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“Hey doc, uh… You might wanna come down here…” Henry’s voice over the radio did not fill Helen with confidence. It was his, ‘Something’s gone wrong but I don’t want you to find out until you see it so that way I won’t have to verbalise it,’ tone, one she’d learnt when he became a teenage tinkerer and she had to buy a new toaster. As far as she was aware, he didn’t have any big experiments planned, neither did Nikola, so she couldn’t decide if she was very worried or just slightly concerned.
The quiet joy that bubbled up whenever she thought of the two working together still hadn’t dulled six years later. Somehow, Henry tempered Nikola’s outlandishness, whilst he made Henry leap to bigger and better ideas. They balanced each other wonderfully.
They also annoyed each other tremendously. One or the other would come to her at least once a week, wanting her to play referee to their silly bickering. That’s all it was, bickering. They enjoyed it, she knew. She did too.
The walk to their labs was brisk. It was that tone of voice. She hadn’t heard it for at least a month, maybe two. Really, she should have known something like this would happen — whatever this was.
“Henry? Wha--?” The words died in her throat. Nikola was sprawled on the floor, smoke gently unfurling from the tips of his spiky hair. “What happened?”
“He said he had an idea!”
“And you let him carry on with it?” she asked, kneeling beside him and wafting air with her hands to dissipate the smoke. Gently, she searched for Tesla his pulse, praying for the soft beat. Without warning, he inhaled sharply, eyes wide. Helen's mirrored his, sitting back on her heels. “Nikola?”
He smiled roguishly, leaning on his elbows, “Helen.”
Squeezing his arm to confirm to herself he was fine but scowling all the same, she told him, “Don't do that! What were you thinking?”
He stared at her, incredulously, “Don't... breathe? Really Helen, it'll take a bit more than a few hundred volts to slow me down. And Heinrich, calling her down here?”
“Dude, you were unconscious on the floor for like ten minutes!” Henry explained, the slight note of panic still in his voice.
“Ten minutes?”
Nikola rolled his eyes, dismissing Helen’s squawk. “I'm not now though.” He held up his hand, as if holding an invisible apple on the tips of his fingers.
“What?” Helen asked, watching him.
He shook his head, his hand curling into a fist. “It didn't work.”
She looked hard at him, her eyes narrowed as she puzzled him out, before stiffening with the realisation. “You were trying to get your electricity back? Nikola! Of all the pig-headed ideas!”
He stood up, brushing dust from his clothes. Levelling his gaze at her, he raised an eyebrow, before leaving the room.
“Doc...?”
She shook her head. “Don't worry, Henry, you did the right thing. Just...” She looked at the recently vacated doorway. “Just give him time.”
--
“Nikola?”
“Come to gloat?” he asked miserably, staring into his glass of wine. He was sitting on their bed, an air of despondency surrounding him.
She shook her head. “Why would I gloat?” Approaching, she perched beside him at the edge of the mattress. “I just want to talk.” He snorted. Tamping down her annoyance, she continued. “Seeing you on the floor scared me. Couldn't you have told me you were going to try shocking yourself?”
Knocking back the wine in his glass, he turned to face her. “I only had the idea moments before...” He reached up to stroke her cheek. “I am touched you still worry though.”
Rolling her eyes, she kicked off her shoes before straddling his legs (grinning at his leer). “Of course I worry. Who else is going to sit around and drink my wine all day?” She kissed his cheek, her hands on his shoulders as his rested on her waist. “Or complain about “the children”?” She kissed the other cheek, glad to see a (devious) smile returning to his features. “Or make me-- Umph!” He'd rolled his hips, grinding against her, causing her to pitch forward. Deftly, he caught her, kissing her, his fingers pressing against her back as his tongue stroked hers. Her fingers tangled in his hair as teeth nipped her lower lip. Her hips moved, almost languidly, in a counterpoint to her heartbeat, his arms hugging her as she peppered kisses along his jawline, smelling the merlot he'd been sipping, before coming back to his lips, tasting that same wine as their tongues twined again.
“I love you too,” he told her once they came up for air, his forehead against hers, her cheeks pink, her eyes closed and her lips red and puffy, thoroughly kissed.
--
The incident played on her mind for the next few weeks. Helen had known that he missed the electricity that had flowed with his blood, but not how much, and not what he had (or hadn’t) done to get it back.
“I’ve tried that,” he’d mutter as Helen listed various methods. With every suggestion shot down, she got quieter. He’d done everything, even going so far as to find an electric chair to nap in. Lightning, this time, did not strike twice.
“Bhalasaam?”
His head shot up, eyes bright. “No.”
“No?” she asked.
He grinned. “No, I’ve not tried that.”
“Shall we have an adventure?” Her eyes were sparkling with the possibilities.
“You, Helen Magnus,” he said, crossing the lab to her, “are so very attractive when you’re scheming.” Resting his hands on her hips, he pulled her to him, brushing her lips with his in a gentle caress.
“Gah! This is a lab!” The pair jumped slightly at the intrusion, watching Henry fervently wave away the image before him. “Can’t you canoodle somewhere else? Anywhere else! Just... ah!”
--
Their trek to Bhalasaam took much longer than they expected. Helen knew it would take at a few days, but a week? “I thought you knew the way,” she groused, her legs aching.
“It’s been eight years, Helen. Things change!” Nikola groused back, everything about him rumpled.
“You were back and forth here before Rome!”
“Eight years, Helen!” Except, it came out as, “Eight yeaaaargh!” as he fell down a hole, some overgrown greenery obscuring the entrance they had been searching for.
“Nikola!” Heart pounding, she rushed forward a few steps, hoping she didn’t fall herself.
She heard a small moan. “Found the entrance,” he called, groaning.
Peering down into the hole, she waited for her eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Is it much of a drop?” she asked cautiously.
There was a pause before he answered, “Thirty feet.”
“Give me a minute…”
A rope unfurled into the darkness, hopefully close to where he stood. Rappelling down, Helen knew he was watching her descent. “Stop staring, Nikola, and help me out,” she told him, standing solidly on the floor still connected to the rope.
“But you look stunning,” he replied, his hands resting on her hips. “Tell me, what does a vampire have to do to get a kiss around here?” he murmured close to her ear, his voice low and gravelly.
“Get me out of this and you’ll find out,” she told him, hands on his jacket lapels, her lips just as close to his neck, before she nipped his earlobe.
“Temptress.”
“Stop stalling.” The harness clattered on the floor around her feet, his body against hers as he lowered his head to kiss her smile.
Between them, they had concluded that Nikola lost his spark (he groaned every time Helen said it like that) because his mortal body couldn’t heal the way it needed to when he used his electricity. He had tried, as a vampire, to get the lightning back, but something was blocking him. They didn’t know how his body would react to the electric tunnel, but he’d been through it before and not died.
“Now, you,” she said, once they finished their impromptu make out session, “how far away are we from my father’s test?”
He pointed, “That way, about a ten minute stroll. Shall we?” He extended his arm to her like the gentleman she knew he could be, when he wanted to behave. Smiling brightly, she hooked her elbow around his, and tried to keep her excitement controlled. If this worked…
She suddenly stopped. “Nikola?”
“Yes?” he asked, turning back to her.
She drew a breath, smiling. “I love you.” Five years wasn’t a long time to an immortal vampire or an ageless doctor, but her emotions were still something she guarded tremendously. Nikola could count on one hand the amount of times she’d said she loved him.
“I’ll be fine,” he replied, kissing her forehead as he hugged her tightly, knowing what brought on her declaration.
The archway was just as they remembered, deceptively benign with the white lights leading to the pedestal on the other side. Helen swung the backpack she’d been carrying off her body onto the floor, opened it and grabbed a cool bag. “You’re going to need all your strength,” she told him, handing the whole thing him.
His heart sped up when, on opening it, he saw a blood bag lying innocently on the silver material, a little fan next to it, whirring quietly. She was right, he did need all his strength. Picking it up reverently, he opened his mouth to ask for a glass (they might be in Nepal but that didn’t mean drinking from the bottle unless he had to) when one appeared before him. He grinned, “Sure you’re not psychic?”
Helen shook her head in amusement. “Just drink up Nikola.”
Hungrily, he swallowed half the glass without pause, eyes momentarily closed in bliss. A second went by when his eyes opened slowly, confusion written on his features.
“Problem?” Helen asked, after drinking some water.
His face scrunched up, before sipping the blood again. “It tastes different.”
“How?” she asked.
He blinked. “Like… there’s a tang that isn’t blood.” He looked into her eyes, the confusion still apparent.
“What?” she asked, her own eyes wide.
He smirked and shook his head. “Never mind. It tastes good.” He finished the glass. “Really good.” He started bouncing on the balls of his feet, a coiled spring ready to go off at any moment. “Whoo!” He started for the corridor, almost at the first light, when he turned back. “You put your blood in there.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked, hands on her hips, head canted to one side.
He licked his lips, touching hers with his fingertips. Her eyes never left his, her breath quickening. Quirking his eyebrow, he smirked. “I love you Helen. If this goes badly, speak well of me.” A quick, bruising kiss and he barrelled through the corridor.
Every cell in his body screamed, so loudly, so harshly, that he almost turned tail. Gritting his teeth, he took a step, then another, and another. Frustrated, he wrapped the lightning around him like a cloak, commanding it, revelling in its power as the last few steps became lighter, became easy.
Never had he seen a pedestal so beautiful. Smoke curled up from his hair and shoulders as he leant against it. Turning, he grinned, held up his hand and watched as Helen smiled back, her eyes alight.
Dancing from fingertip to fingertip was a small sprite of electricity.