Summary: John and Helen walk into a trap set just for them

Disclaimer; I own nothing of Sanctuary and or John and Helen. Not a single thing.

Rating: T+

Paring; Helen/John

DANGER FOLLOWS THEM:

This was supposed to be a normal Op, on another normal day. Helen would teleport in with John close to an old abandoned building being used to house a dangerous abnormal. The trees were too dense to allow for vehicle transport so Helen had to call John and ask for his assistance. She hadn't wanted to, not after Hollow Earth, but this abnormal needed help and John Druitt was the only other person to help her. Helen Magnus didn't realize that she was in trouble.

John had been mildly surprised to receive Helen's message requesting his help. A few seconds after reading it he appeared in Helen's office. Helen didn't flinch at the sight of him where the rest gathered jumped slightly at his sudden arrival. She had only said, "Better late than never." In return he had smirked at her where she offered him a ghost of a smile. John listened as Helen detailed the rest of the plan and they would leave as soon as she finished gearing up. Now there were moving through the trees with the cover of darkness to hide them.

"By all accounts the building should be relatively undefended." Helen whispered. She checked her scanner, finding only the heat coming from the abnormal.

"Relatively?" John questioned. He was unconvinced of this. There was something not quite right about the situation. To his left Helen started to move in but he stopped her with his hand around her wrist.

"What are you doing?" she hissed shaking his hand off.

"Wait, just wait," He growled. John let his senses encompass them trying to pick out what wasn't right, but he couldn't find it. His hand released her wrist.

"Honestly John, what did you expect?" Helen asked before moving along the shadows towards an access door. She could tell John was moving with her. With him at her back she removed a set of lock picks.

"That is highly illegal you know?" John muttered.

"Then why don't you call the police." Helen replied with sarcasm as she began finessing the tumblers to open without aide of a key.

"Why don't you just let me teleport us inside?" John asked. It would have been simpler to just to do that rather than pick the lock.

"Because this abnormal is hypersensitive to sound and to sight. Our sudden appearance would frighten it." Helen reasoned haring the third tumbler lock into place. She slowly pushed the door open then smiled smugly at John. He only raised an eyebrow at her. The interior was barely illuminated, but it was enough for them to see by. Stepping inside Helen moved to the center of the room where a large crate was left unattended.

There was that stomach churning terrible feeling again as John followed Helen into the building. His eyes swept the room with the light available but he couldn't see anything out of place. What was making him worry so much? Easy, he was with Helen and when they were near each other the need to protect her kicked into overdrive inside him. John was about to reach out when the sound of a tranquilizer gun firing. At first he thought it was Helen who was hit, but in bedded in his chest was a dart. "Helen!" John shouted.

Helen didn't wait for John to follow her. But something wasn't right; she could sense that much. Moving closer to the crate her internal alarm was screaming she and John were in trouble. Turning to him she saw the dart in his chest. "John!" She yelled, but gun fire exploded around them. Helen didn't even know if John was alright.

John tried to go to Helen, tried to help her, but his body was frozen. Only his mind could function and his mind screamed for Helen. Why couldn't he move? With shear determination John forced the fingers of his left hand to flex, to ball into a fist. Five digits down, now to get the rest of his body to move then John could be able to help Helen. Concentrating all of his strength John took one staggering step foreword. He had barely moved ten feet when he saw Helen fall from the upper level and land on a pile of rubble. Her cry rang out in the darkness.

Helen was halfway across the creaky catwalk when she caught sight of John staggering. There wasn't much that could hurt John, but he was moving as if he was losing blood. What had happened to him? What was going to happen to her? Just then a feeling cascaded over her. As she turned a shadow shrouded fist connected with her check knocking her back with such force she tumbled over the edge of the catwalk where she fell onto a pile of rubble. Immense pain rocked her nervous system with blood flowing over her thigh. She had a thin metal shard through the middle of her thigh. All she could think was ha she hoped it didn't sever her artery or she was done for even with her rapid healing.

John broke out of his bone deep frozen state rushing to Helen. He barely made out the blood coating her thigh, all he knew was that he had to get her out of there. Not worrying about the pain he would cause, John hauled her up, there her left arm over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around her waist. It was then that John tried to teleport but nothing happened. He could feel the block. His power was there just out of his reach. Growling in frustration John made a break for the rear exit. By his side the best Helen could manage was a fast hobble. She knew they had to get out, preferably before she passed out. To Helen's credit she did well keeping up with his long legged strides through the trees. John wasn't sure if they were being followed but he was sure they were. One thing was certain this had been a trap, but for who. Was it for Helen? Was it for himself? And why weren't his powers working?

Helen tired with all of her remaining strength to keep up with John as they crashed and stumbled through the trees and brush heading away from the building that had nearly claimed their lives. She felt tired from the blood loss. Her pain level was being tested with every stumbling stride John forced her to take. He had a grip like steel on her and she was grateful for it. John was the only thing keeping her standing, keeping her moving. "John I can't…" She gasped; hr breathing coming in short gasps.

"We have to keep moving." John ordered. "Who ever set the trap will be on our heels. I can feel them following us." He brought her tighter into his side wrenching a cry from her.

"I can't." Helen bit out trying to keep the wave of black threatening to overtake her. She wanted to pass out, to fall to the ground, and escape the pain. Before she could give in and twig snapped and John was off and running with her barely able to keep up.

John was running out of steam. He had to get somewhere relatively guarded so he could tend to Helen. Keeping his mind on task John glimpsed head stones. Where there were headstones had to be mausoleums. It was a chance he had to take because there was no telling how much more Helen could take.

CEMETARY:

John stumbled through a crack in the side of a mausoleum wall falling to the ground with Helen on top of him. They had narrowly escaped whoever was following them with John hiding them. As quickly and as quietly as he could John moved both his body and Helen's behind the stone crypt. It was a precaution John took, but he wasn't sure why.

"Where… are… we?" Helen's teeth chattered. She was probably going into shock. Her body was so shaking, shivering with the blood loss. John's arms around her kept her warm enough.

"We're in a nice filthy cemetery. Is this fitting enough? Does this make you happy?" John snarled with anger. Though, he shouldn't be angry at her. It wasn't her fault. He was just angry that he couldn't use his powers. John could feel them, but they were right out of his reach. It was starting to enrage him. When he got his hands on those who set the trap for them, there would be nothing left.

Pulling on all of her strength Helen pushed away from John and staggered to her feet to get away from him. "This… is not… my fault."

John rose and went to her, "I know and I shouldn't have snarled at you." Reaching out to her John maneuvered her over to the top of the crypt. "Now, if you'll permit me, I want to take a look at your wound." He took off his coat and balled it up under her head." His hands went immediately, gently, to the metal shard in her thigh. "This will hurt," John pulled the shard free of her thigh quickly.

Helen arched her back, turning her head into the leather of John's coat where she smothered a scream. It had to be done she told herself through the pain and desire to pass out. "In my bag…" she gasped. "Med kit."

"Just stay still." John soothed placing his bloody hand on her abdomen pushing her back flat against the vault stone. He then rummaged around in her pack finding the first aide kit. Taking the out what he needed John went back to Helen and started to tend to her wound. "This will hurt." John ripped the top off of a package of powder Helen created for blood coagulation. The down side was the pain he was going to put Helen through.

"I know," Helen gasped. "It will feel like acid." And then it started. Pain spread out from her wound all over her body. Helen gulped down breath to scream when lips covered hers. John was keeping her quiet from those who sprang the trap. Her hands fisted in his shirt keeping his mouth to hers, letting him drink down her cries of pain. Just a few more seconds and the pain would fade as the blood stopped.

John felt Helen slip into unconsciousness. Pulling back he saw lines of pain crease her forehead. Helen may be asleep, but she was still in the thrall of pain from her wound. The blood stopped was working half way and he couldn't find any bandages in her bag. Whoever last stocked the Med Kit would have to have a serious talking to on the importance of including bandages. All John had to bandage her wound was his shirt. Knowing that she wouldn't hear him John muttered, "You owe me a new shirt." He slipped his shirt off of his body and folded it in such a way that after he finished wrapping her wound with it John could use the sleeves to tie it off.

While letting her sleep John moved to the crack in the mausoleum wall to scan the night for the ones who had chased after them in silent pursuit. Their attackers had made no sound at all except for the loud concussion of their weapons. Reaching up John touched his fingers to the small puncture wound on his chest where he had pulled the dart from. Whatever was in the dart was enough to keep him from using his power gifted to him by the Source Blood. To say that John Druitt, famed killer of White Chapel, wasn't having a good night would be an understatement. For how he would have to wait until Helen slept a little before they could move.

A FEW HOURS LATER:

Helen woke tired and achy, but that was the least of her problems. The mind searing pain in her right thigh took all the attention off of her fatigue. She had the thought to call Will, to get and evac right away from wherever she and John had ended up. Slowly Helen reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Only, her phone wouldn't be much help. The screen was busted beyond all possible use. She groaned half out of pain and half out of frustration. They were stuck and she was injured.

John had stood guard for five hours while Helen slept. The chill of the spring night was starting to get to him. It was then he heard Helen groan. Turning to her John instantly went to her, pulled by the metaphysical tether that tied them together. He placed his hand on her abdomen urging her to stay down, "You should stay down, just for a little while longer." John whispered. Just in the last two hours his internal warning bells had been blaring; they were still being watched.

Helen turned her head to the sound of John's voice trying to focus on his words rather than the fact he had no shirt on. "Where's your shirt?" John moved his hand from her abdomen and touched her right thigh gently indicating where his shirt had gone to. "Ah, well… thank you."

"Whoever packed you medical supplies forgot bandages. When you get home they need a serious talking to." John pointed out using his heightened vision to see if blood had seeped through. So far he felt nothing. "Think you can walk?"

"I can hobble, with your help." Helen muttered the last part knowing full well that John had heard her. Sitting up slowly she wavered but kept herself in the upright position partially from stubbornness and partially from John's hands around her waist. Without thought her hands rested on top of his bare upper arms where she felt the coldness of his flesh. "You're freezing cold."

"It's nothing." John pulled away from her grabbing his leather coat that would be warm enough, after all Helen had been lying on it. Slipping it on, not bothering to button it, he offered Helen his strength. "We should leave while we can." John wrapped her left arm over his shoulder and wrapped his right arm around her waist keeping her tight against him.

"Do you know…" she rested her head against his for a moment. Helen was dizzy from getting up too fast. Her one saving grace was John. He as always there when she needed him the most. She was truly glad that it was he and no one else to walk into that trap with her.

"We have to move," John whispered, his voice harsh; little more than a rumbling growl. Helping her to the thin entrance, john took her arm from around his shoulder so he could slip through and then help her though. Once again John draped her left arm across his shoulders and took her about the waist. Casting his gaze around John was ever mindful, watching for those who had set a trap for them.

Helen didn't try to walk, she knew she couldn't. This time she leaned on John fully knowing that he was strong enough for the both of them. "Where are we headed?" Helen asked.

"We need to get back to the Sanctuary." John answered absentmindedly. He wasn't focusing on her; it was on the scenery around them. If someone was following them, John wanted to make sure that he knew.

"We're three days…" Helen drew in a deeper breath, she felt like she only had one lung. Blood loss was terrible, "From the Sanctuary on foot." Reaching down Helen felt her make shift bandage. There was no blood as best as she could tell, but at the rate they were moving, she could need a bandage change soon enough.

"There isn't another option but to travel on foot." John pointed out putting the tree line between them and the open field of the cemetery. Dawn was just now coming to the heavens, lighting their way. For right now they were in the clear. Whoever or whatever was following them had broken off pursuit; at least for the time being.

"Why aren't you teleporting us?" Helen asked. she had been so consumed with her pain that she had nearly missed that detail.

"I can't." John growled low and deadly. It was grating on his nerves with his inability to use his power. Whatever was in the dart, John just prayed that it wore off soon. If not, then it would be a long hike to the sanctuary.

"What?" Helen made John stop walking, "How is that possible with out an EM shield." John had never not had his power before. This did make sense and she wasn't sure how it was possible to block his power. Who could have done this to him? Who had the technology and the know how? Two possible answers occurred to her; Tesla or the denizens of Hollow Earth. Nikola was gone again looking for God only knows what while the inhabitants of Hollow earth stayed underground. They had no reason to harm John.

"I don't know." Did she think that he had spent the last hours trying to figure it out? John had wracked his brain trying to catalogue all that was happening to him. It was as if there was a block between him and his power, but not between him and that creature that resided in his body. With out his power as a buffer, a way to keep getting stronger, the creature was at a loss. During the last months of his solitude John had been working on a way to visualize the creature in his mind rather than a mass of energy. Finally his mind had settled on picturing the thing as a pacing black panther in his mind. It was always there, always watching. Right now it was pacing in a confused circle.

Helen pulled away from John so she could look at him. The only clothing he wore on his chest was his long leather duster, and he hadn't even bothered to button it up. Just above his heart Helen could see a red welt. Before reaching out Helen made sure she had enough balance. She gently put some of her weight on her right leg and then touched the welt on John's chest. His skin was still cold, but not as cold as before. The only spot of true heat was coming from the horrible mark on his perfect pale skin. "Is this from the dart?"

"Yes," Automatically John placed his hand of hers as her fingers traced the circular wound. It had healed over in the short time they were hiding in the crypt, but his gift's had yet to return. Looking anywhere but at her John caught sight of blood soaking through his shirt bandage. "I'll have to get us somewhere so I can clean out that wound again."

"What?" Helen looked down at her thigh, "Damn." She looked at him and draped her left arm once again across his shoulders. Like they had never stopped touching each other John immediately wrapped his arm around her waist giving his strength to her. "When you find us somewhere to rest I'll take another look at your chest." Turning her head Helen couldn't resist the smile that played over her lips. On instinct she knew John was smiling too.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON:

The sun had risen high in the sky making the day warmer than Helen would have thought. Twice she and John had to stop; first for John to strip off his leather duster and stuff it in her pack and again for her to take off her jacket as well. Even though they were still in dense woods the temperature was still on the rise. If there was a time of year Helen could hate, it would be summer; too much heat and not enough of a breeze.

As they continued to walk Helen could feel the blood trickling down her leg. Any more walking and it would be pooling in her boot before too long. For the duration f their trek today she had been quiet and trusted John's judgment of where they should go to avoid danger. Normally she would take charge, give orders, and be the one to chose. Only, when she was with John she could let go. He had tended to her wound, bandaged it, and was now helping her back to the Sanctuary. Deep down she had half expected John to just leave her. But then, she knew that to be foolish. John would never leave her; he couldn't, just as she couldn't completely cut him out of her life.

"Do you need to rest?" John asked stopping near a giant tree. The trunk was large enough to hide their bodies from sight.

"No, I can…" Helen was about to say she could keep going, but her leg hurt and she wanted to rest.

"Helen, rest, I'll go scout a head and see if there is a cabin or shack we can hole up in for the rest of the day." John urged her down to the ground. He knew she could and would keep going, but the blood loss was beginning to be too much for him to ignore. Helen had been strong enough for one day.

She watched John leave, meld into the scenery as if nothing more than a ghost. Helen slid down the bark of the tree and waited for him. Looking at her thigh she was half tempted to take the bandage, the bloodied ruined shirt, off of her and check her wound, but that would make things worse. Helen would have to wait until they found somewhere safe. Exhaustion tugged at her tempting her. Giving in Helen let her head fall back to rest against the tree bark where she closed her eyes for only a minute.

John came back through the trees to see Helen with her eyes closed. Instant panic flooded his system. He rushed to her and felt her pulse. John sighed; Helen was still breathing. She was only napping. The hike he had taken her on had taken too much of her energy. Laying his finger against her cheek John stroked her skin, gently urging her to wake up. "Helen? Wake up for me now." He whispered while dividing his attention to the surrounding forest to make sure no one would come up upon them.

In the dark of her exhausted sleep Helen could hear John's gentle voice and feel the tenderness in his touch. Slowly opening her eyes she saw instantly the concern lingering in his clear blue eyes. Then she knew something wasn't right. John had just left, without his power he couldn't have gotten back to her so quickly. "How long have you been gone?" She asked sitting up better causing pain to radiate through her entire right leg. But she didn't cry out. That wasn't who she was.

"About an hour," John answered taking Helen's hands as to help her stand and lean against him. "However, I do have a bit of good news. There is a cabin not far a head where we can rest out the rest of the day and I can clean and bandage your wound again." Taking easy steps John began to walk with Helen hobbling beside him.

"How fortunate are we?" Helen joked while trying not to feel the warmth of John's skin from being in the sun. He felt so good, so warm, Helen wanted to curl against him and go back to sleep. 'Soon enough you can get all the rest you require.' She reminded herself. John had found a cabin and hopefully it wasn't a run down shack.

John breathed a silent sigh of relief when he caught sight of the cabin again. He had been supremely lucky to find it and there had been no signs of inhabitants for months. John had gone through the cabin systematically to make sure there would things there he could use. To his shock he had found food in the pantry, clothes, and first aide supplies. At first he had thought it was some kind of trap, only there was nothing within the cabin to support such unfounded concerns. Still John would keep his guard up

"Are we sure no one lives here?" Helen looked at the cabin. It was well kept denoting that someone used it often.

"No one that I found. I did a walk through when I came upon it." John, with Helen still against him, stepped up on the porch reaching out for the door knob. "As far as I could tell there has been no one here for a few months."

"Then we are indeed fortunate." Helen muttered.

"We should get that wound cleaned." John didn't give her a chance to protest. He kept her leaning against him as he guided her to where the small bathroom waited. In the center of the room was a working, antique, claw foot tub. It was all instinct that had John gathering what he needed to help Helen. John turned the tap on filling the tub half way with warm water.

In the doorway Helen leaned against the wall letting the pack slip from her shoulders to clatter to the floor. She was still so tired. In the back of her mind she would have loved nothing more than to just curl up and go back to sleep, but John had been right. Her wound needed to be cleaned and rebadged. So, she waited for John to finish, waited for him to signal to her to come closer. Helen couldn't up but see the long lingering edges of John's domestic nature that she had been the only one to see.

Looking back at Helen, John saw a curious expression playing out over her features. She was amused at him. There was even a ghost of a smile dancing over her lips. He held out his hand to her and waited. Slowly Helen hobbled over to his, but she still didn't have the right amount of strength to stand on her own. She stumbled, falling into his arms. "Let's get you cleaned up." John whispered sitting her on the edge of the tub. He crouched down in front of her so he could remove her boots. John lowered the zipper on the inside of her right boot, pulled it off, and repeated the same action with her left boot. Carefully he untied his ruined shirt turned makeshift bandage where he tossed it away. Removing her socks and tossing them over near her boots John reached for the button of her pants where he paused looking up at her.

Helen had been waiting for him to reach, just waiting for it. In truth, deep down she was enjoying the gentle way in which John was caring for her. She locked gazes with him arching her eyebrow in silent consent. Her breath caught in her lungs with the feel of John's fingers nimbly freeing the front closure of her pants and then lowering the zipper. His fingers slipped down inside her waist band peeling the bloody dirty fabric down her legs. Helen watched enraptured with the sight of John pulling her pants off and then tossing them away. She assumed he would just burn them and his bloody shirt later. With his help Helen was able to turn putting both of her feet in the warm water. Instantly the clean water began to turn red with the dried blood coming off of her.

"We should have taken care of this sooner." John gently wiped at the dried blood on her calf working his way up to her thigh. He tried not to see the red stain of blood on her creamy pale flesh, tried not to feel the softness, but he did and to keep himself on task John focused only on the blood. It was all he could do not to caress her skin as he cleaned away her precious blood. Dipping the cloth into the water John rang it out, rinsing free the blood. "It's going to hurt." Not looking at her, John set about the task of cleaning out the blood stopper from the wound. He had to dig at it a little. Every time he did so he could feel her flinch. Another swipe had Helen digging her fingers into his shoulder. John looked at her then.

"I'm fine." Helen immediately said through clenched teeth. She just wanted John to be finished already. With her assurances John started to clean the rest of her wound. Each pass of the cloth on her torn skin felt like sandpaper. The feeling sent shocks of pain along her nerve endings. Helen knew Jon was being as gentle as possible while cleaning her wound. She didn't know if she would have had the heart to clean it herself.

"I'm almost finished." John whispered taking the cloth to rinse it again. Soaking it in water John drizzled the water over her wound cleaning out the rest of the coagulating powder. With the rest of it washed out, John could see that he wound was healing. "Stay here while I find something to bandage this with." And then he was in the next room searching for a sheet to rip up. On the bottom of one of the shelves John found a black sheet. If she started to bleed again he wouldn't know it, but it was all he could find. Slipping out one of the knives he habitually carried John cut a long thin strip.

Helen sat on the edge of the tub feeling the warmth seep into her legs. The water in the tub was a murky red. Her raw ravaged flesh of her right thigh was looking better. Lucky for her John still knew how to tend to wounds. In the next room she heard the sound of ripping fabric and thought he was making her another makeshift bandage. "John?"

"Yes."

"You know how you said I should give a stern talking to, to the person who packs the first aide kit?" Helen asked.

"I do and you should." John appeared back in the doorway rolling up the black strip.

"Well, I can't because I was the one who packed the kit today." Helen answered. Normally she would have put in bandages but this was supposed to be a routine op. No one, not even her, was supposed to get hurt.

John smiled helping Helen to turn around. "Have you learned your lesson?" He teased leaning over her.

"I think I have." Helen whispered trying to turn and swing her legs out of the tub. She should have felt self conscience with having only her lower half clad in underwear, but this was John. He had seen her completely naked on several occasions when they had been together.

He took one of the towels and dried off the water before putting the bandage on. The bleeding had lessened but not stopped. John didn't want to leave just a bandage on her. "I don't want to take the chance the bleeding will start again." He muttered looking around the bathroom.

"What are you thinking?" Helen asked taking the towel from his hands, straightening out her right leg for him to bandage.

"I was thinking of using candle wax to seal the wound temporarily until we got home." John spoke looking around for said candles. He had seen them earlier.

"Would that work?" Helen reached out to him, cupped his face, urging him to look at her.

John let Helen turn his face, so he was looking at her. "We can't leave them any more blood to follow." He answered.

"Then a wax seal it is." Helen consented. It would hurt, but it would also keep her blood from soaking through the bandage and leave those who pursued a trail to follow straight to them.

"All right. I saw a candle in the other room." Again John was gone. On his way out he grabbed Helen's pack. Inside he had seen antibiotic ointment. That would serve as a buffer between the wax and her torn, ravaged flesh.

John rummaged through the kitchen where thought he had seen candles on his first walk through. He just had to focus. What he was about to do was going to harm Helen, was going to put her through more pain than he ever wanted. John wasn't ready to do this, but when they left tonight it would be ideal not to have her start bleeding again, leaving a blood trail. Idly as he continued to think John rubbed at the red welt on his chest. What would someone gain from cutting him off from his powers besides the obvious? It was true he was known in some parts of the world as an assassin. He had been paid well for it. During the height of the Cold War in fact he had been tasked to kill people on both sides; Russians and Americans. But why now? He could wait, put the questions aside, until there was time that they weren't being followed or Helen wasn't hurt.

While John was away Helen took the chance to stand. She wavered a moment, but otherwise was starting to gain some of her balance back. Looking down Helen got the first good look at the wound in her thigh. After having the metal fragment in her leg, Helen really shouldn't be walking. The wound was almost a through and through. Then her head started to spin. Carefully she sat on the lip of the tub. There was a small trickle of blood running down her leg again. Of all the times to be injured. Helen smiled at her fortune at being with John when she was injured. She sighed.

"Are you still alright?" John asked. He had been watching her for a few minutes. She looked lost in thought.

"Just reveling in the way the universe had intervened in my life." Helen replied. Relief filled her. Somehow this was where she was supposed to be. She never believed in fate, in the divine hand of god, but this, being here with John, felt right.

"And how did the universe do this?" John asked crouching down lighting the white candle he was able to find. The wick the burned a bright orange with the white wax melting down; it dripped into the palm of his hand.

"The universe put me here with you." Helen ran her hand down the side of his face. "I've tried fighting against it, tried to forget so many times, but in the end I get pulled right back to you." It may have been the blood loss, the exhaustion, or a million other things, but what she said was the truth. It was her heart talking, her emotions screaming at her. Helen needed this man by her side. He gave her strength.

"You know the right words to cut me right in the heart." John spoke angling the candle over her wound. "Are you ready?" He wasn't ready to get into the emotional aspect of their complicated relationship.

"Yes, the sooner the better," This was how it had to be. She knew John wasn't ready to talk; to dwell on what she had said. It was her way of forgiving him. "After you're done, I'll see what I can for you." Gently she reached out touched the still red welt on his chest. And then the pain started again with the candle wax dripping on to her skin. Rather than scream she dug her nails once again into his shoulder.