Work Text:
Season 1 Episode 10 - Warriors
11.13:
Magnus: I know my own father.
Gregory: Piece of work, this one.
Magnus: A quality I inherited.
Helen paced the floor of her office, adrenaline through the roof, nerves frazzled beyond measure. Rowan stood propped against her desk, hands wrapped around its lip, the toes of her right foot pointed, ankles crossed, a look of utter shock on her face. “Gregory? Here? Alive ?!” she could scarcely believe it. “Oh, Helen,” her voice was filled with sympathy and concern. “Are you all right?”
The young brunette continued to pace, hands clenching and unclenching in repetitive fists at her sides, “They think I’m crazy. That my mind is playing tricks on me, but I know my father.” She spun and faced Rowan, eyes glaring and defiant, “It is him.”
“Darling, I believe you,” Rowan said soothingly. “Ye would know better than anyone.” She pushed herself up from the desk and began to walk the room too, her mind sorted problems best when her body was in motion. “But why does he not acknowledge you?” She turned sad, questioning eyes on her life’s love, “What has happened to him?”
Helen gave her a helpless shrug, her lower lip trembling almost imperceptibly.
Rowan closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms tightly around Helen’s shoulders, the younger woman reciprocating the gesture by tying her own arms around Rowan’s waist and leaning her head against her shoulder. Her whole body quivered. “Shh,” Rowan stroked her hair lovingly. “Twill be alright, Love. We’ll fix this. Ye won’t lose him again.”
14.53:
Gregory: I get these blackouts. But, no, that doesn’t include forgetting who I am.
Magnus: Why are you hiding everything you know to be true?
Gregory: Do I, uh, give my drink orders to you, or do you have someone for that?
Rowan strode into Gregory’s room, hackles raised and magicks humming. She would not stand idly by and let this “Charlie” fellow hurt her beloved this way. The power of her emotions rolled off of her in thick waves, vibrating through the room, though the man in front of her appeared to notice nothing but her Sidhe charms.
“Well, whoo-ee and hot damn, Doll! You the one I order my drinks from?” The man’s lascivious eyes raked over her, taking in all the curves. “You deliver more than just drinks?” he dropped her a lewd wink.
“Sorry, ‘ Charlie ’,” Rowan spat. “I belong to her,” she tossed her head toward the door, where Helen had exited minutes before Rowan had decided to have her own little “chat” with the imposter wearing Helen’s father.
“Her?” He looked momentarily confused. “Wait, you mean the tall drink of crazy brunette sugar who was in here a minute ago?” He let out a low whistle, “Well, I’ll be. Lucky broad.” Shortly, he added, as if in afterthought, “Oh, and you too.”
She’d been in the room with him barely a minute, and already Rowan was sick to death of this sick, twisted game. Who was this man, and why was he playing so perversely with Helen’s heart? “Who are you?” she demanded, her anger spiking the energy flowing off of her. He may not be able to see it , Rowan thought, but he sure felt that .
“Look,” he let out an exasperated sigh, “I told you people already, my name is Charli-”
“Cram the bull, pal!” She knew she was letting her emotions get the best of her and offering them full control of her actions at the moment, but she didn’t care. “What are you doing here, really? Did someone send ye?” Try as she might, she could get nothing off of him. Nothing . It was as if she wasn’t Reading him at all. Rowan didn’t understand what was happening, or why.
“Look, Lady. I don’t know what you’re talking about, okay? Sheesh, I’m starting to think you’re as whacked out as your girlfriend. Nobody sent me, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. And I’m here because your psycho love bunny drug me here, okay? Swore I was her father-- As if I’d forget I had a 30-something year old daughter who ought to be in the nuthouse. Not exactly like I come under my own steam, ya know what I mean?”
The only thing Rowan did know, despite all his denials, despite the ineffectiveness of her magicks, despite the clearly fully formed personality he was displaying- despite it all, she knew the man sitting before her was Gregory Magnus. Helen wasn’t crazy, it wasn’t mistaken identity or wishful thinking, and it wasn’t some crazy coincidence of appearance. He behaved differently, he spoke differently, but all his ticks and tells were there just the same. But it was more than that; every line, every crease, every dimple, the pattern of his irises, even his smell- if you could dig past the stench of shame and booze. It was him. The only question was, why wouldn’t- or couldn’t - he admit it?
She uttered a staccato grunt of disgust, “I know not what’s happened to ye, but clearly thy manners hath disappeared with thy memory.” Rowan spun on her heel and glided to the door.
Just as she was crossing the threshold, the man spoke, “What, so, no scotch, then?”
Huffing, she firmly latched the door behind her.
Ashley sat in the window seat of the sitting area at the end of the library corridor, arms wrapped around knees pulled up under her chin, staring unseeingly out onto the city. She didn’t even move until Rowan sat down beside her, without the usual rustle of whispering skirts, she had paired her traditional corset with a pair of form fitting blue jeans that she somehow managed to make look elegant and refined, knee high boots completing the ensemble.
“How are ye,” her voice was gentle and soft as she placed a comforting hand over Ashley’s.
The young woman turned from the window to face the much elder, “Is-- Is it really him? My grandfather?” Her voice was small and choked with emotion; hope, pleading. Though she hadn’t let on, she wanted it to be so just as badly as Helen did.
“Aye, cailín deas, mar sin atá sé.[sweet girl, so he is.]
Your mother, she tis not crazy. That man down the hall, his name tis Gregory Magnus, he fathered and raised thy mother, he started the Sanctuary, he apprenticed me while I was at Oxford, and he disappeared without a trace at the close of 1909.” Ashley stared at her wonderingly, “I know not how, ceann daor,[dear one,]
but tis him. No question. Helen’s not making it up, and she hasn’t lost it. Tis true.”
Ashley’s gaze turned back to the city below, stunned. “My grandfather,” she whispered quietly.
20.06:
Dana: How are things at the Sanctuary?
Gregory: Magnus is coming along just fine. The asset is in place.
Dana: I’m happy to hear that.
Rowan marched through the door of ‘Charlie’s’ room, blazing with passion and conviction, yet some of the angry fire she had been coated in earlier had gone out. “Tis no doubt who you are, Gregory, the only one denies it is ye. So much tis at stake here, can thou not see? People are in danger, friends and loved ones, and no one knows what ye do. Thy daughter needs your help, Gregory. Aye, but more than that, she needs you .”
Her eyes were fierce, glowing. Heat poured from her, filling him with a desire to remember. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be remembering, but he knew he wanted to, with all his heart. Those green eyes of hers were captivating, hypnotic, and he was glued to them as they blazed and shone and swirled. For a moment, he thought he knew her. More than that, he wanted to help that sweet young brunette. Why? He shook his head, clearing it. When he looked up, that strange redhead was gone, but something in his heart still wanted to help the other girl.
22.59:
Magnus: It’s a part of you, you can’t deny it. It’s connecting for you. You came back here for a reason, Father. It can’t have been by chance.
Gregory: Stop it, will ya? Back off! I’m not your…
Magnus: Father, what’s wrong?
“Helen!” Rowan came racing from the labs, she had wanted to be close when Gregory was shown around, though she had no interest in intruding on such a personal moment between father and daughter. Now there was quite the commotion and Helen’s voice was filled with panic. “Are you quite all right, Darling?” She drew up on the other side of Gregory, helping Helen steady him, gripping her hand in what she hoped communicated fierce reassurance. “My Lord,” she breathed. “What on earth has happened to him?” Then she noticed. He was jerkily trying to clutch at the back of his neck, as if something were afflicting him. Following his movements, and Helen’s shocked gaze, she saw something writhing under his skin at the base of his neck. Something unnatural, something alive. “Good gods! What is that?!”
Helen stared at her, her lovely face a mask of confusion, horror, and disbelief. All she could do was shake her head.
42.44:
Gregory: I’m sorry. I’ll have to seek my own way for now. But I promise you, Helen, I’ll never be far.
It positively broke her heart to see Helen cry. Especially over her father. She had lost him, suddenly and inexplicably, she had spent a century with no idea where he was or what had happened to him, she had finally found him, alive , and now he was leaving all over again. He needed to walk his path in solitude for now, it was necessary for his retribution to himself. Rowan had done much the same centuries ago. But Helen couldn’t understand it. He was a saint in her eyes, there couldn’t possibly be anything he needed to atone for. All she knew was she was losing her father, again.
Gregory made his sweet goodbyes to his weeping daughter and stepped into the corridor outside Helen’s study. He smiled tenderly at Rowan and gave her cheek an affectionate pat, “I’m glad it’s you. I always hoped it would be. I’ve liked you since the day I met you, Rowan, and it was always clear to me just how much Helen means to you.” He flashed her a sly grin, “Though I do hope you kiss her out in the open now, and not behind the draperies.”
“I always thought ye knew we were there,” she returned his smile, a conspiratorial glimmer in her eyes. “Twas mighty helpful to have such full and vibrant warning that ye and your colleagues were all on your way to the rather occupied parlor.”
“My daughter deserves to truly live as herself fully bathed in the light, instead of always hiding a part of herself in the darkness.” His eyes were bright with tears, “Take care of her for me, Rowan, please. Keep my little girl safe.” He kissed her on both cheeks and placed a third on her forehead, “Thank you. For everything you’ve done. For us both.” He strode stoically down the corridor and was gone.
Rowan stepped into the office and sat quietly on the settee, compassionately stroking Helen’s cheek as tears streamed down her young love’s face. Helen collapsed into her, burying her tear soaked face in Rowan’s lap, drawing her legs into a ball beside her, shoulders quaking as she sobbed. Rowan laid a consoling hand on her back, running her fingers comfortingly through her dark locks. They sat this way for quite some time, Helen grieving the loss of her father, Rowan holding her, trying to ease her pain.