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Authors: Tuga
Categories: John/Helena
Episodes: Set after The Full Circle
Show Year: Y1
Rating: PG
Date: 2006
This one takes place while John and Helena are in Medical Center decontaminating after "The Full Circle".
Average Rating: 4.3/5 (based on 3 reviews)

Day 2

"...And as for the events that took place on Planet, this is the record." John put down his pen, closing the field journal before him. Seven more days of quarantine. He'd be ready to dig his way out with a spoon in 1. Not that the quarantine quarters was that bad. The small containment facility he and Helena had been shut into was made up to look like a normal two bedroom, two bath apartment, complete with a stocked refrigerator--whether the stuff they'd stocked it with could be called *food* was another matter entirely--expanded cable with a big screen television, and a wall-sized bookshelf sporting everything from Agatha Christie to medical journals. It was kind of cosy, actually--if you ignored the cameras in every corner, the fact that the front door led, not to a quiet corridor, but a well-stocked lab.

But a cage, no matter how convincingly gilded, was still a cage, and John was very close to going crazy. It wasn't just the confinement that was getting to him--he knew that. It was Helena, too. In the past four days, she hadn't said more than ten words that were unrelated to the events they went true . She spent most of her time in the bedroom she'd been assigned, coming out to grab something to eat, or snatch another of those endless medical journals from the bookshelf. He so wanted to just sit down with her and talk about what had happened over the last four or five months--he wanted to know that she was all right. But she wouldn't talk.

Standing up and walking around the room, he let his mind just drift, trying to steer it away from the disturbing images that seemed to plague him constantly now... Images of Helena and other affected alphans by that strange return to pass. He was worried about her. He couldn't forget the tiny crack of time that Alan was about to shoot her He shook his head angrily. If he only had arrived a few seconds to late.

John sat again, cradling a suddenly tired head in his hands.

Day 3

Helena sat up suddenly, gasping at the vague memory of her nightmare. They'd been getting better. She shook her head tiredly, rubbing at a suddenly raw throat. With a sigh, she headed for the bathroom, grabbing the glass she'd left on her nightstand before she went to sleep. Her eyes were too dull, she thought critically, as she gazed in the mirror. Too dull, and too frightened. But that was silly. She had nothing to be frightened about. She wasn't infected this was prevention- she was sure. So why was she so scared?

It took her a few long moments to pull herself together enough to brave "big brother's" worried gaze. He was starting to annoy her now. No... He'd been annoying her for a while. She had an idea of what he'd been through while she was gone--she'd heard all the rumours.

His eyes were on her the moment she stepped out of her room. He sat at --seemingly waiting for her to emerge. She smiled to herself. He probably *was* waiting. Just to make sure she was still there. With an absent "Hello," she headed for the cupboard, taking down a mug to brew her self some tea.

"How're you feeling?" His voice was tentative, as if he was waiting for her to blow up at him.

"Well, at least I'm getting my sleep," she quipped gamely. "You wanted me to take some rest." She spread her hands to encompass the facility. "You got it."

John smiled lopsidedly. "I was kind of thinking of Tahiti or Brasil, though."

"For you, or for *me*?" He grinned cheekily. "Whatever." "Uh-huh." She stood quietly, watching the kettle boil, trying to ignore his eyes on her. He wanted to say something, she could tell. But something kept him quiet, and she managed to get her tea and head back toward her room without any comment.


<Spoke too soon.> "Yes, John?"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

She sighed, turned a gentle smile on her over-protective Commander. "Yes, John."

Day 5

The nurse carried herself like a professional, sitting them down, drawing blood carefully with her gloved hands, chatting amiably as she went about her business. The fact that she was sheathed in white plastic from head to foot, however, and the guard that stood behind her, looking more like a mafia hit man, did nothing for Helena's state of mind. The blood-letting the nurse asked a few routine questions: Had either of them been feeling dizzy? Were they feeling at all strange? The answers were always no, and they were always truthful. They couldn't have lied, at any rate--not with the kind of

surveillance they were under. John waited for Helena to get up and return to her room once the nurse had gone. It was what she always did. He was surprised, then, when she sat back with a long-suffering sigh, and grabbed the television remote.

" Nothing to watch," she groused a few moments later.

"Well, there's the cabinet of movies over there," he suggested warily. "We could try that." She shrugged, pulling herself up from the couch and heading for the cabinet. It was full. She looked them over carefully, calling out names as she went.

"Star Wars?" "Didn't we just watch that one?" John asked, relaxing despite himself. "Anyway, I can already recite the whole thing."

She'd never really sat down with John and just watched a movie, she realised. The only videotapes *they* seemed to see together were more professional ones. With a little smile for the strangeness of her life, Helena grabbed a bowl of alpha popcorn and headed back in front of the TV. She was completely unprepared for her reaction to what she saw on the screen.

Chucky, looking very much like a Neanderthal.

Day 6

She hadn't emerged for dinner that night, though he'd heard her making some tea around one this morning. He hadn't bothered her. Having a fight at one in the morning was not his idea of a good time. He sat in the living, listening quietly to the sound of the shower running in her bathroom. The television was playing some banal old series--it was on more to keep up appearances than anything else. Ten minutes later, she walked quietly out of her room, heading for the cupboard. He heard the kettle start up. Tea again.

"There's some soup in the cupboard," he called carefully. "It might settle your stomach." She didn't answer. He didn't expect her to.

"Hey," he tried again, as normally as he could. "They have Mission Impossible on in twenty minutes. Wan' a watch?"

This time, he got a response. She stood quietly in the doorway, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. He realised guiltily that he hadn't noticed how much her hair had grown in the time that passed since living Earth orbit. It all sat neatly at the back of her head, making his mind leap back to the time When Zantor came and she laid helpless in that kind of aquarium . She grinned back. "Sure."

The show was typical IMF--serious camp, with just a touch of danger. John

held his tongue as they watched, trying not to stare at her, trying to give her the space she so obviously wanted. As the final credits ran, she turned to him.

"I'd better get back to those medical journals," she said, rising with a kind of tired grace. "At least I can use this time to catch up."

His eyes darkened at her movement, and all the things he wanted to say and do being held in his chest.

"John, I'm fine. You just have to put it behind you."

"Did you?" he asked.

She dropped her eyes. "I can deal with it, John."

He looked up at her for a long moment. "I can't," he replied simply.

"So what are you going to do?" she asked. "Put me in a china cabinet? "

"I'm going to do what a Commander should do, Helena. I'm going to keep you safe here on Alpha."

She sat down, turning tired eyes toward him. "But you can't protect me, John," she said simply. "Whatever's going to happen is going to happen."

He ducked his head miserably, and she laid a tentative hand on his arm.

"You tried to protect me always, John. You thought I'd be safe if I didn't come with you to the planet. But, alpha isn't always safe." She squeezed his arm reassuringly. "It's never going to be safe, John. But I'll be okay. And I want you to be safe and all right as well"

He sat in silence for a long time, feeling the touch of her hand on his arm, he felt a sudden urge to pull her next to him and lose him self in her femininity. He wanted to say so many things to her, but none of them would have come out right. He wanted her to know what their friendship meant to him, wanted her to know what *she* meant to him... But he'd never find a way to tell her. And the only way he could *show* her was by trying to protect her.

He sighed loudly, venturing a look in her eyes. She was waiting, patiently, just being there. John smiled finally, feeling a tension release in him, a tension he'd never even realised was there. She smiled broadly, a bit of overdone lust in her eyes, he reached out and touched her face. Her eyes narrowed, her eyes from that strong blue, pleased. Feeling her long slender hands slide around his neck he looked into Helena's beautiful face. Their mouths touched for the first time. The kiss was sweet, full of the respect and admiration they had for each other, but it soon became demanding. The entire world fade away and all rational tough left them, they became a man and a woman with needs, fiscals and emotionals.

"I think I'm beginning to enjoy the quarantine" sad John with that melting smile only he had and led her over to the sofa and gave her an other long, deep kiss.

Copyright (c) 2006. Reprinted with permission.
Space:1999 is (c) 1976 by Carlton International Media.
All stories are the property of their respective authors.

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