Chapter Four – The Cruellest Punishment
Her actions were distinctly child-like in their repetition - toggling the automatic windows up...then down, over and over. As a blast of dusty air caught her in the face, she listened to the internal motors whirring. It was such a simple use of the electrical system, altogether unnecessary, but interesting all the same. Electric windows – a true marvel of the modern age in which Helena now found herself.
It was important that she never stopped to contemplate the car as a whole – or any piece of technology in the 21st century for that matter. To attempt to understand the sophisticated contraption in which she now found herself - let alone society as a whole - would leave her quickly overwhelmed. Instead she analysed each component separately, seeking to come to some sort of understanding. It was a fascinating age. It was just a pity that people did not seem to have changed. They were just as irrational, violent and intolerant as the ones she had left behind in the 19th century. Helena toggled the window yet again, only this time there was a decidedly sharp cough from the other side of the back seat. She turned her head to find the formidable Mrs Frederic glaring at her. A lesser-willed individual may very well have wished to open the door and throw themselves from the moving vehicle, Helena merely lifted her eyebrows as if to say 'what?' However she did let her hand fall from the switch and settled it in her lap. She was forced to resort to staring out of the window at the desolate landscape rolling by. Nothing looked familiar, because it was all the same.
It was only five minutes later that Helena knew exactly where she was. Mrs Frederic's driver drew the car to a halt outside the massive facade of Warehouse 13. Helena stared at it for a few moments, before returning her gaze to her hands in her lap.
"I know this is the last place you want to be, Miss Wells," she heard Mrs Frederic say. It was the first words Helena had heard her say since picking her up from The Ranch some three hours earlier. The sound of speech was jarring after the hum of the car engine. "But you can do good here."
"And atone for my sins?" her own voice sounded hoarse. She needed a glass of water.
"If you feel you must," was the infuriatingly calm reply. As Helena eventually managed to glance back up at the Warehouse, Mrs Frederic exited from the car. She held her door open for a moment and peered back in at the reluctant passenger. "Whenever you are ready, Miss Wells...but I haven't got all day."
Mrs Frederic closed the door, leaving Helena alone save for the statue-like driver. The Warehouse represented everything Helena wanted in this life – a purpose, a place to belong, and people to share her life with. Artie, Pete, Claudia...and Myka, they were as close to friends as she was ever likely to have. However she had compromised all of that by falling in love with Myka Bering. It was the reason she remained stubbornly sitting in the car instead of marching with her head held high back into the Warehouse. It was only Mrs Frederic giving her an impatient wave that drove her from the car. She was clearly waiting for her. Helena drew in a deep breath, opened the car door, and stepped outside. Perhaps you can do this, she thought as her boots crunched over the dry dirt beneath them.
As she followed Mrs Frederic through the umbilicus, Helena's meagre reserve of courage began to dwindle to the point where it was all she could do to keep placing one foot in front of the other. This is bloody stupid, Helena thought. I am acting as though marching to my doom. They are just people, each and every one of them...even Myka. She just happens to be a ridiculously good-looking person.
Before she had time to fully work out her entrance speech, Helena had passed through the umbilicus and found herself standing in front of three pairs of eyes – each intently trained on her. Artie, Pete and Claudia all wore matching stares as she stared at each in turn. A small sigh of relief escaped her lips when she realised Myka was not the first person she would have to see.
"Hello everyone," she managed to sound a great deal more cheerful than she felt. Just wait for it...Helena stood patiently, prepared for the verbal protestations against her return to the Warehouse. She clearly remembered Pete's vehemence the last time she had simply shown up, and then she had merely been a holographic representation of her consciousness. Granted, they had moved on somewhat since then, but she didn't expect a welcome mat.
She was still waiting for the expected anger when Claudia threw herself forward in a blur of movement. "H.G!" Stunned, Helena could only stand still as she was enveloped in an unrestrained hug. When Claudia pulled back, there was a genuine grin of pleasure on her face. "What's up with bailing on us without a goodbye? That was so not cool, not cool in the slightest!"
Helena felt a tug at the corner of her lips. "I am sorry, darling. I will try to be...cool in the future."
"But you're back now right? Or is just one of those one time deals where The Regents trot you out to help us and then send you back to prison?"
As she stared at Claudia, Helena realised that at least one person was actually excited to have her back at the Warehouse. She glanced towards Artie and Pete, previously her most ardent opponents. Pete marched across the floor and held out his hand. "It's good to have you back, H.G."
"Thank you, Pete," Helena said as she took the proffered hand. "I actually wasn't in prison. The Regents in all their benevolence decided not to lock me up." She looked at each one in turn, studying their expressions for any hint of indignation at such leniency. Surprisingly, there was none. Only Artie appeared slightly odd – and he was furtive and guilty as opposed to anything else. "So you may be stuck with me for some time I am afraid. At least until I outstay my welcome."
"You are welcome here, H.G."
Helena looked across to Artie, wondering if she had actually heard those words from his lips. However the Warehouse director gave her a rare smile. A far cry from the time she had shot him in the shoulder...or rather, the time he had shot her in the shoulder and the Corsican Brothers vest had reflected it back onto him. So technically...he had shot himself. "It is good to be here," she said, realising almost immediately that she genuinely meant it.
"Where's Mykes?" Pete suddenly asked. "We're all here hanging with H.G. Wells and she's not, she won't be happy about that."
"Um, she was explaining our cataloguing process to Jonathan," Artie said helpfully. "Last I recall they were in the Farnsworth aisle."
"Jonathan?" Helena frowned. "A new recruit?" She didn't even want to bring up the memory of the Warehouse's last new recruit – the poor young man whom Sykes had killed in front of her. Steve Jinks' face would already haunt her for the rest of her life.
"Not exactly," Artie answered her question. "Jonathan Cain - he has been seconded onto the Warehouse team for our latest mission. A compatriot of yours actually."
"How lovely," Helena replied, feigning an interest where she had absolutely none. She didn't care whether this Jonathan Cain was British or Mexican. Now that she was faced with the prospect of actually seeing Myka again, it was all she could think about. "The Farnsworth aisle you say?"
"I'll show you-" Claudia began, stopping only when she remembered that Helena knew perfectly well where the Farnsworth aisle was.
Helena smiled. "I'm sure I can remember the way." Whether I actually make it all the way there is another matter entirely.
"It all seems frightfully boring," Jonathan Cain remarked as Myka programmed in the storage details of the Hepburn scarf. "I'm more of a man of action, paperwork just seems so mundane after you've actually been out in the field."
Myka shrugged. "I guess it depends on what sort of person you are, but I always reason that if Pete can do it, anyone can do it."
Cain laughed lightly. Over the past day spent in his company Myka had learnt that the Brit was more than a little pompous, and sometimes even unknowingly condescending. However for the most part, he was relatively likeable. His sense of humour was poles apart from Pete's, in fact she had stopped comparing the two men almost as soon as she began. She knew Pete was slightly jealous, it was evident in the way he had neatly sidestepped out of showing Cain the basics of their process. Myka fully suspected that he was hiding out in the Pete-cave, no doubt drinking cream soda and eating peanut M & Ms.
"Well, that's that done," Myka said as she saved the information on the storage computer mounted on the rack. "Shall I show you the Dark Vault?"
"Certainly, but I was a little more interested in the Bronzer," Cain said offhandedly.
Myka tried to keep her expression neutral. She hated the Bronzer. If she could help it, she went nowhere near the place. Then she didn't have to endure the blank, bronze stares of those individuals residing there. Then there were the inevitable thoughts about Helena. Even though the Englishwoman had asked to be Bronzed, the thought of her trapped, fully conscious for over a century was unpleasant and depressing.
"I guess so," Myka said without a trace of enthusiasm.
"Excellent," Cain didn't pick up on her feelings about the subject. "It seems like a grand solution for criminals – no fuss, no protests over dreadful prison food, no scheduled exercise time."
"They're not all criminals," Myka replied as she started to turn around. "Some of them are..."
...stunning, perfect, and standing right in front of me. The rest of her thoughts then descended into an incoherent mess as she stared at the one person she had been trying not to think about...the one person she could not forget. Time seemed to stop in that moment, she forgot Cain was standing next to her, she forgot everything except the woman standing at the end of the Farnsworth aisle. Clad in a simple pants suit with a white shirt, hands tucked nonchalantly into her pockets, Helena G. Wells was as elegant and poised as ever. Although she searched her face thoroughly, devouring every curve and plane, Myka couldn't read her expression.
"Myka?" It took a word from Cain to bring her back to her senses. "Are you going to introduce us?"
"Sorry, Jonathan...um, Jonathan Cain, this is...H.G. Wells." Helena Georgia Wells. Writer, inventor, ex-Warehouse employee, and almost one hundred and fifty years old. Responsible for the near destruction of the civilised world, me tendering my resignation from the Warehouse and utterly, completely, falling in love...
Cain crossed the distance between himself and Helena in several quick strides, his hand extended. "Miss Wells, what a true pleasure."
"Thank you, Mr Cain," Helena replied politely. "I take it you are new to the Warehouse?"
"I am indeed, but Myka has been an excellent host...putting up with the most banal of questions on my part." Cain grinned broadly, but he was the only one with a smile on his face. He was a very intelligent man, he soon realised that he was interrupting some sort of reunion. "If you'll excuse me, ladies, I need to use the bathroom."
"Can you find your way back to the office?" Myka asked, only throwing him a cursory glance.
"Of course, and I promise not to touch anything."
Myka watched Cain walk away, if only to have somewhere to look other than at Helena. When he disappeared around the end of the aisle, she switched instead to her feet. It was the desperate need to see Helena's face again that drove her to look up. She was still standing there, still staring at her with those unreadable dark eyes.
"H.G Wells."
"Agent Bering."
Silence descended again. For almost half a minute, neither woman said anything in addition to the tersely exchanged greetings. The emotions that Myka had so desperately wanted to confess to Helena a few weeks earlier remained stubbornly trapped in her throat. They became tangled in the disorganised chaos of her mind to the point that it was impossible to make any sort of sense out of them.
"Myka...I..." Helena finally broke the silence but her voice trailed off quickly as her next words eluded her.
"Helena," Myka croaked weakly in return. Why does it feel so damn good just to say her name?
However, despite the potential questions hovering just out of reach, she stubbornly set her jaw. Helena was the one who had refused to see her, consequentially ruining any chance of them actually figuring out what the hell was going on between them. Myka decided that she wouldn't...or couldn't take the next step. In that direction lay only pain at the mercy of the cruelly unpredictable Helena G. Wells.
When she spoke again her voice was satisfactorily under control. "Welcome back to the Warehouse."
It was as though a heavy oaken door had slammed shut in Helena's face. She heard it in Myka's tone and saw it written plainly in her expression. The underlying chill to her friend's voice stung for a moment and she struggled to understand what it meant. It did not take her brilliantly deductive brain long to realise that Myka was angry. Refusing to see her a few weeks earlier had been a mistake on her part, but Helena didn't think that it would outweigh any pleasure Myka derived from seeing her again. The perpetually confident Helena withered beneath the other woman's glare and an apology died on her lips.
You're being uncharacteristically meek, H.G., she thought to herself, squaring her shoulders. Since when have you ever cowered beneath someone's poor opinion of you? "Thank you, Agent Bering." Refusing to be outdone, Helena deliberately ensured her own tone was just as formal as Myka's. Helena had spent much of her life on the receiving end of the worst aspects of Victorian societal etiquette – the denigration of women – and therefore this came all too easily for her. "Although I did not have a great deal of choice in the matter. Apparently I am far too dangerous to be left to my own devices."
Myka's only response was silence. Neither woman needed to be reminded that Helena had been on the verge of bringing the entire world to its knees because she couldn't deal with her own pain.
Forever the villain, Helena thought despondently. The silence was enough to make Helena wish that actual time travel was possible. Instead of meekly agreeing to Kosan's order to return to the Warehouse like some sort of frightened sap, she would tell him where to shove it – most likely in a manner entirely unbecoming to a woman of her class. At first the silence was merely uncomfortable, however Helena could both sense and see the coldness in Myka's demeanour. Her mouth was set into a grim line, her gaze hard and emotionless. This isn't the Myka I know, Helena thought. She remembered the woman who defended her when no one else would, who had written in support of her reinstatement and had welcomed her with open arms. That woman now had absolutely nothing to say to her.
"I just wanted to say hello," Helena say quietly, awkwardly. ""I'll leave you to your work, Myka."
She turned on her heels and began to walk away. Her footsteps on the concrete floor were the only sounds she could hear other than the blood throbbing between her ears. She willed herself to walk faster.
"Helena!"
At the sound of Myka's shout she stopped reluctantly. The tone remained just as cold, although an amount of anger had crept in. Whatever Myka had stopped her to say, it could not be good. When she turned, Myka was pacing towards her, a frustrated expression on her face.
"How could you just leave like that?"
"Like what?" Helena asked innocently.
Myka growled angrily and stabbed her finger in Helena's direction. "Don't play games with me, you know full well that you bailed without so much as a word to anyone, to Artie, or Claudia..." Or me.
"I am sorry about that," Helena replied honestly. "You have to understand-"
"Understand what?" Myka demanded. "That you didn't want to remain around the very people you had betrayed?"
Helena shook her head. "No, Myka...my body and my consciousness were separated for almost a year...with everything that happened with Walter Sykes I didn't have time to fully appreciate what my freedom meant. I had many things to think through. I needed time, a little space to myself...and all the while I feared that The Regents would decide to commit my consciousness back to the Janus coin."
The expression on Myka's face finally shifted. Her mouth opened slightly in shock. "They wouldn't do that to you..."
"We both know that they would," Helena said softly. "I am only standing in front of you today because they held the threat of re-Bronzing me over my head. I am not ready to be back here...to face certain things..." Namely my feelings about you. "Yet here I am."
I'm glad you're back, Myka thought, wondering why those simple words were too difficult for her to say aloud. She attempted a sort of half smile, but feared that it came out as more of a grimace than anything. Holy shit, I want to kiss her so badly.
"Anyway, I really ought to leave you to your work. I should imagine Artie and Mrs Frederic want to brief me on the aspects of our latest mission," Helena said. "I will see you later, Myka."
Myka nodded, still unable to say anything. Even when Helena turned and walked away, she remained silent. She saw Jonathan Cain returning, he offered a few words to Helena, but she couldn't hear what he said.
It was all Helena could do to keep her shoulders square and head held high as she walked away from Myka Bering. Walking away was the last thing she wanted to be doing – she wanted to stay close to her, even if it just meant being in her presence without actually saying anything. If she was close then she could watch the way smiles frequently developed on her face, or catch a brief hint of the perfume she wore. Instead she was walking away after a conversation that had been almost disastrous. Only the sight of Jonathan Cain walking towards her kept tears from her eyes.
"Miss Wells!" he greeted her. "I do hope we get a chance to talk decently. I am afraid I have agreed to assist Myka at this point in time, but perhaps later at the B & B – are you staying there?"
In truth Helena had not considered her accommodations, but she supposed that she was. Where else would she stay in this wretched little hamlet? "That would be lovely, Mr Cain." It was a blatant lie - it wouldn't be lovely or anything of the sort.
Jonathan Cain flashed her one last dazzling smile, she knew that a century ago he would have been precisely the sort of man she may have whiled away a few hours with – perhaps even let him have a kiss or two. However now he was merely inhabiting the same space as her, nothing more. Helena reached the end of the aisle, something nagging at the back of her mind drove her to turn around. She watched as Cain rejoined Myka, a smile immediately lighting up her friend's face. He said something and Helena was forced to listen to the musical sound of Myka's laughter filtering down the aisle to her ears.
There were signs as she looked on...a brief touch, continual grinning, an attentiveness that she recognised all too well from the flirtations of her youth. Helena's world very quickly seemed to come crashing down around her ears. Any hopes she may have had for further opportunities to talk to Myka went up in a single flash when an awful thought entered her mind. She is attracted to him. She realised then that The Regents had been cruel not to slice her in two with the Janus Coin, or even recommit her to the Bronzer. In front of her was a punishment far worse than both combined. She was to be a spectator, watching as the woman she loved chose someone else over her.