Fic: Aftermath (Sanctuary)
Title: Aftermath
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Helen Magnus/James Watson
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Normandy (3.17)
Summary: Helen and James in the aftermath of the weather machine incident.
Disclaimer: Nope, definitely not mine!
Author Notes: After watching ‘Normandy’, a plot bunny came gambolling by with an idea for a tag fic. (This is my first ever Sanctuary fic *is nervous*)
~~~~~~
James lay in bed, his knee stiff and aching after the medical orderly had removed the bullet and stitched him up. It was Helen who’d insisted he go straight to see the medics while she went to the debriefing session for their mission, and he hadn’t argued with her since his knee really was quite painful by that point.
He was just wondering if he had the energy to go in search of a cup of tea when there was a quiet knock on his door.
“Come in.”
To his relief it was Helen, and she was carrying a tea tray.
“How are you feeling?”
"I'm fine."
She rolled her eyes, as if she'd expected this answer. "Of course you are," she said, her tone tart. "That's why you're lying there with your eyes half closed, looking like a wet rag."
He grunted, knowing there wasn't much point in trying to fool her as she'd always been far too good at reading him.
She set the tea tray down on top of the bedside table, then grabbed a chair from the far side of the room and settled beside him, passing him a cup and saucer.
"I thought I was going to lose you today," she said, her voice so quiet that James barely heard her.
He mustered a smile. "You'll have to try harder than that," he told her, sipping the tea.
She glared and he felt his smile become more genuine in response. Of course he understood what she meant, but he often downplayed his feelings for her, in part out of deference for her continuing feelings for John, but also because of Druitt’s oft-expressed jealousy about the close friendship that had always existed between James and Helen.
"What are you going to do about John?" asked James as he began to drink his tea.
"Nothing," she answered softly. He raised an eyebrow and she continued. "This war's not over yet, and we still have our agreement to keep, which doesn't allow me to go off chasing after Druitt."
He nodded his understanding, drinking more tea. “I’m sorry,” he said.
She frowned at him over her own teacup. “What are you sorry for?”
“John - “ he began but she cut him off.
“James, don’t. John is not your responsibility and nothing he does to me or anyone else is your fault.”
“I can’t help thinking I should have given him more help,” he said. “Back in the early days.”
Helen put her teacup back on the tray, then reached over and took James’ unoccupied hand in hers. “James, please don’t torture yourself. We’ve been over this a hundred times. John didn’t want our help, yours or mine.” She took the teacup from him. “Now, get some rest or you won’t be able to help me with our next mission.”
He nodded, then closed his eyes; he was bone weary after Druitt's torture earlier. James felt Helen's hand curl around his and he squeezed her fingers, then allowed her to pull her hand free.
“I’ll see you later,” she said softly, and he felt her lips brush his forehead, then heard her pick up the tea tray.
He settled back more comfortably on his pillows and allowed his mind to drift away towards sleep.
* * * * * *
When he awoke several hours later it was dusk and his door had just opened, then closed. He felt a momentary disorientation before Helen’s soft voice said his name.
“James?”
“What time is it?” he asked.
She switched on the lamp on the bedside table and he blinked at the sudden brightness. “Nine thirty,” she answered.
”What’s wrong?”
She smiled. “Nothing. I just thought I’d see if you were awake yet, and if so, whether you wanted anything to eat.”
He squinted up at her, seeing that she’d changed into a more summery outfit that she’d worn earlier, or was it yesterday? He’d lost track somehow.
“Um,” he answered. He felt thick-headed and wondered if that was the morphine he’d been given earlier.
Helen sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at him, her expression full of concern. ”Are you okay?”
“Feeling a bit dopey,” he answered.
She nodded. “Do you want anything to eat?”
“Not at the moment, thank you.”
She leaned forward and put the back of her hand to his forehead. “Well, it looks like you’ve avoided a fever induced by that wound,” she observed.
James reached up and caught hold of her wrist, holding it lightly, then pulled her hand down and cradled it against his chest. “Stay with me?” he asked.
“All right.”
He gave her a tired smile, then watched as she undressed herself before climbing into bed beside him.
“We’ll get a scolding if we get caught,” she observed.
“Let ‘em scold,” James retorted, sliding his right arm under her body and pulling her closer. Helen laughed softly, then reached out to turn out the lamp, before turning to face him.
“Better?” she asked.
“Much,” he answered, reaching up to cup her face and kiss her deeply.
She moaned softly and he felt a surge of desire course through his body.
“Helen,” he groaned.
“Yes darling?”
“I love you.”
“Love you too,” she answered, her right hand drifting down his stomach to rest on his right thigh.
He could feel the heat of her hand through the thin cotton of his pyjama trousers and was aware that he was very aroused now.
“I think I’d better relieve you manually, don’t you?” she asked, smirking a little as she ran a fingertip lightly up the length of his erection.
He gasped as the cotton caused friction against his sensitised skin. “Helen!”
She leaned forward and kissed him again, then shifted down the bed to ease his erection free of his pyjamas. James’ fists clenched the sheet tightly as Helen used her hand and mouth to work him up to a pitch of excitement, then push him over the edge into a climax.
“Good god, Helen,” he said softly, feeling utterly spent.
She smirked, then wiped her mouth before kissing him briefly. “You should sleep well tonight with all those endorphins charging about your system.”
“What about you?” he asked. “Don’t you want - ?”
“I’m all right,” she said, before he could finish the sentence. “You can make it up to me when you’re feeling stronger.”
He nodded, then gave her a sleepy smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now go back to sleep Dr Watson.”
He huffed a laugh, then wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close so that her head rested below his chin. “Night love.”
“Good night.”
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Helen Magnus/James Watson
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Normandy (3.17)
Summary: Helen and James in the aftermath of the weather machine incident.
Disclaimer: Nope, definitely not mine!
Author Notes: After watching ‘Normandy’, a plot bunny came gambolling by with an idea for a tag fic. (This is my first ever Sanctuary fic *is nervous*)
~~~~~~
James lay in bed, his knee stiff and aching after the medical orderly had removed the bullet and stitched him up. It was Helen who’d insisted he go straight to see the medics while she went to the debriefing session for their mission, and he hadn’t argued with her since his knee really was quite painful by that point.
He was just wondering if he had the energy to go in search of a cup of tea when there was a quiet knock on his door.
“Come in.”
To his relief it was Helen, and she was carrying a tea tray.
“How are you feeling?”
"I'm fine."
She rolled her eyes, as if she'd expected this answer. "Of course you are," she said, her tone tart. "That's why you're lying there with your eyes half closed, looking like a wet rag."
He grunted, knowing there wasn't much point in trying to fool her as she'd always been far too good at reading him.
She set the tea tray down on top of the bedside table, then grabbed a chair from the far side of the room and settled beside him, passing him a cup and saucer.
"I thought I was going to lose you today," she said, her voice so quiet that James barely heard her.
He mustered a smile. "You'll have to try harder than that," he told her, sipping the tea.
She glared and he felt his smile become more genuine in response. Of course he understood what she meant, but he often downplayed his feelings for her, in part out of deference for her continuing feelings for John, but also because of Druitt’s oft-expressed jealousy about the close friendship that had always existed between James and Helen.
"What are you going to do about John?" asked James as he began to drink his tea.
"Nothing," she answered softly. He raised an eyebrow and she continued. "This war's not over yet, and we still have our agreement to keep, which doesn't allow me to go off chasing after Druitt."
He nodded his understanding, drinking more tea. “I’m sorry,” he said.
She frowned at him over her own teacup. “What are you sorry for?”
“John - “ he began but she cut him off.
“James, don’t. John is not your responsibility and nothing he does to me or anyone else is your fault.”
“I can’t help thinking I should have given him more help,” he said. “Back in the early days.”
Helen put her teacup back on the tray, then reached over and took James’ unoccupied hand in hers. “James, please don’t torture yourself. We’ve been over this a hundred times. John didn’t want our help, yours or mine.” She took the teacup from him. “Now, get some rest or you won’t be able to help me with our next mission.”
He nodded, then closed his eyes; he was bone weary after Druitt's torture earlier. James felt Helen's hand curl around his and he squeezed her fingers, then allowed her to pull her hand free.
“I’ll see you later,” she said softly, and he felt her lips brush his forehead, then heard her pick up the tea tray.
He settled back more comfortably on his pillows and allowed his mind to drift away towards sleep.
* * * * * *
When he awoke several hours later it was dusk and his door had just opened, then closed. He felt a momentary disorientation before Helen’s soft voice said his name.
“James?”
“What time is it?” he asked.
She switched on the lamp on the bedside table and he blinked at the sudden brightness. “Nine thirty,” she answered.
”What’s wrong?”
She smiled. “Nothing. I just thought I’d see if you were awake yet, and if so, whether you wanted anything to eat.”
He squinted up at her, seeing that she’d changed into a more summery outfit that she’d worn earlier, or was it yesterday? He’d lost track somehow.
“Um,” he answered. He felt thick-headed and wondered if that was the morphine he’d been given earlier.
Helen sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at him, her expression full of concern. ”Are you okay?”
“Feeling a bit dopey,” he answered.
She nodded. “Do you want anything to eat?”
“Not at the moment, thank you.”
She leaned forward and put the back of her hand to his forehead. “Well, it looks like you’ve avoided a fever induced by that wound,” she observed.
James reached up and caught hold of her wrist, holding it lightly, then pulled her hand down and cradled it against his chest. “Stay with me?” he asked.
“All right.”
He gave her a tired smile, then watched as she undressed herself before climbing into bed beside him.
“We’ll get a scolding if we get caught,” she observed.
“Let ‘em scold,” James retorted, sliding his right arm under her body and pulling her closer. Helen laughed softly, then reached out to turn out the lamp, before turning to face him.
“Better?” she asked.
“Much,” he answered, reaching up to cup her face and kiss her deeply.
She moaned softly and he felt a surge of desire course through his body.
“Helen,” he groaned.
“Yes darling?”
“I love you.”
“Love you too,” she answered, her right hand drifting down his stomach to rest on his right thigh.
He could feel the heat of her hand through the thin cotton of his pyjama trousers and was aware that he was very aroused now.
“I think I’d better relieve you manually, don’t you?” she asked, smirking a little as she ran a fingertip lightly up the length of his erection.
He gasped as the cotton caused friction against his sensitised skin. “Helen!”
She leaned forward and kissed him again, then shifted down the bed to ease his erection free of his pyjamas. James’ fists clenched the sheet tightly as Helen used her hand and mouth to work him up to a pitch of excitement, then push him over the edge into a climax.
“Good god, Helen,” he said softly, feeling utterly spent.
She smirked, then wiped her mouth before kissing him briefly. “You should sleep well tonight with all those endorphins charging about your system.”
“What about you?” he asked. “Don’t you want - ?”
“I’m all right,” she said, before he could finish the sentence. “You can make it up to me when you’re feeling stronger.”
He nodded, then gave her a sleepy smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now go back to sleep Dr Watson.”
He huffed a laugh, then wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close so that her head rested below his chin. “Night love.”
“Good night.”