Chapter 1
A/N A few thoughts on 'What If' Myka wrote that book she had started in that episode of season (sorry, had to choke down the bile in the back of my throat) 5. Set ten years later.
I want to give a big shout out to Roberta for all her help.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of SyFy.
September 21
Helena rolled over onto her back with a heavy sigh, the pillow, unconsciously clutched tight against her chest, her other hand fumbling on the nightstand next to her very single bed, tired eyes squinting as she tried to focus on the blurred red light of the clock. She tossed her pillow aside as her fingers gripped the black frame glasses, her head falling back onto her pillow, knowing smudge marks were made by the slip of her finger over them.
"If Charles could see me now," Helena mumbling as she used the corner of her undershirt to clean the lens:
"Karma, my dear sister." her thinking back to all the teasing and whispers behind her mother's back whenever the matriarch would try discreetly to resettle them after slipping down the bridge of her nose. "Serves her right for forcing me to sit in the parlor, darning socks of all things!," Helena huffed, Charles just shaking his head as she ranted on about the merits of knowing one's way around a workbench or library and not giving a flip if her husband's 'Which will be a cold day in hell' big toe poked through his socks.
Years of stubbornness, of an inflated ego and a hidden fear of wasting away to the cruel hands of time were slowly eroded with the passing of the years she now spent in the solitude of her own choosing. "Yes, yes. I chose the bronzer," lifting her glasses up to the faint glow of her nightlight to inspect for any smudges. "Quite mad at the time, but now," placing the frames on her face, she turned her head to the far corner of her room.
"You do realize that a lifetime ago, I would have destroyed you" Helena raised her finger, tracing designs in the air as she continued. "Well, maybe two lifetimes ago, never was one for creepy crawlies. That is until Myk … a fellow literature lover introduced to me E.B. White's tale of an unusual friendship between one such as yourself and a young swine."
The soft chime of her cell phone interrupted her train of thought, her body reacting as she rose out of bed, moving to the small web in the upper corner, gently removing a few slivers of the silk. "There, let's see how you manage to adjust and compensate with this little engineering design …"
For a few weeks, since her visitor arrived, she idled the sleepless hours away studying the small spider, marveling at its unique web designs, daring to move a silken thread with curiosity as to how it would compensate.
Helena turned on the water in her shower, her fingers testing for the right warmth as she watched her glasses fog up from the steam, entering the shower, a wistful memory flooded her thoughts from another pair of steamed lens: 'a little slice of heaven' she once remarked to Leena, the corner of her lip turning up slightly at the low thud of the half eaten apple falling from Pete's mouth, the feel of her hips brushing inside the terry cloth robe lent to her from the very one whose blush cheeks caused her sashay.
"Heaven" she scoffed, a mist of water formed from those words as Helena mulled over the word. Over how she was raised, or rather forced into the English church as a child, growing more cynical and questioning the teachings as she witnessed the social injustice, the cruelty and disregard for life that was commonplace.
"Politics and religion,"
"Pardon?" Helena startled by the words as she walked with the caretaker, the astrolabe in her satchel clutched against her, the remark bringing her out of the intent search for one last glimpse of curly hair.
"I believe it best to avoid those two topics if you find yourself forced into conversation." the caretaker opening the back door, her hand resting on Helena's shoulder.
"I never held much stock in blind faith,"
"I hope you find peace one day in whatever calms your soul."
Helena frowned at her reflection in the steamed mirror, only a sliver of clear from where she had wiped the condensation away. The thought of an almighty being who allowed her Christina to be ripped from her was an all-consuming hatred the first few decades in her bronze prison. She gripped the edge of the sink, forcing herself to stare straight into her eyes, refusing to flee from these thoughts.
Mrs Frederic had cracked the door; Nate's snide remark of 'seeking professional help' as she packed that day was driven further by Adelaide's tear soaked face. Her breaking point, aside from the two weeks spent, many empty containers of ice cream and Gin bottles later, was the door closing on her, Giselle whispering to get some help.
Years were spent with professionals, investment of heart and soul to come to terms with her demons. Finally, a quiet peace started to settle deep inside, but she was realistic, the scars would always remain, only choosing to stir when a quick glance of an oddity in the local paper was read or the yearly greeting card that appeared in her post office box.
XXX
This day was met with the usual routine Helena followed throughout the eight years since moving to this small corner of the states. After Giselle, Helena had contemplated moving back to the old world, a few weeks abroad had her longing for the comfort she had settled into after her reawakening.
"Be honest"
The words crossing her lips, the silent mantra she would repeat when those scars started to flare, a suggestion from one of the many Freud wannabes she visited over the years. She stopped just before the door to the post office, her hand gripping but her feet refusing any commands till she owned up.
"Just a million and one chance, a brief glimpse of her," she whispered, frozen in place.
"Ms Wells?" the cheery voice booming from inside the building just as young woman cleared her throat.
"Excuse me, May I?" the closeness of the words compounded by the booming voice vibrating at the glass door caused Helena to step aside.
"Yes, of course. How rude of …" the rest of the words catching at the back of her throat as she looked into a mass of dark curls. Her eyes wide until the small squeak of a child's voice cleared away those thoughts. Helena bowed slightly as she held the door open for the mother and child, following just a few steps behind.
Helena stood patiently behind the young mother, smiling when the young boy would dare to glance up at her, giggling as he would quickly turn away, burying his face in his mother's skirt.
Helena could not help but overhear as the two women prattled on about their Thursday night book club, Helena shuffling from one foot to the other as recipes and odd sounding cocktail names were bantered about.
"And guess what finally came in!" the postmasters voice causing Helena to sigh with gratitude, entertaining the young boy who was intent on gaining every ounce of her attention jumped as the books fell off the counter.
"Here, let me help," Helena smiled with relief, a needed distraction from the incessant staring of the little boy. Both women bent down, the mother becoming distracted as the boy kept trying to escape her grasp. Helena was piling the books on top of one another, hefting them up on the counter, side eyeing the young mother as she placed them in the oversized purse.
"Anything for me?" Helena asked, giving a curt wave to mother and child as they exited the post office...
"Just the usual and of course, your yearly Hallmark," she grinned as she waited with it, Helena not looking up as she scanned her letters.
"Do you want me to stamp it?" the smile falling from her face. Every year, for the last eight years, Helena would always have her stamp 'return to sender' ever since the first year she saw the return address 'Univille, SD'.
Helena stopped, her hand holding a stack of bills, advertisements and junk mail. She set the pile down on the counter, pushing her outgoing mail over to the woman. "What has got the book club so enthralled this month?" her fingers tracing over the raised watermark brand of the card as it sat on the counter.
"Just only the number one bestselling book for the last two months straight!" she beamed. Then ducking down under the counter, Helena was tempted to lean over, curious at all the noise and shuffling going on down under. Then she froze, the full feel of the envelope was pushed against her palm. Helena knew it was some form of a birthday greeting, every year on this date it would arrive.
The soft thump of the book hitting the counter caused Helena to jump back, her hand flying off the card as if it was molten lead. "This is the fifth one in the series," the woman beaming as if she was revealing the whole grail itself.
"I love it no matter what those religious nutballs say," whispering the words to Helena as she leaned closer, sliding the book over. "Love is love and mixed with adventure and the heartache those two go through," she frowned a bit, pushing the book closer as she leaned back. "But all that time travel stuff is a bit confusing."
Helena quickly brushed her hair away from the curtain it had formed around her face, her semi shield from the world around her. "Really? What kind of time travel?" Helena pushing the screaming thoughts back down, deep, buried, not letting that small ember of hope flame.
"Nothing like that Doctor thing on BBC, so confusing," the woman rolling her eyes. "I swear Marge would not stop, going on and on about that timey what its thing 'bout gave us all migraines." the woman then turning to help a man, her hand pushing the book closer to Helena. But she refused to look at, diverting her eyes to anything but that hard back. She straightened her back, clearing her throat and waiting for a break in the conversation.
"What kind of time travel?" her thumb rubbing at the sharp corner of the edge of the book, giving a faint smile to the elder man who was deep in thought as to purchase the young, leather Elvis or the more flamboyant Elvis stamps.
"Good movie, not that silly remake, but the classic," the old man turning to face Helena. "Rod Steiger was the best, nothing compares to the classic." the faint smile of ill-fitting dentures pressed against thin lips. "But nothing compares to the book, a man ahead of his time that Wells fellow."
Helena felt her ears leave her shoulders as she leaned toward the man, "I had a friend, once." Helena then clearing her throat, "Her father used to read that book to her when she was a child," the sudden mist clouding over those brown eyes was not lost on the elder gentleman.
"For my grandson, which stamps would you choose," the voice soft, the touch light on Helena's hand.
"Hey, your name is Wells, any relation? Do I have a celebrity in my post office?" her voice chipper as she leaned between the two of them over the counter. "Say, why don't you join us for our book club?"
The elderly man smiled, nudging Helena's arm, a playful smirk starting to form and Helena wondered if this has been the most entertainment this older gentleman had experienced in some time. "I assure you both that there is no relation whatsoever. Wells is a common name across the pond." Helena forcing a good hearted smile, her thumb pressing harder against the shape corner of the hardback sitting on the counter.
"Shame," the woman sighed as she pulled out the book of Elvis stamps. "Would have been a hoot to introduce you as the great granddaughter of that Wells fellow." she shrugged. "Here, take my copy," the woman pushing the book further into Helena.
"No, really. I can't take your copy." Helena tracing over the front cover, not daring to turn it over for fear of a long ago face looking back.
"Go on, hun. I have two more copies," winking as she turned back to the elder man.
Helena gave a soft sound of defeat, gathering all her mail plus the book into her brown satchel, then sling it over her shoulder. "Well, I should be off, a business to run and what not. A pleasure meeting you sir," the man holding Helena's hand for a brief moment before nodding to her.
"Ms Wells?" the name stopping her as she was just exiting the building.
"Yes?" she smiled back.
"Which Elvis would you choose?" Helena contemplating the question for a brief minute before starting out the door.
"Viva Las Vegas"
XXX
"You're late" the young man snipping as he loaded a tray of cups up on the counter.
"I'm allowed," Helena retorted, standing on her toes to look over the long line of people waiting for their morning brews as she tied the black apron around, securing the knot behind her back. Her booted heel pushing her satchel under the counter, away from the prying eyes.
"What can I get you?" Helena asking the next customer in line, her head down after dealing order after order as she steamed the cup, ready for the last onslaught of early students to class.
"Extra-large Americano, extra shot and room," the soft female asking. Her hand stilling on the cup and handle. Myka's favorite, she silently cursed, deathly afraid to look up for fear of greens eyes.
"Shit!" Helena cursed as the steaming liquid spilt over the brim and down her fingers.
"You okay? I didn't mean to … um...are you alright?" Helena had turned, shaking off the burn and fear of the one thing that she had not made peace with. She let out a cleansing sigh, rubbing her hands down the front of her apron as she willed herself to turn.
"Quite alright, just a hazard of the job," Helena smiling as she looked at a fresh faced, young red-headed girl with azure eyes. "Nothing like Myka," Helena whispered under her breath as she completed the young girl's order.
"Two Blueberry scones," her young assistant bumping against her as he handed over the brown bag to the tall girl. "Anything else?" he asked as he started to ring up her order.
"Just charge for the pastry," Helena was saying as she handed the steaming cup over to the girl.
"But?" Kurt was frowning, and then punching the order.
"I spilt her coffee, on the house," Helena winked. The girl paying and rushing out the door, a soft 'thank you' floating behind her.
Two hours later and three patrons sipping their libations in random chairs, Helena jumped as Kurt dropped the bin of used plates and cups next her. "You know she has a major crush on you,"
Helena kept her head down, ringing up the till from the last hour, "And who are you referring to?"
Kurt leaned against the counter, hands bracing his weight as he bent his head to meet her eyes, Miss Americano extra shoot with room. You know she has been coming here every day since I told her you bake everything,"
"She is a child," Helena never bothering to look up as she recounted the till.
"She is a grad student working on her doctorate in English literature," his voice dropping as his eyebrows rose.
"And what of it?" Helena moving the bin of used cups back toward the kitchen. "I refuse to have a childish conversation about a girl whom I could be her great … older sister." Helena huffing as she dropped the bin down with a loud clunk to emphasize her point.
"Give it up HG; every time a tall, leggy girl walks in here, you bolt for the cap machine. I mean I get it," Kurt grabbing the freshly washed cups, hand drying them as he followed behind HG.
"Get what? Please, enlighten this ancient relic," sarcasm ignored as he followed her around the coffee shop.
"I get the whole brooding thing, 'she did me wrong' and what not, god knows I've added a few chaps in that lady handbook of yours," Kurt now grinning ear to ear as Helena glared at him.
"You are a cad and if not for the best cappuccino and proper seeped English tea, you arse would be wiped from the face of the earth," Helena's frustration growing as she lost count of the morning bake till, again.
"Ha ha," Kurt's grin fading as fast as the seriousness rising on Helena's face. His hands slowing at drying the cups as he moved a few steps away from his boss. "I mean ...um...those were just rumors about you being M-6, a secret agent and killing with just your thumb, right?"
Helena sighed, throwing a death glare as she lost count of the till, again. "For the record and I will not repeat this ever again," Kurt leaning a millimeter closer.
"I was employed by the American Internal Revenue Service for said amount of years in the exotic local of South Dakota. I have never or ever been in the employ of this M-6 thing you keep spouting on about," Helena flipping her hand at the young man.
"Fine, got it. You are a stuffy English MILF who receives a Hallmark card every year from the badlands." Kurt tossing the wet rag in the sink, reaching for a dry one hanging on the rack.
"What did you reference?" Helena's voice rising with agitation.
"What? MILF? It stands for Mothers I Like to Fu…" Helena's head was spinning, eyes narrowing as she felt the old tunnel vision take hold. She stepped back with her hand raised "Do not finish that word," fists clenching at her side. "How the bloody hell do you know about the cards?"
Kurt gulped as he inched back, his foot hitting the bag under the counter, "See ... just hold on." his one hand raised as he reached for the bag under the counter. "My mom works at the post office and every year on this day, a card is there for you but you always make her return it."
Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he carefully put the bag on the counter, "Tell me I am wrong, beside other mail …" him looking as he dug through her bag, "There will be no card in here from South Dak…" his voice fading as he pulled out the envelope.
Helena stood there, arms crossed as she watched him rummage through her bag, smiling as to the thoughts of the many ways she could end his existence as he placed the card down on the counter.
"So?" Kurt looking anywhere but at the woman.
"You going to open it?" the soft sound of the front door opening caused them to turn, both sighing relieve that nothing more was to be shared.
"Go clean the cap machine, I have this," Helena spinning around, her smile forward before her thought as she met familiar azure eyes.
"Um, hi," the girl's voice soft but sure as she gave a faint wave. "I was hoping to catch you before you left," her hand extending out to meet Helena's.
"Hello, again," Helena smiled as she shook the girl's offed hand, silently marveling at the firm, sure grip, watching the soft spoken girl standing tall as she held on to Helena's hand. She quickly studies the young woman, catching faint hints as to a young, college age Myka. The mixture of shyness warring with a longing of self-confidence tugged at her.
"And you are?" Helena asked.
"Oh, right, excuse my manners." the girl pulled her hand away, tugging lightly on her collage sweatshirt, her eyes steeling on Helena's. "I am Amy, Amy Smith." her blush just a tint of red as she tried to control herself.
"Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Miss Smith. I am Helena Wells," trying her best to rein in that classic smirk.
"I was hoping you might like to join me for a cup of coffee and …" looking around the place they were standing in, "Or maybe something else?" her shoulders dipping from her faux pas, but yet her eyes remained calm. Helena could hear the snicker from Kurt all the way from the kitchen.
Her ego making itself known.
"I would be delighted, just let me gather my things," Helena was saying, just as she slung her bag over her, she stopped mid-stride, "I'm to assume you are of legal drinking age, Ms Smith."
The faint blush from the girl almost knocked the wind out of Helena's lungs, only such a hue was seen from Myka in those early years, of the days of deception she had tried to make peace with.
"Go, I'll lock up," Kurt winking from around the kitchen corner.
XXX
Helena reined her smirk when the waiter asked for ID as they ordered drinks, a nice stroll along the boardwalk ended with a small Tiki hut at the end of the short pier.
"My I?" Helena asked, a finger pointing at the ID Amy was now starting to tuck in her billfold.
"Show you mine, show me yours," Amy imededlity clapping her hand over her mouth, head bowed as she handed Helena her ID. Helena chuckled as she reached into her satchel, digging around; she absentmindedly placed a few items on the table as she searched for her ID, Frowning as she came across the old ID of Emily Lake.
"Everything okay?" Amy asked as she nodded her thanks for the drinks the server placed down. Her eyes zeroing in on the unopened card lying on the table as Helena searched for her Warehouse ID.
"What is this? A birthday card?" Amy's hands stilling just before touching the card.
"Perhaps," Helena replied, a tight smile forming across her lips as she started to pull the card away.
"May I?" her fingers grazing over Helena's. "If it is your birthday, don't you think you should open it?"
Helena slugged back her drink, raising her hand to the waitress for another as she sat back in the chair, her head lulling back, eyes half closed as she allowed herself to feel in such a long time.
"Amy, if that is your name." Helena holding her hand up to silence the young woman. "I assume the Regents have sent you to check up on me?" her eyes locking the young agent down. All Amy could do was nod.
"My real name is Amy," she whispered. "Every year, on your birthday, they send someone around to check …" downing her drink, she tugged at the server, requesting another round. The young woman stood up, tapping her foot until the server showed up. Making a quick grab of their drinks, she tilted her head toward the beach, hoping the seasoned agent would follow.
They walked in silence for a few paces, both having taken off their shoes, drinks in hand as they walked the secluded beach.
"So, Amy." Helena taking a small sip of her Scotch. "Tell me, why you?"
"I volunteered for this," the young woman stopping, making quick work of her whiskey. "I watched as they tried to recruit other women for this, you know tall, curls and great looks," Amy shrugged as she quickens her pace. "I know I was not quite your standard, red hair and blue eyes and all. But I am just as near damn smart and have never heard complaints about my long, chicken legs," a blush forming, finding its way down under the soft blue t she was wearing.
"What do they require from your report?" Helena stopping just as a wave washed over her bare toes.
"That you are stable, not wanting to end the world," Amy turning away, holding her hand up as she rushed to the last Tiki bar getting ready to close for the night. "Just give me a sec." she rushed out as she sprinted to the bar.
Helena sighed as she sat down near a coconut palm, laying back, she closed her eyes and listened to the rhythmic sway of the ocean breeze playing a soft tune as it blew through the palms. Helena listened as the young girl ran back to her, the soft clink of the glasses reverberating in her pants.
"You are absolved from the requirement of having sex with me," Helena's eyes closed as she spoke. Not hearing anything from the young woman next to her, Helena turned her eyes half opened as she nodded her thanks for a full glass handed to her.
"And what led you to assume sex was my issue?" Amy looking into Helena's eyes from over the rim of her glass.
"Ahh, if you wish to be my 'handler' for the Regents, I suggest you dye your hair and add some curl," Helena's voice full of sarcasm as she reached around the young agent, grasping for the bottle on her side.
"Helena?" the voice was matched with the grip on Helena's wrist, stilling both their movements.
"I am not Agent Bering," she whispered next to the shell of Helena's ear, both giving a slight shiver from the warmth of the young agent's words.
"Then is this some wanton fantasy, a chance to bed the great HG Wells? With Arthur's disapproval, no doubt," Helena mumbling into her glass.
"Agent Nielsen retired years ago because of his failing health. Agent Bering reluctantly took over his position after months of protests from caretaker Donovan,"
"Only months before Myka gave in?" Helena taking the bottle from the young woman. "So Myka is fully ingrained into the warehouse?" Helena said, sipping on her drink. "Do you know that man completely saw through me? Refusing to shake my hand when I was reinstated the first time?" Helena's words becoming softer and slow as she spoke.
"Myka all but risked her life to help me." Helena becoming silent at the thought of her words.
"It was just a means to an end, to play on her loss as my way into the warehouse," Helena never looking at the young girl as she poured another drink. "Peter was nothing of a challenge, kissing me before he even knew my name. But Myka, when she rounded that corner in my house." Helena sighed as she downed the next drink.
"So, Agent Amy or whatever you are calling yourself. Have I supplied enough intel for your report?" Helena standing up, brushing away the sand on the back of her jeans.
"More than enough, thank you Ms Wells," Amy then grabbing Helena's elbow, both to steady her and the legend walking beside her.
"Just so you know, I read all your books." Helena raising an eyebrow as they walked to Helena's cottage. "Agent Bering had said that you supplied the research and ideas, that Charles was the writer." a smirk playing across the woman's lips.
"Tell me Amy, who is the one that sends a card every year on my birth date?" her arm wrapping tighter around the young woman. "And no fibs, mind you. You best remember to respect your elders," Helena grinning as they made their way up to her home.
"And if I told you?" the young woman pressing her body flush against the other.
"Would not matter, of last word, her and Agent Lattimer are as one." Helena sighing out the last of her words.
"Helena? May I call you by your Christian name?" Amy's words wafting gentle breaths against the nape of Helena's neck. "They broke up years ago, before my time."
Helena just nodded as she tilted her neck a bit to the left, letting this young girl have her way.
"No one should be alone, unloved on their birthday," Amy whispered as she kissed every inch of skin she exposed.
"Are you Myka's gift to me?" Helena cupping the young girl's cheeks between her palms. Helena's eyes misting as she watched the young girl nod. "I'm here, with you, because I choose to be. Not some damn order from the warehouse."
September 29
"Here is the same report I presented to the regents," Myka never looking up as Amy tossed the report on her desk. "Next time you need someone to whore out, don't call me." Amy marching to the rear door.
"How was she …" Amy stilling her hand on the door, her eyes downcast.
"Just come out and ask me," Amy sighed, her head thumping softly against the door. "She got all your cards, returning everyone except the last."
"I noticed," Myka dead panned as she thumbed over the new card sent to her. "Is she well? I mean, health wise, taking care of herself?"
Amy tried to repress her anger, her knuckles turning white at the death grip on the umbilicus door knob. "Why not ask her yourself, Agent Bering" the venom spewing from her words.
"Ah, so you had a connection?" Myka looking back down at her paperwork.
"No! Agent Bering, we did not have wild sex." Amy all but growling. "I do not give a rat's ass if you fire me; kill me or whatever happens to agents here. But I will tell you this," Amy slamming her first down on the table, Myka never flinching. "We held each other all night, me with my convictions refused to allow a person, Helena, to spend her birthday alone."
"Are you done?" Myka never looking up.
"With all due respect Agent Bering," Amy waiting till Myka met her eyes before she left this so called endless wonder.
"I'm listening," Myka said as she capped the old Mont Blanc pen. Her finger sliding over the raised initials of its former owner.
"You are a heartless bitch,"