Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respective owners.

Note: This takes place after Revelations.

He'd been watching her for an hour before she started to show any signs of waking. She was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, even at 157 years old. John watched as her eyes begin to flutter open, adjusting to the small bit of light coming in through the thick drapes.

"John?" Helen said, a little alarmed at first to see John sitting on the side of her bed, but after the events of the last few days, his presence wasn't as unwelcome as it once was.

"I hope I didn't startle you," he said his voice low and gentle, a slight smile played at the corner of his lips.

"Is it Ashley?" she said, sitting up and immediately thinking he'd come to tell her something was wrong with their daughter again.

"Ashley is fine," John assured, desperately wanting to comfort her, but knowing that the last few days didn't negate the hell he'd put her through in the past.

The tension in Helen's body relaxed a bit.

"She's still sleeping and Henry said the implants have been removed and deactivated," John relayed. "He also got word that the antidote has effectively eradicated the plague."

"The cabal is getting desperate. This is only the beginning," Helen worried. "There's no telling what they might do, and now they've made it personal."

"No harm will come to our daughter again," John said, this time daring to touch her hand.

Helen looked at their hands, a vibration running through her body. She wasn't sure if it was because she was still so afraid of him or afraid of the things he continued to make her feel.

Looking up at him, "Thank you."

"For what."

"We wouldn't have been able to stop the cabal and get Ashley back without you."

"She's my daughter too," he said. "Since my "reinvention" I would do anything to prevent her from getting hurt."

Helen Magnus just stared at him. He was not the same person who had been known as Jack the Ripper and had killed all those women. But he also wasn't the man she'd given her heart to all those years ago.

John pulled a card from his pocket and held it in his hand. "Would you please see that Ashley gets this?"

"She should be up soon, you don't want to give it to her yourself?" she asked, damming her emotions as much as was possible where John was concerned.

"I have to go," John said, looking into her face to see if she was relieved or disappointed. He was satisfied to see that there was a mixture of both.

"Where?" she asked softly.

"It's becoming harder...to keep the hounds at bay," he said. "I have to find a way to make this change more permanent."

"You can do that here. We can help you," she offered.

"I can't be here with you and Ashley. I won't hurt you anymore," he said.

Helen nodded her head and said, "Will you be back?"

"I don't know," he answered, noticing for the first time since she'd woken up, that the covers had fallen to her lap exposing the silk nightgown she wore and a fair amount of skin. He smiled in spite of himself, and looked away from her almost shyly.

Helen noticed his eyes before he'd had a chance to cover.

"Nothing you've not seen before, John," she replied almost forgetting that the last time he'd seen her in any state of undress was over a hundred years before.

"It's been a long time," he whispered.

"Yes," she answered, hating herself for the fact that if he were to press her that she would give in to him now.

"I should go," he said, intrigued to see the faintest hint of longing in her eyes.

John got up off the bed and looked down at her, his mind flashing to the first time he'd seen her like this. She was blonde then and so beautiful. He'd never felt himself worthy of her.

"I must say being a brunette suits you," he said, still gazing down at her.

"I guess I could say the same thing about your lack of hair all together," she teased.

John smiled and ran his hand over his bald head.

Helen pushed back the covers and crossed the room, opened a drawer in the chest and pulled out a first aid kit. She fixed a rubber band on her arm and drew a vial of blood. Helen put a band aid over the spot where she'd drawn the blood and held the vial out to John.

John hesitated.

"Take it," she said, genuinely concerned.

"Helen, I don't want you to think..."

She didn't let him finish, "I don't."

John took the vial and slipped it in his pocket.

"Thank you," he said, his voice even lower than usual.

"Let me know if you need anything else," she said, so close to him now that she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

John bent down and whispered in her ear, "The course of true love never did run smooth."

Helen looked up at him and in a flash he was gone, leaving her with his breath on her skin and his words in her ear.