FIC: "Time Out of Mind," Helen Magnus/Nigel Griffin, Sanctuary, Explicit

Title: Time Out of Mind
Author: geonncannon
Pairing: Nigel Griffin/Helen Magnus, Helen Magnus/Nikola Tesla, Helen Magnus/John Druitt/James Watson, Helen Magnus/Helena G Wells
Word Count: 10,750
Category: Drama, romance, action
Spoilers: The Five, For King and Country, Normandy
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me!
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Includes a scene of non-con that evolves into sort-of-con.
Author's Notes: Written for my sanctuary_bingo Round 3 card prompts "First person" and "past tense."
Summary: Nigel Griffin prepares a final memoir.

Paris. 1956. The start of summer, but the scent of the rain in the air evokes spring.

No one pays attention to the graying, quiet man in the corner of the café. He's nursing the same drink he was holding when he sat down, occasionally watching traffic out the window, sometimes reading the newspaper... other customers sit at the tables around him, and the attentive wait staff sometimes approach to ask if he needs help, but eventually he is forgotten and fades into the wallpaper. I'm the man, but I'm not offended. I'm accustomed to being invisible.

Even before our mad experiments at Oxford, I was old hat when it came to disappearing. James always theorized that it was part of the reason I received my gift. We all got what was coming to us, in a way. James got the brains, Helen got the long life necessary to do her work, Nikola got his power, and Johnny... well. Johnny. I look down at the French paper in front of me and then scan the crowd again. I glance at my watch. The girls will be expecting me. I can't spend all bloody day waiting for--

"Sorry I'm late."

She folds into the seat across from me, like a shadow filling space. She wears a pencil skirt, a flowing blouse, and a hat which is pulled low over her left eye. Her hair is down, and her eyes are hidden behind large sunglasses that give her the appearance of something insectile. When she places her pocketbook on the table, I see a thin golden band around her wrist. She sees me see it, and tucks it underneath one cuff of her blouse.

"Not as easy for me to get away as it once was."

"I see that."

She takes a cigarette from a sterling silver case and offers me one, but I decline. I wait as she lights it, takes a drag, and releases a thin plume of smoke from slightly pursed lips. Smoking may be a nasty habit, but God damn if women haven't mastered it as an art. The angle of her wrist, fingers slightly curled, the white stick an extension of her hand as she regards me over the table.

"I haven't written anything in a very long time. It would be difficult to attempt it now, what with my posthumous nature."

"Lost manuscripts are discovered all the time."

She tilts her head at that and turns to look out the window. "So why Paris?"

"Paris is beautiful. It's eternal. It's magnificent." I inhale through my nose and look at the pedestrians out the window. "It's Jeanette's."

"Ah." She draws out the word as deliciously as she sucked on the cigarette. "Jeanette Anaise. The one who wouldn't run away..."

My jaw tightens and I look down. I won't stand being mocked, especially not about Jeanette. I curl my hands in my lap before I look up at my biographer. To my surprise, I see contrition in the set of her lips and the line of her shoulders before I say a word. Time has changed her. It's changed all of us, I suppose. I relax slightly, knowing she feels bad enough about the slight. I decide to let it go. Past is past, and that's why we're here, after all. I nod at the cigarettes after all, and she taps one out and hands it over. She lights it and I lean back. Jeanette loved to smoke and the white ribbon curling up from the tip reminds me of her.

I can see the past through it. Jeanette, in her nightclothes, leaning against the front door. The smell of rain in the air, beads of sweat on her shoulder as I bend to kiss it and warn her she'll get soaked if she doesn't come in soon. Jeanette, defiant even in peacetime, holding the cigarette between her lips as she drags me out into the yard as the storm breaks. I recall the rain plastering her nightgown to her body, her nipples standing proudly against the material, and I dispelled the memory just as our lips met.

"You're remembering without me." My biographer closes her lips around the cigarette again. I note the stain of red around the tip when she releases it. Jeanette rarely wore lipstick, and yet the sight is erotic to me. I reach up and scratch my neck, I sigh heavily, and I shift in my seat. "I understand it's not comfortable for you. We can postpone--"

"No. I need to put it behind me." I straighten my shoulders and sit up straight. I pull at the knot in my tie and work my neck back and forth. "Need to put it behind me so I can move on."

That gets a reaction from her. She removes her glasses and stares at me. It's off-putting; after all this time, having someone look into my eyes is jarring. I'm used to them looking through me.

"Move on? What about--"

"Saving the world?" I stop short of sniffing derisively. "Let them do it. The brains and the strength... they don't need me running around."

"I think you underestimate the power of your gift."

I shake my head. "Oh, no. Never. It's powerful. Too powerful. After we finish this, I'm never going to do it again."

"You'll squander it?"

"No. I've been abusing it. Look at me." I held out my hands. "Nearing a hundred years old and I barely look a day over fifty. All that time out of sight, out of the world... I didn't age. 'Course, Helen and them got it worse. They look the same as they did all them years ago. Unchanged, except for maybe a bit of distinguished gray in James' hair I'm not convinced he didn't put there himself." I pick up my cup as a delaying tactic; it's nearly empty. I hadn't meant to get so irritated. She can tell, and she waits me out until I speak again.

"It's because of the girl."

"Ah."

"I'm a father, for Christ's sake. It's time. I had a hundred years, did some good... did even more bad." I inhale the smoke from her cigarette and close my eyes. "I'm ready to pass on. Don't even know how long it'll take, really. Last time James looked me over, he couldn't say one way or the other if my youth was just cosmetic or if I was actually staying young. Could be I'll croak in a year or two."

"And the world will suffer a great loss."

I search her face for traces of mockery, but there are none. Well, no more than usual. "Worse if it was one of them, I s'pose. Sherlock Holmes and a vampire genius, Helen..." I sense potential to change the subject. "How's that book going?"

She laughs. "Endlessly. I keep waiting for there to be an ending."

"You'll be waiting a long clip, love." How long, we'd all wondered. Was Helen truly immortal? Sometimes I thought I could see signs of ageing, but it was so damned subtle. I never saw Jeanette age. Sure, gray hairs, a wrinkle here and there, but age? Never. She was always the young resistance fighter in the trenches to me. Her age was a sneaky trick. I got used to one wrinkle, one gray hair, and then another crept in. When I saw her portrait at the funeral, I was shocked. That young, unlined, rosy-cheeked youth was not my Jeanette. But it was.

"Nigel."

I look at her and she touches her cheek with two fingers to indicate mine. I inhale and tighten my jaw. Damn it to hell. How had talking about Helen gotten me back to the one place I didn't want to be? I drop my hand to the table and press my fingertips and thumb to the wood, my palm arching above it like a spider.

"We can do this another day."

"No. You took great pains to be here. We'll do it now. Before it's too late."

She nods once and removes a pad from her bag. She clears a space in front of her, wets the tip of her pencil with her tongue, and writes something across the top of the page. I can read it upside down: an invisible man says goodbye, by hg wells. She poises her pencil over the page and waits for me to be ready. I close my eyes and picture the end. I had cut myself away a long time ago, after Normandy, when I went to be with my Jeanette. But they always found me.

Scratch that.

She always found me.

#

I was the only one in the bleachers; the team was atrocious and everyone seemed to know it. Why the team even bothered showing up was a testament to their dedication. They were a joy to watch in their simple love of the game. I've always thought there was something uplifting about watching people who know they have no chance of winning a trophy. It gave them freedom to just play. I've enjoyed more games played between underdogs than any World Series I've ever attended.

My solitude meant that I heard her coming even before she brushed her hand across my shoulders and sat beside me. I glanced over. She wore a man's shirt buttoned at the throat and wrists. She also wore slacks, and she crossed one knee over the other and laced her fingers on the outside of her knee. She wore a hat to shade her face from the sun, a simple felt number with a narrow brim. It was upturned in the back, and a bow hung over her right ear. Her hair was black with streaks of red, and was gathered in a tidy braid that ran down the center of her back.

"Who's winning?"

"The Buckeyes."

"Hm." She looked at me. Toward me, more accurately. "Don't you want them to know they have a fan? If you showed up--"

"Nah. They'd play differently. They see you sitting here, and they got a bit straighter... Biff over there? He'll probably not yell out insults to the next batter's mother just because someone is watching."

"My apologies."

"It's fine."

Helen Magnus inhaled, trapping the breath in her chest for a long moment before releasing it. "I've never quite understood baseball. It's very American."

"Is that an insult?"

"Not at all. Baseball, hot dogs, hamburgers... I don't quite see the appeal, but it's hardly meant to cater to me, is it?"

I smiled. "You're not here to discuss esoteric culture trappings."

She looked toward me again. "We need your help, Nigel." She kept talking, speaking over my sigh. "You know I respect your decision to cut yourself off from us. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't an extraordinary situation."

"When aren't they? Do you ever deal in anything ordinary, Helen? Have Nikola help you out. He's always keen to get on your good side."

I attributed the blush to the sun, and she turned away until it had faded. "Nikola and I aren't on speaking terms."

"Neither were you and I until you walked up here and started talking."

"Nigel, please. Brute force is always a way of getting what we want, but there's something to be said for a gentle touch. We can take what we need and risk a war, or we can borrow what is necessary with no one being the wiser. The item we require is being held in a highly secure vault. Someone with your abilities could slip in, take it, and return it before anyone ever knew it was missing."

"Don't suppose you might just ask to borrow it?"

Helen pressed her lips together in a thin line. "The person holding it is not the sort who responds well to entreaties no matter how desperate. We've asked multiple times, and the only response is a door slammed in our face. You're our last chance, Nigel. You know I wouldn't intrude on your solitude unless it was of vital importance."

"It's never anything less with you lot." I stood up. She either felt it through the wood on the bench or heard my feet moving and she stood as well. I walked over the bleachers while she went to the aisle and walked down like a civilized person. One of the players shouted to her that they would play better if she wanted to stay, and she smiled and blew them a kiss as she went out to the grassy postage stamp between the field and the road. She waited, hands behind her back, as I rejoined the land of the visible.

My clothes were stored behind a wooden support beam and I dressed in the lattice of sunlight coming down through the bleachers. Once I was decent, Helen turned and joined me in the shaded sun. "Well. Nice to see you again, Nigel."

Sweat beaded on my forehead; being invisible to eyes meant being invisible to the sun and heat. Even James couldn't explain it, anymore than he could explain why I didn't age. Nikola suggested once that I go "outside" when I'm invisible, but if that was true, why could I still touch and be touched? And don't ask where "outside"; Nikola hadn't the foggiest.

I put on my shoes and followed Helen back to the car. I offered to drive but she refused and climbed behind the wheel. Jeanette preferred to drive as well, but I could never get used to the sight of a woman behind the wheel of a car. I rolled down the window against the oppressive southern heat and Helen left the exhibition game behind us in a cloud of dust.

She had taken off her hat when she got into the car, and the wind shook loose a few strands of her hair. I glanced at her left hand where it rested on the wheel and frowned at the naked third finger. "Caleb?"

Helen tensed slightly. I knew she wanted to hide the hand but had no means while driving a car. "No."

I took that as a request for silence as well as a confirmation of the ring's absence, and I gave it to her. Not much of a chance with that one, anyway. He was normal. Not one of us. No matter how much time he spent at the Sanctuary, eventually something would drive him off. I didn't express my sympathies, just as she hadn't expressed hers after Jeanette. Neither of us wanted to hear it so we rode in silence back to Baton Rouge.

The road followed the train tracks and, on the other side, we could see the mighty Mississippi River, reduced to a winding snake that curved around the bulges and caverns of the city's banks. I'd left my collar undone when I dressed and, before long, Helen had released the wheel with one hand to undo her own. She spread the material over the dip between her collarbones and sighed as she touched her hand to her forehead.

"I don't understand how these people bear it. It's stifling."

"This from the woman who crossed the Sahara on a dromedary."

"That was a dry heat." She fanned herself. The silence had effectively been broken, so she didn't let it begin anew. "How is Jeanette?"

"Still dead."

"Christ." The word was barely audible. "I'm sorry, Nigel, I wasn't... I meant Anna. How is Anna?"

"She's doing well." I wouldn't answer her unspoken question; I would make her ask. Helen was the only one who knew about Anna. I remembered when Helen discovered her own pregnancy so long ago. Long discussions into the night about whether or not to terminate, and then James' cockamamie plan... And then afterward, he and Nikola... those hounds... deciding they should bring it to term after all just to see what the child was like. They claimed it was their right to know. Their right! It was Helen's child. I applauded her for not letting the baby be born just to serve as a science experiment. We'd played God enough as it was.

That was why I kept Anna such a closely guarded secret. Except from Helen, of course. When Jeanette died, I needed help. A three-month old girl needs some sort of maternal figure. Helen, to her sainted credit, asked no questions. She nursed my daughter, cared for her, and when it was over, left with her solemn vow that she would not reveal Anna to our compatriots.

I could almost smell the question on Helen's tongue, hovering between us. Finally she spoke it. "Has she shown any... sign?"

I glanced at her, and then turned to look out the window at the passing landscape. Rails beside water... two modes of travel, one natural and one manmade, rolling arm-in-arm to the gulf. I knew that Helen wanted to ask, was desperate to know, but not solely for the scientific reasons our fellow freaks had. She had personal reasons to know if we could pass on our altered-ness.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You've a right to know, I suppose, more than any of them. Yeah. She's shown signs." I remembered the night I heard Jeanette screaming in the nursery and ran to find her standing over the empty crib. Our little girl's clothes were there, puffed up, but her hands and face were gone. Jeanette had sobbed apologies as I quieted the child, bouncing her in my arms until color appeared in her cheeks and her own wailing stopped.

Helen's jaw was tight. I knew what she feared; if the embryo she and James had so carefully preserved inherited their abilities, then which ability would be dominant? Helen's longevity? Or John's teleportation and the madness that seemed inherent? She would have been better off having James' child. Long-lived, brilliant, beautiful...

"How old is she now?"

"A year."

"Mm. Young age to lose a mother."

"You did fine with just your old man. Ain't saying I'm half the man he was, but--"

Helen smiled. "You won't be alone, Nigel. You'll have us."

"I'll have you. I'm not letting that vampire or the mad scientist anywhere near her. No offense, Helen, but--"

"No. You're absolutely right. And I assure you, whether or not you agree to help us, I will keep the existence of your daughter between the two of us. James won't know unless you're the one who tell him."

"Thank you, Helen."

I directed her to my home, though I was certain she knew the way herself, and we parked under the weeping willow in front of the plantation house. Helen took an overnight bag from the backseat of the car and slung it over her shoulder before we walked toward the front porch together. The door opened and Cora stepped out onto the porch. Cora had been semi-inherited from the previous owners of the house. I didn't understand the arrangement they had. I told Cora she was welcome to stay and work for me as long as she liked, but she didn't need to feel an obligation. I paid her handsomely, but sometimes I still felt like I was a guest in her home.

Cora was Helen's height, with dark skin and straight black hair that curled when it reached her shoulders. She wore a sleeveless sundress, and her feet were bare. She eyed Helen warily as we approached, and I waved a hello.

"Evenin', Cora. How's the baby?"

"Still visible." She nodded her chin at Helen. "Who's that?"

Helen extended her hand. "Helen Magnus. I'm a friend of Nigel's from a very long time ago."

Cora stared suspiciously at Helen's hand, then addressed me directly. "Dinner will be ready at six. If your friend is still here, there'll be enough for her, too." She eyed Helen again, took her bag, and turned to disappear into the house. Helen's smile faded and she dropped her hand.

"Sorry. Cora's usually more polite than that."

Helen winced. "I'm afraid I'm the one who needs to apologize. I came by here first looking for you. When she answered the door, I may have implied she was the help."

I smiled. "Then she isn't really mad, then. She used to work up in Birmingham where they treated her like little more than a slave. Moved down here, got the same treatment. I think she still expects to be told not to eat in the white kitchen. Lots of people down here work that way so she's... guarded." I led Helen into the house, where it was moderately cooler than the outside. Warmth drifted down the hall from the kitchen where Cora had been cooking all afternoon. "She only holds people at arm's length 'til she knows where she stands with 'em."

"Should I offer to help her prepare dinner?"

"That would be too far. Just treat her the way you would that ape you have working at your Sanctuary up north and you'll be fine."

"He's not an ape, he's--" Cora returned with her arms held awkwardly in front of her around what looked like a singlet inflated with air. It took Helen a moment to realize she was cradling an invisible toddler. "Ah. Apparently I'll have to wait to see the child."

"She heard strange voices and 'went away.'" Cora was looking where Helen assumed the head was. "I told her she had nothing to be afraid of, but that's up to you, Ms. Magnus."

The girl faded into view, chubby arms waving, and smiled when she saw Helen. "H'en!"

Cora handed the girl over, and Helen grunted as she took the weight. "My goodness, you've gotten large! Look at you. You're practically an adult." I saw Cora quickly stifle a smile and knew Helen wouldn't be getting the cold shoulder very long. I shed my jacket and asked Cora to pour us some ice tea in the sitting room. She nodded, and I had Helen carry Anna to the parlor.

"Might as well get business out of the way. What do you need my help with?"

Helen sat on the divan, perched the child on her thigh, let Anna capture her finger before turning to me. I lowered myself carefully into an armchair kitty-corner to Helen's position as she began to explain the reasons for her arrival.

"A situation has arisen in Maldives. An Abnormal offshoot of requiem sharks has invaded the reef, disrupting the natural ecosystem and threatening fishermen. These requiem sharks are highly intelligent, capable of planning and plotting against their prey. So far James has been able to identify six specific individuals, but there could be as many as eight."

Anna took the tip of Helen's index finger into her mouth and sucked on it. Helen looked down and smiled as the girl's teeth gnawed. "The sharks need to be relocated to a new location, one where they won't cause harm to any indigenous creatures. We've located a suitable reef closer to Australia, but the problem now becomes how to entice the requiems to relocate. We've dealt with these creatures before."

I saw where she was going, but that didn't mean I liked it. Cora brought us the tea and we were quiet as she poured us each a glass. Helen thanked her, and Cora offered a moderately polite tilt of her head in acceptance before moving back to the kitchen. "You need something to shoo and something to beckon."

Helen nodded. "Requiem sharks respond predictably to certain stimuli. We can flush them out and away from the Maldives islands with a synchronized sonic burst. Requiems have an extremely sensitive sense of hearing, so we should be able to target them without affecting the other fish in the area. To ensure they don't simply wait until we leave and then come back, we need to draw them to a new home. We'll need to lead them, and we'll need something they'll be certain to follow."

I smiled ruefully. "And what do requiems like more than the swan song of a mermaid? Lucky for you, you've got one of those in your Sanctuary."

Helen's lips were a thin line. "I won't endanger her life. If we underestimate the speed of the requiems, they'll overtake her and we can't be certain we could pull her out fast enough. There is an alternative to using an actual mermaid, however. An undine stone mimics the sound of a mermaid precisely enough to fool a requiem shark from a short distance. We place one in the water, move it around, and we guide it from the surface to lead the sharks where we want them to go."

"Yeah, but undine stones cost upwards of a hundred million. Even your royal benefactor would balk at paying that price." I sipped my tea. It felt like ice on my tongue, and I let it seep into my cheeks. "You want me to steal for you."

"Borrow," Helen clarified. "You'll put it back once we're done, and the owner will be none the wiser."

"I suppose it's time to ask who the owner is. If you can't melt him with your charms, I quake to think of what diabolical beast you're sending me to thieve."

Helen took a deep breath and Anna tilted her head back to look up at her. "Hilton DeMarino."

"Figured it was either him or Cauldwell. They're the collectors." I leaned back and rubbed my thumb over my top lip. "What's the security like?"

"Complicated. I'd prefer not to waste my time going over it if you're simply going to refuse the job. Time is of the essence, you understand. James is currently in the Indian Ocean holding the sharks at bay, but it's only a temporary measure. We need to draw the sharks to their new home as quickly as possible."

Anna looked at me and jutted her chin out, her tongue flat against her top lip. I crossed my eyes at her and she grinned. Helen stroked the girl's curly black hair.

"I suppose I owe you for what you did." I nodded at Anna. "But if I do this, Helen... it's the last time. I got too much to think about now, too much to risk on these games."

Helen looked down at Anna. "I would expect nothing less." She chuckled and shook her head. "Who'd have thought you would end up being the more mature of all of us?"

I shrugged off the compliment. "Took me fifty years to grow up. Nothing to boast about, love. 'Sides, you and Nik and James... you got all the time in the world to grow up."

"Mm. So you'll help us?"

"Yeah. For old times' sake. Cora will watch over little Anna, and we can go over the whole sordid plan after dinner. We can leave in the morning, if that's soon enough."

"Of course. I'll call the airport and have the plane prepared for departure first thing in the morning."

I nodded and put my hands on the arms of the chair to push myself up.

#

The waitress tops off my cup for the first time since my arrival, but my biographer refuses. She turned her papers over when she sensed the girl's approach despite writing in English. When the girl leaves, she turns them back over. She scans what she's written so far - a scrawl of words that track from one end of the page to the other - and allows the tip of her pencil to hover at the end of the last paragraph. "She spent the night at your home that evening, yes?"

I purse my lips and nod. "The next morning when--"

She stops me by raising her hand, two fingers extended. "Ah-ah. Don't think you'll get away with that, Nigel." She puts both elbows on the table and leans forward, eyes mischievous, the buttons of her shirt straining over her chest as she searches my face. "Something happened that night. I don't know why you would be ashamed of it."

"I'm not ashamed." I furrow my brow and try to maintain a modicum of dignity. "It's just no one's business." I tap my finger on the notes. "This is meant to be literature, not some tawdry smut rag."

"Oh, I won't publish this part. This part will be just for me."

I can't help but laugh. The cheek on this woman... "I heard rumors about this. You're using Amelia Earhart's sextant to travel around the world during your little... excursions. Seeking people out, interviewing anyone who has ever shared a bed with our dear doctor. You wouldn't happen to be jealous, would you?"

She answers with a shrug that's not confirmation, but also not a steadfast refusal. "Curiosity. Looking for a type."

I snorted. After sitting silently for so long and then bursting into this laughter, the waitress must think I've gone absolutely mad. I glance toward her and see that she's watching, so I wave an apology and then focus on the woman who inspired the laughter. "A type for Helen Magnus. You'll be searching a long time, and you won't get very much for your trouble."

"Well, you have more firsthand knowledge of several of her lovers. And your night together was... rather recent." She raises an eyebrow. "What's the matter, Mr. Griffin? Shy about sharing a prurient story with a woman? I promise you, I won't blush."

"Oh, I've little doubt of that."

#

Some things were easier in the dark. Some things were harder to forget. Being back with Helen, in that big empty house, reminded me of Oxford days. I'd heard other people had difficulty remembering things that happened to them ten, fifteen, twenty years ago. But I could remember events at Oxford like it was yesterday. Most of the time I could push them down, but staring across the table at Helen Magnus, watching her feed Anna, thoughts came flooding back to me. Cora took Anna up to bed when we were done eating, and we went into the front room to go over the plans of our great crime.

After the baby was abed, Cora went to her own room and music filtered down the stairs. It was just loud enough to be heard, brass and percussion instruments played in a lilting, jovial tune that helped defy the gloomy ambiance of my parlor's poor lighting.

We sat near each other on the couch, thighs touching, and I could smell her perfume. The lights were low, and shadows danced over her face. Sometimes I regretted that she would never be an old woman. Or, if she was one day, I wouldn't get a chance to see it. She would be a dignified octogenarian. Hair of silver cut defiantly short, skin like parchment wrinkled on either side of her lips, a nest of wrinkles around her eyes...

"Nigel? Are you paying attention?"

"To the important things."

She ducked her chin and looked away. She described Hilton's vault to me, the security I would have to avoid, and I only listened with half an ear. I didn't have to beat security systems; all I had to do was keep time. The art of being invisible involved timing your steps to coincide with an authorized individual. Slipping through doors that someone else opens before they close. Having a light touch. That thought brought me back to Helen's hands.

Her arms were folded over her stomach, her hands hanging loose against their opposite hip. Her shirt was pulled across her breasts, and I was very aware of the warmth of her thigh through her trousers. I moved away from her so we weren't touching anymore and rubbed a hand over my face. "All right. I think I got the gist... we can go over the finer points on the flight, yeah?"

"Of course."

I smiled. "Feel free to make yourself at home down here. There's a room at the top of the stairs, first one on the right. It's... still got some of Jeanette's clothes in their. Might not be a perfect fit, but fine for sleepwear."

Helen nodded. I started to stand, and she put her hand on mine. "Nigel... thank you."

I patted her hand. "Hey. What are old school chums for, eh? Night, Helen."

"Goodnight, Nigel."

I went upstairs. Into the first room on the right. I left the door open a crack and walked to the small powder room all but hidden behind the tall wardrobe. I undressed and folded my clothes, tucking them into a small drawer. By the time the drawer quietly closed, I was completely invisible. My heart pounded as I pressed by back to the wall. I could feel its cool surface against my back, but my body wouldn't transfer heat to it. The mysteries of my biology. I folded my hands in front of me, over my groin, and I closed my eyes to listen to the sounds of the house.

Wood settled.

Cora's music continued playing.

I remembered days at Oxford. Days when Helen would disappear for an hour and return with flushed cheeks and limps plump from whatever she had been doing. It wasn't hard to surmise her activities from who had disappeared during the same period. If it was John, she had been well-fucked. If it was James, the plumpness of her lips was the cause of fellatio, and her reluctance to take her seat was evidence of sodomy.

Those days, those heady first days when we were immortals who could do no wrong, I spent countless invisible hours wandering the grounds. How I had longed to simply be left alone, and now I finally had the means. I could stop and observe a flower, or watch a squirrel scamper, and no one would think it odd. Of course I sometimes paid for my distractions. A bloke on a bicycle collided with me and left me with bloody shins and palms.

"What the bloody hell did I hit?"

I was in our study room, invisible, when I heard Helen's voice approaching. I didn't feel like talking to her, or anybody, so I remained silent. Announcing my presence would simply have necessitated turning visible, putting on my clothing... I was really rather content where I was, seated at the study table. And if I couldn't turn a page or write a note until no one was looking, it was a small price to pay.

Helen arrived first, and I saw the man arguing with her a second later: Nikola. I should have known. No one, not even Johnny or James, could cause that level of irritation in Helen's voice. "--an absolutely maddening foreigner!"

"Helen, you wound me!"

I remained completely still at the table as Helen reached it. I was facing the door, seated at the long end, and Helen walked to the short end before she stopped. Nikola looked down at my books and notes. He sneered. "Who left all this junk lying about?"

"It's Nigel's," Helen said. "Nigel? Show yourself if you're here."

"Probably off absconding with the treasures of the kingdom."

I bristled. So did Helen. "Stop it."

"It's so impossible for you to believe it, isn't it? That one of your friends could be a criminal. That someone who received your benediction of blood could possibly have used that gift for evil purposes. Your mind rebels at the thought."

"Yes! And if you were any kind of human being--"

"No longer!" He held his hands out, fingers curled. "Vampire. And do you know what I did the first night I was... my new, glorious self? I fed, Helen."

"Oh, stop it," she growled. She turned to walk away, but Nikola grabbed her arm and held tight. Helen tried to jerk away, but he was far too strong. I tensed, ready to spring into action as he pulled Helen back to him. "You knew I drank, but you ignored it. You know Nigel has the means to buy new suits, to treat us all to extravagant dinners, but you ignored it. And you know that your lover has joined you in bed with sweat on his brow and a rabbit's foot thudding against his ribcage, and you know where he has been."

Helen's slap was stunning. Nikola's eyes flashed rage and he caught her arm on the second attempt. He showed his teeth and seemed to grow several inches, suddenly looking down at Helen. He flexed his fingers and I saw deadly talons.

"Absolute power corrupts, Helen. Maybe it's time you were shown. Do you think we are the elite? Do you think we are the leading lights of our age? We can do remarkable things with the powers you bestowed upon us. Remarkable... terrible things." He pulled her to him and kissed her.

I was frozen where I was. Helpless. I could feel the veins popping out on my forehead and my arms, my fingernails drawing blood as they dug into my unseen palms. Nikola held Helen with one hand. His strength was terrifying, and the thought of what he would do to me with those talons... I couldn't move. I couldn't force myself to intervene as Helen was assaulted right in front of me. His free hand tore at her blouse, and he pulled away from her with a grunt of satisfaction. Helen's lip was stained with blood; he'd bitten her during their "kiss," although it felt dirty to call it such, and I could tell his appetite had only been teased.

With a speed that defied sight, he spun Helen around and bent her over the edge of the table. Helen flattened her palms against the table, her head resting on the book I'd been reading, and her eyes closed. Nikola put his hand on her temple and I saw her lips puff out with each sharp, ragged exhale of breath as Nikola pinned her hips to the table with his own.

He pressed himself hard against her. "Do you doubt I would do it, Helen?"

I was close enough I could see her eyes darting behind the lids. "No."

"You know I would take you... that nothing would stop me if that's what I decided to do. We have become monsters, Helen, and our ability to cage those beasts is what keeps us human." His hand moved to her neck. He was no longer wearing his horrible vampiric visage, and his fingernails were blunt as they traced Helen's skin. I noticed the pressure from his hips had lessened, and Helen was no longer being held down by brute force.

"Ask yourself if we're all remaining human."

He took a step back, and Helen sharply said, "Don't." He stopped, one hand on her shoulder, and Helen looked back at him without lifting her head. "Finish what you've started, Nikola."

He hesitated. I saw it, and I knew he hadn't been planning to follow through on his threat. But now, with the obvious invitation, he pressed harder against her. He made a sound of pleasure that made even Nigel tremble in his seat, and Helen pressed her forehead against the table. She moved her arms out and gripped the edges of the table. Her knuckles were close enough that I could have breathed in deeply and touched them with my stomach. Instead I held my breath.

My cock began to swell as Nikola pressed against her, both of them fully clothed, simply grinding against one another. Yes, Helen was pressing back against him now, an obscene dance of lower bodies. I move my hand to my growing erection and curled my fingers around it. Careful not to disturb Helen's hand, I began to stroke.

Nikola suddenly dropped a hand to her hindquarters and, with a flick of one deadly talon, ripped through her clothes and underthings. Helen cried out in surprise; I had to bite my tongue to keep from doing the same. I heard the cloth around Nikola's zipper being torn as well, and Helen lifted her head off the table as he teased her with what lay within.

"How shall it be, Helen?" Even he sounded breathless. "Johnny's entrance?" Helen gasped. In profile, I saw the sliver-thin part of her lips, her teeth visible within, and the movement as she swallowed. Nikola moved his cock and pressed against her again, and Helen whimpered. "Or shall we follow James' example?"

"Just... inside of me, Nikola. Be inside of me."

To this day I don't know what he decided. At the moment he positioned himself, Helen turned her head and looked directly at me.

It wasn't a thousand-yard stare of a woman waiting for something to end, nor was it a simple glazed stare of a woman in the throes of passion. Helen was staring at me. Where my head would be. And as Nikola began to thrust and her body moved, her eyes never strayed from that single spot. She grunted with pleasure, and the sounds Nikola made were more primal than anything truly human. I wondered if he was truly a virgin as John and James sometimes joked.

Well. No longer.

I locked eyes with Helen, slumped in my chair, and when I came, several threads of my jism landed on her hand. She expressed no shock or confusion as the sudden warm on her fingers, and I knew I was right. After I stained her fingers, Helen closed her eyes and I was no longer locked on her. I watched her as Nikola fucked her, watched her pleasure and imagined her with John, and with James. Had she ever been with all three men at once? Knowing James' proclivities, were there times when Helen was simply a witness?

Nikola withdrew, and Helen rolled onto her side. I saw Nikola's cock for only a moment before Helen closed her fist around it, pumping it twice, thrice, four times before his come stained her thumb, wrist and palm. Nikola's orgasm was immense, and I found myself disturbingly aroused by the sight.

When he was spent, Helen released him and I looked away from his flaccid penis. "Leave this place now," Helen said sharply. I had no way of knowing to whom she spoke, but Nikola assumed he was the only one present. He fastened his trousers, gave her a knowing grin, and left the room.

Helen slid to the edge of the table, her bare legs parted obscenely but turned in a way that I couldn't see her sex. She stared at her hand, parting her fingers so that Nikola's seed - and perhaps mine - dripped down the inside of her fingers. I waited to see if she would speak first, if she would acknowledge what had just happened, but she simply pushed off the table, tugged her dress down, and reached back to hold the torn material together with one hand as she walked out of the room.

She never mentioned that day, nor did Nikola. Soon afterward John Druitt's nightly activities were revealed and we had much larger concerns. I revisited that night often, to my shame, and now, I was standing nude in Helen's borrowed room, turgid from revisiting my voyeurism, and I heard her footsteps on the stair. She passed the room and, for a moment, I thought she had misremembered my instructions. But then a gentle knock, the squeak of a familiar door hinge, and I heard her speak to Cora.

"Goodnight, Cora. And goodnight, dear Anna."

"Goodnight, Ms. Magnus."

Her footsteps echoed down the hall again and then she was in her room. The light was from two sconces on either side of the bed, and they provided a warm amber glow that created lakes of shadows on every surface.

Helen closed the door behind her with a quiet click and reached up to loosen her hair. It fell in waves, and she sat in an armchair next to the door. She crossed her legs and bent forward, lifting her pant leg and plucking the laces of her boot. She eased it off, hooked her thumb under the sock, and tucked it into the boot before setting it aside. She repeated the move with the other boot and left them sitting side by side in front of the chair as she wiggled her toes in the air.

I stayed absolutely still across the room as she stood. Her finger glided down the front of her shirt, undoing the buttons with absent-minded skill before turning toward the window and shrugging out of the coarse material. Her shoulders were tan in the dim light, crossed by the thin straps of a chemise that she shrugged down. When she turned back to face me, I saw her breasts. I swallowed hard, but quietly, as Helen slid her pants down and stepped out of them. Her underwear went next, and she moved toward me to place them in the wardrobe.

I saw the pink tips of her nipples, her breasts seemingly still as firm as the first time I had glimpsed them. Her stomach was flat, and her hips flared out before descending down to thighs toned by decades of running. She was humming under her breath as she put her clothes on hangers and stowed them for the night. My hands were over my crotch, so my cock brushed my thumbs as it began to swell at the sight. I moved them against the shaft and turned my palms inward to cup the growing erection.

Helen picked up her overnight bag and withdrew a voluminous nightgown, along with a small bag of toiletries. She draped the gown over her forearm and walked toward the bathroom. She passed within inches of me and took two more steps before she stopped cold. She tilted her head to one side, chuckled quietly, and slowly turned on the ball of one foot to look at the spot where I was standing.

"Aha. There you are. I thought you were closer to the window."

I remained out of sight. "How do you always know?"

She laughed. "Oh, I don't. You're just never around to hear me speak to an empty room." She held out a tentative hand, flattening it when she found my shoulder. She brushed her palm over to the middle of my chest and, thus oriented, stepped in front of me. "Go on, then," she whispered. "Show yourself."

My face appeared first, as it always does, and my body slowly took form. I had my eyes locked on Helen's, so I saw when they ticked over from the bridge of my nose to make actual eye contact. I kept my hands folded over my erection, not that it did much good when Helen looked down and smiled at my modesty.

"Well, that's hardly fair, is it?"

"Nothing you haven't seen before."

Helen's smile widened. "Very true." She looked at me again and her face became serious. "Nigel. Did you mean... do you really intend to cut all ties when this is over?"

"I have to. For Anna."

Helen nodded. "Then I suppose there will never be another time like the present." She cupped my cheek, her thumb sweeping over my stubble as she leaned in. My head knocked against the plaster as I tried to pull back, but I didn't exactly have a lot of room to maneuver. Good old aggressive Helen, I thought as her tongue pushed into my mouth. I remembered James giving John backrubs, both of them laughing at some shared secret. But I knew, and I assumed Nikola knew. Helen had never been content in the traditional female role, so why should she be a submissive partner in the bedroom?

I realized she wasn't going to give in, so I moved my hands to her hips and dug my fingers in. She stepped forward and I pressed against the soft hair between her legs. She moaned, tilted her head, and our kiss deepened. I met her tongue with mine and her hands stroked down my chest. My spying on her was always fantasy, and both of us knew it. The first time I saw her naked it was an accident, and I immediately announced my presence. I still remembered her amused grin, one slender arm across her chest, and her chiding, "You squandered a golden opportunity, old boy."

The next time, he'd leaned close to her ear, could feel the heat off her body and feel the warmth of her bath against his face. She was still catching her breath from her self-induced orgasm when he said, "Didn't waste that opportunity, did I, love?"

He'd retreated to the sound of water splashing and her shriek of surprise, followed by laughter that pursued him down the stairs.

Despite the game, they had never taken it the extra step. He'd watched her masturbate, seen her with James and John separately and together, watched her undress countless times... but sex was out of the question. She was too far out of his league, too proper and right. Not to mention she was taken twice over. He was irritated by Nikola's brazen disrespect of what Helen had with John and James. He'd never cross that line.

But now she was sliding her hands over his stomach, teasing the hairs, and his cock grew in anticipation of her touch. He broke the kiss and turned his head. Helen dropped her lips to his neck and began sucking gently on his pulse point, which made it all the more rapid. He moved his hands to her back, to the curve of her ass, and he said, "Helen..."

"Don't question it, Nigel."

"Feels like one of us oughta..."

She laughed, and I felt her breasts move against my chest. "We've known each other longer than most couples are married, Nigel. You've spied on my most intimate moments. Do you honestly believe I've never thought of this? Never imagined one of your peeping sessions would end this way? I only regret it's taken so long."

She stepped closer and moved her legs apart. My cock slipped between them and she sighed as I rubbed against her sex. She kept one hand on my waist, raked her fingers over my chest and gripped the back of my neck. "I've often imagined feeling an invisible weight on top of me in the night. Silently spreading my legs and pushing inside... why didn't you ever take the chance?"

"You... n-never asked."

She rolled her head back on her shoulders and laughed. "Oh, Nigel. For all your talk of being the low-class member of the Five, you were the only true gentleman in the bunch. Will you please kiss me?"

I smothered the last word of her request with my mouth, and Helen moaned. I flattened my hands on her back and levered us around, pressing her against the wall so smoothly that her gasp was swallowed by my kiss. I moved my hands to her breasts, which I had admired from afar for so long filled my hands, and she arched her back to press them against my palms. "Yes, Nigel," she gasped. Her fingernails raked the nape of my neck and, on impulse, I made myself invisible.

Helen's eyes opened a crack and then widened, and she laughed. "Ah, yes," she whispered, leaning forward to kiss the corner of my mouth. "This was indeed part of the fantasy." I ran my hands down her sides and she shivered. "God... being touched without seeing you... no offense, Nigel, but invisible works."

I chuckled and gripped her thighs. Romance dictated I lift her up and carry her to the bed, but even in my prime that would have taken all my energy. And I had plans for my energy. Big plans. Instead, I used my handfuls of her rear end to guide her away from the wall, kissing her again as I walked her to the bed. She slid her feet across the carpet without lifting them, dueling with an invisible tongue, her hands cupped a few inches in front of her face. She began to laugh at the ludicrous image she knew she was providing, but I silenced her with a sharp slap on the ass.

She drew a sharp breath and looked at me with narrowed eyes. "All four of you..."

"Pardon?" My mind wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders.

Helen moved her hands to my shoulders, staring daggers where my head should have been. "James, John, Nikola, and now you. All four of my best friends who have shared my bed have seen fit to spank me."

"Maybe you ought to take the hint."

Helen grinned and turned, throwing me onto the bed. "Let me see you," she said. "Just for a moment." I faded back into sight and Helen's eyes traveled down my body. They lingered on my crotch, my cock wet from its far too brief contact with her sex, and she curled her fingers around it. She bent, her breasts hanging heavy as she kissed the tip and swirled her tongue around it. My eyes rolled back in my head as she spread her fingers and stroked its length from tip to base, squeezing as she placed a knee on the mattress.

I felt myself fading and tried to focus on remaining solid. "Sorry..."

"Don't be... I've dreamt of it like this."

I was ashamed to admit I had, too. I let myself vanish and looked down. Helen was straddling me, legs apart to form a pyramid on what appeared to be an empty mattress. She reached down, eyes closed to let her mind fill in the blanks, and her fingers found my erection again. She stroked me, guided me forward, and I kept my eyes open to watch her labia part like a flower blooming. I sat up and pressed my head between her breasts and she moaned, her hands on the back of my head to guide it to one nipple. I closed my lips around it and sucked.

She tightened around me and I looked up to see her face twisted in... agony? Eagerness? I brought my head up and swept my tongue across her lips so she would know where I was. She moaned and captured it, sucking the tip before she kissed me. Not having a face to get in the way, I could look down and see her lips parted and her tongue searching. I could see the folds of her sex stretched around an unseen penetration, and her breasts were flat against something solid but not flat.

Helen writhed in the center of the bed, spine straight, legs parted, head slightly tipped back under the force of my kisses. The air in front of her swirled red, then pink, then became a man. Helen pushed me down onto the bed, following me down so that her breasts stayed flush against me. She rolled her hips fluidly, grunting as she tightened around my cock. I heard my skin moving against hers, sharp but muffled slaps.

I said her name and, though it was barely more than a grunt, she understood its meaning. She lifted herself off of me, my cock wet and throbbing in the cool air of the bedroom. She kissed the center of my chest and each nipple, her slender fingers wrapping around me as she moved her mouth closer... closer. I twisted at the waist and lifted myself to kiss her hip, then ran my tongue over her thighs.

As her lips closed around my cock head, I pressed my face against her mound. She thrust her hips toward me and took me deep into her mouth. My tongue found her clit, and we arched to meet each other in brief, frantic movements until I came in her mouth. I felt myself throb against her tongue, heard her moan as she swallowed, and she rested her head on my hip as she moved against my tongue. She whispered encouragement and cried out when she came.

Afterward I put my head on the mattress, close enough to her that I could smell her sex. She left her head on my hip, her arm draped over my body and my spent cock resting on the warm curve of her upper breast. She traced lines on my flank, up under my arm and then back down to where my hips spread out.

"I'm jealous of you, Nigel."

"Everyone on the planet is jealous of me in this moment." I kissed her thighs and she giggled like the schoolgirl she hadn't been in decades.

"No. This house, Anna, Cora. Jeanette. You have a life. For all our abilities, it's something none of the rest of us can manage. We're imprisoned by our gifts, but you found a way to remain... yourself. What I wouldn't give for something simple." She nuzzled the hollow of my hip and I reached down to touch her hair. "Caleb left me."

"I figured."

She looked up at me. "James and Martin's days are numbered. I imagine he and I will start up again. What else can we do? We have only each other now." She cupped my penis and held it in the warmth of her hand until it began to grow again. She ran her tongue along the top of the shaft and I closed my eyes. "I'll leave in the morning."

"The undine stone..."

"We'll find another way. You have a daughter, Nigel. You have a life here. And if you agree to come with me on this final mission, I will think you can be persuaded for another. And another. You'll never get away. And if one of us misspoke, James would learn of Anna and..." She sighed heavily and kissed my cock again. "I won't allow it. I won't be the one who ensnares you again."

I pressed my lips together and tried to ignore her oral distraction. "So I'll just sit here and hide away in my little corner of the world while you and James go off saving everyone. S'at it?"

"You've given six decades to this world, Nigel. You've arrested your ageing process, you've sacrificed so much... It's time for you to retire. You've earned your corner of the world. I should never have come here."

"Not for nothing, but I'm sort of glad you're here at the moment."

She grinned. "Of course. I misspoke." She took me briefly into her mouth, just enough for me to feel the soft velvet of her inner cheek and the flittering brush of her tongue, and then let me drop again. "I should never have come here with the intention of drawing you back into the fold. But I am extraordinarily glad I have come in order to say... goodbye."

"Fitting way to do it," I said quietly.

"Trust me. I've only just started." She winked at me and took me back into her mouth.

#

I doubt all the details are necessary, but I'm trying to prove a point. I watch my biographer and see that I have indeed added color to her cheeks and throat, but her eyes are wide with anticipation. She wants more. Well, she can imagine it. She's a writer, she can manage that. I stub out my cigarette and the spell seems to be broken. "Well? Don't stop there."

I shrug. "All you need to know is that we didn't sleep. Do you want to know specific positions?"

"Yes." A rush of air in the form of words. One of her hands is resting conspicuously in her lap. I smile and shake my head. "I've already told you too much. She left in the morning. She used my bath, and I helped her with the hard to reach places." I saw her lean forward in anticipation of more sordid information, but I disappointed her. "I had a few more contacts with the Sanctuary, so I decided to let everyone know I was out. I don't know how long I have left, but I'm sure as hell not going to toss them away hunting monsters. I'm going to give them to my daughter."

"Nobel." She looks away out the window and I see tears in her eyes. Emotion in one who strives so hard to hide it. Remarkable. I watch her like she's a living work of art, trying to discern meaning in the set of her jaw or the trembling of an eyelash. Finally she looks back at me and narrows her gaze. "Do you think you can truly leave it behind?"

"Oh, yeah. It's done."

"And never see Helen again?"

I purse my lips. She's hit on the hardest aspect of turning my back on the world I knew. "Helen and I said everything that needed to be said. She knows I'll come runnin' if she calls, so... she won’t call. Everything ends sometime, H.G. I just have the benefit of choosing when, and saving myself a few years to enjoy myself and the ones I love. Should have done it years ago. Before..." I look down at my fingernails. "Squandered. Jeanette... that was squandered."

"Mm." She looks down at her pad, which is full enough of scribbles and notes that the margins are non-existent. She taps her pencil against the page. "Not enough for a book."

"So you'll make up the rest. You're good at that. Or you could make it a side note in Helen's book, once you finally get it finished. How long is the blasted thing now?"

She smiles. "Nearing eight thousand pages."

"Hm. So the surface has been scratched."

She makes a so-so gesture with her hand. I reach for the inner pocket of my jacket but she stops me. "Biographer's treat. As a thanks for the... details." She brushes her thumb across her fingertips and squirms slightly in her seat.

I chuckle and slip away from the table. I have a hat, and I place it on my head. I rest my hand on her shoulder and squeeze it. "Be kind to her."

She looks up and searches my face, trying to figure out how much I know. Then she nods. I walk out of the café, inhaling deeply as I step out onto the sidewalk. I'd spent much too long inside, and the fresh air smells like a new day to me. In the months since Helen left my plantation house, I haven't spent more than a few minutes per day invisible. Already I can see the changes; more gray hairs, skin sagging at the jaw, lines appearing on my face. Some day, maybe soon, I'll look every minute of my hundred years.

I walk away, taking a circuit around the block before I return to the café I've just left. I don't slow down, simply turn my head and peer past the street's reflection to the interior. Through the rainbow of slightly-warped glass of the window, I see my biographer sitting with her back to the entrance facing the seat I had vacated five minutes earlier. Another woman in a tan blouse has joined her, dark curls falling over her collar.

Just before I reach the edge of the window, I see the new arrival start to turn. A familiar profile, an eyebrow raised knowingly, but I'm gone before she can face the window fully. I pull the brim of my hat lower over my eyes and blend into the crowd, assuming a different sort of invisibility. An old man amid a swarm of tourists and French citizens on bicycles.

The Eiffel Tower looms. I have an unwelcome flash of memory of clinging to a girder with James pressed against me for dear life as Helen rappels toward the ground. I can hear James' voice in my ear: "Perhaps this is a bad time to mention my dislike of heights!" and I push the memory away. My flight leaves after dark and I have just enough time to revisit the little stone cottage where Jeanette and I pretended to be normal people in her last hours on French soil.

I look back toward the café, but neither my biographer nor her companion has pursued me. Good. I turn my face toward the setting sun and under my breath offer one final wish: "Be good to yourself, Helen. If no one else will, you must." I breathed in the scent of Paris and let the crowd disappear me.