her perfectly smooth skin enhancing the already mind-blowing event. As he fell further into a trance, under her spell, tiny jolts of electricity escaped through his fingertips, sinking into her, little shocks that made her body hum with pleasure, washing over her like a gentle breeze. She fought the urge to squirm and cross her legs, instead simply sighing at the touch, letting her head fall back against the wall, her thick wavy hair cushioning it. Her arms hung limply at her sides, the fingers of her right hand unknowingly floating in her still-full bath. With every pass up and down her leg, his touch forced her over-active mind further and further away. She let go of all analysis, let go of trying to put her feelings into words and allowed herself to simply feel.
With every drag he pulled from her, his teeth would pull out of her skin, permitting his tongue to soothe her while he swallowed, before sinking back into her flesh. You would think this would cause recurring pain, but Helen didn't even feel it. The trembling candlelight and quiet room lulled her eyelids shut, relaxing her more and more as time passed. How much time? Minutes? Hours? She had no idea. She only knew she was warm, bizarrely comfortable, and more relaxed than she had been in years. Relaxed and yet wide awake on the inside. There was heat within, a low burning fire that started at her ankle but emanated upwards, filling her whole body. Her mind was drifting, floating into a hazy state of unbelievable… she didn't know what. All she knew was that she might have just moaned, softly, but damn it if it didn't feel so good. Her chest heaved slightly as she remembered to breathe, soft silk caressing her body and she wondered how she could ask him to move up to her neck, to stroke his hands a little higher…
Nikola must be wearing cologne, because the subtle scent of him wafted up to her and she hadn't had been this close to a man in a while and he smelled incredible.
Warmth, heat, fire, smell, stroke, suck, lick… she was being pulled further and further into a daze. She forgot where she was, what was going on, wanted only for the sensations coursing through her to god please never stop.
She heard something. She ignored it – the sound had barely even registered.
She heard it again. She didn't care.
She heard it again, louder, and frowned.
The stroking had stopped… why had the stroking stopped! The smooth warmth of lips and teeth and tongue were gone. Come back! Why won't that sound STOP? Her frown deepened as the sounds morphed into a word, finally cracking through the barriers in her brain.
Somebody was calling her name. Sorry, Helen's not at home right now but please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can! She was lightheaded, giddy, a hysterical giggle wanting to burst through her mouth but not quite making it there.
Hmm, the voice was rather loud now. He sounded worried. She hoped he found what he was looking for and stopped disturbing her incredible dream – she was flying, drifting through clouds with sun and stars and moon.
A loud slap sounded in her ears, and suddenly her cheek was stinging. What the hell? On instinct, she tried to open her eyes but found she couldn't. Why was her brain so fuzzy? She was so warm, she just wanted to fall to sleep and never wake up. The stinging in her cheek returned, worse than before. She wanted to yell, "Stop hitting me, Damn it!" but her lips were heavy, they wouldn't open and her mouth was full of cotton. Suddenly her world tipped sideways and upside down, random colours and shapes exploding through her consciousness as she felt her body rise into the air and fly. She could feel cool water sliding off her fingertips to drop into a dark abyss as she travelled. Then she was stationary again, on a cloud that felt so real, so tangible that she swore she could reach out and grasp it in her hands. Her fingers twitched, and she felt it, soft and smooth and squishy. Amazing. The hysteria inside her continued to roil wildly. She wanted to laugh until she ran out of air, then keep on laughing.
Her world shifted once again as hard, painful things grasped her by the shoulders and shook her.
Leave me alone!
The creatures holding her didn't comply, only shook her harder, more violently. They moved to her chest, beating down, and pain rocked her. The voices were back, yelling, screaming at her. She tried to escape, but couldn't. Clamps surrounded her mouth, forcing it open and a gale was thrust down her throat, wind tearing down her esophagus in its path to ravage her lungs. Fear simmered, mounting, until finally she commanded the creatures to let go. She didn't know that in reality she had merely mumbled an incoherent babble, but the creatures had stopped, and she was happy.
Wait, no she wasn't. Her hands were tingling, and not in a good way. Her toes were tingling now too. The prickling started to spread, poisoning her whole body until she wanted to writhe and moan in discomfort. Why couldn't the dream come back! She demanded the creatures she could still sense to send her back. More mumbling. Her tirade continued, but the prickling wasn't going away, still swelling, until she decided enough was enough!
Her eyes fluttered weakly, and Nikola cried out in relief.
"Helen! Oh god yes, Helen, please open your eyes, Helen please!" he didn't care if anyone heard his frantic cries; he just needed Helen to wake up! He grabbed her inert form once again, shaking her, trying to get her to respond, to shake a fist at him or shove him away. To open her beautiful mouth and yell at him, anything to tell him she was still alive and he hadn't killed her. He didn't even notice when black silk slipped and slid, revealing even more skin than he'd already seen. It was dark, the only light in the room from the moonlight streaming through the window, but since his 'evolution' his eyesight was much sharper than any normal human's.
He had tried to control himself, he truly had, but his very soul had been taken over by the inconceivable, saccharine sweetness that had been her blood. He'd sworn to himself that he'd only have a little bit, a taste to satisfy his curiosity so that he could get over his sick fantasy and leave her alone. But once he'd started, he couldn't stop. He'd become so lost in rapturous euphoria that he hadn't felt Helen drift away, hadn't heard her stop breathing, hadn't sensed her body go limp as he sucked her life away. When alarm bells had finally struck him, he'd been horrified to pull away and see her ashen face and blue-tinged lips devoid of any presence whatsoever. He'd called to her, tried to wake her, but she was completely unresponsive. Gasping in horror, he'd picked her up and almost ran to the bed in the other room, laying her down and screaming at her to wake up.
He can't have killed Helen he CAN'T! He couldn't function without her, couldn't live. He needed her as much as he needed the air he breathed. He knew there was no chance she would ever be his, but he valued her friendship above all other human relations he had ever had. Her voice, her laughter, the thought of her brilliant blue eyes had kept him going more times than he cared to admit. When he was alone, hungry, hating himself for the need to kill. He needed her continued medical and emotional support with this. He'd been living as a monster for over 50 years but with Helen's help, he knew he could become something good, greater than human. His powers combined with his intellect made Nikola certain he could become a dominant power in this turbulent world. He'd come here tonight on a whim, not knowing what he'd say to her, only knowing he had to reconnect. If he had taken too much, snuffed out her life force, he knew he would be finished. He would destroy himself in this very room, spill their combined blood until he fell beside her in a gruesome, eternal sleep.
"Helen, please open your eyes for me," he begged.
Finally, with excruciating effort, her eyes peeked out from beneath her lids. They were glassy, unfocused, occasionally rolling upwards into her skull with no control, but they were there, fighting to focus, to come back to reality.
"That's it Helen, you're doing wonderfully, keep going, keep fighting," he encouraged.
Her hands twitched at her sides, gripping and releasing the plush duvet. She felt like she'd been asleep for a year but could use another few decades. Bloody hell she was tired…
Nikola kept talking to her, urging her on, giving her an anchor in reality to grasp onto and help pull her back up. Her mouth parted as she sucked in a deep breath, brow furrowed in concentration, finally managing to croak out a legible word.
He nearly cried in relief. Blinded by his single-mindedness, he didn't realize a few tears had in fact trailed down his cheeks.
"Yes, Helen, it's me, I'm still here! God I am so sorry, SO sorry, please forgive me! I don't know what happened, I wasn't in control! You can't imagine how good you… how… PLEASE tell me you'll forgive me Helen!"
She couldn't comprehend his rambling, her mind swimming and whirling in a mad dance, but she did understand his remorse, his regret.
"S'alright…" she whispered, half slurred, closing her eyes again in an attempt to quell the nausea that was rising up inside her.
He grasped her icy cold hand between both of his, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it reverently.
"You can't know how sorry I am," he told her, gaining control of himself enough to stop yelling. "I only hope one day you'll forgive me."
Helen hadn't quite remembered enough to know what he needed to be forgiven for. Her brain was stuck jumping between the nausea, the all-consuming cold and the skull cracking headache.
Nikola sighed, letting himself slump down on his knees beside her on the bed. She was not going to be in any state for forgiveness for a while. She needed food, liquids, and rest.
How could I have done this… For all his killings, all his brash, crude interactions with fellow scientists and growing disdain for petty humans in general, he'd never hated himself as much as he did at that moment. He vowed he would never use another human like this again.
"I promise, Helen."
She didn't understand the words, but he needed to say them.
"I promise I'll stay with you. I'll make you better. You'll be as good as new, and then I'll leave you, for good. I can't trust myself around you. I'll… I'll miss you, but it's for the best, the best for you. I will never feed on a human again, I swear to you. I'm so, so sorry…"
Helen frowned, trying to drag her unnaturally heavy feeling body to lie on its side, but unable to do so. Nikola leaned down and gently formed her body into the recovery position. He tucked an errant hair that had fallen onto her perfect face back behind her ear. The moonlight streamed in, casting its shadows on her still body, highlighting her ghostly pallor as she tried valiantly not to throw up, to just breathe. A final solitary tear marked its path down his face.
Ok, I realize there are some holes in this… In "The Five" Nikola reminisces about running around catacomb type things like London in 42/43, so obviously he doesn't manage to stay away from Helen for too long, but hey, who could! :p
Also, in my research on women's shaving (lol) And when it all started, they said between 20's and 40's, so it had to be set sometime in there. The fact that Nikola Tesla received a Nobel vote in 37 secured that year for me, I thought it a good enough reason for her to bust in on her, lol.
Also I admit that yes, the shower inspiration for this came when I cut myself shaving, oy. It's the first time I've done that in a while, and I guess with Season 3 premiering THIS FRIDAY I had vampires on the mind.
ANYWHO, rambling done, PLEASE REVIEW! *puppy dog eyes* or would *Cute Nubbin Eyes* work better?