Fic: Surplus Population (Sanctuary)
Feb. 4th, 2011 05:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grav_ityAN: So, “Trail of Blood”. Things get said. Things don’t get said. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
penknife accidentally gives me a prompt. Here we are.
Spoilers: “Trail of Blood”, obviously. I think I kept it to that, though.
Disclaimer: Brace yourself for the shock, but I don’t own Sanctuary. The title comes from “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens: If they would rather die, they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.
Rating: PG
Characters: Helen Magnus, Nikola Tesla. It might be a ‘ship if you squint, but I think I actually managed a gen fic.
Summary: Even when he had been a vampire, Nikola Tesla knew better than to cross certain lines.
+++
Surplus Population
Even when he had been a vampire, Nikola Tesla knew better than to cross certain lines. One did not meddle in the affairs of dragons, one did not eat at the Chinese restaurant with the shortest line, and one never, ever trusted the sommelier when one had made a significantly longer study of wine. Helen Magus usually qualified as a dragon, but even in his pathetic current state, he was too annoyed with her to listen to his own good sense.
She was in her office, but he knew she wouldn’t be working. She would be pretending to work, of course, and one of the children might not even notice that she was in fact doing nothing, but Nikola knew her better than that. Helen was good at channeling her anger into productivity, Oxford’s first lesson, as it were, but while she was fuming, she didn’t accomplish very much.
He barged in without even bothering to knock. There was no sense in setting a conciliatory tone that he had no intentions of maintaining. He did carry two wineglasses in one hand to accompany the bottle in the other, but since it was her wine and he intended to drink most of it, that hardly counted.
“Nikola, I am not in the mood,” she said, not even having to turn around to identify him as the intruder. “I’m still not sure I ever want to see you again.”
“I let you find the multipede easily enough, didn’t I?” he said, as though that should have been enough.
“You still took one.” She flounced to the sofa and sat down with about as little grace as she could manage given a hundred years of habit.
“I would hate to become unpredictable in my old age,” he fired back. He poured them both generous portions and passed her a glass. He held up his hand in mock toast. “To not being eaten by gigantic bugs.”
Helen downed half her glass in one go, not bothering to give him a response. He’d expected a withering glare at the very least, and decided that she was going to fight with him, whether she wanted to or not. He didn’t pass her the bottle.
“What do you want, Nikola?” She sounded nearly defeated. He would have to head that off as soon as possible. He didn’t want her to be defeated. Well, not right away in any case.
“I want to yell at you,” he said. Honesty was not always the best policy, but over the years Nikola had learned that when you wanted to make someone really angry, a little truth went a long way. It was a game he’d more or less perfected with John Druitt, and he had no qualms about turning it on Helen now.
“You want to yell at me?” That was more like it.
“I rather do,” he said calmly. He poured himself another glass of wine and allowed himself a small smile when she reached across him for the bottle.
Her arm brushed against his thigh for just a moment too long, and he shifted. He was not about to let her distract him, not until he got a few more digs in. She raised one eyebrow, as though she’d finally figured out what he was doing, and poured the wine.
“What justification could you possibly have?” she demanded, spitting out each syllable like it was a bullet from a gun.
“I was trying to get my life back,” Nikola said, leaning towards her and calling up what vague semblance of menace he still possessed. He might not be able to fight her tooth and nail anymore, but he still had his bearing and a century and a half of practice.
“Your life?” she said, her carefully preserved accent thickening around the edges. “You never lost it. I lost my daughter.”
“And I said I was sorry,” Nikola said harshly. “But you cannot deny that it is the result of your own interference that Ashley is dead and I have been reduced to mere magnetism.”
He was still a genius, though, so he was able to brace himself and his wineglass for when she hit him. Recent events had reminded him all to clearly of his own mortality, but he’d forgotten how effectively Helen Magnus could strike. He massaged his jaw in his free hand.
“Feel better?” he asked, practically daring her to do it again. She’d only feel bad about it later, so it was as much a victory for him as it was painful.
“No,” she said, but he could tell she was lying.
“Send forth for your servants, then!” he said dramatically. “Heaven forbid that Helen Magnus be unsettled or made aware for one instant that her long years have not yet granted her the status of being the centre of the universe!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.
“I’m not,” he said, voice cold again. “You are the most selfish person I’ve ever met, and I’m me.”
“How dare you!” she said.
“Because I miss my life,” he said. “Because every morning I wake up, and have to consider that this might just be the day you get me killed. Because I have to live in fear of poor, mad Johnny. Because I watched James die, and now I might have to follow him. Because I had a chance to restore myself to what you made me, and you insisted I give it up because you miss your little brat of a daughter.”
She recoiled from him as though he’d struck her, and perhaps he had. He hadn’t meant to go quite so far, but at the same time, he felt lighter than he had since he’d been pinned by the press of his devamper against his chest and been unable to stop it from doing what he’d designed the cursed thing to do.
“Nikola,” she choked. He emptied his glass and poured another.
“You called them abominations, Helen,” he said. He was tired and he felt like there were a hundred thousand insect legs pattering across his skin, ghostly reminders of how close he’d come. “What does that make us?”
“We’re different,” she said, but he could tell she didn’t believe her own words. “We sought knowledge. They’re only after power and perversion.”
“Do you even know why you’re angry any more?” He relaxed against the back of the sofa, and when she reached for his hand, he let her take it.
“It’s not your job to psychoanalyze me, Nikola,” she said, linking her fingers with his.
“True,” Nikola allowed. “But if you don’t let me do it, the task will fall to young William, and I am pretty sure you don’t want him to know that you have a death wish.”
“I do not have a death wish!” Helen snapped at him, but her fingers remained gentle.
“Of course you don’t.” He leaned forward again, calling on his old predatory ways just one more time to goad her into the response he wanted.
“I’m just tired, Nikola,” she said instead, and he retreated. They were back to their old game, it seemed, which was fine by him. The game he’d played with John was exhausting when there was no one around to buffer him. And the problem was that there were fewer of The Five around.
“We all read Classics,” he said. “Immortality is never a gift. Why are you surprised?”
“Because I thought I was better,” she said. And she’s Helen Magnus, so he knew she was telling the truth.
“It was always going to be you and me,” Nikola said. “You knew that too.”
“And now it’s just going to be me,” she said, defeated again.
“Not if I can help it,” he replied. It might have been the wine talking, but he very nearly believed it.
“I promise I won’t stop you again,” Helen said. “Unless you’re endangering someone other than me.”
“Thank you,” he said.
“Will you stay as long as you can?” she said quietly.
He knew the answer she wanted, John’s answer, and he couldn’t give it to her. But he could lie.
“Yes. I’ll stay.”
She turned then, and sat back against his chest. He moved his legs out of her way and wrapped his arm around her. Her head reclined on his shoulder, and when he looked down at her, he thought for a moment he saw wrinkles around her eyes.
But it was just a trick of the light.
+++
fin
Notes: I think I might be on the edge of another character meta post. We shall see.
Gravity_Not_Included, February 2, 2011
penknife accidentally gives me a prompt. Here we are.Spoilers: “Trail of Blood”, obviously. I think I kept it to that, though.
Disclaimer: Brace yourself for the shock, but I don’t own Sanctuary. The title comes from “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens: If they would rather die, they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.
Rating: PG
Characters: Helen Magnus, Nikola Tesla. It might be a ‘ship if you squint, but I think I actually managed a gen fic.
Summary: Even when he had been a vampire, Nikola Tesla knew better than to cross certain lines.
+++
Surplus Population
Even when he had been a vampire, Nikola Tesla knew better than to cross certain lines. One did not meddle in the affairs of dragons, one did not eat at the Chinese restaurant with the shortest line, and one never, ever trusted the sommelier when one had made a significantly longer study of wine. Helen Magus usually qualified as a dragon, but even in his pathetic current state, he was too annoyed with her to listen to his own good sense.
She was in her office, but he knew she wouldn’t be working. She would be pretending to work, of course, and one of the children might not even notice that she was in fact doing nothing, but Nikola knew her better than that. Helen was good at channeling her anger into productivity, Oxford’s first lesson, as it were, but while she was fuming, she didn’t accomplish very much.
He barged in without even bothering to knock. There was no sense in setting a conciliatory tone that he had no intentions of maintaining. He did carry two wineglasses in one hand to accompany the bottle in the other, but since it was her wine and he intended to drink most of it, that hardly counted.
“Nikola, I am not in the mood,” she said, not even having to turn around to identify him as the intruder. “I’m still not sure I ever want to see you again.”
“I let you find the multipede easily enough, didn’t I?” he said, as though that should have been enough.
“You still took one.” She flounced to the sofa and sat down with about as little grace as she could manage given a hundred years of habit.
“I would hate to become unpredictable in my old age,” he fired back. He poured them both generous portions and passed her a glass. He held up his hand in mock toast. “To not being eaten by gigantic bugs.”
Helen downed half her glass in one go, not bothering to give him a response. He’d expected a withering glare at the very least, and decided that she was going to fight with him, whether she wanted to or not. He didn’t pass her the bottle.
“What do you want, Nikola?” She sounded nearly defeated. He would have to head that off as soon as possible. He didn’t want her to be defeated. Well, not right away in any case.
“I want to yell at you,” he said. Honesty was not always the best policy, but over the years Nikola had learned that when you wanted to make someone really angry, a little truth went a long way. It was a game he’d more or less perfected with John Druitt, and he had no qualms about turning it on Helen now.
“You want to yell at me?” That was more like it.
“I rather do,” he said calmly. He poured himself another glass of wine and allowed himself a small smile when she reached across him for the bottle.
Her arm brushed against his thigh for just a moment too long, and he shifted. He was not about to let her distract him, not until he got a few more digs in. She raised one eyebrow, as though she’d finally figured out what he was doing, and poured the wine.
“What justification could you possibly have?” she demanded, spitting out each syllable like it was a bullet from a gun.
“I was trying to get my life back,” Nikola said, leaning towards her and calling up what vague semblance of menace he still possessed. He might not be able to fight her tooth and nail anymore, but he still had his bearing and a century and a half of practice.
“Your life?” she said, her carefully preserved accent thickening around the edges. “You never lost it. I lost my daughter.”
“And I said I was sorry,” Nikola said harshly. “But you cannot deny that it is the result of your own interference that Ashley is dead and I have been reduced to mere magnetism.”
He was still a genius, though, so he was able to brace himself and his wineglass for when she hit him. Recent events had reminded him all to clearly of his own mortality, but he’d forgotten how effectively Helen Magnus could strike. He massaged his jaw in his free hand.
“Feel better?” he asked, practically daring her to do it again. She’d only feel bad about it later, so it was as much a victory for him as it was painful.
“No,” she said, but he could tell she was lying.
“Send forth for your servants, then!” he said dramatically. “Heaven forbid that Helen Magnus be unsettled or made aware for one instant that her long years have not yet granted her the status of being the centre of the universe!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.
“I’m not,” he said, voice cold again. “You are the most selfish person I’ve ever met, and I’m me.”
“How dare you!” she said.
“Because I miss my life,” he said. “Because every morning I wake up, and have to consider that this might just be the day you get me killed. Because I have to live in fear of poor, mad Johnny. Because I watched James die, and now I might have to follow him. Because I had a chance to restore myself to what you made me, and you insisted I give it up because you miss your little brat of a daughter.”
She recoiled from him as though he’d struck her, and perhaps he had. He hadn’t meant to go quite so far, but at the same time, he felt lighter than he had since he’d been pinned by the press of his devamper against his chest and been unable to stop it from doing what he’d designed the cursed thing to do.
“Nikola,” she choked. He emptied his glass and poured another.
“You called them abominations, Helen,” he said. He was tired and he felt like there were a hundred thousand insect legs pattering across his skin, ghostly reminders of how close he’d come. “What does that make us?”
“We’re different,” she said, but he could tell she didn’t believe her own words. “We sought knowledge. They’re only after power and perversion.”
“Do you even know why you’re angry any more?” He relaxed against the back of the sofa, and when she reached for his hand, he let her take it.
“It’s not your job to psychoanalyze me, Nikola,” she said, linking her fingers with his.
“True,” Nikola allowed. “But if you don’t let me do it, the task will fall to young William, and I am pretty sure you don’t want him to know that you have a death wish.”
“I do not have a death wish!” Helen snapped at him, but her fingers remained gentle.
“Of course you don’t.” He leaned forward again, calling on his old predatory ways just one more time to goad her into the response he wanted.
“I’m just tired, Nikola,” she said instead, and he retreated. They were back to their old game, it seemed, which was fine by him. The game he’d played with John was exhausting when there was no one around to buffer him. And the problem was that there were fewer of The Five around.
“We all read Classics,” he said. “Immortality is never a gift. Why are you surprised?”
“Because I thought I was better,” she said. And she’s Helen Magnus, so he knew she was telling the truth.
“It was always going to be you and me,” Nikola said. “You knew that too.”
“And now it’s just going to be me,” she said, defeated again.
“Not if I can help it,” he replied. It might have been the wine talking, but he very nearly believed it.
“I promise I won’t stop you again,” Helen said. “Unless you’re endangering someone other than me.”
“Thank you,” he said.
“Will you stay as long as you can?” she said quietly.
He knew the answer she wanted, John’s answer, and he couldn’t give it to her. But he could lie.
“Yes. I’ll stay.”
She turned then, and sat back against his chest. He moved his legs out of her way and wrapped his arm around her. Her head reclined on his shoulder, and when he looked down at her, he thought for a moment he saw wrinkles around her eyes.
But it was just a trick of the light.
+++
fin
Notes: I think I might be on the edge of another character meta post. We shall see.
Gravity_Not_Included, February 2, 2011
