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antigone_graceThe sun beat down on the sidewalk, a beautiful New York day. Helen strolled down the sidewalk on her way to the precinct with a smile on her face. She tilted her head back, eyes closed, to bask in the bright warmth that flowed down. Apollo had been good to her, today of all days, and she practically skipped down the street. The low-heeled sandals she wore to compliment her jeans were just high enough to make a bit of a clacking sound as she sauntered along.
Up the stairs and through the door she went, nodding at the gentleman that held the door for her. It was always the same when she came to visit John at work. Detectives and criminals alike stopped whatever it was they were doing to stare at her as she crossed the floor. They had no idea who she actually was, but she still radiated the smooth confidence of her title even without being in the ancient city.
Smiling as she approached, she slipped an arm around her husband's waist, delighting in his smile. As the rest of the team gathered, Helen nodded at each of them in turn. She'd called earlier that morning to offer to take them to lunch to celebrate a 'big surprise' and John had passed along the message.
"Hey guys," she said in a chipper voice. "Ready for lunch?"
Fin looked more than ready and Elliot Stabler reached for his suit jacket, but John leaned down to ask near her ear, "So, what's the 'big surprise'?"
Helen looked up at him again and then at the members of his team. She'd wanted to wait until they were all at the table at lunch, but since they all looked ready to hear it, she said quietly, with a hint of pride, "I'm expecting."
Instantly, the members of the Special Victims Unit broke out in excited chatter and she looked up at John to gauge his reaction. All she saw was his mouth hanging open. She smiled hesitantly and nudged him. "Say something."
He did much more. He snatched her up in a bear hug and kissed her just below ear. "That's incredible! Are you sure?" She nodded and he kissed her again, this time on her mouth.
Helen was beyond thrilled at his reaction. Finally, he was getting everything he'd wanted. He'd married her at a difficult time and then stood by her through her indiscretion with Paris. Things had been tense for a long time, but now, months after all that, their relationship had finally been in it's happiest stages. Now he'd be a father in his own right and she pressed a hand to her still-flat belly to share in the excitement that felt like it was so thick that it could be cut with a knife. "Now are you guys ready for lunch?"
The group nodded enthusiastically and headed for the doors, with John and Helen leading the way. He slipped his arm around her with one arm as he pushed the glass front door open with the other, leaning in to whisper, "I am so happy." Helen turned her own head to kiss him again, ignoring the wolf whistles and cat-calls.
Grinning, she took his arm and the two of them led the way out of the station and down the stairs in the front of the building. No one saw the car turn the corner, or the window lower. When the shots rang out, the entire crowd on the street dove for the ground instinctively, except the police officers standing front and center.
Helen hit the ground with John, and it took her a minute to recover from the shock. "Son of a-"
She shook her head as she sat up, looking down to where John still lay. Her eyes widened as she took in the red stain spreading across the white of his dress shirt. "No." It came out a gasp and she leaned over him, pressing her hands down over the center of his wound.
"John-" She shook her head, drowning out the screams she heard next to her, Fin coming up and grabbing her arm. "No!" She shook him off and looked down at her husband. John's face had turned and ashen shade of gray and Helen felt tears well up in her eyes. The warmth of his blood seeped between her fingers and she pressed harder, wincing when he did at the pressure.
"Helen."
"Shh, don't talk." Helen could hear sirens coming. "I think they've called for an ambulance." John shook his head.
"No. Helen. It's too late-" His weak voice gave over to a choking cough. Tears welled in Helen's eyes.
"Oh, Gods. No!" She was ready to call for anyone who could help. Even Apollo, but she knew he'd never get there on time. They'd discussed immortality and everything in her now regretted denying him. "John, please. Just..." She could see him fading in front of her and all she could think of to say as she reached out to brush his hair back from his forehead was, "I'm so sorry. I love you."
"Never be sorry honey," Munch whispered. "I've been happy with you," he said softly, stroking her cheek again. "I love you," he whispered one final time, before his eyes closed forever and the hand on her cheek fell to the pavement. Helen watched in absolute horror as her efforts to keep his blood inside his body failed and her husband died in front of her. She screamed.
Fin stepped up and took her arm. Helen shoved at him until he was forced to let her go. It wasn't until she was sure that John was truly gone that she removed her hands from his chest. She sat hard on the pavement, knees drawn halfway up, heels flat. She ran her hands up, holding her hair back, her elbows resting on her knees. Turning her head slowly, she stared at John, just laying there.
The Queen was covered in blood and she didn't care. She stared, eyes wide. She wasn't crying, yet, and she wasn't screaming. Suddenly, one tear ran down her cheek.
Fin knelt down next to her. "Come on, Helen. I need to take you inside." She shook her head in response, eyes wide. Another tear ran down her cheek and still she sat there next to the body of her husband.
The paramedics had arrived, but it was too late to do anything other than to pick up the body. They covered him up and the police started procedure. The rest of the SVU team was in shock. With some difficulty, Fin lifted Helen bodily from the sidewalk and began moving her toward the precinct doors. Helen allowed him to lead her, one of his arms wrapped around her. She held her hands in front of her, bloody. Staring at them, she could see people looking at her out of the corners of her eyes.
She looked over her shoulder to see Olivia and Elliot coming in. And more people staring. It didn't seem possible to her that she had been standing in front of them not ten minutes before, happy about her marriage and her child-
Doubling over, she got sick in the middle of the squadroom. She couldn't take it, the pain was too great.
Cragen indicated his office and the team assembled there with Fin leading Helen to a chair in the corner.
Blood. So much blood. She couldn't stop staring at it. Her hands, her clothes, now her hair... why couldn't it have stayed in him?
Helen blinked and the flood was unleashed. She bent over, sobbing, arms wrapped around her middle. Nothing was ever going to ease this pain, she was sure of it. It was unlike anything she had ever felt. Long minutes passed and when she was sure that she couldn't cry any more, she sat up.
Cragen looked at her. "We'll help you with anything you need, any arrangements you need to be made," he said softly.
"I don't know what is normally done- I mean I-" and she shrugged a little helplessly. "This is new to me." Helen took a deep breath. "What... I mean..." She wanted to lay down. No. She wanted to die. And as the thought came to her, she realized that it was true.
"The funeral," Captain Cragen said softly. "Do you want it here or in Troy?"
"Here." The response was automatic. "John loves it-" She paused and took a deep, shuddering breath. "Loved. John loved it here." She stressed the past tense, the tears welling up in her eyes again. She tried desperately not to lose it. "New York, please."
"Elliot, Fin and I can make the arrangements," the captain offered. He looked at the rest of the team, then back at Helen. "And there's something else," the Captain said, dismissing the rest of the squad with a look. They took the hint and left.
"John asked me to give this to you if anything ever happened to him," Cragen said quietly. "We're all here for you. Let us help you. You know that's what he'd want." A pause. "I know where you're at and I know what you're going through. I also know that nothing I say is going to make it better." He said this to acknowledge her pain. "I'm here if you want to talk." A long pause followed. "Would you like some privacy?" He asked as he gestured at the envelope laying on the desk. Helen nodded slowly and waited until he left. Long minutes passed and she eyed the envelope for a while before leaning over to open it, the blood on her hands transferring to the smooth white paper.
Helen,
If you're reading this, then something happened. Probably on the job. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't always be there for you because I love you and I know how much this is going to hurt you.
I asked Cragen to hold this just in case because I know you're going to blame yourself, at least in part and I don't want that. The happiest time of my life was spent with you and I have no regrets about that. I love you more than words can possibly say and while I never want you to doubt that or forget me, I also know that I don't want you to mourn me forever. Part of loving is doing what's best for the other person and I want only the best for you because that's what you deserve. It's okay to move on and even to love again when you're ready. I know you'll say you won't and that it would never be the same, but your happiness means everything to me.
And for the record, nothing you've ever done or ever will do could change how I feel. You're a strong woman, Helen and I know you can make it through anything. Your strength is one of the many reasons I fell in love with you.
I know the squad will be there for you. And so will Anne. They'll help you in any way you ask and let them. I'm glad you can have someone there for you. Tell Anne that I love her very much, as much as a father could.
I don't know how else to say it or make it stronger than just saying that I love you. I do love you Helen, more than anything. Never forget that.
John
Helen read the letter through twice, then pressed it to her face, breathing against the paper, pretending for just a moment that he could hug her, that she could smell him, feel him. The tears began again in earnest and nothing she did could hold them back.
When Helen finally composed herself, she stood a bit shakily and opened the door. The team stood there, talking quietly and they all looked up when the door opened. Helen opened her mouth to speak, but a strong cramp in her stomach made her catch her breath. A second had her doubling over.
"Captain-" She started and then darkness came.
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When she woke, she was surrounded by white. White sheets, walls, ceiling... It took her a second to realize that she was in a hospital. Olivia was sitting in the chair next to her bed, staring into space. Helen cleared her throat and the other woman looked at her.
"What happened?" There was a strange emptiness that the Queen couldn't quite identify.
"You passed out at the station, Helen. We called an ambulance and they brought you here, but-" Olivia's look of sadness confused Helen until she was able to place the empty feeling.
"No. Oh, please..." Helen placed a hand on her stomach. "Olivia-"
Tears slid down Olivia Benson's face. "I'm so sorry Helen," she said, reaching out to take her hand. "They couldn't do anything to stop it."
Helen looked away, but didn't pull away. Her last link to John, gone.
--------------
The next several days passed in a haze. John's funeral took place on a beautiful summer day. Helen attended without escort, her head held high. Every inch the regal Queen John had declared her unable to be. He'd also called her insane and delusional. She smiled at the memory, tears prickling at her eyes.
She rode in a long Town Car with the rest of the squad. Looking out the window, her hands tight in her lap, she spoke quietly to John in her head. She knew that whatever his beliefs, his conspiracy theories, her own beliefs... he could hear her. A single tear slid down her cheek and she lifted the starched white handkerchief to her eye. Now was not the time to fall apart.
When the car stopped and the door opened, she took the hand of the driver and allowed him to help her out of the backseat. From behind the large, dark sunglasses she wore, she could see the crowd that had gathered. How many had actually known John? She supposed it didn't matter. They were there to pay their respects and she was not going to be the one to deny anyone that. Not for her John.
Standing next to the chair that had been reserved for her, she gazed at the long oak coffin that held the body of her husband and she sighed. One year. I would have been happy with twenty. Not forever, no... but I can't lie. I expected more than one.
Helen sat carefully, the black sleeveless dress she was wearing ever tasteful. Even in her grief, the Queen was going to remain impassive in front of this crowd of strangers. Her position demanded it, even if they did not know who she was. She knew. John knew. The squad knew. She had a duty and she was going to uphold it, here, for John. She jumped only once, when the first rifle in the gun salute went off and used her handkerchief only when they handed her the folded flag that was her due.
When the ceremony was over, she was grateful that Fin and Elliot kept the people away long enough for her to approach the coffin. On top of it she laid two white roses. One long-stemmed to represent her never ending love for the man inside and the second, a small baby rose to symbolize that which they had lost. She touched the wood, blinked back her tears and allowed Captain Cragen to lead her to the car once again.
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Back in Troy, Helen stood on the turret overlooking the battlegrounds below her. So many lives lost, so many husbands, brothers, sons... And for what? Her? The wind whipped her chiton around her and her hair moved under the bronze crown of laurel leaves that sat on her head. She heard Paris approach.
"Helen?"
The Queen held out her hand and waited for him to take it. She was not disappointed. A small smile touched her lips and she squeezed.
"Thank you for coming, Paris." She looked at him. "How times have changed around us. The world. And yet Troy remains the same. I remain the same. Here. Unchanging."
"You're as beautiful as ever, my love," Paris told her, lifting her hand to his lips. Helen turned and smiled at him, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes and Paris could see that. "You're troubled." He paused. "You miss John."
Helen sighed and looked back over the battlegrounds. "I miss so much, Paris. I feel so old and yet nothing has changed. Not even my beauty, as you so kindly pointed out." She took a deep breath. "I could do nothing for him. He died in front of me and I could do nothing. I was not the cause of his death and I was forced to watch it anyway. It wasn't like this-" She made a sweeping motion.
"You're to go to Larissa with Achilles. Take the boys. All of them, even our son. And someday, when he is grown, he will inherit this. This... tragedy." She looked at Paris again, sadness in her eyes. "I've spoken with Zeus."
Paris' eyes widened. Her tone had changed and with her request had come a knowledge that he wasn't comfortable with. "Helen, what happened with Zeus?" He took both her hands. "What have you done?"
"What I should have done long ago," she said quietly. She pulled one of her hands away and pointed. "Do you remember the bells? The tolling? The screams? I hear them every night, Paris. I cannot escape what I've done to this city. I'm as much a part of her as she is of me. As long as I'm here, she'll continue to hold these people in this time warp. It's not fair to them."
Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm still your Helen, Paris. Yours. There is nothing I would have changed in our history. I would have run all the way from Sparta a thousand times over just to be with you for one day. It was worth every step and every agony. I loved you that much then, I love you that much still." She smiled through her tears. "You and I have a love that was sanctioned by Aphrodite herself. That does not ever die, no matter what happens."
Paris nodded silently. He knew where she was going with this and tears came to his own eyes.
"Take care of our son. The Gods finally granted us that small miracle. Troy will exist again, under his watchful eye." She leaned forward and captured his lips in a kiss that ignited a fire between them. For one solid minute, the world in its entirety was reminded of the love of Paris and Helen of Troy.
"Goodbye, my love."
"Goodbye."
Helen watched as Paris exited the chambers that had once been theirs. Another moment of looking out to sea and she turned, her traditional gown flowing behind her. She had said her goodbyes. Antigone, Paris, Astyanax...
Moving to her vanity, she sat carefully and lifted the crown out of her hair. She set it on the marble table and stood gracefully. Selena knocked once on the open door and Helen nodded once in response.
"Enter."
On the tray the older woman was carrying was a single goblet. Inside the goblet was the finest wine that had been aging in Troy for the better part of 3,000 years. Helen nodded to the guard inside her door and said, "Thank you, that will be all."
After the man left, she said, "Thank you, Selena. You've been loyal through all these years." She looked at the woman tenderly. "Thank you," she repeated. "You may go."
Helen sat on the edge of the bed and then swung her sandaled feet onto the brocaded bedspread. She lifted the goblet and watched the curtains blow in the breeze. Closing her eyes and tilting her head just a little, she could smell the ocean just a little and it brought a smile to her face. A small sip of the wine and she was brought back to the present.
Reclining on her pillows, she watched her curtains and the blue sky beyond, taking the occasional drink from her glass until she could drink no more. She didn't bother to put the goblet on the table again. In fact, when the glass tilted and spilled red along the creme brocade, she didn't bat an eyelash. She merely lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes for the final time.
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"My Lady!"
The scream roused Antigone from her silent prayer on her terrace. The double doors to her suite flew open and her mother's handmaiden came running in, throwing herself at the feet of the goddess before her, her hands splayed, head touching the floor.
Lifting a hand to halt any further interruption, Anne waited a moment before responding. Turning from the view of sparkling water and sand, she eyed the woman before her with carefully guarded eyes.
"Speak."
"It is the Queen, Your Highness. She's dead!" The panic was evident in the handmaiden's voice and Anne sighed, forcing back all emotion from her voice.
"I know, Selena. It is time." She paused, holding out a hand to the woman. "Come."
As soon as the mortal woman grasped her hand and stood on shaking legs, Anne could feel the panic, fear and sadness flowing through her body. Still, without speaking, she led the woman down the hall to the Queen's chambers and nodded to the guards outside. As the doors were pulled open, Anne could see the still form of her mother on the bed inside.
She took a deep breath and pulled Selena inside with her, the guards shutting the doors behind her. Anne turned Selena to face her, pushing stray hair out of the woman's face. Speaking clearly, she said, "Selena, I need you to inform the guards outside of what has happened. His Majesty is well aware of the circumstances as is Achilles." Horror dawned in Selena's eyes and she turned to face the Queen's gracefully slumped body.
"The wine-"
"You could not have known," Anne explained calmly. "It was time. Now, speak to the guards and come back to say your respects to the Queen."
As soon as Selena stepped outside, pulling the doors shut behind her, Anne stepped to her mother's bedside and lifted one cold hand to her cheek. "Oh, Mother. You taught me so much. I am sorry you lost so much in the end." She waved a hand, cleaning the mess on the bed. The wine stain disappeared and Helen herself was dressed in a new, white chiton. Her hair was twisted high on her head. "Be happy, finally."
Hearing the doors behind her opening, Anne wiped the tears that had fallen from her cheeks and stood tall. "She'll need the proper dressing and funeral." The guards nodded and stood at attention. Selena lifted the crown of gold laurels from the vanity table and handed it Anne as Anne lifted a small pouch from the drawer.
"Thank you."
---------------
The funeral pyre was built in the courtyard where Hector had been honored. The Queen was placed atop the top, her white gown resting to her ankles hanging over the side. Anne climbed carefully to the top of the pyre and arranged the crown her mother had worn into the city the day she had arrived on top of her hair. From the small silk pouch she had taken from the vanity she pulled two immaculate gold coins. Those she laid over her mother's eyes.
She turned on the step and reached for the torch, but something caught her eye. Far out on the sea was a boat, it's colors catching her eye. Tears gathered in her eye, even as she gave a small smile. Achilles and Paris were gone...
The torch touched the wood beneath the Queen's body and Anne stepped down. She watched with her own adopted regal look as her mother was properly honored as the Queen she had been for 3,000 years. When the flames died out, she turned and went inside.
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A simple white gown. A simple white pouch. Inside were the note Anteros had written on their first night, the ring he had given her on her birthday, the shell necklace Achilles had given her and the beads Anton had given her. On her head: her own tiara. The tiara the first Queen of Troy had given her mother. The last remaining proof that Troy existed not just in her mind.
Princess Antigone Grace of Troy walked barefoot to the edge of the water before turning to look at the golden city where it had all begun... where it had all ended. A single tear slid down her cheek as she dropped her head and disappeared.
The city followed her example... forever.
Up the stairs and through the door she went, nodding at the gentleman that held the door for her. It was always the same when she came to visit John at work. Detectives and criminals alike stopped whatever it was they were doing to stare at her as she crossed the floor. They had no idea who she actually was, but she still radiated the smooth confidence of her title even without being in the ancient city.
Smiling as she approached, she slipped an arm around her husband's waist, delighting in his smile. As the rest of the team gathered, Helen nodded at each of them in turn. She'd called earlier that morning to offer to take them to lunch to celebrate a 'big surprise' and John had passed along the message.
"Hey guys," she said in a chipper voice. "Ready for lunch?"
Fin looked more than ready and Elliot Stabler reached for his suit jacket, but John leaned down to ask near her ear, "So, what's the 'big surprise'?"
Helen looked up at him again and then at the members of his team. She'd wanted to wait until they were all at the table at lunch, but since they all looked ready to hear it, she said quietly, with a hint of pride, "I'm expecting."
Instantly, the members of the Special Victims Unit broke out in excited chatter and she looked up at John to gauge his reaction. All she saw was his mouth hanging open. She smiled hesitantly and nudged him. "Say something."
He did much more. He snatched her up in a bear hug and kissed her just below ear. "That's incredible! Are you sure?" She nodded and he kissed her again, this time on her mouth.
Helen was beyond thrilled at his reaction. Finally, he was getting everything he'd wanted. He'd married her at a difficult time and then stood by her through her indiscretion with Paris. Things had been tense for a long time, but now, months after all that, their relationship had finally been in it's happiest stages. Now he'd be a father in his own right and she pressed a hand to her still-flat belly to share in the excitement that felt like it was so thick that it could be cut with a knife. "Now are you guys ready for lunch?"
The group nodded enthusiastically and headed for the doors, with John and Helen leading the way. He slipped his arm around her with one arm as he pushed the glass front door open with the other, leaning in to whisper, "I am so happy." Helen turned her own head to kiss him again, ignoring the wolf whistles and cat-calls.
Grinning, she took his arm and the two of them led the way out of the station and down the stairs in the front of the building. No one saw the car turn the corner, or the window lower. When the shots rang out, the entire crowd on the street dove for the ground instinctively, except the police officers standing front and center.
Helen hit the ground with John, and it took her a minute to recover from the shock. "Son of a-"
She shook her head as she sat up, looking down to where John still lay. Her eyes widened as she took in the red stain spreading across the white of his dress shirt. "No." It came out a gasp and she leaned over him, pressing her hands down over the center of his wound.
"John-" She shook her head, drowning out the screams she heard next to her, Fin coming up and grabbing her arm. "No!" She shook him off and looked down at her husband. John's face had turned and ashen shade of gray and Helen felt tears well up in her eyes. The warmth of his blood seeped between her fingers and she pressed harder, wincing when he did at the pressure.
"Helen."
"Shh, don't talk." Helen could hear sirens coming. "I think they've called for an ambulance." John shook his head.
"No. Helen. It's too late-" His weak voice gave over to a choking cough. Tears welled in Helen's eyes.
"Oh, Gods. No!" She was ready to call for anyone who could help. Even Apollo, but she knew he'd never get there on time. They'd discussed immortality and everything in her now regretted denying him. "John, please. Just..." She could see him fading in front of her and all she could think of to say as she reached out to brush his hair back from his forehead was, "I'm so sorry. I love you."
"Never be sorry honey," Munch whispered. "I've been happy with you," he said softly, stroking her cheek again. "I love you," he whispered one final time, before his eyes closed forever and the hand on her cheek fell to the pavement. Helen watched in absolute horror as her efforts to keep his blood inside his body failed and her husband died in front of her. She screamed.
Fin stepped up and took her arm. Helen shoved at him until he was forced to let her go. It wasn't until she was sure that John was truly gone that she removed her hands from his chest. She sat hard on the pavement, knees drawn halfway up, heels flat. She ran her hands up, holding her hair back, her elbows resting on her knees. Turning her head slowly, she stared at John, just laying there.
The Queen was covered in blood and she didn't care. She stared, eyes wide. She wasn't crying, yet, and she wasn't screaming. Suddenly, one tear ran down her cheek.
Fin knelt down next to her. "Come on, Helen. I need to take you inside." She shook her head in response, eyes wide. Another tear ran down her cheek and still she sat there next to the body of her husband.
The paramedics had arrived, but it was too late to do anything other than to pick up the body. They covered him up and the police started procedure. The rest of the SVU team was in shock. With some difficulty, Fin lifted Helen bodily from the sidewalk and began moving her toward the precinct doors. Helen allowed him to lead her, one of his arms wrapped around her. She held her hands in front of her, bloody. Staring at them, she could see people looking at her out of the corners of her eyes.
She looked over her shoulder to see Olivia and Elliot coming in. And more people staring. It didn't seem possible to her that she had been standing in front of them not ten minutes before, happy about her marriage and her child-
Doubling over, she got sick in the middle of the squadroom. She couldn't take it, the pain was too great.
Cragen indicated his office and the team assembled there with Fin leading Helen to a chair in the corner.
Blood. So much blood. She couldn't stop staring at it. Her hands, her clothes, now her hair... why couldn't it have stayed in him?
Helen blinked and the flood was unleashed. She bent over, sobbing, arms wrapped around her middle. Nothing was ever going to ease this pain, she was sure of it. It was unlike anything she had ever felt. Long minutes passed and when she was sure that she couldn't cry any more, she sat up.
Cragen looked at her. "We'll help you with anything you need, any arrangements you need to be made," he said softly.
"I don't know what is normally done- I mean I-" and she shrugged a little helplessly. "This is new to me." Helen took a deep breath. "What... I mean..." She wanted to lay down. No. She wanted to die. And as the thought came to her, she realized that it was true.
"The funeral," Captain Cragen said softly. "Do you want it here or in Troy?"
"Here." The response was automatic. "John loves it-" She paused and took a deep, shuddering breath. "Loved. John loved it here." She stressed the past tense, the tears welling up in her eyes again. She tried desperately not to lose it. "New York, please."
"Elliot, Fin and I can make the arrangements," the captain offered. He looked at the rest of the team, then back at Helen. "And there's something else," the Captain said, dismissing the rest of the squad with a look. They took the hint and left.
"John asked me to give this to you if anything ever happened to him," Cragen said quietly. "We're all here for you. Let us help you. You know that's what he'd want." A pause. "I know where you're at and I know what you're going through. I also know that nothing I say is going to make it better." He said this to acknowledge her pain. "I'm here if you want to talk." A long pause followed. "Would you like some privacy?" He asked as he gestured at the envelope laying on the desk. Helen nodded slowly and waited until he left. Long minutes passed and she eyed the envelope for a while before leaning over to open it, the blood on her hands transferring to the smooth white paper.
Helen,
If you're reading this, then something happened. Probably on the job. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't always be there for you because I love you and I know how much this is going to hurt you.
I asked Cragen to hold this just in case because I know you're going to blame yourself, at least in part and I don't want that. The happiest time of my life was spent with you and I have no regrets about that. I love you more than words can possibly say and while I never want you to doubt that or forget me, I also know that I don't want you to mourn me forever. Part of loving is doing what's best for the other person and I want only the best for you because that's what you deserve. It's okay to move on and even to love again when you're ready. I know you'll say you won't and that it would never be the same, but your happiness means everything to me.
And for the record, nothing you've ever done or ever will do could change how I feel. You're a strong woman, Helen and I know you can make it through anything. Your strength is one of the many reasons I fell in love with you.
I know the squad will be there for you. And so will Anne. They'll help you in any way you ask and let them. I'm glad you can have someone there for you. Tell Anne that I love her very much, as much as a father could.
I don't know how else to say it or make it stronger than just saying that I love you. I do love you Helen, more than anything. Never forget that.
John
Helen read the letter through twice, then pressed it to her face, breathing against the paper, pretending for just a moment that he could hug her, that she could smell him, feel him. The tears began again in earnest and nothing she did could hold them back.
When Helen finally composed herself, she stood a bit shakily and opened the door. The team stood there, talking quietly and they all looked up when the door opened. Helen opened her mouth to speak, but a strong cramp in her stomach made her catch her breath. A second had her doubling over.
"Captain-" She started and then darkness came.
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When she woke, she was surrounded by white. White sheets, walls, ceiling... It took her a second to realize that she was in a hospital. Olivia was sitting in the chair next to her bed, staring into space. Helen cleared her throat and the other woman looked at her.
"What happened?" There was a strange emptiness that the Queen couldn't quite identify.
"You passed out at the station, Helen. We called an ambulance and they brought you here, but-" Olivia's look of sadness confused Helen until she was able to place the empty feeling.
"No. Oh, please..." Helen placed a hand on her stomach. "Olivia-"
Tears slid down Olivia Benson's face. "I'm so sorry Helen," she said, reaching out to take her hand. "They couldn't do anything to stop it."
Helen looked away, but didn't pull away. Her last link to John, gone.
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The next several days passed in a haze. John's funeral took place on a beautiful summer day. Helen attended without escort, her head held high. Every inch the regal Queen John had declared her unable to be. He'd also called her insane and delusional. She smiled at the memory, tears prickling at her eyes.
She rode in a long Town Car with the rest of the squad. Looking out the window, her hands tight in her lap, she spoke quietly to John in her head. She knew that whatever his beliefs, his conspiracy theories, her own beliefs... he could hear her. A single tear slid down her cheek and she lifted the starched white handkerchief to her eye. Now was not the time to fall apart.
When the car stopped and the door opened, she took the hand of the driver and allowed him to help her out of the backseat. From behind the large, dark sunglasses she wore, she could see the crowd that had gathered. How many had actually known John? She supposed it didn't matter. They were there to pay their respects and she was not going to be the one to deny anyone that. Not for her John.
Standing next to the chair that had been reserved for her, she gazed at the long oak coffin that held the body of her husband and she sighed. One year. I would have been happy with twenty. Not forever, no... but I can't lie. I expected more than one.
Helen sat carefully, the black sleeveless dress she was wearing ever tasteful. Even in her grief, the Queen was going to remain impassive in front of this crowd of strangers. Her position demanded it, even if they did not know who she was. She knew. John knew. The squad knew. She had a duty and she was going to uphold it, here, for John. She jumped only once, when the first rifle in the gun salute went off and used her handkerchief only when they handed her the folded flag that was her due.
When the ceremony was over, she was grateful that Fin and Elliot kept the people away long enough for her to approach the coffin. On top of it she laid two white roses. One long-stemmed to represent her never ending love for the man inside and the second, a small baby rose to symbolize that which they had lost. She touched the wood, blinked back her tears and allowed Captain Cragen to lead her to the car once again.
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Back in Troy, Helen stood on the turret overlooking the battlegrounds below her. So many lives lost, so many husbands, brothers, sons... And for what? Her? The wind whipped her chiton around her and her hair moved under the bronze crown of laurel leaves that sat on her head. She heard Paris approach.
"Helen?"
The Queen held out her hand and waited for him to take it. She was not disappointed. A small smile touched her lips and she squeezed.
"Thank you for coming, Paris." She looked at him. "How times have changed around us. The world. And yet Troy remains the same. I remain the same. Here. Unchanging."
"You're as beautiful as ever, my love," Paris told her, lifting her hand to his lips. Helen turned and smiled at him, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes and Paris could see that. "You're troubled." He paused. "You miss John."
Helen sighed and looked back over the battlegrounds. "I miss so much, Paris. I feel so old and yet nothing has changed. Not even my beauty, as you so kindly pointed out." She took a deep breath. "I could do nothing for him. He died in front of me and I could do nothing. I was not the cause of his death and I was forced to watch it anyway. It wasn't like this-" She made a sweeping motion.
"You're to go to Larissa with Achilles. Take the boys. All of them, even our son. And someday, when he is grown, he will inherit this. This... tragedy." She looked at Paris again, sadness in her eyes. "I've spoken with Zeus."
Paris' eyes widened. Her tone had changed and with her request had come a knowledge that he wasn't comfortable with. "Helen, what happened with Zeus?" He took both her hands. "What have you done?"
"What I should have done long ago," she said quietly. She pulled one of her hands away and pointed. "Do you remember the bells? The tolling? The screams? I hear them every night, Paris. I cannot escape what I've done to this city. I'm as much a part of her as she is of me. As long as I'm here, she'll continue to hold these people in this time warp. It's not fair to them."
Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm still your Helen, Paris. Yours. There is nothing I would have changed in our history. I would have run all the way from Sparta a thousand times over just to be with you for one day. It was worth every step and every agony. I loved you that much then, I love you that much still." She smiled through her tears. "You and I have a love that was sanctioned by Aphrodite herself. That does not ever die, no matter what happens."
Paris nodded silently. He knew where she was going with this and tears came to his own eyes.
"Take care of our son. The Gods finally granted us that small miracle. Troy will exist again, under his watchful eye." She leaned forward and captured his lips in a kiss that ignited a fire between them. For one solid minute, the world in its entirety was reminded of the love of Paris and Helen of Troy.
"Goodbye, my love."
"Goodbye."
Helen watched as Paris exited the chambers that had once been theirs. Another moment of looking out to sea and she turned, her traditional gown flowing behind her. She had said her goodbyes. Antigone, Paris, Astyanax...
Moving to her vanity, she sat carefully and lifted the crown out of her hair. She set it on the marble table and stood gracefully. Selena knocked once on the open door and Helen nodded once in response.
"Enter."
On the tray the older woman was carrying was a single goblet. Inside the goblet was the finest wine that had been aging in Troy for the better part of 3,000 years. Helen nodded to the guard inside her door and said, "Thank you, that will be all."
After the man left, she said, "Thank you, Selena. You've been loyal through all these years." She looked at the woman tenderly. "Thank you," she repeated. "You may go."
Helen sat on the edge of the bed and then swung her sandaled feet onto the brocaded bedspread. She lifted the goblet and watched the curtains blow in the breeze. Closing her eyes and tilting her head just a little, she could smell the ocean just a little and it brought a smile to her face. A small sip of the wine and she was brought back to the present.
Reclining on her pillows, she watched her curtains and the blue sky beyond, taking the occasional drink from her glass until she could drink no more. She didn't bother to put the goblet on the table again. In fact, when the glass tilted and spilled red along the creme brocade, she didn't bat an eyelash. She merely lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes for the final time.
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"My Lady!"
The scream roused Antigone from her silent prayer on her terrace. The double doors to her suite flew open and her mother's handmaiden came running in, throwing herself at the feet of the goddess before her, her hands splayed, head touching the floor.
Lifting a hand to halt any further interruption, Anne waited a moment before responding. Turning from the view of sparkling water and sand, she eyed the woman before her with carefully guarded eyes.
"Speak."
"It is the Queen, Your Highness. She's dead!" The panic was evident in the handmaiden's voice and Anne sighed, forcing back all emotion from her voice.
"I know, Selena. It is time." She paused, holding out a hand to the woman. "Come."
As soon as the mortal woman grasped her hand and stood on shaking legs, Anne could feel the panic, fear and sadness flowing through her body. Still, without speaking, she led the woman down the hall to the Queen's chambers and nodded to the guards outside. As the doors were pulled open, Anne could see the still form of her mother on the bed inside.
She took a deep breath and pulled Selena inside with her, the guards shutting the doors behind her. Anne turned Selena to face her, pushing stray hair out of the woman's face. Speaking clearly, she said, "Selena, I need you to inform the guards outside of what has happened. His Majesty is well aware of the circumstances as is Achilles." Horror dawned in Selena's eyes and she turned to face the Queen's gracefully slumped body.
"The wine-"
"You could not have known," Anne explained calmly. "It was time. Now, speak to the guards and come back to say your respects to the Queen."
As soon as Selena stepped outside, pulling the doors shut behind her, Anne stepped to her mother's bedside and lifted one cold hand to her cheek. "Oh, Mother. You taught me so much. I am sorry you lost so much in the end." She waved a hand, cleaning the mess on the bed. The wine stain disappeared and Helen herself was dressed in a new, white chiton. Her hair was twisted high on her head. "Be happy, finally."
Hearing the doors behind her opening, Anne wiped the tears that had fallen from her cheeks and stood tall. "She'll need the proper dressing and funeral." The guards nodded and stood at attention. Selena lifted the crown of gold laurels from the vanity table and handed it Anne as Anne lifted a small pouch from the drawer.
"Thank you."
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The funeral pyre was built in the courtyard where Hector had been honored. The Queen was placed atop the top, her white gown resting to her ankles hanging over the side. Anne climbed carefully to the top of the pyre and arranged the crown her mother had worn into the city the day she had arrived on top of her hair. From the small silk pouch she had taken from the vanity she pulled two immaculate gold coins. Those she laid over her mother's eyes.
She turned on the step and reached for the torch, but something caught her eye. Far out on the sea was a boat, it's colors catching her eye. Tears gathered in her eye, even as she gave a small smile. Achilles and Paris were gone...
The torch touched the wood beneath the Queen's body and Anne stepped down. She watched with her own adopted regal look as her mother was properly honored as the Queen she had been for 3,000 years. When the flames died out, she turned and went inside.
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A simple white gown. A simple white pouch. Inside were the note Anteros had written on their first night, the ring he had given her on her birthday, the shell necklace Achilles had given her and the beads Anton had given her. On her head: her own tiara. The tiara the first Queen of Troy had given her mother. The last remaining proof that Troy existed not just in her mind.
Princess Antigone Grace of Troy walked barefoot to the edge of the water before turning to look at the golden city where it had all begun... where it had all ended. A single tear slid down her cheek as she dropped her head and disappeared.
The city followed her example... forever.
