"The public is wonderfully tolerant. It forgives everything except genius." Oscar Wilde


Helena had the best sleep she had in weeks. It wasn't just that Myka exhausted her blissfully; it was that she was starting to deal with the things that were bothering her. Bantering with Irene was the jolt she needed.

And Myka… was just beginning.

She had given a great deal of thought to the possible things that were bothering her wife. For all that they had gained in the past two years; there were losses in the form of changes. Helena walked away from the company that she had started; that had been her raison d'etre after leaving the Warehouse. She had spent long hours and long days in establishing the company that bared her name. Wells Corp soon became the standard that other biotech companies were measured against. It was where Helena met and fell in love with Myka. And where she discovered her family.

Once Helena made up her mind to leave, there was no turning back. She took the birth of their daughter as the first chapter in their new beginning. But as was often the case, Helena didn't quite plan ahead.

Myka knew the loss of her routine, her daily friends, and work could all be at the heart of this moodiness. And, more importantly, Myka was able to sense that it brought up some very old issues. Some issues very close to the great inventor's heart.

The perplexing part of this puzzle for Myka was that, if there were any time in history that Helena was getting her due, it was now. Her name was synonymous with the latest in biotech inventions. Her book on romance was still on top of the best seller's list. It was a bit of a mystery. But if there was one thing Myka Bering-Wells was good at – it was solving puzzles and saving the day.

She had worked diligently with Bridget to find just the right mix of people for Helena's dinner. But Myka was about to take it a step further. She sneaked out of bed that morning as Helena slept and descended the long staircase. Then, biting her lower lip, she put her hand on the doorknob to Helena's laboratory in the lower level of the house. Myka rarely went there and not only because it was a chaotic room of everything out of place. Myka didn't mind the disarray as much as she didn't like Helena's occasional guest.

Years before, when the Warehouse saw fit to move itself, it relocated to a town in Upstate New York. In that move, the cosmic energy reconnected with Helena via the underground transportation system that Helena had built leading from her house to various points in the city. The doorway that suddenly appeared became a natural bridge to the Warehouse who manifested itself in a female voice when she wanted to communicate with Helena. It was the same voice that read to Helena when she was bronzed all those years. Myka knew there was a deep connection there, and yet, she was cautious. The Warehouse, it seemed, was always seeking out its next Caretaker; and she had all but indicated the next one was Cate. Myka had warned the entity that hell would freeze over before she let her daughter be lured away by anything as ominous as the energy from the world's artifact warden. Actually, she threatened her.

Now, she was standing amidst papers, beakers, and other pieces of science equipment that lay strewn over tables and the floor. Walking slowly, she made her way to that doorway that had appeared during the Warehouse's relocation. The lawyer tentatively put her hand to the door, deciding to knock softly. She wasn't at all sure how this worked and doubted the energy force would be eager to communicate.

"Hello?" Myka said softly, as if there were a chance Helena could hear her two stories above. "Uhm, hello. This is Myka Bering-Wells? I don't know if you remember me. I don't even know if you're there. Actually…," Myka thought out loud," … I don't even know what you are. This is crazy," she concluded. "Look, it's about Helena…," she said and waited. She heard nothing; felt nothing. 'Please don't appear like a ghost; please don't appear like a ghost,' Myka thought over and over again, realizing she'd have to maneuver her way through the maze of chaos Helena left. Myka chastised herself for even entertaining the idea of doing this and was about to walk away when suddenly, she smelled apples.

"Is Helena okay?" came the voice of the entity that cherished Helena.

Myka turned around to make sure there was no apparition that accompanied the voice. "Oh, yes; she's good. Mostly."

"Mostly?" the voice asked.

"I need… your help," Myka said, almost cringing at what the response might be.

"For Helena?" the voice asked.

"Yes," Myka affirmed. "But it's… pretty specific."

"Yes?" the voice asked.

"I need you… to contact someone really high up," Myka said, biting her lip.

"Go on," the Warehouse prompted her.

"Someone who knows Helena… and you… I think. I mean, you used to be housed there," Myka said.

"You want me to speak to the Queen?" the voice deduced correctly.

"Well, she won't take my call," Myka laughed at her own joke and then quickly cleared her throat. "Yes."

"What is the message?" the Warehouse asked.

"Please tell her… it's time to repay HG Wells," Myka said. "My HG Wells," she clarified.

"I understand," said the entity that treasured the woman. "I will do it."

"Okay, thanks…," Myka sort of yelled when she heard a swishing noise behind the door. "If you could get back to me on that…," she said, softer now as she listened.

There was silence.

Myka made her way back upstairs to greet her daughter and wife good morning.

"What is that smile on your face about?" Helena asked, through half opened eyes.

"I'm just happy to see you," Myka said, without revealing any more details.


Myka was taking Cate to Mommy & Me class; a group activity that Helena found too banal for her liking. She was going to lunch with Irene.

"Well, I've found something that I abhor more than play groups…," Helena tried, but Myka playfully slapped her hand.

"Don't even try. I know it helped to talk to her last night," Myka said knowingly.

"It might have helped… her," Helena tried, but Myka threw her a look.

"I think…," Myka said, closing in on her wife and gently tugging on a strand of dark hair, "… that you are so sexy when you're expressing your real feelings."

It took the genius a full minute to decipher what that meant. "You mean…," but there was the blank.

"I mean… admitting that you missed Irene, just like I do, is… I don't know, it's empowering. I like how it looks on you," Myka said, her finger tracing down Helena's forearm to her wrist.

Helena wasn't even entirely sure what Myka was saying, but that wasn't going to stop her from trying it. "I have… missed her," Helena admitted as sparks raced up her spine from Myka's touch.

"See?" Myka said, leaning in to kiss Helena's bottom lip. She enveloped it, gently biting it before pulling away. "So sexy."

Only Myka could speak words that caused the genius' prefrontal cortex to go offline.

"I do see," Helena agreed. She would have agreed to pink elephants if Myka told her they were dancing in their hallway.

"Well, I will see you later, then," Myka said, kissing Helena one more time for good measure.

Myka had a lot of things to get in order that day, the least of which was making sure their passports were in order.

Helena had finally seen the light and it was shining right on admitting her feelings. Leave it to her brainy wife to see the positive in all of that. It almost made her forget about Irene's attempt at tea.


"Well, you look bright and bushy-tailed this today," Irene noted when she met her friend at the designated lunch location.

"Before you think your emotional intervention had anything to do with my present state; please let me stop you from embarrassing yourself. It had everything to do with my bath," Helena said cryptically to the woman who saw right through her.

"I bet it did," Irene smiled knowingly because she knew Myka would tend to any sore nerve Helena had.

The women were seated in the large room of the Palm Court in the Plaza Hotel. Irene chose it because she thought Helena would enjoy the ambiance.

"I just bought this," the Brit said nonchalantly as they perused the menus.

"This…?" Irene said, looking over the top of her reading glasses.

"This establishment; this building," Helena explained.

"This… whole place?" Irene remarked.

"Yes, all of it," Helena answered.

"In that case, you better hope I like this lunch. If not, I know where to send my complaints," the woman teased.

"As if I will be able to distinguish them from all the other grievances you air," Helena remarked.

"I stopped in to see Gloria before," Irene said slowly as she told the waiter what she wanted. "It's her day off," she said.

"Oh?" Helena replied and placed her order in perfect French.

"Wait! There is no one else in here," Irene remarked, looking around at the empty tables.

"That is because they do not serve lunch in the Palm Court," Helena informed her friend.

"But… I made reservations for lunch," Irene remarked perplexed.

"I guess knowing the new owner already has its benefits," Helena quipped.

"Do you… know anything about the… hotel business?" Irene asked, looking around.

"What's to know? People check in, people check out, people eat," Helena summed up.

Irene smiled to think the woman found purchasing real estate as her new hobby. Myka wasn't exaggerating when she said Helena was impulsively buying up locations.

"You saw Gloria? You didn't go there to help her with her wardrobe, did you?" Helena suddenly asked in horror.

"What if I did?" Irene asked she was the perfect 'straight man' to Helena's quips.

"In spite of the similarity in age…," Helena started.

"Oh, I'm sure Gloria would love that," said the woman who had at least ten years on the nurse.

"… and in spite of the fact that you made a career in a field that required little expertise…," Helena tried.

"I'm not paying for lunch if you keep this up," Irene said, folding her hands in her lap.

"… You are simply not qualified to offer that woman any fashion advice; although any would truly be an improvement. I'm suddenly conflicted about all of this," Helena admitted unabashedly.

"Well, we can't have that," Irene said. The older woman wasn't just following up on Helena's feelings; she was doing her part to set in motion anything else that might help the Brit. "I want you to go see Eileen and Claudia."

"I'm too busy," Helena said before the period was at the end of Irene's request.

"No, you're not," Irene countered.

Helena stared at the woman hard. "I find it amazing that not twenty-four hours after admitting I missed you, I am finding your presence utterly annoying all over again!" she blurted out.

Now, Irene could have responded – "You missed me?" just to make the point that Helena acknowledged it. But that wasn't Irene's style. Instead, Irene simply looked across the space of the small table and said;

"I think tomorrow would be good."

Helena moaned her reply, but she knew she was going.


Bridget sat in the large living room as Myka paced back and forth. "It's not like an answering service," she said fretfully. "So, how do I know when the answer will come back? Or what the answer will be? Suppose she says no! I mean, I can't take no for an answer," she ranted as she walked.

As was her talent, Bridget sat relaxed, with her leg tucked under her, as she listened. "So, let me see if I got this; you asked Helena's former caretaker from South Dakota who has sort of taken up a poltergeist connection downstairs since moving to New York, if she could reach out to Buckingham Palace and request that Helena be… what? Knighted?" Bridget summed up.

"Not knighted, but made a Dame," Myka said, trying to look as confident as she could.

"So the Queen of England is going to Dame the Queen of Manhattan? Damn!" Bridget replied with her play on words.

"No?" Myka worried that it wasn't what Helena wanted.

"Do you really want to bring her British out any more than it is?" the southerner laughed.

"I love that about her," Myka said.

"Sure, we all love the accent, but if you make her a Dame, she might just try to recolonize us. I mean, it's starting to look like she owns a good chunk of New York," the private banker pointed out.

"Don't be silly," Myka said to her friend and sat on the couch. "Do you think Helena would want this?"

Bridget loved that her friend was thinking over the top thoughts to help pull her wife out of a funk. "I think anything you do will both impress and help our Brit," Bridget agreed.

"I hope so," Myka said, trying to push away the doubts that she was on the right track.

Just then, the familiar odor returned to the room. "Do you smell that?" Myka asked.

"Your perfume?" Bridget asked, oblivious to the fruity smell.

"Apples," Myka said slowly.

"You've got some olfactory skill there, kiddo," the taller woman noted.

"Watch the girls, please. I'll be right back," Myka said, rushing from the room to return to the laboratory.

Minutes later, she stood in front of the door. "Hello?" she whispered. "I'm back."

"It has been taken care of, Myka," the voice said softly.

"Good, okay then," Myka said and bobbed around, thoughts racing in her mind. "Wait! What do we do? Do we just show up at the palace? Oh! Is she going to pull her off the tourist line like they do in those Punk'd shows?" Myka nervously laughed and snorted. The awkward noise was loud and it made her shove her hands in her pockets and bit her lip. "No, that's just silly. I was just wondering…"

"A letter will come soon," the entity informed Myka. "The Queen is very straightforward."

"Yes, yes, of course she is. Okay, thanks…," Myka said, walking away. She tried to walk calmly always and didn't scream until she was back upstairs in the hallway. "YES!" she yelled and startled the woman entering the front door.

"Are you okay?" Helena asked when she heard her wife yell.

"Couldn't be better. You?" Myka said, rushing to hug her wife.

"I'm very good now," the Brit admitted because she was in Myka's arms.