Disclaimer: Nothing is my own. Even these words belong, in part, to Google Docs.
Author'sNote: This is my first foray into the Warehouse. The first chapter is mainly exposition. Next chapter, HG. Rated T for now, might change for later chapters. Thanks to Sonia, my beta. Jet lagged and still manages to get the job done. Enjoy!
A lot of people say they don't remember their wedding day. With all the work that goes into making the day everything you'd hoped it would be, you'd be surprised by what little chance you get to sit and really let it all soak in when it's finally happening. The sounds, the smiles, the kind words; all those wonderful things on that magical day are unsurprisingly hard to appreciate when you're working to such a demanding schedule. At the church by 1100 hrs, photos at 1230, everyone ready at the venue for lunch by 1400. Oh what a beautiful service, Myka darling, you look absolutely stunning. You two make such a wonderful couple, any plans to make it three? Everything can get a little overwhelming on your wedding day.
My mother had given me strict instructions to find the best wedding photographer I could, and and a videographer too for that matter. It'll go by in an instant, she always said, mine did. I'd laughed, thanked her, and told her a single photographer would be fine. It was to be a small wedding anyway, just a few close family and friends, and I felt like having a whole posse of strangers running around with cameras would make the experience far less personal, and most certainly more stressful. One would suffice, one would be plenty.
I had chosen Claudia to be my Maid of Honor, that was a no-brainer. Somehow she'd convinced herself that I wouldn't even ask her to be part of the wedding party. For a computer whiz and genius of our time, she has always been a bit lacking up there sometimes. When I'd asked her she'd squealed and leaped around the B&B, roused a hibernating Pete, and hugged me so tight that I had felt like I was wearing Sophia Loren's corset all over again, which after that rather breathtaking trip to Rome, had gone on to reside in Aisle Foxtrot 85B, thank the heavens. Pete was, of course, our Best Man. He'd wanted to give me away but relented when I reminded him I did actually have a father who would probably want to get in there before him. He'd told me he'd give me away next time. I'd told him where he could get off.
We'd all prepared our speeches. Pete's was hilarious, or so I've been told. It'd had Artie ruffled and blushing and Steve on the floor in stitches. Claudia had insisted on speaking also, after fully assuming her position as chief Bridesmaid, and I'd insisted she spoke as well. My Father said that she had spoken beautifully, even brought a tear to his eye, which if you knew my father, you'd tell me I was pulling your leg.
But I don't remember. I don't remember any of it. Maybe I should have gotten a videographer, that's what my mother tells me anyway. I told you so. Thanks mum, next time yeah? The first thing I remember was looking for her, looking everywhere, and not finding her. It had been our first dance, and she wasn't there. I'd scanned the faces in the small group surrounding us as Matthew had taken my hand. Smiling faces looked upon us, tears of happiness flowed steadily from my mother, as my father stood by with a supportive but firm hand on her shoulder. Everyone was there, everyone but her, everyone but Helena.
She was supposed to be there, she'd said she'd be there. She'd helped Claudia and I pick out flowers and choose colour schemes, she'd come to my dress fitting, told me when I looked good and when I looked ravishing. She'd even arranged the venue, and a stunning venue it had been. She'd wanted so much to be a part of it, I'd wanted her to be a part of it. We both understood why, though neither of us spoke of it. Only one of a multiplicity of things I regret when it comes to HG Wells.
I had tried to think back to earlier in the day. Had she been at the service? I couldn't remember. At the meal? I'd drawn a blank, not only at the attendance of HG Wells, but I'd drawn a blank on the entire day. I couldn't remember the vows or the meal or the speeches. I 'd allowed Matthew to twirl me around the dance floor as all I could do was let my body follow his lead, my head was elsewhere. I had tried desperately to cast my mind back to the last thing I could recall. I began to ask myself if I'd even remembered getting up that morning. I knew the plan had been for the hairdresser to arrive at the B&B for 0630 hrs, but did I actually recall ever seeing the hairdresser that day? I knew I didn't. The last thing I'd remembered, and to this day I've not managed to recall anything after this moment until that first dance, was getting in my car the day before the wedding after a shift at the Warehouse with Helena and putting my keys in the ignition. After that, everything went blank for exactly 22 hours and 19 minutes, when I came around, so to speak, I was married and she was gone, and it's been that way for three years.
At least I have the photos, and they are beautiful, I must say. So many familiar, smiling faces; family and colleagues. Well, all family really, every single one of them. I did look pretty awesome that day, if I do say so myself. And even Pete looked like the dashing rogue he'd always claimed to be. And who knew Artie scrubbed up so well? And could smile so brightly? Claudia in her purple, strapless dress, grinning from ear to ear can be seen tucked under Steve's arm as he smiles proudly, and Leena looks enchanting as always, wearing the same as my one and only Bridesmaid. Everyone's smiling, everyone's happy, even Matthew who had been so nervous before the ceremony. He will forever recount the story of his disastrous journey to the church, but after the dust had settled he looked so happy, happy and proud. Proud to have me, proud of me, proud of his new family.
There is one person in the photo, however, who isn't smiling, and that person is me. For a long time I looked at that photo and saw a stranger staring back, for a long time I was angry, but I was angry about a lot of things. I was angry that someone had taken away some of my most precious memories from me, I was angry that I had absolutely no control over that and I was angry that there was someone missing from the photo as well as me. Someone who knew me better than anyone, maybe the only person who would have known it wasn't me behind those eyes. I've asked Leena numerous times since then about my aura that day, but all she could tell me was that I'd shone brighter than I'd ever shone before. But how could I have if I wasn't me? How could I have with her gone?
Maybe if I could get those 22 hours and 19 minutes back I'd be a little more the wiser. So you see, when most people tell you, Oh my wedding day just flew by, I don't remember a thing, it's probably because they were in a flap over there being one too many vegetarians than they'd catered for, or that the father of the Bride was known for his love of liquor and was already juiced up to the eyeballs before the speeches had even started . No, not me, I don't remember my wedding day because someone else did it for me. Someone else is behind my eyes in all of those photos. Someone had Atticus Finched me, they'd got all up in my skin and walked around in it on the happiest day of my life, and up until recently, I couldn't even begin to understand who or why. But things change. Sometimes reliving something over and over only helps to cheapen a memory, not cherish it. Watching a home video or revisiting photo albums can help to rekindle old memories, but if you live it over and over you begin to see the cracks, something that started out perfect suddenly becomes imperfect as your expectations change and shift. A stellar performance can become flawed simply because after multiple viewings, it's no longer groundbreaking or new. It no longer excites in the same way.
Mine and Matthew's marriage started off a happy one. He was my one, my one who knew about the Warehouse, my one I chose to tell. I told him the night he proposed, he needed to understand what he was marrying into. He was a nice normal guy who liked normal things and had a normal job teaching French at a pretty normal local High School in Univille. When we met, he was like a breath of fresh air. He was everything I needed, he was constant, and for some reason that was all I needed. He was there and he loved me. But I made a mistake, as we all do I suppose. He was constant but he wasn't her. I'd compromised and found myself wanting.
She'd left the Warehouse on the eve of my wedding day. She'd told Leena she was being sent on an emergency assignment when she packed her things and left the B&B. She'd lied. I waited. I think I'd hoped that maybe she'd come home to me, grab me and shake me telling me what a terrible mistake I'd made. Sweep me off my feet and tell me how she was never going to leave my side again. That day never came though. I spoke to Artie but he shut me down in usual Artie fashion. I even spoke to Mrs Fredericks but she told me Helena G Wells had completely dropped off the Warehouse's radar.
Eventually I asked Claudia to look into it for me, for if anyone could find HG it was her, but she'd simply shook her head. She'd told me that I had a chance at happiness and that I should be taking it. After all, not a lot of Warehouse Agents get that chance. I had a loving husband and loyal family in the Warehouse, and I should settle for that. She'd insisted that settle had been a slip of the tongue and quickly corrected herself. She'd told me settling would in fact be welcoming HG back every time she finally decided to come home after some jaunt into the world of criminality. Settling would be waiting for Helena. So I waited, and I settled with Matthew.
It was unfair on him, I know. I'm a horrible person, and a terrible wife, but I was never unfaithful, just unfulfilled, and after time so was he. The Warehouse demanded more and more of my time. There were more and more artifacts of greater and greater power and it was beginning to get hairy out there. I missed her. I missed her strength, her optimism. I missed how she believed in me even when I didn't. She had been my partner in almost every way imaginable, every way except one. At first I thought that maybe she was just giving me time, but as the months past I began to realise I'd lost her. I'd taken too long and she wasn't coming back. Who could blame her? I had gotten married to someone else for God's sake. So I buried my head even deeper into Warehouse business than usual, and desperately tried to fill the Helena shaped hole that got inexplicably bigger with every week that went by. I volunteered for every inventory and every excursion, and I even began to spend nights back at the B&B in my old room. Sometimes I'd even spent nights in hers.
Before long, I wasn't a wife anymore, I had simply become an occasional visitor to the Bering-Hart household. There was a big bad coming, Artie had tried to hide his concern but the quieter he is on a subject, the more worried you should be, and he had kept pretty schtum on the topic for quite a while.
After four days in Boston, three in New York and then another three in Philadelphia spent chasing an artefact, I had finally found myself back in the Warehouse, logging and depositing our most recent acquisition. A piano key believed to have originated from Beethoven's first piano. It imbued it's owner with an incredible musical talent but unfortunately also stripped them of the ability to hear their masterful creations, or anything else for that matter. It was then that I saw it again, for the first time in a long time. Helena's machine. HG Wells' 'Time Machine'. And that's when I knew what to do, what I had done, and what I was going to do.
Helena had always said that the ink with which our lives are inscribed is indelible, and perhaps she was right, perhaps there was no use in going back to that day, the day she left, the 22 hours and 19 minutes I lost, I know it won't change anything, it can't. I can't change my past, but maybe it could give me the tools to change my future.
When I found Helena's machine in the Warehouse I knew that it had been me, I knew that I had been the one to gatecrash my own wedding. From 1812 hrs the night before to 1631 hrs on my wedding day, Myka Bering, 35 years of age, had body snatched Myka Bering, 32 years of age on the biggest day of her life. I couldn't help but smile when I found the note attached to back of one of the chairs, a note left there for me to find, a note left three years prior. My stomach fluttered with excitement and anticipation and my heart swelled with hope. I read the words, hands trembling and I knew things were going to change.
My darling Myka, so you've come looking for me? I knew you would eventually. I've made a few modifications, I do hope Artie won't mind. I'm sure you'll know what to do. There are so many things I long to say love, but I shall keep them with me, close to my heart, ready for when we meet again. I'll see you soon my dear. Yours always. - Helena.
TBC
Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading :) - Alex.