A/N: This chapter is a tad longer than I like to usually post but there wasn't a good place to break it up. As you might have already realized I've created my own head cannon around the history of the Warehouse, which you learn quite a bit about in this chapter. It's set up for the final section of this story.

Thanks again for the views and comments! This started out a side project for something else and took over my life for the past month.

Chapter 10

Myka's heart was in racing as she hurried into the office. A tired looking Commander Silver stood next to Mrs. Fredric.

"The threat has been neutralized," Commander Silver began, "but the situation is direr that we first believed. Jack has gathered a large amount of artifacts. We were able to recover a good portion of those before they were transported off world but the one we most needed slipped through our grasp."

"The artifact in question is tied to the machine in the lower levels. A device designed by artificer Otto Widmore in the 1700s. He was an inventor working just outside of Vienna."

"He was working on a way to pull energy from the Earth's magnetic field." Myka supplied.

Nikita stopped, surprised at the interruption.

"It's her thing," Claudia explained.

"Impressive." Nikita paused then continued. "It appears that somehow Jackson befriended this Widmore, helping him with his experiments. Jackson must have told Widmore about the power of artifacts, so he modified the device to pull power directly from them."

"The thing downstairs," Claudia chimed in. "We know it works."

"It was demonstrated on a smaller scale, so we believe so. The Warehouse agents at the time captured the device and separated it from its power source."

"That this Jackson character now has," Pete observed.

"Yes," Nikita confirmed. "Jack will make a move on the Warehouse, sooner rather than later. He is desperate."

"You saw him?" Myka asked. Nikita nodded.

The door from the Umbilicus opened, cutting off the blonde's reply.

"Helena," Myka whispered and smiled, hurrying across the room.

Claudia barely suppressed a squeal when the pair embraced.

"Gertie save that stuff for when I have my recorder," Jake shouted from somewhere behind the pair.

"Tell me about it," Billy agreed, moving past the pair as they blushed and separated.

"Are you okay?" Myka asked quietly as the rest of Commander Silver's team made their way into the office and headed towards the Pete Cave.

"Much better now," Helena smiled.

"As I was saying," Nikita suppressed a smile. "The Fates seemed to be on our side. Jack and his team were present when we raided the facility..."

As the Commander described the firefight that had ensued, Myka lost track of what was being said, her focus solely on Helena standing next to her.

"Thanks to some quick thinking by Specialist Wells, we were able to save most of the records stored on the facility's computer and get a better picture of Jack's overall plan." The mention of Helena pulled Myka out of her own mind. "And as we suspected, his overall goal is to secure the power source and make the object downstairs fully operational."

"In addition, and more troubling, he's learned of the power of the Minoan Trident and plans on capturing it as well."

"Cap and Damien have remained at the facility to finish cleanup. Mrs. Fredric has agreed to send Agents Jinks and Nielson to supervise the artifact retrieval."

A stern look from Mrs. Fredric stopped Artie's protest before it started.

"Thank you Commander," Mrs. Fredric took over. With a nod to the group, the tall woman headed into the Warehouse. HG remained behind.

"We believe Jackson Black will make his move on the Warehouse at any time. Agent Jinks and Nielson, you'll rendezvous with the rest of the Commander's team immediate to retrieve the artifacts and take them to a secure location outside of the Warehouse."

"Miss Donovan, I trust you have the list of the other artifacts that Jackson might be interested in acquiring?"

"Right here," Claudia said, grabbing a printout off of her desk.

"The rest of you will begin gathering these artifacts and preparing them for travel. Agent Wells has been temporarily reinstated to help facilitate the required move to a secure location outside of the Warehouse."

The Caretaker looked each Agent in the eye before she spoke. "This is the greatest threat the Warehouse has ever faced. If we are not successful in this endeavor, this planet will be lost. Do not lose focus on that fact over the next several days."

Steve and Artie followed Mrs. Fredric out the door.

"Helena," Myka asked, pulling the other woman aside. "Where's Jamison?"

"London," a sad look flashed across her face before she continued, "I was not privy to the heated exchange the Captain shared with her brother, but after the battle was over, she quickly left. All I could gather was that Jackson left something slip that Jamison felt she had to follow up on."

"And you didn't go with her?"

"I wasn't asked," Helena replied. "Nor do I think I would be welcome. There are times that my aunt's temperament warrants solitude, even from those who she cares deeply for." She took Myka's hand in her own. "Besides, I'd much rather return to you and finish that conversation we started on the porch."

Myka smiled.

March 22, 1402 Near Warehouse 9

"Thank you Amir," Jamison said, accepting the flakey pastry.

"Could you drool a little more sister?"

"Julian, you and I both know there isn't a baked item that Amir makes that I can resist."

"You are too kind," Amir blushed a bit at the praise.

"Nonsense, these are the best I've tasted in quite some time. It is you who honor me by making such delights and keeping my brother company." She added with a wink.

"So," Julian began after Amir had left. "How goes life outside of this world."

"The never ending struggle of good versus evil?" Jamison sighed. "The same."

"I hear there is a new hero moving her way through the ranks. Something about saving a company on Lalo?"

"Hero is a bit of a stretch," Jamison blushed slightly.

"There is no doubt in my mind Jamison that you are a hero," Julian smiled. "You and Jackson both, what you do. Saving world after world."

"You make it sound far more glamorous than it is. Don't believe all you've read brother."

Julian chuckled.

"What you do here is important work," Jamison continued. "This Warehouse system, it could someday prove crucial in the Empire."

"I suppose," Julian reluctantly agreed. "I can't help but think that things will end badly if it does."

Jamison waited.

"In walking the aisles I see all the potential this planet is capable of. Many of these items can perform wonders, even beyond what the Empire has to offer. But the reward is always tempered with a price. Many times a steep one."

Julian sipped his coffee. "One, I'm afraid, I will have to pay one day."

July 18th, 1891 Constantinople

Jamison sighed. It was too much to hope that somehow Amir's shop had survived the centuries. The entire area had changed drastically since her last visit, with many of the shops gone and replaced by housing. She knew underneath the new development that the Regents sill kept a small section of Warehouse 9 items intact as a backup plan.

For what, she didn't want to know.

"As much as I enjoy touring Constantinople in the heat of summer," a dry English voice pulled Jamison from her memories, "I do hope you have some sort of method to your wandering."

"You are the one who instead on wearing so many layers HG," she looked over at the younger woman. "I thought you'd learned how to blend in by now. Has Chataranga taught you nothing?"

"Only that he is unbeatable at chess."

The Captain rolled her eyes. "Come on then, no dawdling."

HG let out a snort and followed the older woman through the narrow streets.

Amir's shop may have been gone, but the man's influence could still be felt throughout this part of the city. All she had to do was follow the clues.

"And when will you deem it necessary to share what exactly we are looking for?" HG asked, annoyed.

Jamison remained silent.

After a time the Captain looked behind her, only to see that her friend was no longer there.

Grumbling, Jamison retraced her steps, knowing that HG would be nearby. She spotted the young woman inside a café, sipping a cool drink in the shade.

"You are quite impossible," Jamison said, sitting down.

"I could say the same," HG replied calmly. "Have you tried this drink? It is quite delicious."

HG motioned to the server and another was brought to the table.

The pair sat in silence. HG's stubbornness keeping her silent, Jamison's rising frustration choking the words in her throat.

"You know," HG said finally, "it's not good to keep such strong emotions held so tightly."

"You are infuriating."

"I am," HG agreed, "but this isn't about me. You've been out of sorts this entire excursion." She paused before she carefully asked the next question, "Are things going badly in the war? With Jackson?"

"How?" Jamison barked out."How do you know of these things?"

"I've read Julian's journals," HG admitted, "at least the ones from Warehouse 11 and 12. Chataranga took me into his confidence after the retrieval in Kiev. Julian was the last Caretaker," she paused again, "and your brother."

"And your distant grandfather."

Jamison had to admit she took a bit of enjoyment from the startled look on HG's face.

"That explains the apples then," HG said softly. She looked up quickly, "so that means we're related as well."

"Think of me as a Great Aunt."

"How old are you truly Jamison?"

"You should know, Helena that one doesn't ask a lady her age."

HG smirked. "I will get it out of you yet, Aunty."

"Ugh, never call me that."

"Then tell me what has been bothering you."

Jamison found herself sharing, starting slowly with the latest events in the war and her part in them. The regret at watching two of her long time friends die on a recent mission. Of the pressures that Command was pushing down on her shoulders. Her concerns about Nikita and leaving their young son without a parent. Hours passed as Helena listened to Jamison share more than she had imagined. The Captain felt some of the darkness that was beginning to resurface sink back into the depths.

It was nice to have a confidant that was outside the world of the Empire.

"So I pulled myself out of duty rotation, kissed Nikita goodbye and came here to follow up on a communication Chataranga had sent me some time ago."

"Information about Julian's death?"

"Are you sure that's wise?" HG asked. "The topic of Julian Black's time in the Warehouse is still a touchy subject."

"I suspect it shall remain so." Jamison looked out to the street. Night had fallen, bringing with it a drop in the stifling heat. "We, the Blacks, have a reputation throughout the Empire. The history of my people is peppered with those of our clan who discovered new worlds, became heroes of legend, or invented machines that pushed us across the stars."

"But for all are achievement s, there can be a downside. A descent into madness or darkness. The Blacks have also committed unspeakable acts. New worlds were plundered, inventions killed millions and heroes became some of the worst villains in the history of my people."

The Captain turned, noting the mix of fear and intrigue in HG's eyes. "At some point we all do our dance with the darkness, except Julian, who remained untouched by evil. He was always the best of us, the most pure, and the only one fit to work with the Warehouse."

"We search, my dear niece, for the information that will prove this and return our family back to the role of Caretaker."

November 25th, 1912 Outside of London

"Your hubris truly knows no bounds," Smithson's tone cut through the air line a knife.

"The last I checked, Willy, this was an open funeral. And I do believe my relationship with the deceased goes quite a bit deeper than yours."

Jamison relished the shade of purple that covered the Regent's face.

"How dare you."

"Captain, Regent Smithson," a short woman stepped between the two. Ah, this must be the unflappable Agent Irene Fredric that Chataranga had told her about. "I believe the service is about to start. Let's save this for after."

Regent Smithson stood for a moment more smoldering before he turned quickly and strode into the building.

The Captain offered her arm to the other woman who accepted.

Only a select few were invited to attend the gravesite and Jamison was pleased to find herself in that number. Chataranga had named her a pallbearer, much to Smithson's chagrin, and had made arrangements for her to speak at the interment. She shared a story about a young Chataranga during the early days of Warehouse 12 that helped to lighten the somber mood.

And for a moment, Jamison could relax and enjoy the fond memories she had of her friend.

"Captain Black?"

"Agent Wolcott! What an unexpected pleasure."

"Indeed." The Captain could still see traces of the young man she had met nearly 20 years ago. "I had hoped to see you here. Chataranga shared with me that he'd made arrangements for you to attend, schedule permitting."

"I am thankful that I was able to. How have you been? I'm sure the Warehouse is keeping you busy."

"It has," William paused, "but no longer. I wanted to let you know that I've turned in my resignation. Chataranga was my last tie to the place and with him gone."

"I understand," Jamison nodded. "I find that I'm in the same mind as you. After what happened with HG, it was all I could do to even visit Chataranga."

"Things were never the same, he was never the same," Wolcott admitted. "I even found myself wandering to the Bronze Quadrant from time to time."

The pair shared a sad smile.

"So what will you do then? You are still in the prime of life and seem quite sane."

The pair laughed.

"I have taken a job with the Prime Minister's office. There is trouble brewing in the east. I hope to prevent the situation from escalating."

"Still saving the world then," Jamison smiled.

"Or some such nonsense," Wolly sighed. "I just wanted to come over and say hello."

Jamison clasped his hand firmly. "Thank you, and good luck."

He stepped closer and whispered, "And if Helena is ever released from her prison, please let her know that I never stopped thinking fondly of her."

"I will."

Jamison watched Wolcott disappear into the small crowd. She wished him well and hoped that she would one day be able to deliver his message.

"Captain Black, a word if you please."

"Of course Agent Fredric, how may I be of assistance?"

"Come with me."

The Captain followed the Agent towards what appeared to be a small cottage on cemetery grounds. The other woman opened the door and ushered her inside.

"Oh good, we can continue our chat from earlier," Jamison spat when she was faced with Regent Smithson again.

"The three of us need to have a discussion," Irene began, "before you leave, Captain, about the future of the Warehouse."

"As if I care."

"You should," Irene's tone brokered no discussion.

"Should I?" Jamison replied sarcastically. "I should care about the same place that murdered my brother and left my niece in a state of suspended animation."

"She brought that on herself." Smithson roared.

"So returning her to my care was never an option?"

"Because that went so well the first time."

"Regent, Captain, please!" Irene could feel the situation rapidly getting out of control.

"Yes, please." Jamison was on a roll. "You see, despite your best efforts I am still able to suss out all your dirty little secrets Willy. I know about what happened to my brother."

"That he went mad and killed himself?"

"No," Jamison's tone was like ice. "That you used a curiosity to drive him mad. That the madness made him think that the darkness was finally calling his name, and that he was succumbing." She took a step forward. "I located Amir's tomb. I discovered what you're Mr. Crowley tired to hide in plain sight, before the fire of '98 took it away." Her tone became low and menacing. "You never forgave your father for falling in love with Julian and leaving your mother. Even though he remained a part of your life and brought you into Warehouse 12. Your entire life you plotted your revenge. Working your way up the ranks in the Warehouse to become Head Regent, finding those sympathetic you your goals. Tell me old man, does what you've done keep you warm at night? Has it eased your burden?"

Smithson shrank back.

"Oh yes, I know. I've been playing this game far longer and infinitely better than you. Or do you think the only tether I have to this world is through the Warehouse?"

"A war on this continent is on the horizon Captain Black," Irene's smooth voice broke the tension in an attempt to gain control of the situation. "The Warehouse must be moved, to America. As you know we made an attempt some years ago."

"And it failed, I am aware." She smirked. "Agent Wells filled me in."

"Yes," Irene kept her tone neutral. "We find ourselves in need of your family's assistance."

Jamison snorted. "The reason your move failed the first time is that there is no Caretaker for the Warehouse. The new one must have one in place as construction begins."

"And who do you suggest to fill this role?" Smithson scoffed.

"I would not wish the likes of you Smithson on anyone."

"Please," Irene's voice became a bit desperate. "We are in need of your assistance."

"Release HG Wells into my care and I will help you build your new facility."

"That is out of the question."

"Then good luck," Jamison turned to leave.

"And what would your friend Chataranga have to say Captain Black about you turning your back on the Warehouse?"

"Dead men tell know tales Agent Fredric. I've seen enough in my time to know."