Hotel Miraflores

For anyone who hasn't seen the season four deleted scenes of Sanctuary, we were informed of an event that took place in 1902 involving a lonely doctor and a genius vampire. And while wining and dining may not be Helen's forte, it certainly is what happened and is canon to back up the idea that she does do it. Also, I tried to stay as canon as possible. I'm surprised no one else has covered this tidbit, rather this Peruvian tête-à-tête, that many fans are anxious to know and/or read about.

Miraflores is an actual place in Peru. Located on the Pacific Ocean. What is described is, for the most part, actually there now. Research and menu food from the Miraflores Hotel website. It's a very fancy, Nikola-approved get-away.

The scum-soaked streets of New York City were warm with the sweat of the general population and with overexcited newspaper boys waving their papers above their heads, screaming about Marconi's latest feat. People were chatting gaily with eyes bright about the new lights in their houses, rumors of women wanting equal rights, an upcoming court case, war, and, of course, the gossip and latest scandals of the town. As the market boomed with business, the wealthy increased their assets by a tremendous amount while the poor died trying to get to the middle-class. Times were changing, ladies were courted and wed (sometimes wanting to choose their own husbands), and babies were born, slapped into life by their doctors.

Meanwhile, an elegant lady with fashionable, beautiful hair clicked her tongue as she nibbled on her scone, leaving crumbs on the table which she hurriedly scooped away with her napkin. She was sitting outside for brunch with a Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, a couple well-known for excellent conversation and for hosting quite extravagant parties with extraordinary people.

"...and he hasn't sent many letters, I'm afraid. The poor dear's working himself absurd. We've been trying to get him to come vacation with us because," Mrs. Johnson paused and smiled proudly, "I know that these sort of breaks are good for a man's mind, body, and spirit." She was interested in the mind and psyche and even tried mind transference every blue moon; she wouldn't admit to anyone out loud her failures. Her Irish blood was too stubborn.

"I'm sure he's fine. However, Delmonico's isn't the same without him. It's his choice place to eat. Are you sure you wouldn't care to join us tonight?" asked Mr. Johnson.

Mrs. Johnson chimed in again with fervor, "Oh, yes, please do! I want to introduce you to a gentleman. He's going to be going places someday, just like you. I may have let your name slip and you absolutely must meet him. He's quite an investor, inventor, and he has a knack for unusual science."

The lady addressed had to avoid the inviting, fiery look on Mrs. Johnson's face. It was hard to resist her because when Mrs. Johnson wanted something, she was most excellent at manipulating those around her without them even knowing it. By determination and will, the lady was able to politely acquiesce her request. "Thank very much for the invitation and I will bear it in mind for a later time, but I'm afraid I must be off."

"Very well, another time," Mr. Johnson said at the same time Mrs. Johnson cheerfully complied, "Then I expect you some other time." The couple looked at each other affectionately and smiled when their words coincided.

"Thank you for all your help," the lady, having all she needed, finished her tea and stood up.

The couple followed suit, as courtesy was due, and Mr. Johnson smiled, wishing, "Good luck, Helen."

. . .

On the veranda overlooking the long, golden beach in Peru, an immacutely-dressed genius lounged as he swilled his wine, admiring how the sun made the drink dance with the glimmers of reflection in its waves, and stared at the ocean: half-observing, half-sulking. He stretched his legs lazily and let out a frustrated and somewhat contended huff.

A waitress approached him from the side and asked in Spanish, "More wine, sir?"

He turned his head and looked at her in a manner that made it obvious that she didn't need to ask. He held out his glass and replied, "Don't be skimpy this time or I may not leave a nice tip." The waitress bit her lip but nodded curtly. When she left, the man sighed and wondered how recent her addition was to the venue. Staying at this hotel with these prices—not that price bothered him; he lived for the exquisite, no, rather he was entitled to it—meant that he should get the best and not be cheated out of anything. The waitress, he deduced, was new because no one who worked here longer dared to make such a cheap play. It would ruin the reputation of the Miraflores Hotel.

After he had drained his umpteenth glass, he, not bothering to look anywhere but the ocean, held his glass in the air to the sure-to-be-surprised-he-was-still-unpleasantly-sober waitress somewhere him. He half-smirked when he heard her heels click in his direction. He watched the wine rise to the near top of his glass and he spoke harshly and impatiently at her carelessness, "Idiot! What do you-" But he was cut off when a blind covered his eyes.

"This is a hold up, Tesla. Give me all your money," she whispered threatening to stunned vampire. She stuck a gun to his head. He chuckled amusedly. Like that child's toy could do him permanent damage. In a motion as quick as lightning, he yanked off the blind and twisted around to tell off the baby brat and call her empty threat. What he found instead jolted him speechless; he was gobsmacked, then entertained again.

"Helen Magnus," he announced breathily with a smile, "as I live and breathe."

Helen gave him a wicked grin. She was as enthused as he was. "Nikola Tesla. Squeezing every bit out of life, and the grapes, I see." For some reason, breaking her self-made rules of not interfering with history's natural course was exhilarating. Her heart pounded knowing that at any moment she could slip up, but she had been at this charade of the literally reliving the past for thirteen years. She had less qualms since she had visited Nikola a year prior to ask for his help on getting into a tunnel that would lead her to Hollow Earth or, as far as Nikola knew, to capture a Snaguu, a shark with six heads that took turns eating. Besides, why and how could he suspect such a wild tale of her being from the future and stuck in the past; it would be outrageous for him to jump to such a conclusion, but one never knew with Nikola. He was keen when he wanted to be. She had to raise zero suspicion and remain coy even though all she really wanted Nikola to comfort her tortured, lonely heart. He was going to be the only one sort of there for Helen in the future and though she joyed at briefly reuniting with some long-dead friends, it reopened the ache she had long buried with time. In an anguished, desperate reach for the future—and because she needed it—she decided to visit Nikola just to visit; something neither of them had done or would ever do up to her time in 2012.

Nikola showed off his delicate, Victorian manners and stood at his impressive height, bowed, and kissed her hand—the only hand he'd ever grace his lips upon. The gesture did not go unnoticed. "What brings you to Miraflores? Who spilled the metaphorical beans?"

"The Johnsons."

"Damn. I knew they'd slip up eventually. When you dine with as many and as often as them, everything's accountable to be spread for gossip. You're here for the Huaca Pucllana, I suppose?"

Helen blinked and took a moment to answer. "No."

The hesitation did not pass unaccounted for in Nikola's mind. "Oh, really?" Now he was interested. Not that Helen was never interesting, but it was unlike her to happen to show up in the same place as him if she didn't need some sort of assistance with some of her creatures. He hadn't seen Helen since last year when she asked about how to capture some useless multi-headed shark, and her visit had been as short as it had been direct. And yet she had the same comforted, almost expectant, and somehow faraway look on her face now as she did when she first approached him.

Helen, usually the one to be forward, decided to toy with the undented ego of his and stuttered with a smile, "Er, though the Huaca Pucllana does have some markings similar to those-"

"Say no more, Helen," Nikola held up a hand, "I know why you're here."

"Since you're the genius, then, please, enlighten me. Why am I here?" Helen finished with exasperation. Nikola grinned knowingly and raised his eyebrow in a mischievous manner. Whilst holding out his arm, which Helen graciously held and nodded her thanks, Nikola reached into his pocket and left an organized stack of foreign money on the table as he escorted her out.

. . .

There was a warm breeze grazing the faces of those outside. A few leaves twisted loose and parachuted down from the trees and onto the strolling Helen and Nikola. Helen brushed a leaf as it came close to her nose. Full of people striding by, the tree-lined avenue of the Av. Malecón de la Reserva was a gorgeous color, the sight a delight to the eyes.

Arm-in-arm, the favored couple nudged each other when they managed to outwit what was last said. Nikola stopped. "Admit it, Helen," Nikola grinned at her, "you came here to see moi."

"Preposterous," Helen teased. "When have you ever known me to visit for fun?" If only he knew how true this was.

"When do you ever do anything fun? And if you're not interested in the pre-Incan ruins, the beach isn't unlike any others along this coastline, and, well, it's as easy as playing billiards with half-wit drunks," Nikola shot back. "But, quite frankly, your visits usually require you putting a stop to whatever it is I'm working on or...you need my help with something." He paused as he tried to read her unreadable face. "So, which is it?"

"Is it really that unusual for a woman to vacation in Peru?" wondered Helen aloud.

"By herself, by all means," added Nikola, cheekily. "And especially when you knew I was here. Tell me your secrets, Miss Magnus."

"Tell me yours," purred Helen in the same tone as him with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"Why, Helen," Nikola exclaimed in surprise. He cheekily smiled and continued, "What do you say we go down by the beach and ride in the waves/toss up some sand."

"I'll get my swimsuit." Helen answered nonchalantly with a nod. No experiment had ever taken Nikola by surprise as much as the reply that had just trilled out of Helen's mouth. Helen had never in her 173 years seen Nikola so speechless. She worried she broke him because his jaw looked as though it wouldn't reattached to the rest of his mouth. Suddenly, he sprang to life like an electrified animated cartoon but composed himself, his eyes lightning-bright eyes betraying his ecstatic feelings inside. Teasing Nikola was a pleasure she hadn't let herself explore before.

. . .

When they met on the beach, Nikola was calmly staring at the ocean, observing its natural power and watching its vastness stretched out like time before him. The rise and flow of the water was like a rollercoaster that paralleled the vicious, unforgiving, yet inevitable cycle of life. Nikola was leaning forward onto his knees when Helen seated herself next to the skinny yet surprising toned scientist.

Helen sensed a change in his disposition when he wasn't as stimulated as before. She tentatively rubbed his firm arm and followed his philosophic gaze to the seemingly endless ocean that blended with the sky. They took in the moment, no worries, no experiments, and enjoyed each other's presense.

"What are you thinking about?" Helen asked. Her left hand trailed up to his gelled hair and followed its curve until the she toyed with the soft hairs on his neck. Nikola sighed contentedly as she pulled at his hair.

It was a while before Nikola spoke and when he did, it was literally poetry. "Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness, / Thou foster-child of silence and slow time," recited Nikola, grabbing a handful of sand and throwing it into the light wind.

"You're that worried about time that you're quoting Keats, are you?"

"Not just time, Helen. Age. Limits. Making a mark on history. We have a rare chance, a once in a lifetime, pardon the pun, opportunity to learn what humanity will die trying to amass." He looked to her. "My name shan't be forgotten by the masses anytime soon, what with my gift of electricity, numerous patents, and excellent conversation skills. But what will I be in thirty years?

"Nikola Tesla. Do you doubt yourself?"

"Oh, please," Nikola rolled his eyes. He had complete confidence in himself, of course. It was other people who he didn't trust. Throughout his whole life people wanted his trust, promising him a job or money or credit, and in the beginning he naively gave it to them only to be physically tossed out, penniless, and his ideas in the hands of those money-grubbing, back-stabbing thieving monopolists.

Seeing him tense up, Helen pointed out, "In thirty years, you'll still be Nikola." The look on Nikola's face told her her reply wasn't a good enough answer. Helen knew what really would happen to him in thirty years, but she wasn't ever going to disclose that information. "You are going to do great things. I believe in you."

Nikola's head snapped to her direction. Those words had thrown him for a loop. Getting ego-building compliments from Helen was always a confidence booster. The genius vampire rarely had a friend who'd put so much faith in him and who he trusted almost as much as himself (sure, he could list the Johnsons, Mark Twain, and Stanford White to name a few, but beyond his small group of mortal friends, he didn't have very many people to share his findings and inventions with who would be around as long as Helen to see them). Smiling, Nikola put his hand over Helen's free one and squeezed. "Care for a walk?"

"Don't mind if I do," Helen smirked. She helped herself up and scurried off down the beach leaving Nikola high and dry. Nikola didn't pursue girls. Girls, though they were nice to have around, were not worth the trouble and the precious time they took away from his inventing. He was afraid if he put all his passion into one girl only to result in her leaving him, he would have wasted his life and genius on some frivolous girl. He had watched many people choose love over career. His arch-electrical-nemesis, Thomas Edison, barely saw his wife and children once a week. For Nikola, it was all or nothing. And right now, all he wanted was begging to be chased and caught along the romantic beachside.

He heaved himself and walked at first, feeling that it'd be silly if he broke into a sprint. Helen was quite a ways up, her swimsuit outlining her Venus body, and Nikola's body betrayed his mind and suddenly he was catching up to her, feet thudding as they printed the damp sand.

By the time he reached her, she was sitting down with her feet touching the small waves. Helen patted the spot of endless sand to her left. Nikola grudgingly seated himself in the same relaxed position as Helen with legs straight out and arms back in the sand. The small waves lapped at their feet and felt like they were dipping their feet into a warmed pool.

"Your reaction time was slow. I thought vampires were supposed to be at the top of pyramid when it comes to that kind of activity." Helen teased and chuckled at her pun.

"Hey, my race used to rule the planet. We are superior in all intellects and physical feats."

"However, you do your race shame. And don't forget what happened to your race, beat out by us intellectually and physically average surface-dwellers."

"That was uncalled for, Helen." Nikola announced quietly. "Vampires gave so much to society and how did the people thank them? By rebelling and burning the glorious cities and mocking the very vampire name. Bram Stoker never did get over how his ancestors used to support the vampire rule."

She changed the subject. "What brought you here, Nikola?"

"Well, after I was so cruelly turned out from those carnivorous and nefarious New Yorkers and mongrelling muckrakers who care nothing for the advancement of society and automated apparatuses, I came here to find more backers for future projects."

"And the beach and the wine and the ruins and five-star hotel had nothing to do with it?"

"They may have played some small part in the decision, yes. And besides," he paused for dramatic effect, "I need a vacation and where else do you find wealthy bankers with Wallstreet money to burn?"

"Same old, Nikola," Helen chuckled to herself. He always had motives and plans and secondary plans.

"What? Do you expect me to change?" He turned a curious eye on her. "Do you know something else?"

"Perish the pit. I'm still trying to keep my Sanctuary standing. I don't have time for doing or looking into anything else."

"So it seems..." he mused, not entirely believing her.

"You don't believe me?" accused Helen.

"You're here, aren't you?" Nikola recoiled.

Helen made no answer. The other her was indeed working on with the Sanctuary but present her didn't have such obligations; she had much bigger things in mind for the future. This time she looked out to the ocean, to the west. Nothing could beat the view of an ocean sunset on a tropical beach. Nikola watched the sunset and Helen as some unknown feeling bubbled inside him. A rogue crab also blazed around nearby and Nikola kept an eye on it. Animals had it so easy; they didn't have to go through an arduous, complex courtship to attain a relationship. Competition was based on looks and strength, and personality didn't seem to matter because it was all about survival. Though his race couldn't be spoken for, he thought could he survive twice the wars his ancestors faced. And he had a stunning and bright personality. If only life could be that positively simple! He knew Helen was forbidden fruit, not that it would stop him from chasing her (to be honest, he found amusement and thrill and growing desire in the chase, probably due to his vampirist nature that sought its sweet prey), but she was together with James an awful lot and Nikola concluded without a doubt that the pair were more than friends. So why was she here, now, with him?

"Beautiful," Helen breathed, "I never tire of watching it though I've seen it millions of times from all different places. It's one of the few things that hasn't changed through the years."

Nikola agreed, looking from her to the sunset, "Mhmm."

Helen looked to him, sharing a warm smile, and hoped to see her astonishment reflected in his face, "Thank you for this."

"Oh," Nikola planted his left hand in the sand and extended his right arm inches from the front of Helen's body and dipped his hand into the water and pulled out the crab he'd been watching. He held it up briefly to show a bemused Helen who saw through his act before tossing the creature aside. Then his hand rested on her knee. Helen's gaze followed his hand and felt a spark of excitement tingle, radiating through her from the spot graced with Nikola's hand. His face was a hand-widths away from hers. Their blues eyes met and danced together as they each coyly smiled. "Helen," he whispered huskily as his eyes moved to her lips and he slowly descended, but Helen, equally as slow, maneuvered and scooted so she laid completely on her back. Following her down, their heads never losing the distance, Nikola was on top of her, both of his hands in the sand on opposite sides of her face. Helen's hands played with Nikola's fingers in the sand then felt their way up to his elbow. Nikola watched Helen's careful, angelic face as she explored her way up the vampire's brilliantly toned arms. She marveled and reveled that underneath his usual long-sleeves and coat such proportionate iron pipes hid. And here those arms were: open to air and hers to roam on a sandy beach far from their native countries.

As she reached his neck and then face, she cupped his face and brought it closer to hers. They could feel each other's breathe to the point where they could exchange carbon dioxide when out of the blue a large wave dropped on them like a bomb exploding. The salty, dirt-speckled water attacked their bodies and broke them apart before they could kiss. Both spurted out water and Helen moved out from underneath Nikola in the receding water.

Huge waves crashed against the long shore. The tide had picked up. People on the beach were packing their things as they were getting ready to settle down for the evening. The sky, however, looked as bright and beautiful as ever.

Standing up, Helen sighed, "That's a beach, if anything." Helen dared to reach into the water to wash off the sand that had gotten in higher regions due to the kiss-ruining wave. "Let's say we meet for supper in twenty minutes time."

It wasn't a question, and Helen, unaccompanied, who had already taken off at an alarming speed, failed to see Nikola absently nod, bitter about the weather condition. "Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, / Though winning near the goal," Nikola quoted Keats again. His lower body was in the water and he fell to his stomach as he irritably smacked the sand and sent it spraying 50 feet, "Confound it!" Then, he rose, disheartened, and scowled at the salty scourge before he made for his towel and then the awaiting hotel where hopefully he'd have better timing.

Verses from Keats' "Ode On A Grecian Urn".

This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it kept growing because of all the ground I wanted to cover (and to put my little research to use). The second part coming soon!