FF: Twice in a Lifetime | Sanctuary | Helen/Charlotte | R 2/7
She waits. She builds. She hacks into government websites and her own Sanctuary network and follows along in real time, trying to get a sense of the bigger picture. The grander chess match at work. When the time finally comes for her to reveal herself, she simply walks back through the door.
The moment nearly sends her to her knees.
One hundred and thirteen years she has longed for this moment, dreamt of it, prayed for it. There is no fanfare to greet her; no one even notices save the alarm system which passively accepts her access code and grants her entrance.
She looks around, breathing in the scent of wood polish and dust and home - whatever that really means to her now.
When Will finally notices she's back and tracks her down, the look on his face is equal parts relieved and irritated. He is a man who demands answers, but he manages to put that need on hold until the abnormals have been saved, their friends rescued, and a mass genocide avoided. Only then does he ask for an explanation. And that is the first time Helen begins to lie to him, knowing full well it will not be the last.
*
When the Sanctuary goes rogue, it is the culmination of decades of planning. Not that Will knows or understands that. Not that she's ready to tell him, just yet, what they will all have to endure to survive this. Instead, he broods and mopes silently, knowing she is hiding something from him. His silence becomes a wall, a barrier growing between them steadily every day. A barrier that Helen reinforces bit by bit out of necessity, hoping that when the end comes, she won't have made him too much of an enemy.
In a perfect world, her trip to Grand Comore would take less than a day and involve no more than the exchange of some bank account information. But as Helen has long known, it isn't a perfect world, and in addition to the exchange of bank accounts there is also the exchange of gun fire.
The one bright point in the fighting and explosions is the charming brunette with a gorgeous smile. Charlotte. Helen keeps herself focused on dealing with the mercenaries well enough but she can't help but admire the younger woman's calm demeanor despite the chaos surrounding them. Or her rather lovely figure. And she tells herself there is absolutely nothing special in the way Charlotte looks at her. Nothing at all…
When the danger has finally passed and her money placed into Richard Feliz's more than capable hands, Helen calls to let Will and Henry know that she is alive and well, and will be home as soon as the new plane Richard has chartered for her arrives. The vagueness and bright reassurances that everything is fine at home and not to rush back leave her slightly worried, but she trusts that if something were truly wrong the Big Guy would have sent word.
With arrangements made, she and Charlotte take a walk in search of new clothing to replace their tattered, blood-stained attire.
"You sure know how to show a girl a good time," Charlotte teases.
"I try," Helen smirks, more than pleased with herself and the way things have managed to turn out.
"Thank you, for, um… you know…" Charlotte offers vaguely, not quite sure the appropriate way to thank Helen for saving her life, suddenly afraid all of her words will be shallow and meaningless in the face of such a grand gesture.
"Don't mention it," Helen fills in. "You were very brave."
Overhead she hears the distinctive whine of jet engines and looks up to see a Leer jet beginning its descent. "Well, there's Richard's plane." The note of sadness in her voice takes her by surprise almost as much as Charlotte's move to stand in front of her.
"Are you sure you can't stay for a day or two," Charlotte asks, eyes bright and hopeful. "You could relax… hang out…?"
Helen wants to say yes but she has far too much to do at home to justify even a mini-vacation. At least, that’s what she’s been telling herself for years. "See the thing about me is I rarely just hang-"
Charlotte kisses her and whatever Helen was going to say is completely forgotten. It's fast, a quick kiss followed by a more lingering press of lips, but it lights up Helen's insides like a straight shot of electricity to the gut.
"Dear god."
Helen pulls back, trying to catalogue the last time she's felt that sort of rush from anything but a near-death experience, including the one she just managed to survive less than an hour before. Nothing comes to mind, which is utterly depressing.
"Mad," Charlotte asks hesitantly, staring at Helen as if the world rests on her answer.
"On the contrary, I just… haven't been kissed like that in a very long time." And before Charlotte can question just how long, Helen is kissing her again slow and deep. They stand there wrapped up together, one kiss melting into the next, the tight clench of need building and burning through them with each passing moment.
"I think I better ask Richard to park his plane for the night," Helen says lightly, her tone bellied by the rough sound of her sucking in breath after breath, her forehead resting against Charlotte's. "That is, if you have no objections?"
"No objections," Charlotte agrees readily, just as out of breath, leaning in to kiss Helen again, her teeth nipping at Helen's bottom lip. "We need a bed… or a very sturdy desk… or wall… I'm willing to be versatile."
Helen pulls back with a laugh, momentarily care-free, all her thoughts taken by the woman in front of her. "I don't think we'll be reduced to such primitive accommodations. Grande Comore may be a rather lawless island, but it's got an absolutely fantastic resort."
*
The room they are given has an ocean view, a balcony wide enough to fit a Buick, and direct access to a white, sandy, private beach. None of which either of them notices for longer than the three seconds it takes to walk into the hotel room, tip the bellboy, and slam the door shut, the 'do not disturb' sign swinging maniacally from the handle.
Helen presses Charlotte back against the door, taking advantage of their similar height to press her knee between Charlotte's thighs at just the right angle. The younger woman's soft moan is more than enough encouragement to start Helen kissing her once more, all the hunger and passion flaring, the electricity coursing brightly through Helen again.
It's disconcerting, this sudden rush of emotion. It's been so long since Helen felt out of control, since she's been unable to rein in her feelings, that it scares her almost as much as it thrills her. How long has it been since desire simply overtook her? For most of her life she very carefully took a lover, chose someone to spend her time with. Rarely did she feel something that couldn't be put aside or denied entirely. But the moment she kissed Charlotte she knew she was done in.
So she kisses her again, hands easily divesting the younger woman of her ragged tank top and torn bra. Her own clothing ends up as a heap on the floor - a sad ending to a five hundred-dollar dress - as they move away from the door and cross the sunlit room to the bed.
They are covered in scratches, burns, cuts and bruises but move together as if their injuries are nonexistent. The only thing that matters is the feel of Helen's mouth on Charlotte's skin, the way her nails dig into Helen's shoulder in pleasure as Helen nibbles along her jaw and down her neck.
The afternoon sun bathes the room in warmth, blunting the immediate edge of desire. Paces slowed, Helen takes her time exploring Charlotte's body, lingering, memorizing, tasting. 'Yes,' 'please,' and 'more,' are the only words either of them manages for some time as their mouths become occupied with much more interesting ways of expression than speech. When Helen's fingers eventually slide across the wetness between Charlotte's thighs it is with a hesitating reverence as she begins to understand the shift her world has taken in just a few short hours. There is a connection between them borne from more than just a shared trauma. In another time, another place, Helen would have felt that spark just the same. Charlotte gasps and rocks up against Helen's hand, urging her on, and whatever hesitation there is dissipates immediately, the need taking control once more.
They move together, bodies sliding, searching out the perfect rhythm. Charlotte's fingers dig into Helen's hips as they rock upward, matching paces, urging her on, begging now for that sweet release that's just out of reach. Helen complies, quickening her pace, fingers curling inside Charlotte, making her cry out as the world shatters around her.
In the aftermath, Charlotte finds herself tucked in against Helen's shoulder, both of them sucking in ragged breaths, hearts pounding. "Are you always that... thorough?" Charlotte asks with a decadent laugh.
"Well, I am a scientist," Helen teases, eyes glinting devilishly. "It's sort of in the job description."
"Well then, Doctor Magnus, I don't want to brag but... I think you just met your match."
"Oh," Helen sighs as Charlotte rolls them over, her mouth already finding the delicate spot on Helen's shoulder that makes her knees weak, "I do hope so..."
*
As so many of her lovers have done before, Charlotte traces the outlines of the faint scars that mar Helen's body. Unlike her previous lovers, Charlotte doesn't ask Helen where she got them. The brunette has seen Helen in action, tended her wounds, and knows better than anyone how Helen got the marks even if she doesn't know the exact stories behind them. Besides, she suspects her time with Helen is short lived, and there are far better things to be done with her mouth beside talk.
When they are both momentarily sated, Helen orders a feast from room service, runs a steaming hot bath with lavender scented oils, and piles both she and Charlotte into the tub.
"So, I've been thinking," Charlotte says slowly, her back pressed against Helen's breasts.
"Yes?"
Charlotte doesn't turn around. "You're one of them, aren't you? An… abnormal? That was what you called them, wasn't it?"
Helen purses her lips, amused and not the least impressed. "Not exactly but close enough."
"When you said you were an old woman… you weren't kidding were you?"
"No."
"Right." Charlotte is silent; Helen tries to think of something to say when the young woman inevitably bolts for the door. To her surprise, the young doctor settles back against her chest, her head lolling back against Helen's shoulder in a gesture that makes Helen ache with promised intimacy. Intimacy she hasn't shared in more than a lifetime, perhaps even longer. "Anything I should know about? You don't sprout horns or anything, do you?"
Magnus smirks. "No horns."
"I'm gonna be really pissed if you still look this hot in fifty years." Charlotte tilts her head back, looking up at Magnus with complete trust, a hint of curiosity, and more than a dash of self-satisfaction.
Helen's lips twitch, fighting a smile. "Someone's awfully confident."
"Tell me I'm wrong," the younger woman challenges, her voice softening. "Tell me you don't feel this too."
Common sense tells Helen to run. After all, she's spent the better part of a century planning this come back. She can't afford a distraction now. But if there is anything Helen Magnus has learned in two lifetimes it is that every moment is precious and not to be wasted. Besides, she's awfully tired of lying. "You're not wrong," she whispers. She leans down, capturing Charlotte's lips in a tender kiss. "I lead a very complicated life, Charlotte. And it's only going to get more complicated over the next few months. I can't make any promises."
"Then I guess it's a good thing I'm not asking for any," Charlotte replies evenly. She turns in the bath, sliding up against Helen's body, straddling her thighs. Face to face now, Charlotte meets Helen's gaze evenly. "I don't know how old you are and I don't care. All I know is that I have one lifetime ahead of me and I'm not going to waste a minute of it." She leans in, kissing Helen once more, and again Helen feels the pull. Like the undertow of the ocean, taking hold of her, pulling her deeper. There's no fighting this even if she wants to.
"Perhaps I could stay just one more day…"
*
One day turns into three, then five when the weather takes a nasty turn and air travel becomes impossible until the storms pass. Charlotte, it seems, is a rather well-renowned research scientist with doctorates in both immunology and biology. They spend most of their time in bed, discussing science while drinking rich, red wine, and Helen finds herself utterly charmed and wishing they had more time.
Occasionally, Helen sneaks off to make phone calls and check e-mail and reassure Will and Henry that she is perfectly fine and in no danger despite her highly uncharacteristic time off. She doesn't tell them about Charlotte and leaves her reasons for staying on the island vague - something she knows bothers Will.
He is a man who prizes trust and honesty about all things, remnants of a childhood spent with a feckless thug of a father. The fact she is actively hiding things from him, something they both know but leave unspoken, is driving a wedge between them. A wedge only Helen has prepared for, and she hopes, will be able to repair when the time comes.
The weather clears. Her bags are packed and waiting on the tarmac, as are Charlotte's. Two separate planes, each independently arranged by Richard to send them off into their new lives under his financial and physical protection. Charlotte slides her arm around Helen's waist as they walk across the blacktop, neither of them speaking, trying to prolong the moment.
The younger woman nudges Helen's shoulder good naturedly. "No regrets, right?"
"No regrets," Helen promises.
Their planes are on opposite ends of the airstrip and so they stop at the midpoint, each somewhat shyly hesitating, searching for just the right way to say goodbye. But there is no good way to say goodbye, Helen knows, and so she puts on a brave smile and leans in to kiss Charlotte softly. "Don't be a stranger, all right? If you need anything, Richard knows how to find me, and you've got my email."
Charlotte nods and smiles, putting on her own brave face. "I feel like we should be making a date to meet at the top of the Empire State building."
"Just ask and I'll meet you anywhere you'd like," Helen promises, surprising herself as much as Charlotte with the declaration.
In the distance, one of the plane stewards calls out, impatient to leave with another weather change on the horizon.
"Well, Dr. Magnus… I'll say it again. You sure do know how to show a girl a good time."
"Perhaps next time, Dr. Benoit, we can do it without the bloodshed and body count."
"I'd like that." Charlotte leans in, kissing Helen hard and fast, and then she is gone, striding purposefully away from the older woman before Helen has a chance to see the tears threatening to fall.
Helen takes a shuddering breath and turns for her own waiting plane.
Halfway there she turns back. And runs.
She catches Charlotte just as the younger woman is about to climb up the steps to the plane.
"Helen, what are you-"
"What if I offered you the chance to explore a world you've only seen a glimpse of? Creatures and science and technology beyond your wildest dreams. What would you say?"
Charlotte beams. "I'd say: When do I start?"
Helen grins. "That's what I was hoping you'd say."
Part Three