Author's note: Whew guys! I said it'd be slow coming! This chapter is not my favorite, but hey! It's done. For those of you who started following early you may want to notice that every chapter begins with an H.G. Wells quote (yes I added one to last chapter!) Also, FF will not register asterisks so none of the scenes are seperated as I'd like, but you can imagine them... Hope you like!

Chapter Two

Do I make you uncomfortable?

If you fell down yesterday, stand up today.

-H.G. Wells

"Hey Artie, what's the scoop?" Claudia slid into her chair and spun around to her desk, resting her elbows firmly on the table. "Any pings yet?"

"Actually, no." Artie grunted, "But there's someone here who needs to see you. A former agent."

"Good Morning Artie," Myka entered calmly, pulling on shirt sleeves. She'd evened herself significantly. Work was work, everything else came later.

"Mmhmm," Artie looked down and fiddled with some papers. Myka clenched her fists. Deep breaths.

They walked into the common room. Pete and HG were seated at the table already. Helena was absent-mindedly fiddling with her hair; she did that a lot. Her gaze was unsettled, definitely not her usual, but she snapped out of it when Artie and Claudia entered. Claudia sat beside her, trying to keep busy with her papers.

"Am I making you nervous?" HG whispered.

"Ah, no," Claudia hesitated, "no, it's just,"

HG searched her for an answer, but Claudia couldn't seem to find one.

"I'm, I'm sorry about…"

She raised a hand, "Don't."

Claudia nodded.

"Is there something the two of you would like to share with class?" Artie asked in a bitterly sarcastic tone.

"No," they chorused a little too quickly.

"I was just ah, asking a question," Helena fumbled.

"I see, well save it for your own time," he said. Myka felt her fingers ache from clenching them. It wasn't fair; she deserved a second chance. Everyone did. Hadn't she proven herself enough? In the past weeks she'd proved herself more of an agent than anybody else. Myka had never met anyone so loyal to the Warehouse and its cause. She'd saved Claudia, she'd saved Myka, wasn't that proof enough that she deserved at least a chance?

Suddenly a short, pale woman appeared behind Artie, "You are still the people who hunt artifacts, yes?" she asked.

"Right on time," Artie said, leading the elderly woman to the table. "Team this is Rebecca. Rebecca these are our agents, Agent Bering and Agent Latimer, and this is our tech guru Ms. Claudia Donnavan." They waved pleasantly. He stopped his glance at HG.

"And who's she?" Rebecca asked, smiling warmly at an uncomfortable Helena.

"She's the new girl, not important to what you're here for. She'll just watch I assume." He glared at HG, daring her to protest. But Helena was fairly tough, and didn't seem to take shit from anyone.

"I can help," she tried.

"No, that'll be alright,"

"But I don't mind," Rebecca said

"It's not necessary,"

"Artie I need to talk to you," Myka interrupted calmly as she could manage. He hesitated. "Now," she insisted.

They walked out into a connected hallway, Myka trying her best not to stomp. Her blood was boiling. Artie was never this insensitive. The Warehouse was a family; he couldn't continue treating her this way.

"What do you want?" He asked.

"I want to know why you're being so rude to Helena."

"Oh, Helena is it? Are you two best friends now?" He mocked.

Best friends, something like that. "Artie the regents have reinstated her. We are a family here, a big, giant, strange family, but a family, and you cannot keep treating her like an outsider!" Doesn't she already feel like one enough?

"I can do whatever I want, and you can't tell me about it. I don't trust her, and you shouldn't either. She's dangerous Myka."

"A lot of things in this world are dangerous Artie," Myka softened her tone and took a step closer, trying to close the gap of tension between them. "There are thousands of artifacts behind these very walls that are magical and fantastic and beautiful and dangerous. Maybe HG is like that. Beautiful and fantastic and…"

"Dangerous," he asserted.

"Artie you're being childish."

"No Myka, you're being childish, protecting her like the new girl on the playground. This isn't a playground. That woman doesn't belong here. She's a villain not an agent."

"That woman," Myka shuddered, feeling her anger begin to boil again, "has a name. And I refuse to call her the villain, because she isn't one. Second chances Artie, you got one."

His face contorted in that way it did when he didn't want to admit he was wrong. Myka took a few breaths. "I still don't trust her," he said finally. Myka opened her lips to say something more, but his Farnsworth buzzed. "What?" he demanded. Myka waited while he spoke. "I have to go, ping alert in Delaware."

"I'll come with you!" She said.

"No!" he yelled, too loud, "I mean, I'll go alone." He walked heavily toward the door.

Myka stood stone still, like moving an inch might shatter the comforting silence, "You can't just freeze me out because I believed in her and I said so," Myka said quietly as he reached for the doorknob. He stopped for a moment, and then left without saying anything more.

"Hey Mykes! Where's Artie?" Pete asked. They were gathered around some old grainy photographs strewn across the table.

"Ping in Delaware," she said, sliding into a chair to examine the pictures.

"He didn't need any help?"

"Apparently not," It got quiet for a moment, "So, what can we do for you Rebecca?" she asked, annoyed at the uneasiness in the room.

"It was many years ago. A man named Jonah Ross," she handed Myka a folder with articles and photos clipped to the inside, "He was the editor of Where and When magazine, and a murderer. Killed three of his female interns."

Myka looked up, "And you think he used an artifact."

"Somehow he altered their bodies. All we could find at the site were shards of some glass-like material. Whatever it was it shattered easily."

"Sounds like an artifact," Myka chewed on her lip.

"We were never able to find out how he did it,"

"We?" Pete asked.

"My partner Jack and I. We were hot on the case but, well, I'm not sure actually. We just blacked out. And that day was when he killed those girls."

"You just blacked out? For how long?" HG looked at her across the table intently.

"22 hours and 19 minutes I believe, why?" Rebecca looked puzzled.

HG ran a hand up her arm in that way she did when she was hiding something. "I, um," she stuttered, "I think I might know why."

The archives were dark and damp, spider silk clung to every corner and crate and shelf they walked past. Myka swatted the sticky strands from her hair. She wasn't keen in the idea of going behind Artie's back right now, he was upset enough with she and Helena, this could only make it worse.

"I know this is your section, but why are we here again?" Pete asked.

"Ah! Here it is," HG wrenched open a large crate, smiling at herself. She turned, "My time machine."

Myka laughed despite herself, "You're kidding right? It was a great novel Helena but…"

"It doesn't work like the one I wrote of. That's a physical impossibility," she stated. Myka rolled her eyes. Of course! "No, I was intrigued by the idea of transporting consciousness. You know, one's mind." She grinned.

"So why didn't you write about that?" Claudia asked.

"Darling, I wrote about what I couldn't create. See, what was impossible in gears and electricity became possible in ink and parchment. Writing was my gateway to the inconceivable." Her gaze turned foreign for a moment. Myka stared at her. She was so still when she was remembering. She was wounded by something for her past, something terrible and crippling that Myka didn't know or understand, but she wanted to.

"Hey guys, get a load of this note," Pete grasped a sticky note he peeled from the side of the box.

Pete, it's Pete. Hi Pete! The handwriting changed. Myka, it's well, Myka. Listen, you have to go back in HG's machine, it's the only way to secure the artifact for Rebecca, just remember…" The ink trailed of messily.

"You're kidding," she said, feeling everyone's eyes dig into her. "I'm not going back in time," she asserted. Silence. "I'm not!"

She groaned. She was gonna have to do it.

They began unpacking the machine and assembling the pieces. The agents tried their best not to giggle, but it truly did look like it was yanked straight from a science fiction novel.

"If I may remind you all that you work in a massive warehouse filled with magical and lethal artifacts that if I do recall can turn either of you crazy in two seconds flat," Helena said snidely, staring down Myka and Pete.

"Well she's a little wise-assy isn't she?" Pete whispered.

"Not particularly darling," she turned, "But an excellent listener." She raised her eyebrows as she finished setting up the last piece of equipment. "Okay, all set."

HG got them properly hooked up and stepped back a bit.

Claudia laughed, "You know, millions of people right now are sitting in cubicles programming menial software and dying of boredom. You two are hooked up to a time machine invented in the 1800s by H.G. Wells, who happens to be very much still alive and a woman."

They smiled. "So HG, is this, um, safe?" Pete asked.

She grinned, leaning on a large lever, "Well, I certainly hope so." She gave Myka a reassuring look, and thrust the lever down.

"Whoa, I always thought the past would be in black and white or something," Pete said, examining his suede suit coat and slacks. Myka turned to examine her own reflection in the glass. She was wearing a tight skirt suit and uncomfortable shoes, and her hair was pulled up in a clean bun.

"No, no. Actually I heard that by the 60s they had Technicolor in the fancier offices," Myka said smugly.

"Oh," Pete nodded. Myka slapped a hand to her face.

"Let's just find out where this Jonah Ross might be hiding okay?" she said slowly. He nodded.

They began going sifting through the files littering their desks. It was much like Myka's desk, manila folders, paper clips, novels, just covering the surface.

"Hey Pete, look at this," she bent over pulling a newspaper out of the drawer. Pete giggled. "What?" she asked.

"You look funny as Rebecca."

"Oh and you're a regular Jack, just shut up and look at this," she handed him the print.

"I don't get it. It's just a boring old newspaper. Sports, community, jobs, kittens in trees…"

"Pete exactly! Look at the date at the top."

"July 16, 1961," he looked up, "The day Ross's wife was killed."

"This guy was crafty; he must've found a way to keep the news under-wraps." They'd gone through every paper in town, nothing. It was like instead of being murdered she just vanished. "Maybe he, Ow!" Myka clutched her head, a sudden shooting pain hitting her.

"Mykes!" Pete yelled, "Ouch!" He grabbed his own head.

Good, it isn't just me, Myka thought.

"What's doing this?" Pete struggled.

"The machine," Myka breathed. A cold shiver ran over her. Come on HG, we're gonna be fine, you're gonna fix this.

"Mykes, you don't think…"

"It'll be fine, let's go," she said uneasily. Helena had a job to do, and so did they.

"Fuck," Helena swore.

"Whoa, sweet old English lady has a vocabulary," Claudia smiled. HG glared at her.

"There's been some sort of power surge."

"So?" Claudia asked nervously. Pete and Myka would be fine thought, right? She watched as HG frantically played with the dials.

"That's all I can do. You need to find out what caused that power fluctuation and fix it!" She yelled.

"Wha-, me?" Claudia said, "Why not you? If I do recall it is in fact your machine and…"

"CLAUDIA!" She interrupted. "I have to stay and watch them; if anything goes wrong I can handle it. Besides, you know your way around here, I don't." They were both breathing heavily. Claudia shook her head and ran for the fuse box, her steps echoing down the hall of the archives.

"Come on Myka, stay strong in there," Helena grabbed one of her motionless hands and hung her head. No one else is going to die on my watch.

"Myka, what if she can't fix this?"

"She can! I can feel it."

"Myka-"

"Trust me." She had to trust herself. Somehow, someway Helena was telling her everything was going to be fine.

They ran down the street, Myka struggling in Rebecca's heels. She glanced at her watch. They had five minutes to get to the front lawn of Mr. Ross, or they'd be too late to get any information, but sprinting with such intense pressure in her head was difficult and made her furiously dizzy. She was sure Pete must've felt the same way, but he was trying to keep to himself. Myka collapsed briefly.

"Mykes! Mykes, be careful," he said, helping her up.

"I'm fine," she shook off his grasp, "I'm fine, it's fine, we're going to be fine," she said. Pete sighed anxiously, but what could he do? She was right, they had to keep going and trust H.G. Wells. However that very sentence only made him more scared.

HG refused to let go of Myka's hand the entire time it took Claudia to get back. Keeping her somehow tied to the outside world was key, awkward as it felt.

"I fixed it," Claudia panted, running in.

"Good," HG looked down at the two unconscious agents.

"Um, are they gonna?"

"Yes," her eyes met Claudia's; they were burning with a fierce determination.

Claudia decided it might be best to get her mind off Myka and Pete, "So, you said you went back in this thing once; where did you go?"

Helena's eyes fell even more.

"I mean, you must've built it for a purpose. Go to watch the writing of your favorite book? Make out with Archimedes?"

"No, actually," she swallowed, all of it flooding back to her. The torturous reason she'd ever built the damned machine. Christina! Her own voice echoed in her head. She'd always been in control, she'd always been tough, she'd always been able to take anyone down, except the one time it really mattered. She felt herself want to cry again. "My, my daughter," she managed.

Claudia's face fell, "Oh."

"She,"

"Myka told me. You don't have to." It was silent, HG fought against her tears brutally. She was too new to show weakness.

"You know, I imagine losing a child, I mean, it must have been the worst pain a person could go through."

Helena laughed acheily, "No, what I did to those men who killed her, once I tracked them down, that is the worst pain a person can go through." Her fists were clenched so tightly they shook. That day had crushed her reputation, but the irony was that she couldn't have cared less. She'd just wanted her daughter back. She remembered crumbling on the empty floor of the apartment shaking. Her partner had left after trying to convince her that mutilating and beating the men who'd taken Christina's life would never bring Christina back. She'd snapped at him bitterly and ran to her home, locking the door behind her. He'd left shortly afterward.

Claudia was obviously at a loss for words, which seemed to be for the better. Sometimes silence is the only route out.

"You know, I built this machine thinking I could change the course of history," she smiled, though tears still fell, "But the ink with witch our lives are inscribed is indelible."

"Pete no!" Myka screamed. "It won't work! Remember what HG said!" She reached for his wrist but it was too far away.

"I know, I know, but we have to try! If we can give Rebecca just the smallest reasoning as to what happened, maybe she won't feel…"

Myka got a hold of him, "We can't change the past Pete," she said staring into his eyes.

He nodded.

Myka bolted up from her seat, "Claudia? Helena?"

"Oh man do I have a headache," Pete said.

HG smiled, relief visibly washing over her as the tension slowly released its grip on her body. Suddenly she remembered she was still holding Myka's hand, she let go quickly. "I'm, ah, I'm glad you're alright."

"Yeah," Myka said, "me too."

Back at the B&B Myka decided to clean off her desk. In some way subconsciously she reasoned it was probably her wanting to declutter her mind not her papers, but she did it anyway. As she started reshelving a few abandoned novels there was a knock on her door.

"Come in," she hummed, carefully sliding A Farewell to Arms into its place.

"Good book," came the unmistakable accent.

She turned, "Helena, hi." She itched her arm through her sleeve. Damn it why was she so obvious whenever she got nervous? Helena's eyes darted around, which signaled her she felt the same way.

"Sit," Myka motioned to the bed. HG Nodded and sat beside her. "So?"

"I thought, you know, we should talk. About…"

"Oh," Myka's shoulders tightened. Her hands got sweaty in that way she loathed. "Umm,"

"Look I know that Claudia seems to think you're just embarrassed. But, that doesn't seem to me the problem." Silence. Myka wrung her hands. This woman was going be the death of her. Privacy of thought even became irrelevant! How much could she see?

"You know Myka, we can pretend like this never happened. I'm fine either way. But I get the feeling like you won't let it go, or rather it won't let you go, am I right?"

She nodded barely.

"In London I knew a woman, Regina, you remind me of her in many ways."

Myka looked up.

"She was tough and smart, brilliant actually, but inside there were conflicts just constantly swarming her. Used to give her the most dreadful headaches. But she would've never ever told anyone about them."

"Then how did you know about it?"

"Because I knew her." The look in her eyes frightened Myka just a little.

"Look I don't, I don't know you alright? I don't know who you are; I don't know what you want,"

"I don't want anything!" HG laughed, "I'm Helena, I'm a fellow agent, and I all I came to you for was to clear things up."

Myka shook her head, "I just don't know who you are."

"I just said…"

"To me!" She yelled, "To me." There it was, it wasn't completely clarified, but bright as HG was Myka was sure she'd find meaning. Suddenly she wished she'd kept her mouth shut.

HG leaned back on the headboard, "Myka, relationships are complicated to title or categorize, and trying to do so will only make you insane. I mean take it from me; I've experienced them in two separate centuries!"

"Well you skipped the 20th so…" Myka smiled, desperatly trying to lighten the heavy air with some dry humor.

Helena chuckled, "Braggers can't be choosers." They laughed for a while. It felt good to pretend like the conversation wasn't exceedingly uncomfortable.

"I think you're a remarkable woman Myka Bering. For the love of god, don't let me ruin that." She tapped her lightly on the shoulder and left.

Myka sat slightly disoriented. Who the hell was this woman?