A/N: Huge THANKS to Selective scifi junkie for beta-reading so fast!

Remembering a time long gone

He found her on the roof, sitting on the edge, her knees drawn to her chest, looking over the city. He stopped in the door to watch his goddaughter absentmindedly, wondering if he should talk to her or simply leave her to her own thoughts. She was without a doubt not very keen to talk about it so soon, but James was concerned that she might come to the wrong conclusions and judge too fast.

He wasn't surprised, little could surprise him these days, but nonetheless taken aback by Helen's behavior, maybe even a bit disappointed. One might think Helen Magnus of all people, who had negotiated in the second World War and stood up against all sorts of political and social conflicts, would be able to deal with such a situation. But when it came to emotional matters and the explaining of one's own feelings and reasons, she was at a loss. And who was he to blame her? She was after all just a woman, trapped in her own dreams and decisions. A mother, desperate to prove her love without revealing how vulnerable she was.

James Watson sighed. When had everything become so difficult? When had logic failed to make decisions easier? He urged his tired body to move and slowly made to sit beside his goddaughter, his cane resting against the old stone parapet. He fixed his gaze on the horizon, the dark sky lit by the golden lights of the city below. They sat in silence for a while. He didn't dare to turn his head to look at her face, knowing she'd be embarrassed to be seen crying, probably angry too.

He had sunken deep into his own memories when she finally spoke, her voice nothing more than a whisper in the wind.

"You knew, didn't you?"

It took all his willpower not to look away. "Yes."

She nodded and the silence returned, falling over them like a blanket. This time it was him who started to speak.

"She just wanted to protect you, you know."

"Why not tell me then?" Her voice was angry, but he could hear a trace of desperation.

"I think you know the answer to that question yourself," he said calmly, still not meeting her eye. "You're not angry because she didn't tell you." It was a daring statement, but she didn't object.

Instead she turned her head away angrily. "I know she just wanted what was best for me, but I'm not a kid anymore! He was here for god's sake, he tried to kill me, you'd think that would make her see reason. But no, all I got was more lies. Am I that un-trustworthy, that she can't even share with me who I am?"

He didn't have any answer to that. She certainly didn't need any more half-hearted encouragements to soothe her mind.

So instead he said "I'm not going to excuse your mother's decisions, Ashley." Knowing this might sound like he didn't approve to them he added "Just know that your mother did what she did for very good reasons. Just because this reasons might be unknown to you doesn't mean they do not exist."

Ashley frowned, her anger ebbing away. She folded her hands in front of her knees and studied them, her thoughts in the past. "She told me stories, you know. About my father, of how he died. What a good man he was, how much he'd loved me. "

Her voice didn't waver, but he could hear how much strength it cost her to not let her feelings show. "I always imagined him watching over us, keeping us save…." She shook her head. "What a childish, ridiculous belief."

James was astonished by the unusually emotional girl beside him. He'd never before seen her like this. She was always so confident and faced tasks with such fierceness that he'd forgotten she was just as vulnerable as everyone else.

"Sometimes the truth hurts more than it is worth…" James wasn't sure if he was talking to her or himself, probably both.

"But he's been alive all along, killing people for fun."

He wanted to disagree, but couldn't think of anything to say. It was true after all. There was no point arguing about a fact. John Druitt had murdered many, not showing any mercy or remorse and there was no doubt that more victims would fall to his bloodlust.

It was hard these days to find something human inside this man at all, and easy to forget who he once had been. Too much time had passed, to long gone were the days of the five of them together, too short the time it had lasted.

"Who am I, James?" Ashley suddenly asked, bringing him back to reality. Her gaze was fixed somewhere far away "It seems so…impossible, so unimaginable."

It took James, despite his sharpened mind, a few seconds to realize what she meant. When he finally began to speak he chose his words carefully. "You believe she didn't tell you because the circumstances of your …creation were unpleasant, because telling you would bring forth bad memories she'd rather forget."

She didn't respond.

"Yes," he continued slowly. "Yes, I believe it is a painful thing for her to remember, but not the way you think." His wise eyes found hers and she was immediately comforted by the sympathy and warmth she saw.

"He told you what we did, didn't he?" James asked.

"He told me about the sourceblood, if that's what you mean."

James smiled knowingly. "He didn't want to take it, did you know that?"

She shook her head, surprised.

"But he did in order to please her." He paused for a moment, wondering not for the first time how things might have turned out had he not obliged. "It took them quite some time to become a couple, not because the attraction was missing, but because he respected her strength, her ability to care for herself and her interest in science."

Ashley didn't look very convinced. He couldn't blame her, it seemed absurd to claim he was once able to show such thoughtfulness.

"You have to understand he was different then, Ashley. The blood changed him, slowly like a disease. It invaded his mind, made him short-tempered and irrational. We didn't know what happened, couldn't explain his behavior. I guess when we finally found out the seriousness of his change it was already too late…He simply disappeared one night, leaving behind a trail of dead bodies. He never found out about your mother's pregnancy. In fact it was ages before we saw him again."

He paused in his narration for a moment, gathering his thoughts. What he'd tell her now would be essential, should she ever learn to forgive her mother.

"I sometimes find myself imagining he's gone all together, that John Druitt died that night. Much like your mother I presume. The man she loved, that she was willing to have a life with, left to be replaced by another man, sharing nothing but a face with him. And what she told you is how she sees it, how she wishes it to be. Because the truth is so much harder to endure."

"How was he then? "Ashley asked silently. "I mean what was he like, before he…changed."

He smiled at the past tense.

"Very kind, and brave. Clever of course, for he was one of the five. A true gentleman and excellent chess player. My best friend, beside your mother of course."

He smiled to himself, remembering old times. Yet he felt a sting of pain over how little it was he could tell her. It seemed nothing in comparison to what she deserved.

"He would have loved you, I'm sure." He finally added sadly.

She swallowed. "Why not try to help him?"

"Don't you think we did? Helen didn't sleep for days. But he didn't want help, and we couldn't give any. It took a part of her every day, the things he did, that he said, and the hopelessness she felt."

"So I was unwanted after all." Ashley noted bitterly.

He shook his head in denial. "No, you misunderstood. You weren't unwanted, unplanned perhaps, yes. But never unwanted."

"Why not have me then? Why wait for almost a century?"

He looked at her fondly, with just a hint of pity. "It is not for me to explain your mother's reasons, but know this. Victorian England would have been no place for a single mother, even less so for a woman with your mother's reputation. Times where different, people not as open minded as they are today." He hesitated for a moment. "And, maybe she was a bit scared."

He waited for her answer, but none came and in response he didn't press her. Ashley exhaled deeply and closed her eyes. She seemed to be more at peace then before and James was glad he'd been able to set her mind at ease.

He was surprised when she moved to lean against him, her left arm slung around his right one. She didn't look at him, but instead rested her head on his shoulder wordlessly. They continued to sit in silence, looking over the sea of lights ahead. Both were lost in their own thoughts, remembering, comforted by the presence of the other, a time long gone that never seemed to relinquish its hold on them completely.