Accidental Tourist by Marcia Gaines

A/N: I'm not entirely sure when it happened, but for those who will recognize the characters – yes, there's a bit of a cross-over happening here. Have no fear, it won't overtake the story (but, I'd dearly love to hear what you think about it either way ).

Chapter Four, Decisions

(Chicago, 1898)

"Wolcott. William Wolcott." The man stretched his hand out and both Pete and Agent Davenport shook it eagerly. "How do you do?" he said and went back to tapping the hat he held in his other hand.

"Tom Stevenson," Pete responded. "And, I do fine." He chuckled and looked at him but was met with an expressionless stare. Pete cleared his throat and spoke in a subdued tone, "I'm- I'm just going to be over here." He stepped to the side while the others talked and focused on the array of food near the wall to his left. Sandwich meats, cheeses, and fruit of various sorts awaited the attention of the Warehouse agents and Pete was still hungry. He started to reach for a piece of cheese but was stopped short by Davenport's voice.

"Good to meet you, I'm Davenport," Pete's partner extended his hand to the two foreign agents. When Helena took it he placed his hand over hers, smiled appreciatively, and added, "but my friends call me M—."

"Agent Davenport." The freckled man glared at him with the prompt. He never liked how Davenport treated women. In his mind they should be shown the due respect a proper lady deserved, not subjected to the lewd advances of his eternally peckish agent. "His name is Agent Davenport." Helena gave Davenport a nod and politely withdrew her hand.

"Yes. Yes, it is. Thank you, Walter." Davenport shot him a look, clearly annoyed, and finally turned to greet Agent Wolcott with a quick handshake.

Introductions completed, Walter continued, "Our colleagues from London are here to take charge of the shipment." He turned toward the two English agents. "Which, provided our workers return any time today, will be ready to go in another day or so." He turned to address Pete and Davenport, "And in the meantime I need one of you to accompany Agent Wolcott on a few errands." Davenport's grin nearly grew through the sides of his face at the thought of spending time with the gorgeous dark-haired beauty. Though he never cared for agents of foreign countries, he was never one to let an opportunity to bed a delectable woman pass. Pete's right shoulder spontaneously convulsed as Davenport nudged him to volunteer for Wolcott-duty.

"Mr. Stevenson, good. You go with young Mr. Wolcott. And Mr. Davenport?" Pete's partner eagerly stepped forward. "Mr. Davenport, I need you to go over these case-files with Miss Wells. Make sure the lady is informed of where we are with our open files, and it would be good to go over the surviving artifact manifest." Davenport could not have looked more pleased. He nodded his assent.

"Actually, Mr. Alford," Helena interrupted. "If you don't mind I think I'd like to take those errands for myself. And Mr. Wolcott is far better at the paperwork than I am. Besides, it's been years since I've visited this marvelous city and I would dearly love to see a bit of it. I hear there's to be an exhibition game of your American football? The Cardinals, I believe? Not to mention since we plan on going by the Hull House Annex we can stop to speak with one of the new Warehouse designers." Her voice rose into a question. "Nikola is an old friend. It would be wonderful to see him again." She smiled sweetly at Walter whose mustache twitched.

Walter liked order and he liked predictability. What he did not like were changes to his schedule – or his orders. But his chivalry won out over his angst; depriving a respectable woman of something so simple was just not within his nature. "Very well," he said begrudgingly. "Stevenson, you will accompany the lady on her errands – and her visit," he raised an eyebrow at Pete. A woman should not be in the private company of another man without supervision. He wanted to make sure Stevenson would be there. Pete nodded in reply. Satisfied, Walter looked at Davenport. "And you. You will update Agent Wolcott." Davenport pursed his lips but did not vocally object. "Good. Now, as you can see," he swept his hand toward the wall near Pete. "We have lunch ready for you."

Pete stood behind a large crate near the back of the building. He furtively looked around. Seeing no one nearby he set his plate of food on the lid of the large crate, grabbed a cube of cheese and popped it into his mouth, then hastily scribbled a note on a piece of paper next to the plate. When he finished he lifted the telegraphone from its box and set it up as he flipped through the enclosed instruction manual so he could record his message.

"You should read the entire set of instructions for that particular artifact," Helena's voice called out. Pete turned to see Helena coming up the aisle to his right. She looked curiously between Pete and the object. Her eyes came to rest on his plate of food. "You should definitely read them in their entirety. What are you doing with it anyway?"

"Oh, uh, nothing, I just wanted to…" he quickly put the device back in the crate and set the lid on top of it.

Helena disregarded what he was saying and cut him off. "Mr. Stevenson, I'm glad I found you," she said sweetly. She needed to talk to him and was pleased they were in a fairly secluded section of the building. "I was wondering if you might be willing to help me with something?"

Pete straightened his stance and turned to her. "Yeah, sure H.G., anything. What's up?" She looked around checking to make sure they were not overheard. When she was certain they were alone she smiled seductively and sidled up to him running her fingers alongside the hem of his shirt. She looked up at him and her voice took on an intoxicating tone, "I was hoping we could forget about all those errands, and maybe get away – just the two of us?"

Pete's eyes went wide and he swallowed hard before remembering his encounter with H.G. in London. "Yeah, I don't think so, lady." He pushed her hands away. "Been there done that, I know how this ends – and I'm not in the mood for a Kenpo knee to the face. What's really going on?"

Helena considered him briefly. For an American he certainly seemed to know a lot about her capabilities. She could not have been more astonished. Clearly she had underestimated him. She would not make that mistake again, and decided it was best to go with a more direct approach. She began her explanation. "All right. I suppose I might as well fill you in, as I'm going to be using our errands as a means to get into the city." She tucked a stray hair behind her air as she spoke. "Some years ago there was a… a terrible crime here in Chicago. We recovered an artifact, but I strongly suspected there was more to the whole affair. I don't know anything for sure, yet, but I've received word someone in the city may have information." She looked hopefully into his eyes knowing if anyone found out her real goal she would never be able to pursue it. "I need your help to locate this person, and in keeping this from the official record; it is a... matter of great personal importance."

Pete hesitated. Although the Helena from his time period had proven herself to be dedicated to preserving the Warehouse, he had his doubts about the H.G. from this time period. "Ah. Well, I don't know, H.G., if this is about Holmes and the scalpel then shouldn't Ar… Walter be informed?"

Helena narrowed her eyes at him. "How do you know about that?" She asked.

He panicked and searched his brain for an adequate response. "I, uh. I read about it in the, uh, case file?"

She studied his face unsure of how to read him. "The case file." Her voice was flat. "Yes, I suppose you would have." Whatever alarm he had raised, he watched all sign of it leave her expression. "Still, there was much about those events not covered in the reports and this is the first lead in years. Because the case was deemed 'solved', there's no need to officially reopen it until we know more – unnecessary complications will only impede us."

Pete thought over her words and looked at her face. He still was not entirely sure he trusted H.G., but if it was a lead on the scalpel then he decided he should follow it. He had not made the trip to pack crates. "Fine. Sure. But I still want to catch the football game." She rolled her eyes and nodded her head in agreement. "Great. Uh, just, give me a minute here. I'll meet you outside." He watched her walk away and when he was satisfied she was gone he uncrated the device again. He set it out on the lid of the crate next to his plate and quickly looked through the instructions. He set out the pieces and put everything together and began recording his message. Just before he started to tell himself about getting out to see the Chicago Cardinals, the oldest football team in existence, his plate of food exploded sending food and condiments everywhere.

"Oh. Damn. Sorry about the mustard, Artie. Now I'm going to need a new shirt. I hate it when that happens!" He wiped at the note he had written earlier but succeeded only in leaving a long yellow smudge. He packaged up the artifact with his note inside and and tucked the entire thing back into place before turning to meet Helena near the front of the building. When he arrived she took one look at him and shook her head.

"I did advise you to read the instructions, Mr. Stevenson," she said trying not to laugh. "You can't operate it with any sort of cooked food nearby. The magnetic resonance creates a nasty reverberation within the cells."

"Yeah, I guess I missed that part," he lamented. His face contorted into a partial grimace. He suddenly he had an odd taste in his mouth and he stuck out his tongue trying to wipe it away with his hands.

"And… it leaves a bit of a trace in your mouth." Helena explained unable to contain her amusement any longer. "You'll be tasting that mustard for quite some time, I'm afraid."

(Chicago, 1893)

It was getting late and Helena knew she should go home, but she could not bring herself to abandon Emma's side just yet. The woman was an enigma, and her air of mystery only served to intrigue Helena more with each passing moment. They walked lazily through the center area of the fairgrounds, pausing only to examine various oddities along their circuitous route back to the Ferris wheel where they first met. Helena watched as Emma stopped to look at a display and she let her eyes linger on her new friend's profile. Something about the russet-haired woman with arresting blue eyes simply captivated her, and though her beauty was certainly difficult to overlook, it was Emma's mind that truly held her attention. Helena had many great minds with which she contended regularly, and not all of them were men, but she had never met another woman quite like Emma. She felt an overwhelming urge to learn everything she could about her, and what better way was there than to spend as much time with her as possible?

When the evening came to a close and they chose to forego the carriage home in order to walk Helena brushed aside the protests from Emma's cousin, Andrew. She assured him they would be perfectly capable of protecting themselves and he could send for Emma at her home within a few hours. They walked slowly amidst the straggling crowds of people and when, at last, they arrived at the house where Helena was staying they stopped and sat on the front porch swing together.

"It's so quiet," observed Myka as she looked out toward the city. She loved how quaint and perfect everything seemed. It was just like she always imagined scenes from books of the period.

"Emma?" Helena asked breaking Myka from her imaginings.

Myka turned to her. "Yes?" The blue eyes caused Helena's thoughts to cloud and she turned away. Whatever she was feeling she did not want to think about it in the moment.

Helena cleared her throat. "I was wondering." She was not entirely sure she knew what she wanted to ask, but the words spilled out of her before she could rein them in. "Would you like to come to the house tomorrow? In the early afternoon? We'll be headed back to the Exposition, but I would so love for you to accompany us." Myka stared at her not knowing how to respond. Helena sensed a rejection brewing and immediately blurted, "Or, perhaps I could show you around the city? Andrew tells me you're to move here this summer."

The move to Chicago had completely slipped her mind. In all the confusion Myka had somehow managed to forget entirely about Emma's future. "Ah. I suppose looking around the city would be all right," she said haltingly. Maybe this was what she was supposed to do. If nothing else, perhaps she could begin piecing together information to later help Helena during her investigation. She did the math in her head and decided her twenty-two hours would not be up by then and she could spend the day with Helena if she chose. "Yes, yes, that will be fine. Great."

Helena broke into a happy smile. "Wonderful! We'll have a grand time, I'm sure of it. I'll send a carriage for you in the morning. Is nine o'clock too early?"

"Nine? No, no that will be fine," said Myka. Having the whole morning would give her plenty of time to investigate. And, she had to admit to herself, she was thoroughly enjoying spending time with the Helena of this time period. It was truly amazing to see her operate with all her fierceness absent any of the sorrows that lay ahead. But it was not until the carriage arrived to take her home that Myka realized her time with Helena would end far too soon. Knowing she would not be able to see her like this again she decided she did not want to miss a moment of it. "Or…" Myka said slowly. "Since we'll be leaving so early, I suppose I could…" she did not finish her sentence. It immediately occurred to her that inviting herself to spend the night with Helena might not be in her best interests.

"What?" Helena tried to figure out Myka's unspoken thought, and it hit her suddenly. "Yes, of course! Why didn't I think of that? Come along, dear. We'll just fetch some personal belongings for you and come back here for the evening." She held out her hand to help Myka from the swing, and Myka took it but held onto it a little too long. Helena wove their fingers together before she had a chance to withdraw. As Myka did her best not to panic Helena joyously led her to their horse-drawn transport. The expressions on their faces could not have contrasted more, but in their hearts they both felt the same.

(South Dakota, 2012)

Claudia looked up from her laptop and shook her head. They were still at it. She had put her ipod on and blocked out the arguing a while ago. Helena had not reacted well to Artie's decision to put Myka in the bronzer, and Claudia did not blame her in the slightest. She looked at her watch. They had been arguing for nearly two hours. It had been forty-five minutes since she left the area to call Doctor Calder. Though Artie's suggestion was probably sound, she figured if anyone could be a voice of reason it would be Dr. Vanessa. She should be arriving any minute. Claudia turned off her ipod and Helena's raised voice immediately filled the void.

"Absolutely not! I won't have it!" Helena's eyes burned with ferocity. She stood protectively over Myka's prone body with her hands on her hips as she glared in Artie's direction.

"H.G.," he said with exasperation. "How many times have we been through this? I've told you, she cannot possibly sit in that chair for three weeks!"

Claudia ducked out of the room, completely ignored in the acrimony of the moment. She walked to the front office and returned fifteen minutes later with Dr. Calder in tow. As they entered the H.G. Wells area Helena's voice shot out at Artie.

"Are you always this dense or is today a special day for you? I keep telling you there's no way to know how the connection would be affected if you put her in there! You simply cannot do it!"

Artie roared back, "You're only objection is based on personal distaste due to your own experiences – experiences that have no place in this decision!" His face was red and Claudia was sure his blood pressure was through the roof. She exchanged looks with Dr. Calder. "And for the last time, we simply do not have the capability to run that much power through the grid for three weeks! It will fry every conduit we have!"

"Choice? You want to talk about choice? What kind of choice are you giving Myka?" Helena countered. "She didn't ask for this, and I'm pretty sure being flash-frozen while unconscious – without the slightest idea how it might affect her would not be high on her list of things she'd appreciate!" She ran her hand through her hair and huffed loudly.

"She doesn't get a choice. I get the choice. I make the decision for her, not you!" Artie yelled in response.

"Actually," Dr. Calder stepped forward. "I think I get to make that decision. And right now, I think someone needs to explain what's going on." She glanced at Myka and walked over to her. "What's happening here?"

"Doc-Doc-Doctor Calder," sputtered Artie. Her sudden appearance caused him to stutter more than usual.

She smiled in response. "Hello Artie." He made a strange sound in his throat and his hands flailed as he tried to decide where to put them. She laughed softly as he finally stuffed them in his pockets.

"Er… What are you… When did you…" His questions dropped into the air and were replaced by a growl as he caught Claudia's eye. "Spawn of Satan!" he fired in her direction. Claudia shrunk behind the doctor.

"She did the right thing, Artie. When it comes to the medical decisions of all Warehouse agents, you know I'm the final word." She looked between Helena and Artie. "Now what's going on?"

As they explained the situation Dr. Calder listened intently. When they finished – and had clearly laid out the ensuing reasons for and against Myka's bronzing – as well as answered all the related questions she had for them regarding the machine, Dr. Calder offered her opinion.

"I believe Ms. Wells is correct," she said looking at Helena.

"At last!" Helena sighed with relief. She no longer felt the need to guard Myka from Artie's intentions. Her battle with Artie won she sat down on the machine's platform.

"And, really, H.G. Wells is alive? And you're a woman? This place never ceases to amaze me." Dr. Calder reached over to Myka's wrist and took her pulse. "How long until Pete is due back," she asked keeping her eyes on her watch.

"Uh," Claudia tapped on her keyboard. "He's got another eighteen hours," she said.

"And you're sure Myka won't be, how did you put it? Reintegrated? She won't be reintegrated at the same time he is?" She took out a pad of paper and scribbled a few notations.

"Positive," said Claudia. "The sub-routine for the transfer sent Pete to one time and Myka to another. She won't be back for three weeks."

Dr. Calder nodded her head to indicate she understood. "Well, I'm afraid if no one has any better ideas we may have no choice but to take Myka to the hospital."

"What? No, we can't," said Helena as she stood again. "We can't disconnect her from the machine. Doing so would mean she'd be lost forever."

Artie threw his hands into the air. No matter what suggestion they made the only solutions they had put either Myka or the Warehouse at physical risk. He was beyond frustrated and as he tussled his own hair he realized how disheveled he looked. He glanced at Dr. Calder before stammering, "I, uh, I need to, uh" he pointed toward the Warehouse office. "I'm just going to… there's a… I'll be right back," he said and hurried out of the area.

"What's the matter with him?" Helena asked.

"Oh, nothing," Claudia said in a slightly amused voice. She knew exactly what was wrong with Artie. She muttered to herself as she went back to her laptop, "Nothing a shower and a change of clothes can't fix."

"Ms. Wells," Dr. Calder began. "Exactly what do you think would happen if we did put Agent Bering into the bronzer?"

Helena sighed heavily. "I don't know for sure, but I am concerned the flash-freezing will interfere with the connection – there's no telling what could happen. The only thing I do know," she said flippantly, "is that unless you know of some alternate method of preserving her in stasis or turning her into a self-generating power source, our problem remains unresolved."

Dr. Calder tilted her head. "Stasis and self-generating power source…" her voice trailed off as she spoke. Helena turned to her.

"Yes, some means by which we can disconnect the device from the power grid without losing the power consumption needed to…" she realized Dr. Calder was not listening and turned to Claudia. "Did I miss something?" Claudia shrugged in response.

"No, no, I just… I think I may know someone who can help us." Dr. Calder reached for her cell phone.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm not sure that's such a good idea," cautioned Claudia. "After the day we've just had, I think Artie might seriously go nuclear if we brought in an outsider."

"Oh! No, we're fine. This doctor's consulted for me on Warehouse matters before," replied Dr. Calder as she dialed. "She's well-versed in the strange and abnormal." Dr. Calder waited for the phone to ring and then spoke into the receiver. "Hello, yes, this is Dr. Calder with Warehouse 13. I'm calling for Dr. Magnus. Dr. Helen Magnus."